Fall B1 - Masquerade
Shipping Bingo B3 - Hotel/Inn
Stacked With: FPC; BAON; ToS; StL; SIN; NC; LL; PP; SoC; Star; Fence; Shower; ER; AV; RoB; MLG; Cluster; T3; FR; O3; RoIL; CM; Mea; TY
Individual Challenges: Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Magical MC (x2) (Y); Artist MC; Neurodivergent (x2); Rowl in Her Grave; Rian-Russo Inversion; Ethnic & Present; Hold the Mayo; Citrus Sale; Zed Era; Old Shoes (Y); Small Book (Y); Eating Cake (Y); Two Cakes (Y); Setting Sail; Adult Activities (Y); La Vie Boheme; Culturally Inclined; Purple Stripe; White Stripe; Tell My Story (Y)
Representations: Black & Jewish Hermione Granger/Cedric Diggory; NB Cedric Diggory; Autistic Hermione Granger; Halloween Celebrations
Primary & Secondary BCs: Under the Bridge; Where Angels Fear; Getting On; Second Verse (Lyre Liar; Muck & Slime; Rock of Ages; Lovely Coconuts; Brooms Only; Car in a Tutu; Unwanted Advice; Spinning Plates; Nontraditional; Ladylike; Bechdel Test; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still); Chorus (Seven Gates; Some Beach; Surprise!; Turtle-Duck; Bast's Blessing; Bandstand; Larger Than Life; Unicorn; A Long Dog; Fire Song; Tomorrow's Shade; Delicious Lie; Bee Haven; Fizzy Lemonade; Machismo; Wabi Sabi; Odd Feathers)
Tertiary & Generic BCs: RoIL (Workstation); O3 (Orator); FR (Evolution); T3 (Thimble); CM (Notch; Navigate; Yogin); Mea (Rampant); TY (Avasa; Ntaiv)
Word Count: 6481
Warnings: Drinking, sex, drunk sex, unprotected sex, lewd comments, swearing; sexual harrassment
~o0o~
Hermione loved Halloween. Ever since she was young she had been drawn to the strange and unusual. There was just something about getting to be someone else for a day and the celebration of those who were different. Plus it was the only day a year her parents let her have candy. Of course, since she started at Hogwarts, she stopped dressing up for Halloween. And this year, the Ministry was hosting a Halloween Masquerade for all of its employees at a new fancy all-magic hotel that had been built in Diagon Alley.
Harry and Ron asked Hermione to attend. She was planning on staying at home with her cats and marathoning horror films, but everyone who was anyone was going to be there.
"Afternoon, Hermione. Working hard or hardly working?"
She tried not to sigh too heavily as she looked up at Cedric Diggory. Whether they were at the monthly family dinners or at work, he always went out of his way to push her buttons. Of course, it was easier at work. There were only three of them working in their Department. Even twelve years later, they were hurting for employees to keep the paper afloat. It started off because most of the people working for the Prophet were on Voldemort's side and Kingsley had wanted to revamp the whole thing. To end the ego-boosting, fear-mongering rag it used to print and instead aim for the truth.
It still had its fluff and topics that diverged from doom and gloom. They had to get people to want to subscribe somehow. And that was how Hermione had ended up in the same sub-department as Cedric Diggory and Luna Lovegood for the past six years. Though both had been attending family dinners with Harry and the Weasleys for the past seven when Luna and Harry got hitched. The pair had moved to the Daily Prophet when the Quibbler shut down. When the Editor-in-Chief had learned how much money he could save with just the three of them, even after unionizing for higher wages, he hadn't bothered to hire anyone else.
At least where their department was concerned. Which meant a lot of work, a lot of time together, and very little free time. Hermione finally figured out how to speak Luna's language and they got along great these days, but Cedric? He was nice enough at first but lately he'd just grown so insufferable.
It had to have been that potential promotion. The editor for their department was retiring next year. Hermione's goal was to be editor-in-chief one day and this was her chance to get closer to that goal.
"Of course I'm working hard," she said, not slowing her typing for the Ask Sophie column. He would just love to spread the word about her laziness, wouldn't he? "I'm not a slacker."
He leaned against her desk, sipping his coffee. "Is it fun having a brain that works that fast?"
"No." She finished her column and placed it in the file to present to the art director. She had a day off tomorrow and did not want to be called in because she forgot something or had a mis-type. She rolled up the magazine she had been reading during her lunch break and swatted Cedric with it. "Off."
He stood and sat down at his desk across from hers. His articles were already done and she could see him getting a head start on one of the Sunday cartoon strips. He must've stayed late last night to do it. Damn him. She refused to be beat out by anyone for this promotion. That wasn't to say that he wasn't good. In fact, she loved his fashion articles because he often worked in some sort of social commentary that was subtle, but really made you think. And his political cartoons never failed to make her laugh. And he was an amazing photographer in a pinch when Colin Creevey and the others were too swamped to go to the location. He was very skilled and knew what he was doing.
He just… drove her absolutely mad. He said the silliest things and pushed her buttons and she overheard him say to Luna that he was aiming for the editor position. She refused to be passed over for a promotion. Twelve years busting her ass and what did she have to show for it? She wouldn't let someone who had been there half as long pass her up.
"What do you want?" she huffed when he didn't stop staring at her.
"I want a lot of things," he said. "A bigger apartment, one of those fancy little ninja choppers I see advertised, to own a pretty pony again…"
God, he never could just get to the point could he?
"Skip to the end."
"Are you going to the Halloween party tonight? The one at the Diagon Alley Grand Hotel?"
"Of course. Everyone is going." She looked at her notes and continued typing the article on the Hogsmeade General Strike.
"What are you going as?"
"The point of this is anonymity," she said and frowned when she realized she typed what she said. With a flick of her wand the words were erased and she started the sentence again. "I'm busy, you know."
"But if I know your costume then I can find you."
Right, like he wanted to go out of his way to hang around her.
"What would you want to do that for?"
"Hey, Granger."
She nearly cursed aloud. Throwing her hands up, she spun her chair away from her typewriter.
After a failed career in Quidditch, Cormac McLaggen had been given a job at the Ministry by his father. Unfortunately, it was in the news department. He was part of the Sports section, but he made it his mission to pass by her office as many times a week as he could. After his recent divorce, he had become fixated on her, though he was always a sexist prig to all the women in the newsroom. She had to wonder if it was her disinterest or a dare between the male colleagues. No doubt they were betting on who could get into her knickers and would laugh at her behind her back once one of them succeeded.
Well, she wouldn't allow that to happen. He was repugnant and she was more stubborn than he could ever hope to be.
"What is it, McLaggen?" she said through gritted teeth.
"Now don't be like that, Granger," he said. "I've got a personal letter to 'Ask Sophie.'"
He waved it in front of her face. She took it and opened it.
"Dear Sophie," she read aloud. "This woman I really like constantly ignores me. What do I have to do to get her to pay attention to me and go out with me?"
She tossed it in the rubbish bin and turned back to type out the last paragraph of her article. Cedric snorted and covered his mouth with his hand.
"Shut up, Diggory!" McLaggen snapped. "Come on, Granger, why don't we attend the Halloween party together? It's the least you can do after ditching me at Sluggy's Christmas Party while we were in school. Besides, it's been, what, ten years since you last dated someone?"
"Something like that."
"You're not getting any younger, you know."
"Yes, that's how ageing works." She pulled the paper out of her typewriter and waved a hand over it to dry the ink before placing it in her folder.
All done. After submitting the articles, she could go home and get a movie in before readying for the party. McLaggen pulled the folder out of her hand.
"I'll submit these for you," he said.
Hermione frowned. "I think not. Please give me my folder back."
"Agree to meet me at the party tonight and I'll consider it."
"Ugh, you're so juvenile!" She reached for it and he held it out of reach. Damn her for being so short!
"You know you should be nicer," he said. "I bet my influence could make you an editor. That's what you want right? To be editor-in-chief one day? I won't ask for much in return."
He got a little too close for comfort.
She smacked his hand aside before he could touch her and hissed, "Fresh!"
Cedric plucked the file out of Cormac's hand. At that moment the editor, Mr. Amorin stepped into the room. He was a wrinkly old man and was probably overdue for retirement, though he was insistent on waiting until next year so he could have time to decide on his replacement.
"I've got a new assignment," he said. "Chartreuse Comstock, the daughter of famed artist Magenta Comstock, is opening a sculpture gallery tomorrow and has invited us to report on it. This is a very important event and will likely take the front page of the weekend edition. You know I'm still making my decision on my replacement."
"I've got it!" said Cedric, raising his hand.
"Now hold on!" Hermione stood up. "I've got Social Watch, so aren't social events my division?"
"Yes, but I run the fashion column," said Cedric. "What is fashion? Art. Therefore, I should be the one to report on any new art as I will be able to accurately describe it not just in looks but in the feelings it invokes. Besides, tomorrow's your day off and you're down to the wire on your current assignments."
"But the event is in the evening and I won't need to write the article until Thursday."
"I'm not paying you overtime again, Granger," said Mr. Amorin. "Diggory, you have the assignment."
"Thank you, sir." He sent her a smug look and she refrained from sticking her tongue out.
"Granger, where are those articles?"
"Right here, sir," she said, feeling her face grow hot. "I already made the changes you suggested, I was just on my way to submit them for formatting."
"Then I suggest you do that." He left.
"Thanks a lot," she snapped at Cedric and McLaggen.
"Sure thing!" said Cedric.
Hermione sighed heavily and shook her head. Why couldn't she just be left alone? She took her folder from Cedric and brought it to the art department so they could be formatted and arranged for the Wednesday and Thursday editions.
She got her briefcase from the office and left without speaking to anyone else. Damn him! And McLaggen, too! She was only thirty-two. It wasn't like she had an expiration date. She didn't have to settle for a jerk like McLaggen just because she was lonely. Her last relationship was eight years ago and her girlfriend broke up with her for being a workaholic. Was she lonely? Of course, but would she give in because of that? No chance in hell.
Still, the "influence" thing had scared her. What if he did have that sort of sway? She would never sleep with him just to get a promotion, but if a word from him could turn her career into a dead end then what was the point of working so hard?
It wasn't fair.
Whoever said wizards weren't sexist was a dirty liar. She knew very well wizards were in positions of authority more than witches. Inequality was everywhere. And she was already at a disadvantage for being Muggle-Born too.
Hermione stepped into her flat, touched the mezuzah on her door frame and inhaled deeply. At least she could be herself here. No pressure, no annoying coworkers. Her cats: Jason, Carrie, and Freddy meowed and wove themselves around her ankles.
"Okay, okay," she said and fed them before hanging up her wig on its stand. There was one benefit to wigs. She could have her afro dyed pink and no one was any wiser.
She had a little studio apartment. She didn't know anyone in her building, but that was alright. She liked the location and the place was perfect for her. It had cool clubs she liked to frequent and her favorite bakery. She loved it.
Humming to herself, she fixed the pumpkin she had carved last week so that it was looking out of the bay of windows. This place had so much natural light. Harry and Ron hadn't understood her design choices and found them off-putting, so she hadn't invited them over since her interior decorating was complete.
She had always liked the gothic aesthetic. She just didn't dress it, even though she desperately wished to; she was worried she wouldn't be taken seriously because of it. She pushed where she could. Fancy blouses, dressing in darker colors, antique brooches, long skirts, tight trousers, lace up boots… she saved the leather and lace for her days off.
Her flat reflected this adoration more. Her bed was a black frame with purple quilting and black sheets. Her comforter was a black and purple floral pattern. Her furniture was all black, her walls were teal and black damask. And then there were the pictures and wall decor. She found the most amazing things at antique stores. She loved her cluttered, gothic, mismatched home.
Ron had hated the style when she first started building it up. It was the final straw in a year's worth of fights. It was okay. Shortly after he met Amanda Brocklehurst who was a Ravenclaw in their year. They met at work and had been married for five years with their second child on the way. Mandy brought out the best in Ron and Hermione was happy for them. The person for her was out there somewhere. The Morticia to her Gomez. The Percy to her Mary. The Laura to her Carmilla.
Or maybe she'd be alone. That was okay, too. She didn't need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled, but she'd at least like a friend. Someone she could talk to and share her interests with. She hadn't even told Luna or Ginny about her "darker" side. But was it really a dark side if a lovely morning involved a howling thunderstorm?
Hermione opened the specially made case containing her movies and put on Repo! A Genetic Opera to watch while she readied for the party.
She spent the last two weeks trying to decide on what to wear. The dress code just said: Costume mask required. She heard there would be dancing and games, so it must have been casual. And when would she get the opportunity to go absolutely wild? Anybody could dress however they wanted and nobody could judge you, because it was Halloween.
Dracula felt a little… bad taste considering there were vampires working in the Ministry. Zombie? Well, she didn't want to get mistaken for a monster and attacked. And then, she had come across a perfect replica of the Michael Myers mask purely by chance. She bought that, then bought a pair of blue coveralls, which she cut and hemmed to indecent length. She cinched the waist and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows. She had put on her sexiest bra and unzipped the outfit to reveal as much cleavage as possible. Her shoulder tattoo of forget-me-nots and the Little Prince quote on her ribcage were covered, but there was no hiding the sugar skull and flowers on her thigh (which went all the way up along her hip) or the turtle and stars on her ankle. She had gone with completely impractical platform pumps to tie it all together.
She looked into her full-length mirror and placed her hands on her hips.
"I look amazing," she said, checking herself out.
It was easy to not feel insecure about your body when no one could see your face. Maybe she didn't have to let anyone know who she was. Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed and finished watching the movie while Jason cuddled up on her lap.
"What if I just started dressing how I want full time?" she asked him, scritching behind his ears. "Big bustles, spikes, corsets, black lipstick, and just acted like nothing was out of the ordinary? I do it on my days off, shouldn't I be allowed to be myself?"
Jason shoved his head into her hand and purred.
At six o'clock, Hermione put on her mask and platform heels and topped off the kibble for her cats. The party was at seven and it was only six o'clock, so she decided to enjoy the night and take the Tube to kill the hour. The hotel wouldn't be hard to find. She had reported on its opening.
"Hello, love!" a man called out. "Need some company for the night?"
She walked past him and his friends without an answer.
"Frigid bitch."
She froze and turned around, drawing out the blood-splattered replica of Michael's butcher knife. She started power-walking towards them and they ran off, not noticing that the knife was made of rubber.
Feeling a bit smug, she walked on towards the station. Some people wanted pictures with her and she could hear the parties just beginning as she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron.
The hotel was beautifully decorated and the doors were wide open to the ballroom/conference center, there were dozens of round tables to sit and eat at, long buffet tables that would soon be filled with food, and an area for dancing in front of the makeshift stage. Hermione slowed down, realizing she made a horrible mistake.
Everyone was dressed in elegant dress robes and decorative masquerade masks. No. No, no, no. It was a costume party, wasn't it? There was nothing that mentioned it was a formal affair. They were all looking at her.
"How vulgar," said a woman to her friend. "I would hate to see what Department she works in."
"Almost as distasteful as that dementor."
Dementor?
Hermione looked around and, standing at the open bar, was someone dressed up as Ghostface from Scream. Oh thank G-d. If this person misunderstood the dress code too, then there would surely be others.
Plus, she loved Scream. Hermione wove her way through the crowd and approached them, slowing down when she realized they were more alike than she realized. Instead of the long robes like in the movie, they had been cropped short around the upper thigh. Their long, statuesque legs were clad in fishnet stockings and a garter with a mini ghostface on it. At the end were a pair of blood red heels.
Damn. Hermione raked her eyes up those legs and tipped her head in interest.
Ghostface turned around and looked her up and down, tipping their head, too. Hermione settled next to them, resting her arms on the counter. The kid working the bar turned beet red. He must've been just out of school.
"Um… w-what can I get you?" he asked, not looking either of them in the face, as he held up a menu with pictures.
Hermione pointed to a cocktail with a straw, Ghostface nodded and held up two fingers signaling they wanted one too. The bartender turned to a neon green vat of the premade drink.
More apprehensive about being recognized, she decided to see if Ghostface was anymore like her. Her twin sister, Paulina, was deaf as was their paternal grandmother, so both grew up learning sign language.
"Do you like movies?" she asked. It would be easier if her face was shown, but that defeated the purpose.
Ghostface seemed to grow even more excited and nodded.
"Horror and comedy are my favorite genres," they replied in perfect BSL.
Hermione beamed.
"Two witch's brew for two b-beautiful witches," said the bartender, offering what he probably meant to be a charming smile along with the martini glasses.
Ghostface rested a hand on their cheek and waved their hand as if to say, "Oh, you!"
Hermione pushed the straw through the mouth of her mask and took a sip of the smoking, neon green beverage. It was made with several kinds of alcohol and sour candy. It was terrible and she wanted three more.
Ghostface offered their arm and she accepted it. They found a table and sat down. The place settings were on the simpler side and there looked to be more plates set up at the buffet tables.
Hermione and Ghostface talked about their favorite movies and other things they liked. They didn't give their names or their departments. Just an age. They liked horror movies as much as she did and gothic things. They were nonbinary, but not out to their coworkers about it even though they knew others who were nonbinary.
How had she never known about someone like this? Guess societal pressures were too much.
Their table was the last to be filled with people and Hermione was so euphoric in finding a friend that she completely forgot that she and Ghostface were the only ones tarted up. Her happiness was broken when a familiar voice spoke up.
"I guess somebody didn't get the memo."
Hermione nearly swore aloud. Of course it was McLaggen. He was barely dressed up in simple robes and white mask. She did not like how he leered at her. Why on earth did she decide to be Sexy Michael Myers? Now she'd probably have blokes leering at her all night. If she and half the women here sexied up it'd be fine and she would deal with it, but now she was the tart that had no shame.
This was why she never showed off her figure.
"Are you going to tell me who you are or will I find out in the morning?" McLaggen asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned towards Ghostface.
At that moment, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up and tapped his glass. He also stood out in his plague doctor getup, though not as much as Hermione and Ghostface. In fact the only reason she knew he was the Minister was because of who was sitting around him.
"Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Halloween festivities," he said, his rich baritone voice creating an amazing effect with his costume. "You all didn't need to dress so formal, this is meant to recall the times that we could walk freely without standing out to Muggles. I see my friends over there had the right idea." He gestured to Hermione and Ghostface and she relaxed. She had followed the dress code. It was everyone else who was wrong. "Ah well, perhaps next year. I encourage all of you to have fun tonight with good food, carnival games, and dancing. The Weird Sisters have kindly agreed to perform tonight and we have a full buffet. Vegetarian options are at a specially marked table. And again, thank you all for attending, and have some fun."
Hermione clapped. She immediately pinpointed two of the Prophet employees, one taking notes and the other taking pictures. Luna and Colin. She was so glad she hadn't been selected to cover the party.
The buffet tables lit up with food. She and Ghostface were the first to get up. Everyone else seemed to be trying to compute that this was supposed to be fun.
Well, she would have fun, dammit! Hermione got up with her tray and went over to the buffet. Vegetarian was the safest option since she couldn't be sure the meat was Kosher. Ghostface followed her to the table, which had some really fun themed foods. Pasties in the shapes of apples, pumpkins, and ghosts, vegetarian sandwich wraps made to look like Frankenstein, eyeball tomato-spinach puffs, gravestone cookies. Whoever catered this knew exactly how to appeal to the inner child of every muggle-born in here.
Ghostface was as delighted as she was, picking up a breadstick in the shape of a snake and showing it to her.
By then everyone else was going to get some food while the Weird Sisters set up on a stage.
Thankfully, the lights had dimmed to add to the ambience. Glow sticks, candles, and glow-in-the-dark paint were their main sources of illumination. Hermione was able to roll up her mask a bit so she could eat freely. It obscured her vision, but that was alright as long as no one tried to pull it off to reveal her identity. The food was really good except for the bread that had been colored black with charcoal. Seriously, whoever thought that was a good idea was disturbed.
It was a bit harder to sign when the place was dark like this, but they wouldn't have been able to talk either, the music had started up loud enough to definitely be heard on the streets above.
When they had finished eating, Hermione tapped Ghostface on the arm and pointed to where the games were set up. They nodded and the both of them hurried over to start playing before there were long lines. They played a balloon popping game, which either gave them candy as a treat or threw brightly colored paint at them as a trick. Spider lobbing, which she knew Ron would avoid at all costs. Pumpkin bowling which, when thrown too hard, caused a bit of a mess. Though they both avoided bobbing for apples. Guess Ghostface wanted anonymity too. They both had a couple more drinks.
And then they went out to the floor to dance. Hermione loved dancing. Just as much as she loved to read books or watch scary movies. Plenty of people, mostly younger ones, loosened up and joined the fun and soon the dance floor was packed with dancers.
She recognized the guitar riff of the next song and completely forgot herself.
"Is that 'Rose Tint My World'?!" she shrieked excitedly at the lead singer. She and Ghostface had been close to the stage to get the full effects of the music.
"From Rocky Horror? Yeah, a remix of it!" said Myron Wagtail. "You want to sing Columbia's and Janet's parts?"
"Yes!"
She was pulled up on stage. She never sang for anyone in her life, but nobody knew her and she was definitely too tipsy to let stage fright take over her.
"It was great when it all began!" she sang in her best Little Nell impression. "I was a regular Frankie fan!"
After Janet's part, the song went into different lyrics than the original to keep up the upbeat rock tune. Hermione bowed to the crowd's cheers and accepted Ghostface's help in getting offstage.
They rested their hands on her hips and gently lowered her to the ground. They spun her around and dipped her, making her laugh.
"Can I just ask who you're supposed to be?" someone who sounded a lot like Pansy Parkinson demanded of them.
Hermione exchanged looks with Ghostface and both withdrew their fake knives to stab the air with. Ghostface's knife had tubing that made it look like blood was running down it, which Hermione was fascinated by and asked to see it. She played with it a little and giggled before handing it back.
Pansy was forgotten.
"Hey, mind if I dance with you two ladies?" Cormac asked.
Ghostface waved him off and turned back to Hermione, pulling her flush against them. She beamed and slipped her hand in theirs, thrilled with the closeness. She hadn't had this much fun since the Yule Ball.
"Come on, I've been trying to get close to you two all night!" he huffed. "When are you going to stop playing hard to get?"
Playing what? Hermione shook her head and looked at Ghostface.
"Want to leave?" they asked.
She nodded eagerly and hurried out of the hotel with them.
They apparated to a club near her flat that was hosting a Halloween bash and danced for several more hours, coupled with another drink or three. The club also offered Halloween Movie trivia. Hermione and Ghostface entered and won with a perfect score, which earned them each gift cards for the movies and plastic gold-colored butcher knives labeling them as champions.
Hermione tucked her prizes away into her bum bag.
"I'll be right back," she said and went to the toilets in the back of the bar.
There, she received numerous compliments from drunk girls, and while she was washing her hands, she decided that Ghostface was her soulmate.
When she returned to them, they were being hit on by a bloke in a Captain America costume. She tipped her head, but before she could get mad or even jealous, Ghostface took her hand and tugged her close, resting a hand on her hip. She smiled and led them to the dance floor.
They swayed to 'I Put A Spell On You' and their hands wandered. Ghostface spoke for the first time.
"Would you like to come back to my place? It's not far."
Hermione felt more excited at the prospect of going home with someone than she had in a long time and nodded. They left the club and headed down the street. And then the lights went out. All of them.
"Ooh, that's strange," said Hermione.
"Wonder what's happened," Ghostface slurred.
They both used their wands and stumbled down the street in their heels until they found Ghostface's apartment building. Hermione thought it looked familiar and was glad that Ghostface's flat was on the first floor and not the fifth like hers was. It was still tricky going up the stairs, but they managed.
Ghostface fumbled with the lock and they stashed their wands away, finding each other in the darkness. Hermione pulled her mask off and deeply inhaled the cool air. She hadn't realized how hot and stifling the mask was until she was free of it. She heard their mask clatter to the ground and an instant later their lips crashed into hers.
Moaning softly, she closed her eyes and ran her hands up their chest and neck, before twisting her fingers into their long, soft hair. Her knees would have buckled had they not been holding her so tightly.
They stumbled around and she bumped into something sharp that made her squeak.
"What was that?"
Ghostface fumbled around, feeling what she hit. "Oh. That's my skeleton. I dress it up as Jack Skellington for Christmas. Sometimes when I'm lonely I sit it on the couch to watch movies with me." They hesitated. "I'm sorry, that's weird. You can change your mind now."
Hermione wished she could see them in the darkness. She kissed them again and ran a hand down their backside.
"I've never met someone whose weird matched mine," she murmured, squeezing it.
They chuckled softly, lifted her off her feet, and carried her to their bed, her shoes clattering to the ground along the way.
Once laying down, they nipped her bottom lip and along her jaw, working down her neck to her cleavage. She fumbled with the buttons and zipper, shrugging the garment off her shoulders. Ghostface pushed her bra strap aside and teased her. She tugged their robes over their head and cast them aside, paying no mind to the lamp (?) she knocked over. They worked off her coveralls until she could kick them away, the pair kissing and caressing the entire time.
Hermione wrapped her legs around Ghostface and rolled them onto their back, dipping her head to kiss their neck and collar. She nipped their skin and rocked her hips until she felt them harden against her.
"Fuck!" They groaned and clutched onto her thighs.
Hermione kissed a trail down their stomach, working their underwear off as she did, but leaving those delicious stockings. Their chest heaved and they whimpered softly with need. She removed her own shorts and positioned herself over them. She tried to remember the protection charm, but decided it was fine since she was on birth control anyway. She touched them gently to find her way and slowly sank onto them. She tipped her head back and bit her lip.
Ghostface bucked their hips. Hermione unclasped her bra and threw it behind her, rocking her hips all the while.
Moans of pleasure filled the silent room and the heat between them staved off the chill pushing through the windows.
Not content with letting her do all the work, Ghostface rolled them back over, pounding into her hard and fast. Her moans grew higher and more ecstatic, though they were muffled by kisses.
They tensed up and grunted into her shoulder before pulling out. Hermione whined in frustration.
"Do you need more?" they murmured.
"Yes!"
They ran a hand down her stomach and rubbed her. They inserted one finger then a second. Hermione curled her toes. Not stopping there, Ghostface kissed her chest, running their tongue over her nipple. She gasped and moaned, urging them on.
They didn't stop until she orgasmed twice, and by then they were ready for another round. She accepted them readily, wrapping her legs around them as they shagged her thoroughly.
Hermione raked her nails down their back and yelled out. By then, both of them were slick with sweat and the windows seemed to have fogged up.
She panted heavily and nudged them off of her.
"Where you going?" they asked.
"Just the loo," she said and nipped their bottom lip. "I'll be right back."
She got out of bed and stretched, the appliances flickered to life and clocks beeped, signaling the return of the power. The orange street light outside pushed through the black gossamer curtains, no doubt illuminating her silhouette.
She found the bathroom and flicked on the light, hissing at the brightness and immediately turning it off. Thankfully, they had a night light shaped like a bat to illuminate the room. Hermione used the toilet and washed her hands, then scrubbed her face clean and rinsed her mouth out with some wash she found on the counter. She didn't like falling asleep without rinsing away some of the sugar she had that day.
Ghostface was barely awake when she returned.
"There you are," they said sleepily. "I was getting lonely."
Hermione smiled and snuggled up to them. They rested a hand on top of hers and exhaled contentedly.
"I love these sheets," she said, noting how cool they were against her still burning skin.
"Thanks. They're bamboo."
Hermione nuzzled their chest and closed her eyes. They sighed.
"Now I've got to go."
They untangled themself from her and got up. Hermione stretched and rolled onto her stomach, burying her head beneath a pillow just before the light flicked on.
When Ghostface returned, spooning up behind her, she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
~o0o~
Hermione was woken up by watery sunlight. Her head ached slightly but she had made sure to drink water between her alcoholic beverages last night to prevent too bad a hangover. She stretched and sat up, taking in Ghostface's flat. Her heart fluttered as she realized it was decorated similar to hers. Instead of purples and teal accents, they had favored pinks and teal, which she had to say looked amazing. They had all black furniture, pink and black french striped walls, though instead of Victorian clutter like she had, they decorated the room with gothic-framed classic movie posters, ticket stubs to creature features, haunted parks, and family photos. Plus a stationary bike similar, but not exact, to the one she liked to use when she was watching TV.
The place was lived-in but clean, which she was happy about.
She hugged the sheet to her chest and shivered slightly from the chill. This building wasn't very well heated in general. A small smile pulled at her lips as an arm drew her close. She'd just have to warm up with her new friend.
Biting her lip, she turned towards them, taking them in. Delicate gothic and mehndi fusion style tattoos swept across their sand-colored skin, covering their back and arms down to the elbows going from black to blue to purple to pink. She would have to find out who their tattoo artist was and get a couple herself. She gently traced the crescent moon on their shoulder blade before brushing their beautiful black locks back. Her face fell and her heart dropped into her stomach. No… no it couldn't be.
Cedric Diggory inhaled deeply and nuzzled his pillow, his hair falling back into his—their face. Hermione nearly cried then and there. It wasn't fair. Why? Why did the first person she felt connected to in years have to be the person she was competing against for a promotion? The person who irritated her and said stupid things and—and… kissed her so well she was weak thinking about it.
No. No, she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. They'd just laugh at her. Probably tell everyone that she was the tart that had sang about sex in front of the entire Ministry. Nobody cared if a bloke had sex, but if a woman did, oh, well, stop the presses. She was such an idiot. She should have known that Ghostface was too good to be true.
Moving gently enough so as to not wake them, she got up and found her clothes, quickly pulling on the coveralls just for some decency. She grabbed her bum bag, her shoes, her bra, and her mask. She couldn't find her shorts.
Cedric stirred and her heart filled with anxiety. She ran out the door and inhaled sharply upon realizing that this was her building. That she had lived here near Cedric all along. It made her escape slightly easier. She hurried to the lift and got in, punching for her floor and exhaled shakily.
Hopefully he hadn't seen her. Hadn't woken up before her to see her face and then gone back to sleep. Her life would be so much harder if everyone found out. She was such an idiot, what was she thinking, shacking up with someone she didn't even know? Ugh, everyone would really love that, wouldn't they?
"First Harry, then Viktor, and now Cedric?" they would laugh. "Bill better hold onto his wife! That Granger is so desperate, she shagged a person before even learning their name!"
Thankfully, nobody witnessed her walk of shame. She entered her flat to three cats demanding to know just where she had been all night. Sighing softly, she fed them breakfast. It wasn't even eight o'clock.
Glad that it was her day off, she dropped her costume into the bin and showered, scrubbing off the paint, fake blood, shame, and grime from last night. She wished there was a way for her to scrub off the bruises from where Cedric had clutched her too tight or the hickeys on her neck and breasts. She would definitely be wearing turtlenecks until those cleared up.
Once clean, she pulled on one of her nightgowns before crawling into bed. She could still feel their lips, their body pressing into hers, their desperate hands.
Hermione pulled her blankets over her head and broke down into tears.