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With a cheerful sigh of relief at finally being done, Hermione flopped backward on the feathery bed, landing with a whomp sound as the air was pushed in other directions.
Waving her arms and legs back and forth in the motion of making snow angels on her comforter, she giggled to herself. This was heaven. Especially when compared to the rickety room and cardboard cot she had been sleeping on at the Weasley's.
She stopped for a moment, listening to the birds sing outside. Such a difference from the sounds of the Weasley home settling constantly, or the grunts from one of the Weasley children wanking in the loo, to include the youngest Weasley! No, Hermione would not miss that.
Narcissa had set her up in a small, and by small she meant huge, cottage. Hermione's new home was a traditional Scottish cottage on the outside and a modern multi-level flat on the inside. It had charm and functionality and space. Hermione had fallen in love with it on sight. She finally had a place to store her beloved books, scrolls, and shoes and purses.
Lucius, knowingly, had conceded to a monthly rent that Hermione could more than afford. However, Hermione was certain that Narcissa and he would have let her stay free, but her conscious would just not allow that. She would earn her keep.
Lucius had sat Hermione down after days of mapping out different ways for her to own a home, but the bottom line was that she needed to save a bit more and wait for the right opportunity. Post conversation, the Malfoys had offered her the cottage – on a temporary basis. No one had defined what temporary meant exactly and Hermione didn't press the issue. Hermione figured that if at any time she felt that she'd over-stayed her welcome, she would leave. It was as simple as that.
And so without preamble, Hermione had paid first and last month's rent then moved in. The last word from Narcissa was that she could stay for as long as she wanted. There was one condition, to which Hermione had agreed to immediately, that she dine with the Malfoy's once per week.
Hermione looked around again and marveled at the long, sheer drapery that hung around the open French doors waving with the light breeze. It was so pretty, she thought.
Narcissa had helped her with a few Décor spells, enabling Hermione to alter the cottages look to fit her personality. The bedroom was now colored in creams and golds and chocolates, and she couldn't be more pleased.
Rolling over and mentally checking a box off her list, she moved on to the second item: Find a job.
oOo
Once again taking advantage of the warmer than usual weather, Hermione sat at an outside table at a café, ticking off items on her CV.
She didn't have much in the way of experience. She had a double degree: Journalism and Spell Creation. Hermione was skilled in potions as well, but she didn't think she had that creative swing that Master Potioneers had, nor did she believe that she could live with being a Transfigurations Mistress and not get bored. She loved books and words and scrolls and ink, while also being completely taken with the idea of magic and the new ways in which it could be used.
Hermione's University career summed up her professional list. The rest was Hogwarts and the war. Unless she was planning on joining the army, training to be a Healer or teaching dueling, her time in the war would not serve her professionally.
She had a reputation of being a swot, which, while not always a good thing, was true. And judging by the articles in the media, she was an unsympathetic character. Hermione believed it was because she was independent, strong and out-spoken. People didn't see her as the proverbial damsel-in-distress. That was okay with her most of the time, but Hermione recognized her need for softer attention sometimes: a kind word, someone attempting to save her… Even if it was just to offer to hold the books she'd just bought.
She smiled to herself. Maybe that was why she found herself thinking of Marcus, Adrian, Blaise and Draco over the last few days instead of focusing on other, more practical things. Although mildly over-bearing with their masculine superiority complexes, she found the feminine part of her liked it… a little.
"Hermione?"
Blinking out of her internal conversation, Hermione looked up and smiled. "Katesch. Tova. How are you today? Won't you join me?"
Katesch looked overjoyed at the possibility of sitting down, and Tova lifted her packages and set them on the small dais behind them. Both women sank into the chairs gracefully, and ordered tea from the server who had magically appeared out of nowhere.
Sipping their tea, the three women settled into easy conversation. Katesch and Tova had been out shopping and were looking for somewhere to take a break when they had spotted Hermione concentrating so diligently on the scroll in front of her.
"What are you marking then?" Katesch asked, leaning forward.
Hermione flopped back and tugged on her hair. "I need a job, and I don't have any discernible, marketable skills."
"Why you're a war heroine! Recipient of an Order of Merlin First Class! You could obtain employment anywhere that you wanted!" Katesch declared.
Tova nodded her head and added with a smile, "What do those Americans say? You could write your own ticket, Hermione."
Hermione smiled then sighed. "Easier said than done."
Tova tried another tack. "May I?" she asked, pulling at the parchment in front of Hermione.
Pushing it forward, Hermione nodded. Both witches read silently, hmmming and nodding, tilting their heads this way and that, then slid it back to her.
Hermione was dying. "Well?"
Not exactly agreeing with Hermione's assessment of having no professional skills, but not completely disagreeing either, Katesch spoke first. "What do you love?"
"Pardon?"
"What in life makes you happy?" Tova restated.
Blinking at the witches in front of her, Hermione second guessed allowing them to assess her resume. The expression on Hermione's face made Tova laugh.
The laugh transformed her face from rather stern looking to pretty and light-hearted. Hermione saw Marcus in that smile, and smiled in return, answering the question. "I love books, I love the written word. I love writing. I love fashion. I love shoes."
Hermione stopped when she realized both women were smiling joyously at her. It was a bit unnerving. "What?"
"Oh Hermione, the Fates are conspiring in our favor!" Katesch twittered as she scribbled a quick note then called her owl, sending it away with a treat. Hermione sat in confusion as both witches appraised her silently. It was like being watched by the Cheshire Cat!
The owl returned with a hoot followed by Tova standing and waving. Hermione turned and saw a smiling Narcissa Malfoy and a prim looking Elizabeth Pucey.
The women greeted each other, sat, and ordered tea. No one spoke of how the Fates were conspiring or why Katesch called Narcissa and Elizabeth or how any of this had anything to do with Hermione and her finding a job!
Finally, finally, Elizabeth shared with Hermione 'The Plan'.
OoO
Hermione practically skipped up the walk way to her cottage. She could not believe her fortunate circumstances.
It wasn't exactly something she would have ever thought she'd be doing as a career, but she loved the idea.
Running up the stairs to her bedroom, after grabbing a bottle of wine and a glass, she flung open the French doors to view the beautiful pinks and reds of the sunset while she took a luxurious soak in her tub.
..
As she sank down in the bubbles, she took a sip and inhaled. Life was good, she thought, happily. She let her mind drift to what she thought her life would look like in a few months, years…
Hermione sat at her large desk with the wall-sized window behind it. The sun was out and the owls were flying by, carrying parchments and packages for people. She had an advanced version of Wizarding Wireless for business, and was participating in a meeting for the ten-year anniversary of MODE Magazine for witches. MODE was hosting Fashion Week and Hermione was running the whole show.
Hermione's mind drifted from her hopeful professional success to the men currently pursuing her.
Draining her glass, her mind continued to wonder through the fields of emotions, attractions, hands – she was a hands witch- and all-night-long kisses. As her brain formulated blurred faces into the recognizable figures of Marcus and Blaise, her fingers started to slide slowly across her collarbone; her mental picture replacing those fingers with Blaise's lips; fingertips dancing at the ball of her shoulder only to dip down to circle her nipple, bringing it to a peak even in the warm water. After plucking the hardened nub once more, she palmed her flat, wet stomach and let her fingers skitter to her mons then they pealed apart her lips just as Marcus pushed her knees to touch opposite sides of the tub.
It didn't take long for Marcus' tongue to bring her to climax. A slight pinch to her clit then a circle around; two fingers inserted and back up for another pinch had her arching and sighing with release.
When Hermione opened her eyes, it was dark out and she was alone. She stood and dried off, slipping on a pretty purple silk night dress chemise. Feeling a shiver as someone or something breached her wards, she panicked a bit and ran downstairs with her wand ready, and flung open the door.
What she saw stopped her cold, erasing all of the remaining languid feelings from her… relaxing bath a few moments ago. Marcus, Blaise and Draco stood there drinking her in.
Her nipples hardened and her belly dropped. Hermione could feel the heat between her legs making her curve her knee into the other. She cleared her throat and felt her cheeks burn. She was trying to act natural, but she just couldn't pass it off.
Someone growled.
Marcus snapped out of his trance first. His eyes widened and he turned around so that his back was to her. "Sorry, Hermione. We wanted to… ah… apologize for dinner the other night." The other two followed suit and turned around.
Draco dropped his head as if he were in pain. Hermione frowned and felt concern for him. Maybe they thought she really was cross at them. Damn those books on how to flirt! She'd never read another word! Just then an insecurity bug bit her. Maybe she wasn't doing it right. Hermione swallowed. She would think on it and then go see her friend, with whom she consulted on all things men.
Hermione stepped forward, intending to reach out to let them know she wasn't cross, But just as she moved, Draco turned. His eyes roamed her form. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and retreated.
Maybe one more try wouldn't hurt, she thought with a mental smile.
Relaxing a bit and squaring her shoulders, she shifted her focus to Marcus, effectively looking like she was ignoring Draco. "There's no need to apologize, Marcus. It wasn't your faux pas after all. It was-"
A pop of Apparition interrupted her response. It was Adrian and the closer he got the stormier his expression. When he reached the door, he blew up. "You're wearing next to nothing, witch! Someone could see you! Clothes! Now!" He demanded, pointing up the stairs.
She swore she heard both a groan from Draco and a chuckle from Blaise.