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Chapter 19: Obtuse:

Hermione blew dry her hair, fixed her makeup and then looked at the limited amount of clothing she had brought with her this weekend. He told her to dress nicely, but she had only brought one dress with her this weekend, the one that she was going to wear to her blind date Friday night. She ended up not wearing it, because she wore the one he bought her instead. She assumed that this dress would be appropriate for today, and for wherever and whatever he had planned.

He said he was picking her up in an hour, and the hour would be up in ten minutes, so she had no other options. She felt it was more of a formal dress, for an evening out, and it wasn't yet noon, but she would wear it anyway. She looked at the cream coloured dress, with the tight bodice, thin shoulder straps, low halter-style neckline, plunging back, pleated skirt, and she had no choice but to put it on. She had brought it originally because it was roughly the colour of a white rose. Speaking of which, she called down to the desk and asked them to send her up another single white rose. She would wear it somewhere on her person.

She passed by the suite's door in only her knickers and shoes, sans stockings and bra, when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it hesitantly, and peered out, not knowing if it was Draco, a few minutes early or the bellhop with her rose.

It was both. Draco stood outside the door with a single white rose in his hand. He had on a cream coloured suit, and a black bow tie. How odd. Their outfits matched in colour almost exactly. They would look perfect together. How did he know? She said, "Is the rose for me?"

"No, it's for my boutonnière," he answered honestly. He broke off the stem and placed it in his buttonhole. Just as he did so, a bellhop brought up a single white rose. Draco smiled, took it from him, and handed him a tip. He passed it to her, through the narrow opening of the door. "Great minds think alike," Draco spouted.

"And in this case, even we did," she said back. He was sure there was an insult directed at him somewhere in her little comment, but he didn't care. She started to shut the door, but he held it open with his hand.

"Let me in," he said.

"I have to finish dressing." She remained hiding behind the door.

"I'll help, I have very nimble fingers. I can do up the zip or buttons, or align your stockings, all sorts of things," he uttered from the hallway, hand still on the door.

"I'm not wearing stockings, and I can get the zipper fine, thanks," she said. She pushed on the door.

"I can adjust your bra straps," he said. "Make your cleavage look nice and full."

"I'm not wearing a bra. The dress is cut too low in the back." He made a sort of moaning sound. She looked out the crack at him and then said, "Are you ever serious?"

"I'm being very serious right now," he said. He looked it, which in and of itself worried her a bit. She pushed on the door again, to try to shut it, but he continued to block it from shutting.

"Just wait out there for me," she pleaded.

"I could make sure you don't have panty lines," he said.

She frowned, looked out the narrow crack in the doorway again and said, "The skirt is full, so it won't show my panty line."

"I was hoping you would say that you aren't wearing panties," he said with a smile.

"Oh, you," was her best response. She managed to slam the door shut. Draco stood on the other side of the door, his hands flat on the panels, his forehead touching the cool wood, and he tried to imagine her body. He had seen a bit of it, but not enough.

He imagined her strong but slender arms, her long, tanned legs, her full, round breasts. He wondered what colour and shape her nipples were. As soon as he had that thought, he grew hard with want. He was torturing himself, but he couldn't stop. He heaved a heavy sigh, and let his imagination continue. He wondered if her belly was as flat as it seemed in that one-piece bathing suit. He liked a flat belly, with full hips. What could he say? He liked a woman with a nice body. Her skin was almost the colour of ivory. Her lips were the colour of a pink rose. He banged his head twice on the outside of the door and actually said, "You're killing me Hermione."

She heard every word.

Unknown to him, she was on the other side of the door. The thought that she was naked, and he was out in the hall speaking to her, with nothing between them but a two-inch door, which he could easily open if he wanted, made her warm with desire. It started as a faint stirring, and became steady and strong. She actually pressed her body against the wood as soon as she shut the door, wondering if he was still close to the other side. Her nipples rubbed against the smooth grain of the wood, and she imagined it was his hands bringing her nipples to rigid peaks. Her sensitive skin grew tingling as she closed her eyes, and imagined his hands roaming her body. She remembered his nice body, from yesterday at the spa, and she wondered what it would feel like pressed against hers. She almost felt perverse, but she was safe in the confines of her room, with nobody to see or her judge her, when she heard what sounded like two knocks, and then Draco saying, "You're killing me Hermione."

Her eyes flew open, she snapped to attention, and asked aloud, "What did you say?"

Draco jumped back from the door. Oh, Merlin help him! She heard him. She was still standing on the other side of the door. He almost felt guilty for something he imagined, and couldn't even act on, but then he realized that she didn't know what was going on in his imagination, and inside his pants, unless…no, she was too 'good' to be thinking the same things he was thinking.

He heard her say again, "Draco, did you say something?"

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" That was the best response he could muster.

"Did you say my name?" she asked.

"Are you still naked?" he asked hoarsely. He leaned against the door again.

Hermione leaned one shoulder against the wood, looked down and said, "I have on two shoes and a pair of light blue lace knickers." She wondered what he would say now.

He was silent. He was truly without words. He couldn't even swallow. He asked, "Are you going to get dressed?"

Suddenly, she felt wicked. It was as if the door was protecting her from not only him, but from her goody-two-shoe ways. Also, he had already given her fair warning that he was going to try to seduce her before the day was over, and she decided to make it hard for him, by making it seem easy. She couldn't contain the giddiness she felt at the prospect of torturing him, just a bit. After all, she was a healthy woman, and she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she just had more sense than he did. She knew that sex would be an unnecessary complication to their already complicated dilemma. That didn't mean that she couldn't have fun at his expense.

She leaned against the door and said, "Maybe I like what I have on, or should I say, what I don't have on. Maybe I want to spend the day as I am. On the other hand, I might take everything off, would you like that? When I think about it, I probably wouldn't need knickers on under my dress. Do you think I should go without them? Would that be," she paused, and added, "wicked of me?"

He banged his head on the door again. She smiled. "Did you knock?" she asked.

"Get dressed!" he snapped. He was decidedly uncomfortable.

"You know, it's very warm for September. I'm just standing here, NAKED, thinking that it's too HOT to get dressed. I think I'll stay NAKED for a while longer. You don't mind if I stay NAKED, do you?" She emphasized the word naked each time she said it. She almost laughed at herself, realizing that she didn't know how to be sexy. Surely, sexy people didn't have to keep going around saying the word, 'naked'.

However, to Draco, hearing the word, 'naked' coming out of her mouth, when he knew that she really was almost naked, made him terribly uncomfortable. In a good way, which was bad, because he was standing in the hallway, instead of in there with her, and anyone could pass by and see him, and he couldn't do anything about it. "Granger, I hate you."

"I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "I was trying to be sexy, and I know it didn't work. I'm just not that way, I guess. I thought that you would think about my body, and my being almost naked, and I thought it would turn you on or something, if I talked sexy and all. Silly, huh?" She was ready to give up her scheme, when he said something that made her angry.

"Oh, my Granger, you're so obtuse."

She was sexy and obtuse, a lethal combination in Draco's opinion. He walked away from the door, leaned against the far wall, and slid down to sit on the floor.

Hermione would show him obtuse. She said, "Draco?" She had no idea he wasn't still in front of the door.

He felt like crying. "Please," he moaned, "just get dressed."

"Are you okay?" The concern in her voice was evident and real. She wondered for a moment why his voice sounded suddenly farther away. "Draco?" She opened the door just a bit again. She saw him on the floor. "What's wrong?" she urged. She started out of the room, with just her arms around her chest. He put his arms up, to ward her off; however, the thought that her arms were the only thing keeping him from seeing her breasts caused a true agony to spread from his groin to every muscle in his body.

She reached out for him with one arm, which meant only one was covering her, and she bent down, and he could see the swell of breast above and below her arm, and he almost cried out. In fact, he said, "Don't touch me!"

A man started down the hall and said, "Nice coloured knickers, lass." Draco told the man to sod off as she ran back into her room. She saw the towel she had earlier, grabbed it, but didn't even bother to slip it on, instead opting to put it over her chest, and she ran back out into the hall.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong? Are you ill?" she quizzed, as she went down on her knees.

He looked at her as she knelt beside him. He could see her perfect long legs, her nice, full hips, her soft, silky shoulders, her side, her arms, her neck…even mundane body parts were causing him anguish. "Granger, please, you are literally killing me." He slumped over, leaning on one arm, which was keeping him from toppling over completely on the floor.

"Draco!" she shouted. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but are you ill?" Hermione stood up and saw a passing bellhop. She said, "Please help me. Something's wrong with my friend."

The bellhop looked Hermione up and down, leered at her, and then looked down at the angry face of Draco Malfoy. The boy immediately knew nothing was wrong with the man, but he said, "Sir, do you need assistance?"

"Ice water," Draco said with a laugh, "right down my pants, and clothing for my companion." The boy laughed and walked away. Hermione started to run after him. Draco looked up at her as she ran. Her lace blue knickers were the only thing covering her heart-shaped bum, and the realization that besides these knickers, and two shoes, and one small towel (he assumed she was still holding the towel in front of her), she was completed, and utterly nude, made him wince once more.

"GRANGER!" he yelled. He sat back up. "GO GET DRESSED, for the love of everything holy!"

She ran back to him, leaned down, and said, "Let me help you up."

"You've helped me up enough," he said cryptically. "Please, if you have an ounce of feelings for me, go get dressed." He was practically begging.

She frowned and said, "I was just worried about you." She looked hurt, but she walked back in the room and slammed the door shut. Then she threw the towel on the floor and smiled. She knew exactly what she was doing. "And he thought I was the obtuse one," she said aloud with a laugh. HA! She walked over to slip her dress on and said, "He might win the battle, but I'm going to win the war."