Think, think.
Hermione knew both Harry and Neville were Aurors, and had experience with being hunted or targeted. Either of them could handle themselves. Next on her mental list was Theo.
She groaned. She had no idea where the former Slytherin would be when he wasn't making illicit deals with Malfoy - she assumed - or picking up witches at pubs. She didn't even know where the Nott residence was, though she could find that out if she just popped by the Ministry.
Unsurprisingly enough, she was reluctant to stop by again. She knew she would have to, because she still had matters to resolve with Malfoy. And not the kind that her body was longing for, the traitorous thing that it had become.
Harry wouldn't be back at the Ministry yet, so asking him to find out wouldn't work. Percy worked in the department of Magical Transportation, but he bended the rules for nobody. He might, if she went down in person… No! No.
In the end she simply penned a quick note to him and sent an Owl. That method wouldn't be immediate, but it would have to do. In the meantime she found herself pulling on a deep grey robe with crimson seams that had a much simpler cut than her normal severe style.
The White Rabbit was even busier than the other night, which was depressingly recent. Hermione did not often go out, and rarely by herself. She toyed with the idea of inviting Ron, since he was the only person she felt safe around that she could stand.
"Unicorn Blood, please." She ordered once she got the attention of the bartender, and smiled when he passed it along. She was fairly sure he remembered her and her non-alcoholic preferences.
The moment she threw down the payment, and a generous tip, she realized he had not, in fact, remembered at all. It did taste amazing with Silver Jinx tequila, hot and smooth and traveled down to her toes.
The noisy ambience of the crowd drowned out a thousand thoughts that wanted to spring to the forefront of her mind. Instead the conversations separated, sometimes, and blended together at seemingly random intervals.
"Could you imagine? She just kept going on and on about how Sandra stole her son with her fancy robes and colored hair. Mad, mad."
"Look, I pulled out several dragon steaks earlier, and we better go soon…"
She had paid for one, she might as well drink it. Taking a long drink, she took out a second to try and remember when she ate last. Hmm. Had she ate lunch?
She had already searched for Theo and didn't see him. She would just stay until she finished her drink.
"Did you pick up my new dress robes? You spilled ale on them last week!"
"Are you sure? I don't want to impose…"
Hermione blinked at her empty glass. It was such a thin glass, really. She held up two fingers for him to bring another, and was surprised when he slid two in front of her. Well, it would be a waste if she didn't drink them.
Checking how much she brought, she was almost disappointed to find that she had certainly brought enough funds to continue to drink at this pace until she couldn't Apparate home. And the Knight Bus was packed once it reached midnight, packed full of drunken wizards with itchy wand hands.
She wouldn't have any more after these two.
"And his face was inches from mine. I was so nervous I tripped over nothing and was so embarrassed."
"I rescued the child before he could take a nosedive right over the cliff. My uncle, Tiberius you know, said that I should have earned an Order of Merlin, considering how risky it was. I nearly went over myself."
That voice. That swaggering tone, that pompous self-aggrandizing voice.
Hermione spun the straw twice in the drink as her lip curled in a sneer. The memory of a monologue that literally hadn't ended from the moment she had greeted him on their 'date' to when he descended on her like a lipstick-smeared aunt with bifocals landing a kiss on Thanksgiving sprang up in her mind.
She wondered, with a snicker, if he had ever gotten better at kissing. There had to be some witch out there that didn't need to wash her face after he snogged her lips. The uncharitable thought wasn't like her, at least the smirky condescension of it.
She squinted at her drink, silently blaming the contents. If only she hadn't assumed that a bartender, who served many, many faces a night, would remember her preferences. Perhaps, Hermione admitted, she had wanted a drink.
Downing the rest of her glass, she threw down a few sickles for an additional tip and turned around. She did run her fingers through her hair to feel if it was becoming unmanageable...then stopped. Her gaze moved from one end of the room to the other, narrowing once she caught thread of that voice again.
"...I did mention to the current Minister of Magic, I've known most of them you know, that I thought people should be rewarded for acts of bravery beyond the duty of civilianship. I mean, I've outdueled several Aurors, especially during the-"
Hermione moved off the barstool, standing on her own two feet as she spotted that smug face. It wasn't that he wasn't good-looking, he was, but his personality warped that fair, classically handsome face into something she wanted to grind under her heel.
Two witches sat at the small table with him, one clearly wishing she were anywhere else, and the other happily sucking on a straw. She had at least seven small glasses in front of her. While Hermione watched, she even nabbed her friend's drink and drained that dry.
McLaggen winked at the drunk one and held up three fingers. He had three drinks delivered as she watched, and the swaying little witch sucked down two immediately.
Hermione hated to think it, but clearly the one on the verge of becoming an unconscious heap had a problem. Her friend wasn't having any alcohol, undoubtedly so she could haul the petite witch home once the inevitable happened.
"Cormac, I'm obligated by my Healer to inform you that the rash I had is wizard-spread. I'm going have to suggest you get checked, before the green scales spread to your...wand." Hermione smiled as she stood in front of the braggart and his not-so-captive audience.
It halted his words immediately as he gawked at her. "Hermione Granger?"
"You remembered my name! It's too bad you didn't remember that certain, ah, afflictions can and will be passed to every witch you mess around with. I had to take three potions a day just to-"
"This seems personal we better leave!" The sober witch pulled her drunk friend to her feet, ushering her away. As she passed Hermione, she muttered 'Thank you' fervently before continuing on her way.
Cormac stared at her, mouth parted in consternation. "What was that all about?"
Before his chest could get all puffed out with indignation, Hermione scooted a chair right beside his and slid on it with a lazy smile. "Shut up, McLaggen." And when he opened his mouth to protest, she cast a silent Silencio.
He looked even more offended, one hand flying to his sleeve…
Hermione held up his wand after it flew into her grasp, smirking. She pulled it out of his reach when he tried to snatch it. "Ah ah, not without permission." Tapping his nose, she smiled in his furious face. "Merlin, I hoped I'd never see you again."
She leaned close and trailed a finger down his cheek, even when he jerked his head to the side. "Look at you, McLaggen. Pathetic. Your uncle's connection couldn't buy your way on a Quidditch team, and Kingsley won't let you move right into a Department Head. Oh, I heard all about your efforts to become the new Head of MLE."
She should probably be grateful to Malfoy for preventing that. She wasn't, but she did know Cormac would have undoubtedly been worse.
Cormac squinted at her with impotent anger, moving to stand up. He failed spectacularly as he was suddenly shoved back into his seat without her laying a hand on him.
Hermione smiled at him, leaning so close they could have breathed wrong and ended up kissing. "I just want to see if you've improved," she whispered against his mouth. Using one hand to yank the front of his robe closer, she kissed him. It was hard and bruising and he clumsily moved his mouth against her onslaught.
She bit his lip, shoving her tongue past his gasp and devouring the alcohol-tinged taste. He had been drinking Firewhiskey and Pepperrum, neither of which she found appealing. Just the same as she felt about him, and yet here she was, sucking on his tongue with purpose.
For fun, she removed the Silencing spell, and he was making helpless noises in the back of his throat.
Disgusted, she recast the spell and breathed in the heat pouring off his skin. He had been shivering even before she touched him. She broke the kiss, if one could call it that, to whisper in his ear. "You like this, don't you? You want me to tell you what a worthless wizard you've turned out to be. And you're still a piss-poor kisser, if we're going to be honest."
His angry twitch and quickened breathing was answer enough for her.
Moving to stare at him right in the eyes again, she rubbed her nose against his cheek and captured his mouth. Moulding her lips against his, she swept her tongue against his and pulled away when he did something she didn't like. Again and again, until he grasped the concept of running the tip of his tongue in exploration instead of poking around her mouth in a show of dominance.
She was the only dominant person tonight. "You really like this. Filthy and needy, aren't you, positively gagging for a witch to come along and tell you what to do."
His arousal came in spikes and waves against her skin. It swept her along, but never in a way she couldn't handle. When his hand touched her shoulder, she bit his lip again. Not too hard, but he had a whiny pout of hurt as he yanked his hand away.
"Don't bloody touch me," she hissed, twisting her fist in the fabric of his collar, until she was sure it would leave a pink line against his neck. "Did I say you could? Your problem, McLaggen, is that you don't listen."
His eyes were wide, pupils expanding into the iris, chest falling and rising rapidly. He had given up all pretense of trying to speak, parted lips swollen and red.
She smoothed her hand over his cheek, almost petting. "You don't, because nobody listens to you. You can talk forever, but it doesn't matter because you don't matter. When is the last time anyone cared about you?"
A sheen of a different sort of hurt entered his gaze, never wavering from hers. They were even moist, the taste of his shattering vulnerability coated her tongue and mouth like spit and alcohol, but infinitely better.
Her voice dropped low as she leaned closer, breathing against his cheek. "That's because you're unlikeable. Unbearable, actually. That poor witch was pouring a bottle down her throat just because she couldn't stand you. Was she the daughter of one of your uncle's friends?"
Cormac swallowed, trying again to move his face away from hers. This time she used the hand that caressed him to jerk it back in place by holding onto his chin. All the heat that built under her skin moved slickly into him, but not unwillingly. Something in his greedily sucked it up, wanton, aching. His throbbing arousal was as obvious to her as if she could feel it.
"I wouldn't touch you, Merlin no. Do it yourself." She smirked against his cheek. "Don't get up, you're not allowed to leave until you've finished."
They weren't even at a corner table. The little round table was surrounded by laughing and drinking people, any of of whom could glance over and his him fumbling to reach under his robes. Her hand descended on his wrist, feeling the cords in his wrist tense. He was wrapping his fingers around himself.
His mouth moved silently, shortly, so she figured he was trying to talk. And she didn't care. She squeezed his wrist. "Don't you know how take care of yourself?" She let a sneer color her words. "You'd think so, since no decent witch enjoys you heaving on top of her. They just lie there because you're boring and self-centered."
The increase in his heat and lust slid against her skin, purring as it seeped readily back into her. All thoughts of metaphysical thievery had fled her mind as his pace increased, his thighs trembling the closer he brought himself.
"Stop."
His eyes bulged, but she could feel he did as he was told and halted. She pinned his wrist to the inside of his thigh, not harshly, but firmly. He could have pulled away from her. He didn't.
"Good boy." She watched him close his eyes at the approval. He looked sickeningly grateful for it. "You're doing real good, Cormac," Hermione murmured, releasing his wrist. "For that, you can continue."
He panted at the permission, the fingers of his trapped hand curling and uncurling in want. However, when she didn't let him move his hand, he stared at her desperately, pleadingly.
She smiled, a slow and self-assured curve tugging at her lips. "When I'm not at the table." She patted his cheek again, noting the way he leaned into the touch. "And I want to hear it." Her hand slipped away, and he didn't move.
"Good boy." She moved off the seat, whispering the countercharm to Silencio as she turned her back and walked away. Even over the cacophony of drunken conversations she could hear him sharply groaning as he did as he was told.
A few gasps and shocked giggles from behind said that finally he had some onlookers. It certainly didn't deter him, a broken shout cut through the noise right to her ears. She could feel the release rush in a charged wave, filling her full of crackling energy just like when she grabbed Harry's hand at St. Mungo's.
She was savoring it as she made her way toward the door when she accidentally caught the eye of another patron.
Blaise Zabini watched as she passed, his head cocked as he regarded her curiously. He was dressed in a tailored robe the hue of freshly upturned earth, copper seams running down the outline of his body. Sitting next to a blonde witch who was talking at him, he didn't look away from Hermione when her eyes met his, but lifted an eyebrow instead.
And the high temporarily crashed for Hermione, leaving her cold and uncertain. Was he just staring at her like that because it was her, or because he had seen everything? What had she been doing, messing with McLaggen and telling him those things...what was wrong with her?
The air was cool outside of the pub, nobody paying attention to the witch covering her face with her hands. She was not the type who took pleasure in controlling anyone.
But maybe he was?
The thought stopped her short, a more sure reason cropping up; maybe her behavior was altering to inflame the wizard? It was still her doing it, she couldn't deny that, but it felt like stepping into a costume or casual play-acting. Being flattering and forward with Neville, insulting and baleful toward Theo...making Cormac submissive.
The twins? A deep shudder ran through her. She had thought it seemed as if they never shared a witch before. Perhaps they longed to. Perhaps...well, she would be a safe person for them to try it with, if that's what they needed. She could make that sacrifice...
"Stop that, Hermione," she told herself, pinching her arm. It was just that she ran into the twins when hopped up on other's Veela-induced euphoria, and yes, she had been utterly unable to resist two wizards.
That was dangerous. She couldn't be alone with Fred and George until she found out how to break this connection. Luckily she didn't know of any other two wizards close enough to consider sharing, because that encounter had been far more tempting than any other she had as of yet.
Hermione ignored what that said about her, walking toward the direction of her flat until she was sober enough to Apparate, if that even happened. And now she had another person to worry about the Veela attacking! She cursed the entire walk to her flat.
Author's Notes:
I'm sure she's kicking herself for leaving the house! But you gotta, Hermione, cause you gotta. XD This is my early birthday present to everyone! I mean, I know it's my birthday tomorrow, and I'm giving you guys the present but...I'm not sure how that works. But enjoy anyway :D