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Millicent ushered the thought deeper into her mind. It'd never work. The Gryffindor was probably satisfied with her silly affair with the ridiculous McLaggen, and out of a desire to fit in, she'd probably end up marrying the bloke on account of the simple fact that he wanted her. Not that he was good enough for her, by a long shot.

Settling with the knowledge that she'd have to content herself with merely admiring the girl from afar, Millicent sat back in the comfortable chair and cleaned her plate. Aside from her periodic, automatic glances at the twins, who were safely stowed away sharing a butterbeer in a dark corner, she focused her entire attention on the girl. Pleased to have a covert vantage point, she sat in quiet contemplation of Hermione Granger's voluptuous assets long after she planned to get up and fill her plate again.

And then, as Millicent watched quietly, Hermione's eyes cast a glance over the room, as if she sensed someone was observing her. Her wide brown eyes landed on Millicent finally, and she looked as scared as if she were a mouse under observation by a snake.

Knowing this would probably be the end of her pleasurable viewing, Millicent shot back a toothy grin. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. It was nice to see a Gryffindor feel uncomfortable. She refused to break eye contact first, and she continued to stare steadily at Hermione. Assured that she had the girl's attention, Millicent's hand trailed up the front of her shirt, loosened her masculine tie, and subtly undid the topmost buttons of her shirt, revealing her substantial cleavage.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and with a hint of a blush, she turned back to McLaggen. Unsubtle buffoon that he was, McLaggen didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and went on bombarding her with sweet nothings, gesticulating grandly at empty space for emphasis.

Millicent was worried that Hermione was going to do something at that point - move the couple away out of eyeshot, tell Cormac what was happening and have him come confront her, or even just ignore her.

She was pleasantly surprised by the results that followed. At first, it looked like Hermione was successfully opting for the third circumstance - ignoring Millicent - but as Millicent continued to keep her attention directed at the Muggleborn witch, she noticed Hermione stealing glances in her direction. Each time, Millicent gazed back beatifically, raising one of her eyebrows in an invitation.

She never wavered, and Hermione's glances became more curious, intrigued, and frequent. Until finally, Hermione and her were staring at each other every few seconds.

Hermione's dark face was turning a little rosy at the cheeks as she flushed. She seemed to be getting a little bit too hot, and she took a trembling sip from her aged oak mead.

She seemed to meditate upon it, taking deep heaving breaths, focusing intently on her drink. Millicent admired how the other girl was so frazzled, how her dark hair seemed already to be curling back into its usual kinky state, and how her dress seemed to be growing tighter on the other girl's body, gluing more closely to the girl's skin with sweat.

Then, Millicent won the ultimate prize - Hermione's own hand reached up to touch her own throat, and unbuttoned one, two, three of her high collar buttons, until her own cleavage was exposed.

Her large brown eyes glanced to the side, and then she made fearless eye contact with Millicent, a small smirk of her own growing on her face.

It was Millicent's turn to blush furiously, and she found herself outright grinning, all superior feelings evaporated. She realized her plan had worked - strangely, and against all expectations. Hermione Granger had noticed her, and acknowledged her.

She, in turn, raised her bottle of mead (she didn't bother with such things as glasses when she'd just have to refill them over and over), and, feeling a little foolish but unable to stop herself, she toasted Hermione.

Hermione nodded, raised her glass ever so slightly, and inclined her head in respect, staring straight at Millicent.

It took Millicent a moment to realize that Hermione had, indeed, toasted her back. When she did realize it, Millicent felt like she'd won the fucking moon. Her body went awash with feelings - electricity, coiled energy inside her, a seductive spark of enthusiasm, a ravenous hunger for something that she'd never truly satisfied. Her organs ached with lust, with desire, with passion. Something stirred within her she'd never felt before - it was overwhelming.

There was something in Hermione's big brown eyes that suggested that maybe, she too shared a little bit of this sensation. There was something wise in the way she looked at Millicent, and also something a little bit sad, as if she knew they could never act on these feelings.

That sadness cut Millicent to the core, but at once ignited her fervor all the more. Somehow she felt like she was walking into a trap, but she couldn't be arsed to care. Hermione Granger - the woman heralded as the most brilliant witch of her age - was interested in her.

In those moments, Millicent already knew she would slither through fire just for the chance to kiss Hermione's feet, and happily pay for the privilege.

She had no idea what to do with these feelings, and neither, it seemed, did Hermione, who finally took a deep breath and tried to focus on her non-conversation with Cormac. But Millicent could tell, something had changed. And she - Millicent - had been the cause of it. She felt a surge of pride swell in her breast.

All the while, McLaggen was oblivious as hell, distracted as all get out by Hermione's freshness, probably taking credit for it himself.

But Hermione and Millicent knew better, as they gazed into each others' eyes from across the room for what seemed like the rest of the evening. Hermione eventually managed to escape McLaggen, but she didn't join Millicent, instead heading towards her friend, Harry Potter.

Millicent had no idea what was going to happen, but she knew one thing for sure: she really wanted that girl.

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