Circe's Tits: A Surprise Encounter
DOND February
"Headmistress McGonagall, you really don't have to give me a Hogwarts portrait for home security. That's completely unnecessary."
"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Minerva, my dear?"
Hermione sighed in frustration. "Minerva, it just isn't needed."
"Nonsense Hermione. You are a young witch living alone. You have no wizarding ancestors to watch over your home, so it makes sense for me to give you a portrait. We have thousands here. Any portrait you'd like, except one of the Headmasters, is yours."
Hermione shuddered at the idea of Severus Snape or Dumbledore in her front room, watching her coming and going. Positively horrifying.
"I'm just not sure that it's a good idea. I recall Walburga Black's portrait being rather… vocal, shall we say, in her disapproval of me."
"Hermione, that woman was an absolute cow in life. I'd never saddle you with such an unpleasant countenance for your home. Perhaps one of the historical muggleborns would be a good choice?" McGonagall pulled out a huge book labelled "An Inventory of Portraits at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" and began perusing through the catalogue. "Probably a witch rather than a wizard," The Headmistress mused to herself.
"Circe's tits," Hermione muttered.
"Circe?" McGonagall looked up in surprise, "Well, we do have her portrait. She's on the fourth floor landing of the Grand Staircase. I'll have Filch package her up for you."
Hermione wished she could sink into the floor, but obviously McGonagall wasn't going to hear of changing her mind on this matter.
...
Hermione had to admit that Circe's portrait looked lovely in her sitting room. She'd magically extended one of the walls, so the portrait was able to face the front entrance. She had gotten a deep blue chaise lounge and the lamp that looked like bluebells did set the place off. Hermione had charmed the walls a deep cerulean and enchanted the ceiling to show her the moon and stars. It reminded her of Hogwarts and that was soothing to her senses.
Circe was a gorgeous woman in her portrait, young and vibrant in a long blue gown with a goblet in her hand. Hermione was amazed at how excited the portrait was to be out of Hogwarts. She did not have many good things to say about children. Hermione had taken to laying on the chaise lounge and reading salacious novels aloud and then Circe would entertain her with equally salacious tales about her own life.
After only a couple of weeks, Hermione wondered how she had ever done without Circe's company in the evenings. She enjoyed dinner and brunch with Pansy and Ginny, even the occasional sleepover there, but her own personal enchantress was a special thing.
...
Circe was concerned about Hermione Granger. While she deeply enjoyed no longer being smeared with jam by little fingers or having to listen to the inane conversation of the other portraits and ghosts, the human being that she had been put in charge of watching over had a very small insular life.
The witch read naughty books, but didn't have a single lover. Why at her age, Circe herself had had at least two dozen at one time. She wasn't sure how she could help Hermione and it kept her up at night, scheming. She wished she could do a summoning spell for someone to show the clever witch a good time. She did have most of the components in her frame with her, if she substituted an herb or two she might be able to do it, but would it work that was the question.
...
A knock sounded at the door while Hermione was making her coffee; despite being only in her robe, her hair up in a messy bun, she went to answer it.
"Draco," Hermione breathed in surprise, "What are you doing here?"
"Granger," Draco said in shock, "This is your apartment?" His eyes flickered to the deep v of skin revealed by her robe. At her nod, he said, "We're neighbors. I'm in 3B. It's…my house elf's day off and I forgot to pick up milk yesterday. Do you have any that you could spare for Scorpius? He…wont drink water. Mother's with him, but I was hoping to not go all the way out into the storm."
Hermione laughed, "I remember when Teddy was that age. He only drank apple juice with a splash of water for a year. Come in Draco, I have some. Let me just find a container for you."
...
Circe liked the look of the attractive blonde man that followed Hermione into the kitchen. The hungry way that he looked at her legs where they peeked out of her short pink fuzzy robe sealed her assessment. This Draco fellow would do nicely for her Hermione.