Hermione wanted to be lost in the most fascinating book about the magical traditions of America before European colonization. It was a banned book, one that was supposed not to be in circulation even in America due to political reasons. Hermione was lucky when she discovered it during her mission, counting it as the greatest surprise benefit.
… well, until the unmentionable happened.
It was the same unmentionable event that was preventing the book from distracting her properly. That, and the memory of Ginny on Harry's lap, jumping repeatedly, was far more beautiful than Hermione could ever be.
"It … it was good when it lasted," Hermione murmured, feeling melancholic. She was sure that, now that Harry touched Ginny, he would never look at her again. Who would, when they had the attention of one of the most popular girls of Hogwarts, lively, athletic, and sexy at the same time.
And, certainly not a boring bookworm.
Of course, she didn't miss the irony of her emotional state. She had already made him promise that he wouldn't touch her once they leave the cruise ship, and there were only hours until that happened. The ship would arrive at the port at dawn, bringing their little game to an end.
Why would it matter if it ended a day before the promised time? She should be happy. What she wanted was about to happen … and she could go back to her fiancee.
So, why did it feel like a punishment…
"Focus, Hermione," she repeated loudly, but that didn't work. She was already having trouble focusing, then a knock on the door distracted her further. Hermione remembered ordering room service … an hour ago.
A bit late, but better than never. She walked to open the door. But, it wasn't the room service that arrived at her door, seeing her worst-looking frumpy pajamas and messy hair, without a hint of makeup.
It was Harry Potter.
Handsome as ever, his emerald eyes drilling into her, but what caught her attention was his hair. Even messier than usual, and still wet after shower…
Like he needed any other reason to find her inferior. She wanted to collapse on the ground and start crying, but despite everything, her pride was stronger than that. She gave him a strong, impassive look. "Is there something wrong?" Hermione asked.
"Nope, why would you think that?" he answered with a damnable smirk.
Hermione wanted to say that something had to be, considering he stopped fucking Ginny — probably just minutes ago — before visiting, but she held her breath. Considering she was the one that watched them under an invisibility cloak, she couldn't just say that out loud. That put her in the wrong.
That … and being engaged, but the latter one was surprisingly easy to ignore.
"Well, it's late," Hermione stammered instead of alluding to the hungry way he had been fucking Ginny.
"Just the time to visit a club, actually," Harry said. "And, I thought, who better accompany me than my sexy bookworm. I remember you enjoying my club much better than being out in the sun," he added.
And just like that, she found herself blushing. His references were … rather dirty, considering she hadn't seen anywhere but his office in his club — ending up in a very memorable way — and she retreated like a coward while they were sunbathing.
She cursed herself. Maybe if she stuck there, Ginny wouldn't have been a part of the situation. Hermione just wanted to keep her friend safe, of course, and nothing more.
Lost in the dreams of what could happen, Hermione reacted too late when he rushed forward and reached for her wardrobe. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Finding you something to wear, of course," he answered.
"I didn't agree yet," she countered, but when he turned his gaze at her, already pulling a pair of underwear from her wardrobe, she found her lips rebelling. "Alright, I'll go put on my makeup."
However, she stopped at the doorway.
"I would have thought that it was more of Ginny's scene," Hermione said, unable to prevent herself from needling him. "Why didn't you ask her?"
"After how drunk she got yesterday, I doubt that's a good idea. Not to mention, she's a bit tired."
"Of course she's tired," she answered, her tone far too biting for someone that was supposed to be unaware of their illicit affair. Harry looked at her, his gaze questioning. "She likes to go to bed early, Quidditch habit," Hermione explained hurriedly before slamming the door behind her.
And locking it for good measure.
It was exaggerated … but she panicked and made a mistake … well, another mistake. "I need to calm down," she murmured as she looked in the mirror. "It'll take a while for me to get ready, Harry. Why don't you go to the club, and I'll meet you there."
She expected him to argue against it, maybe even barge into the bathroom. Worse, a part of her actually wished for it. "As you wish, beautiful," he said. "I put your clothes on the bed."
The door slammed close, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. She needed to calm down. Hopefully, she had half an hour to prepare. It should be enough to calm down.
It was not, Hermione realized. Half an hour was not enough to calm down in the first place, and her feelings when she saw what was laid on top of her bed were enough to destroy most of the control she was able to collect.
And, now, just as she was about to leave the room, a glance at the mirror destroyed the remaining. She couldn't imagine how she had dressed … a plied skirt that revealed her black thong the moment she took a step forward, fishnet stockings, platform shoes, and a tube top that was just tight enough to reveal she was not wearing a bra.
All Harry put on her bed. Clothing that she certainly did not own.
She looked like a whore. She should have rejected wearing those and put on something more sensible, but she failed that. "It's our last night together," she murmured. She couldn't refute his order now…
Of course, that left the challenge of walking to the nightclub. With a deep breath, she stepped into the corridor, and started walking. As she walked, she was quick to notice one advantage. She wasn't the only one dressed revealingly … hopefully, it would keep her invisible as she walked toward the night club of the cruise ship.
Yet, that didn't work as well as she had hoped. A lot of people had been looking at her. For a while, she thought it was about the occasional stumbles she experienced. She wasn't used to such tall shoes, and the wobbling of the ship hardly helped.
And, the whistles she received were hardly about her stumbling. She blushed as she held her skirt, doing her best to prevent an accident, blushing badly. She tried to ignore them, but the details of her current situation kept rushing back.
Like the fact that she wasn't wearing nearly enough to be decent.
"Do you have a date, beautiful?" called a man as she entered the club.
Hermione blushed even as she stammered an answer. She didn't appreciate the attention. Certainly not. That was disgusting, demeaning, insulting, and went against everything she believed in.
Then why, she felt a sense of pride in their base attitude?
Maybe it was the novelty of it. She had never walked around like this in public, never believing in her own beauty. The only reason she was able to wear them now was because Harry picked them, and she found it difficult to disappoint him during their last night together.
But dressed like this, she was able to be the center of attention. Certainly a novel experience … not one she would repeat in her own, but thrilling nonetheless. Maybe she wasn't just a bookworm.
However, her budding confidence died just as quickly when she entered the club, and saw Harry at the bar. He was not alone. Ginny was sitting next to him, holding his arm close to her body … and wearing nothing but a tight black dress, one that was even shorter than Herrmione's skirt.
She was defeated once more. She should turn and leave, leave him with Ginny. After all, she could never rival Ginny. She could never copy her energy as Ginny suddenly dragged her to the dark dance floor.
She should retreat. She was just about to turn, when she was interrupted halfway by a hand landing on the small of her back, which was left naked by her crop top. "How about you accompany me for a dance—" a middle-aged man started.
That was all he was able to say before Hermione grabbed his hand and twisted it, pushing him onto his knees. She put her unarmed training to good use. "What was that?" she said to him even as the people around them stepped back.
"L-let me go, crazy bitch," he gasped, his sleazy expression replaced by fear. To think that the asshole thought she would play along and not fight back…
Like what she was doing about Ginny, Hermione was hit by realization. Why should she stay away and let her do whatever she wanted? "The only reason I don't break your arm is because you reminded me of something," she said as she pushed him to the floor. People around them chuckled, enjoying the show.
Hermione left them behind as she rushed toward the dance floor. She had another battle to win…