Without raising her eyes, she murmured an approving "Hhm-hhm" and leaned cross-legged against her sofa, still sitting on the floor, while Draco disappeared into the adjacent kitchen.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling, she picked up the top envelope with her name written on it in blue ink as she slipped the other two into her lap and opened it.

Even without the blue ink that reminded her of equally blue eyes and the signature at the end of the letter, Hermione could have guessed that the letter was from Narcissa just from the elegant but precisely curved letters. The greeting made her heart beat faster in her chest:

Hermione, darling,

I would like to sincerely apologize for the behavior of my impulsive and uncontrolled sister, who I hope did not give you the impression that this bet that your friends made between each other was just a game for me. Bellatrix may be all about winning, and while I can't deny that I enjoy competing with her, you are anything but a game to me. If you're going to use that analogy, it's that you're the jackpot in every way, and I'd be honored if you'd join us for the next three weeks so I can show you how serious I am about this. Regardless of this, my offer to give you access to my private library still applies, no matter what you decide, although I very much hope that you decide to spend the next three weeks with us.

Hopefully,

Narcissa

Hermione swallowed and ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. She frowned as her eyes darted over the contents of the letter again, settling on one sentence in particular that just didn't ring true in her head: ... that you're the jackpot in every way, and I'd be honored if you'd join us for the next three weeks...

Such a sentence from Narcissa Black, the trophy wife of all, who called her, Hermione Granger, bookworm, know-it-all and workaholic, the "jackpot", felt like she had landed in a twisted world where only the opposite counted.

She shook her head, because it made less and less sense the more she thought about it. If anyone could be described as the "jackpot" here, it was Narcissa herself.

...so I can show you how serious I am about this... A restlessness gripped Hermione's abdomen at those words and she couldn't deny that the idea of how many ways Narcissa wanted to show her how serious she was made her cheeks heat up and stimulated her curiosity to the utmost.

She cleared her throat, put the letter aside and picked up the next one. Hermione would have recognized the curved but straight letters in green ink from thousands of people. After all, she had seen this writing on a blackboard almost every day for most of her youth, but even more importantly in the letter that she received when she was eleven years old from the delicate hands of the woman whose eyes were as green as the ink she wrote with, and whose visit and letter had changed Hermione's life forever.

A familiar warmth spread throughout Hermione's body as she opened Minerva's letter and began to read:

My dear Hermione,

please forgive my uncontrolled outburst earlier in the café. I really didn't want my Scottish temper to get the best of me and make you run away. Bellatrix always managed to infuriate me even as a student, and I normally have far more self-control than I showed when we met, but just the idea of Bellatrix playing games with you like she has with so many other women before you, using you to reinforce her own ego and then dropping you like a hot potato, hurting you, made me furious. This is certainly not intended to be an excuse for my behavior, just an explanation. I can't undo my past behavior, Hermione, but I can promise you that I will try not to let it happen again. At the same time, I have to admit that I would defend you and your heart again at any time (even though I am fully aware that you do not need my protection) should the situation require it, and I will never apologize for that.

Always yours,

Minerva

An irrepressible feeling of happiness spread from Hermione's chest throughout her body and she beamed as her eyes glided over her former professor's lines again. She couldn't help the grin on her face as she detected the blazing jealousy in Minerva's words towards Bellatrix.

She knew she shouldn't be so happy that Minerva's protectiveness towards her was getting the best of her to the point where she couldn't even demonstrate her famous self-control around Bellatrix, but she just couldn't help it.

It was not without reason that Minerva was the head of Gryffindor House, whose members were known for standing up for those they cared about, and having written confirmation that Minerva cared about her only made her own heart beat that much faster.

Normally it was important to Hermione to stand up for herself and not to rely on anyone's protection, but to read that Minerva would protect her - and my heart, oh Merlin, could the woman be any more romantic? - regardless of the consequences, awakened a side of Hermione that she hadn't really been aware of.

A side that actually wanted to be protected, and she couldn't imagine anyone who made her feel more safe than the black-haired Scottish woman.

Always yours...Minerva...Carefully, she ran her fingers over these last words and the headmistress's name. Always...that was a big word for the fact that the dates hadn't even really started yet, and yet Hermione had the least doubts about Minerva McGonagall's serious intentions towards her compared to the other two women.

If one of them definitely wasn't playing games with her, it was her. She knew no one as righteous and as incapable of any kind of intrigue as this woman who had taught her so much.

Yours...Could it really be that simple? Could a woman whose skills and expertise belonged to the entire wizarding community be hers? Or was it not meant that way at all, but rather that Minerva put herself into her service, just as she had dedicated herself to all wizards and witches when she accepted the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts and thus to them all as a pillar of their society serving as support? Maybe Hermione wasn't that special to her, or just as special as everyone else?

Annoyed by her own self-doubt, she rolled her eyes, placed Minerva's letter on top of Narcissa's and reached for the last one. Unsurprisingly, her name was emblazoned in black ink on the envelope and the dark witch's handwriting, like its owner herself, was obvious in the large letters, wild without appearing disordered, and in the way the letters tilted to the right showed an impatience that was so typical of Bellatrix and which seemed to be transferred to Hermione as she uneasily pulled the letter out of the envelope and read:

Little witch,

I'm well aware that I have a certain reputation that might lead others (and perhaps you, too) to believe that it's just my intention to get you into bed. Oh, don't worry, I definitely want you in my bed (and many other places), I will definitely make no secret of that, and believe me, little witch, this is an experience (or several experiences) that you definitely won't regret. But my heart, if, contrary to all rumors, I actually have one, shouldn't be given to just anyone and I certainly don't give it away lightly. I know that I am the best and therefore I deserve the best. That's why I will never give in in a fight, no matter how playfully disguised as a bet, especially not against an old kitten and my little sister.

Here I come, little witch. The question is: are you ready for me or not?

Expectantly,

Bellatrix

Blunt, direct and downright challenging. What else did Hermione expect? Bellatrix was not a woman who apologized or justified herself, nor would she make herself smaller than she actually was.

And although the eldest Black sister seemed to be the one of the three women who laid all the cards openly on the table without much fuss, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that this very display of openness was a diversionary tactic. An extremely well-staged deception that seemed so transparent that you didn't notice how the truth was being smuggled past you.

And Bellatrix's favorite means of deception was sex. She had developed such expertise in this over the years and had earned such an unassailable reputation that she carried in front of her like a shield. To intimidate others, to make them willing, to keep them at a distance?

Hermione couldn't deny that Bellatrix's direct words that she wanted her - not just once and not just in the classic places - made her whole body feel horribly hot.

She was sure that was exactly what Bellatrix had intended. She wanted to unsettle her, to make her nervous and unable to think clearly. To keep the upper hand and control. They weren't all that dissimilar in that way, although Hermione would never turn her need for control against others - would she?

She felt the same way about Bellatrix's obvious self-confidence, which almost bordered on arrogance. Hermione's first instinct upon reading that Bellatrix thought she was the best had been to snort in disbelief at the older witch's boastfulness.

But not a second later, a small voice in her head reminded her of her own thoughts that she had had just a few days ago in the Three Broomsticks, when her friends had initiated this bet that now suddenly dominated her life.

No one came close to the standards she set for herself. She was tired of looking for a woman who was intelligent and good in bed. Wasn't that any less arrogant? Could she really judge Bellatrix Black, who called herself the best, when Hermione herself admitted that only few were better than her? She, who worked and learned with the utmost discipline, who carried her academic achievements as protectively as Bellatrix did her sexual ones? The question of whether Hermione was ready for Bellatrix seemed justified. But at that moment she asked herself, was she ready for herself?

Hermione was surprised herself by this sudden self-awareness and the unhindered analysis of her "admirers" (a term with which she still did not feel entirely comfortable).

Being able to look at them in peace, read their lines and think about them undisturbed was what she was really good at - as long as the women in question weren't standing right in front of her and driving her crazy with their engaging presences.

She pulled her legs to her chest, Bellatrix's letter still in her hand, and wrapped her arms around her legs. Lost in thought, she rested her head on her knees and smiled at the utopian idea of ever being able to be her analytical, logical and controlled self in the presence of the three women.

She shook her head, still smiling at how those sirens had quickly reduced her to a heap of willing flesh, unable to even think clearly. Hermione grinned. Somehow…she liked that.

"Well, that's what I call the right attitude", Draco's voice came from the doorway to the kitchen and Hermione looked up suddenly. She'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't noticed him leaning in the doorway, watching her, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand, the other tucked casually into his suit pants.

However, with a businesslike jerk, he suddenly pulled it out of his trouser pocket and looked at his watch with a raised eyebrow: "Now stop daydreaming, Cinderella, otherwise you'll be late for the ball, and looking at your tear-stained eyes, we still have a little work to do before you're presentable."

Hermione frowned in confusion, "To the ball?"

"Yes, to the ball," Draco replied impatiently, as if Hermione was slow to understand.

Ignoring his tone, she asked again: "What ball?"

Draco suddenly seemed to remember something, put his hand in front of his face and mumbled apologetically as he pulled another letter out of his suit jacket: "Oh, that's right, I forgot another letter - which, by the way, you would have read if you hadn't left the café earlier than planned!"

Slightly ashamed of her cowardly behavior in the café, she reached out to take the letter from him, which once again had her name on it, this time in her best friend's unmistakable handwriting and, in contrast to the other letters, it didn't make her nervous, but rather an excited anticipation flooded through her.

She was excited to see what Ginny had come up with this time. Draco handed her a steaming cup of coffee as he continued to sip his own: "A little caffeine while you're at it won't do any harm, after all, you still have a little something to do today."

She gratefully closed her hand around the cup, enjoying the warmth on her skin and contentedly sipping the hot drink, the warmth of it quickly spread throughout her body. She hoped the caffeine would work just as quickly as she read Ginny's letter:

Dear Hermione, ladies,

welcome to the first round of three truly exciting weeks that could change your lives forever. The first week will consist of several group dates, while the second and third week will consist of individual dates. You will always find out the details of each date at the end of the current date. Now that you've met for the first time in an almost everyday atmosphere, tonight is going to be special: We're taking you to a ball! Don't worry, the ball will take place in London's Muggle world, where you can enjoy your time together without being disturbed, without the eyes of the magical world for which you are all celebrities constantly on you. Basically, you can do whatever you want throughout the evening and enjoy the ball to the fullest. But before you hit the dance floor, remember the following rule: Ladies, each of you only gets one dance with Hermione.

Hermione almost choked on her coffee and exclaimed in horror, "Oh no, I have to dance?! Draco, that's not possible! I will completely embarrass myself! The only dance I can do to some extent is the waltz, and I last danced it in my fourth year at the Triwizard Tournament - with a man. God, what if I have to lead? I can only dance the female part. I'm going to step on all three women's toes. Oh God, this is going to be a lot worse than this afternoon."

Without noticing, she had stood up and began pacing restlessly, delving further and further into ominous scenarios for the upcoming ball.

"Hermione?"

"The three of them can definitely dance incredibly well. Minerva definitely, after all, she taught us how to dance in fourth year. At least with her I can say with absolute certainty that she can lead."

"Hermione..."

"I don't doubt for a second that Bellatrix knows how to move, although I can't really imagine her doing classical dances, but her parents, as purebloods, certainly attached great importance to training their daughters in classical dances. And if you transfer her dominant role in her relationships with women to dancing, she definitely leads in this situation too, at least I can't imagine her doing anything else."

"Hermione."

"And Narcissa is always hosting these charity balls. I think it's very unlikely that she won't dance on them. But in contrast to the others, she seems to me to be more of the woman in the relationship - that is, to take on the role of the woman when dancing. God, like I could lead…no matter what dance."

"Hermione!"

She suddenly turned to Draco, who had been calling her name helplessly while she was lost in her loud thoughts and was now standing in front of her, slightly annoyed: "Would you please just finish reading the letter?"

Confused, she looked at the letter that she still held in her hand, which actually wasn't finished yet: "Oh, yes, of course. Sorry."

Ladies, each of you only gets one dance with Hermione. You may choose a dance style, a matching song and Hermione's outfit for the dance. Please let us know your song request in good time via owl so that we can take care of the details on site. For Hermione's outfit change and her mastery of the respective dance style, you have the following task: You will each enchant a pair of dancing shoes so that when she puts the shoes on, Hermione's dress will automatically transform into the one you want. At the same time, when wearing the shoes, she should automatically master the steps and movements of your chosen dance style so that you can concentrate on each other while dancing. For changing clothes before each dance, we have prepared a bathroom that is invisible to Muggle eyes and only accessible by the four of you. On the outside it is marked as a broom closet and is located directly on the edge of the dance floor. We have chosen the order of the dances and it is as follows: First Narcissa, then Bellatrix and finally Minerva. We await your song requests, ladies, and wish you all a lot of fun!

Ginny, Harry and Draco

"Thank Merlin, I don't have to worry about dancing." Relieved, Hermione sank onto her sofa and took a long sip of coffee.

Draco seemed to have just been waiting for Hermione to finally calm down and accept her fate, because he didn't give her time to rest and commented sarcastically, "It's a good thing we've averted this crisis now. "

Hermione gave him a playful glare and stuck her tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes as a smile crept onto his lips. "Did you really think we would subject you to such an embarrassment and send you unprepared to a ball with three women who are all extremely experienced and good dancers?"

"No, of course not," she mumbled into the now almost empty coffee cup, which muffled her voice slightly, but that was just fine with her. It was difficult for her to admit that she had once again been overwhelmed by her own insecurities and hadn't thought properly. That was so out of character for her and she didn't like it at all.

Draco's voice brought her out of her dark thoughts: "Okay, now that we've got that out of the way, let's get you into the shower while I check out what's in your closet."

Not used to being bossed around since she was usually the one telling others what to do, she gave him a grumpy look but downed the coffee cup in one go and stood up to walk past him to the bathroom.

"And don't forget to take care of all the hairs in the important places. I don't want to see any of them later," Draco called after her.

She poked her head out of the bathroom door in irritation: "Did you seriously just order me to shave my legs?"

"Not just them." Draco raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Hermione couldn't hide her shock as her mouth fell open: "You're kidding me?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

The way he said it, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if he had just asked her to wash her hair, infuriated her even more: "Draco, even if I wear the shortest dress in the world I would still wear underwear while dancing -"

She now came out of the bathroom again and gestured wildly with her arms to make her point clear.

"I'm not talking about dancing," he interrupted without hesitation, and the look he gave her couldn't have been more ambiguous. Something about his answer seemed to bother him as he tilted his head slightly and began to think out loud: "Although...strictly speaking, you could also call it a dance."

Hermione finally lost her patience: "What?! Draco, this is the first evening I'm going to spend with the women, what do you think of me?"

He sighed, put both hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, as if he had to prepare himself for a long conversation with a slow-witted child, and to Hermione's annoyance he also spoke to her in an almost fatherly, well-meaning tone: "Actually, I thought less about you." He waited patiently for her to understand.

She had a vague idea of what he was trying to imply, but still held on to the insanely innocent hope that he didn't really mean what she thought he meant: "What do you mean by that?"

He shrugged, hands still in his pockets, "Well, I can't speak for McGonagall and Aunt Bella, but I know my mother very well and she's obsessed with smooth skin." On the word "obsessed" he opened his eyes exaggeratedly wide to express his incomprehension of his mother's behavior, which was hilarious despite the seriousness with which he said it, and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. But the laughter got stuck in her throat as her brain processed what exactly he had just implied with his statement.

"You're seriously telling me that you know that your mother likes me to be smooth...?!" Hermione didn't know for the life of her how she was going to finish this sentence with dignity without sinking into the ground in embarrassment, and just gestured her hands helplessly between her legs.

Draco opened his eyes in shock, became a touch paler, if that was even possible given his natural paleness, and quickly pulled his hands out of his pockets to protect his eyes: "Heavens no, Granger, uuuaaaahhh, images in my head."

He peeked between his fingers to make sure her hands were dangling securely at her sides again and not making any more lewd movements before he lowered his hands again and explained, "I don't know for sure, but I strongly suspect so, because I know how obsessed she is with her own skin and how much she has annoyed me with mine over the years. I can't imagine that things should suddenly be different in this case." He shrugged his shoulders. "Better safe than sorry."

Even though Hermione could understand his concerns, she refused to think so far ahead so early in this dating experiment: "Still, I'm not having sex with any of these women tonight! It would be far too early even for a kiss, it's the first evening!"

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the nearest wall: "As for kissing, I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. My mother and her sister are incredibly ambitious and can also be quite ruthless when it comes to eliminating competition. That in and of itself. But when, as in this case, it's about something that they both want," he took a pregnant pause, "they will fight in the finest Black style with very tough bandages, sisterly love or not. And believe me, you have no chance against any of the sisters from the noble and most ancient House of Black when they really want something and especially don't want the other one to get it. So one of them will definitely kiss you today, if not both of them." He grinned. "The bets are already on."

Normally, Hermione would have just rolled her eyes in annoyance and made a sarcastic comment at the fact that her friends were making bets within a bet, but the image that Draco had painted in her mind caused the heat in her body to rise rapidly.

Narcissa and Bellatrix Black...when they really want something...when they want me...Hermione had to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, pushing away the images of blue and black eyes fixed on her, of strong hands twirling her in circles on the dance floor, of solid bodies pressing against her on either side to get her attention, and of sensual lips moving closer to her until she could feel hot breath on her skin, and forced her mind to think logically: "Ok, even if..."

She had to clear her throat and hated how hoarse her voice suddenly sounded. One look into Draco's gray eyes, which flashed knowingly, was enough for her to know that he had a very clear idea of the direction her thoughts had just taken.

She began again, this time in a fortunately clear voice: "Ok, even if that's the case, a kiss doesn't automatically require intimate shaving."

To her embarrassment, he threw his head back and laughed loudly: "God, I didn't think I'd have to do educational work here today."

He looked at her and said in a frustratingly didactic tone, "You do realize that there are many more nuances between kissing and sex that might well require that?"

Hermione looked at him completely dumbfounded and felt the heat rising to her face and creeping up to her ears: "No details please."

"I wasn't planning on giving you any." He pushed himself away from the wall and shooed her into the bathroom with an impatient gesture: "Come on now, we don't have much time left. Oh, and don't do anything to your hair or makeup. I'll take care of it as soon as we have the dress so it matches."

"Ok Nigel, no need to get so bossy!" She couldn't help but grin as she quoted from The Devil Wears Prada: "Are we doing a before-and-after piece I don't know about?"

The offspring of two families of the Sacred 28, who used to be so obsessed with his blood status, didn't hesitate for a second to prove that he had come a long way since his school days and had fundamentally changed: "You will take what I give you, and you will like it."

She laughed, "The only one missing now is Miranda Priestly."

"Oh, that's easy." He winked mischievously at her while Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"An ice-cold, successful businesswoman with piercing blue eyes, who is considered a style icon and who you can follow with your big doe eyes like a little puppy to read her every wish from her eyes?"

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Hermione swallowed and pressed her lips together, hoping not to reveal too much. Her hope evaporated when he said with a grin, "And that look is exactly why I am going to win this bet. I know how hot you find Priestly." His grin got a lot wider. "My mother is so your type, Granger."

She snorted in frustration because she just couldn't do anything about it, threw her hands helplessly in the air and turned to the bathroom door: "I'll go take a shower then."

"Please do", he called out as he headed towards her closet.

Notes:

Next: The Ball 💃

What dance styles do you think the three women will choose? 👠

And will Draco be right if he assumes that the first kisses will happen during the ball, or even more? I'm curious to hear what your theories are about this 😁