Seize Chapitre

The next day, the entire school was informed by a red-eyed, tight-lipped Professor McGonagall about Herman Ranger's death, and of her very strict ruling that no-one was to venture anywhere near the lake lest they face immediate expulsion from Hogwarts.

Bereaved by their loved one's death and believing it was foul play, Herman's family launched an investigation through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and for the following two weeks, Aurors interrogated every single person that resided within Hogwarts.

It was then that Herman's true image came to light as various interviewees admitted to suffering, at some point, from Herman's treachery, manipulation and blackmailing. And because so many expressed silent glee that Herman was dead, the Aurors might have had a hard time deciding who'd truly killed Herman had it not been for Draco Malfoy, Professor McGonagall, and Hermione Granger's Pensieve memories proving that Herman's death had been entirely accidental.

In the end, the Wizengamot ruled that Herman had fallen to his own death. Part of Hermione felt guilty that Herman had died because of her. She regretted elbowing him in the side, thinking that had she patiently waited for Draco or Professor McGonagall to do something instead of wrestling him off herself, he might have still been alive today.

However, the next part of her felt a dark, vindictive satisfaction. An inner cruel voice whispered that Herman had received his just desserts, especially after the awful things he'd done to Draco and to the many others. And though there was a constant tug-of-war within herself, there was one thing that was certain: she was relieved.

"So, what are you going to do when he comes back?"

It was a Friday evening in mid-November, and winter had finally booted autumn out of the way. It was only just past six, yet the sun had long since deserted the sky as it changed from a depressing grey to an inky black. A steady flow of chilly breeze blew in through Hermione's opened living room windows, and rubbing her palms together for warmth, she went to close them.

After securing the latch and drawing the thick burgundy curtains together, Hermione turned to Lavender and gave her a nervous smile.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, 'you don't know?'" cried Lavender in incredulous tones, sparing Hermione a glance before retuning to the task of painting her toenails the Muggle way.

Hermione went and sat heavily on the sofa near Lavender, eyeing her friend's handiwork appreciatively before picking up one of the bottles of nail varnish and reading the label.

"Exactly what it means: I don't know," she replied as she uncapped the bottle that was labelled 'Funky Fuchsia', and began experimentally painting a fingernail.

"Well, you better think of something fast, because he's due back tomorrow."

The news of a student dying on Hogwarts' grounds had hit the papers in head-spinning rapidity, and like vultures on a corpse, reporters had gone on a hunt to extract some sordid back story to juicy-up their front pages. It didn't take them long, because within a few days, the Daily Prophet, after learning of Herman's obsession with Draco Malfoy, published an article that painted Herman's death as suicide borne from the woes of unrequited love.

And, although it might have made mildly interesting news had it been a regular, previously unheard of professor, the fact that it was Draco Malfoy in question set the gossip mills ablaze.

In order to combat the unwanted attention and allegations, Draco had decided to take a two week leave of absence in Tuscany with his mother. Out of sight, out of mind. And it had worked, because by the middle of his second week away, a high-ranking, married Ministry official had been caught having an affair with a goblin, and Draco had become old news.

And now it was Friday, the day before he was set to return and reclaim his position as the DADA professor of Hogwarts.

And Hermione was scared, because she didn't know what was going to happen next. Now that Draco had confessed to being in love with her, and that Herman was no longer on the sidelines preventing him from being his true self, Hermione wondered where things were with them.

She supposed the best way to ascertain their standing was to ask him, but as usual, embarrassment prevented her from considering that route. What was she going to say to him, anyway? What was she going to ask him? In what way could she seek clarification on their 'relationship' without sounding too forward, or worse, needy?"

No, if he wanted to further things between them—which she really hoped he did—he'd have to approach her instead. Her pride had suffered enough blows to be the one to approach him, because she couldn't shake the feeling that during his two week absence, he'd probably been re-evaluating his life. And what if, after extensive soul-searching, he'd suddenly decided he didn't love her anymore?

"…love him yet?"

"Sorry?" Hermione blinked rapidly, realising that Lavender had been speaking and she hadn't been listening.

Lavender cast a drying spell on her finished toenails, wiggled them, and then turned to look at Hermione.

"I asked if you told him you love him yet. After all, he told you he did."

Hermione blushed. "I didn't think I had to. All those desperate acts should have given him a hint."

Lavender frowned at her. "Hermione, you need to tell him. You need to—"

"Lavender, I'm not going to tell him anything," Hermione interjected. "At least, not until I'm definitely sure he wants me."

She returned her attention to the nail varnish, idly applying the paint to her remaining fingernails. She was thinking how she didn't mind the colour, but that it was highly impractical for her to wear as a professor. Thus, her attention elsewhere, she completely missed the devious glint that alighted in Lavender's eyes.

"Well, we'll see about that."

On Sunday afternoon, having just showered and eaten her lunch in her room—she hadn't gone down to the Great Hall since Saturday morning; she was still apprehensive at meeting Draco—Hermione was curled up on her sofa enjoying a light read, when Lavender burst into her room noisily, calling Hermione's name in singsong tones.

Closing her book, Hermione looked up to find Lavender clutching at least four shopping bags in each hand, her face pink from the cold, and a wide grin on her face.

"I've been shopping!" she announced.

"Apparently," Hermione replied, eyeing the bags curiously. "And you look like you bought everything from every store, too."

Lavender laughed. "I only meant to buy a new pair of robes, but I couldn't help myself. Thank Merlin my boyfriend is rich and generous!" She settled the bags down on the floor and threw herself carelessly onto the sofa with a weary sigh. She then grew animated again, bending to rummage through one of her bags. "I bought you something I think you might like, though."

Sidling closer, Hermione looked on in astonishment as Lavender produced a green silken camisole from one of the bags. However, this was no decent article of clothing that one could wear outdoors in the summer. The sides of the camisole were gone—leaving the front and the back loose, and her waistline exposed—the neckline was a plunging V, with short strips of see-through, white, lace trimming along it, and a pair of white-tipped red strings were situated where the V's point ended.

"Here, try it on," Lavender urged with a smile.

Hermione reared back in slight horror. "Lavender, that's lingerie!"

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a prude. Don't you like dressing up sexy now and then?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but—"

"But nothing," Lavender said lightly. "Just try it on and let me know if it fits. That's all. If it does, it's yours for the keeping, if it doesn't, I'll just take it back to the store."

Hermione eyed the camisole. It did look rather inviting. She wasn't the type to buy such things. The closest she ever got to purchasing lingerie was lacy knickers and bras. It would be incredibly mortifying for her if someone she knew caught her shopping in a lingerie store. Besides, she'd never truly seen the need to wear them anyway.

But now, the urge to try on the camisole was getting greater. It really wouldn't hurt to try it on, she thought. Nobody would see her in it but herself…

She took the camisole from Lavender and stood.

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Fantastic. And put these on too." Lavender handed her a pair of red G-strings, the slim waistband the same green as the camisole.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Lavender beat her to it with a grin.

"See the colours? It's a Christmastime set! Can't have one without the other, can we? Now go on…"

Five minutes later, Hermione was silently admiring herself in her body length mirror. She was amazed by how well the camisole fit, like if it had been made especially for her. The silk felt great against her skin, too. Truth be told, she didn't care for the string riding uncomfortably between her buttocks, but she couldn't deny the whole ensemble was quite fetching.

"Hmm, Draco would definitely enjoy that sight."

Hermione smiled and began to answer in the affirmative when she realised that Lavender wasn't supposed to be in her bedroom. She was about to shoo her out when Lavender suddenly whipped out her wand and placed her under a Body-bind curse.

Completely shocked, Hermione watched as Lavender transfigured her discarded shirt into a jacket and began to cover her lingerie-clad body. When she was finished with that task, she eyed Hermione's bare feet for a moment before shrugging and saying aloud, "He won't mind your bare feet once he sees what's beneath that jacket."

Lavender's skill at stealth and elusion was admirable as she navigated her way to Draco's room with a Mobilicorpus-ed Hermione in tow. And because Draco's room was but a mere three right turns of short hallways away from Hermione's, it didn't take her long to bring a levitating—and very furious—Hermione to Draco's door.

Aligning her friend to a standing position, she looked at Hermione with pleading, apologetic eyes.

"I'm really sorry I had to do this, Hermione," she said. "But I hope that one day you will look back on today and thank me."

And turning around, she lifted her hand and rapped her knuckles on the door.

As soon as Draco opened his door, Lavender smiled, lied to his face that she and Hermione had come to visit, lied again that she had 'suddenly remembered something important', muscled Hermione's levitating form and Draco backwards into the room, smiled beatifically at the both of them before closing the door and scurrying away.

Not too long after, the spells on Hermione were lifted, leaving her standing there with Draco in his foyer.

Silence.

Lavender, I am going to kill you!

She didn't want to be there, especially not in the way she was dressed. Even now, she could feel the G-string making its presence known as it rode deeper between her buttocks.

Stupid Lavender. Just wait until I get my hands on you…

Ducking her gaze and mumbling an apology, she made to leave, but was hindered when he stepped to the side, blocking her way.

She hugged the jacket tighter to her, annoyed that Lavender had conveniently neglected to add any buttons or zips to it, and looked up at him.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"What are you doing?" he repeated unsmilingly.

"I'm leaving. I…I've got to go…" She began edging around him, but he stepped in her way again.

He folded his arms across his chest, and she couldn't resist admiring the way the material of his shirt stretched taut over the muscles of his upper arms.

"Granger, are you avoiding me?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Malfoy, I'm not avoiding you," she huffed, unable to meet his gaze anymore. "I just need to—"

"Whatever you need to do can wait," he snapped. "You're not going anywhere until you start explaining yourself, Granger."

She was scowling now, furious with Lavender for tricking her and with Draco for his high-handedness. Besides, what did he mean by explaining herself? She had no explanations for him. It was the other way around! But if this was the way he was handling things, then she didn't want to stick around. In any case, she really had to get out of that G-string. It was becoming quite unbearable…

"You can't keep me here against my will, Malfoy!" she spat, before attempting to circumvent his body to get to the door.

But Draco was having none of that. With speedy reflexes, he grabbed her upper arms and forced her back in front of him, then walked her backwards and further away from the door. Then, squeezing her arms and leaning forwards slightly, his eyes darkening to an angry slate, he said quietly:

"Granger, I thought I told you once before I don't like to play games, or have you forgotten?"

"I'm not playing—" she began.

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to think?" He gave her a light shake. "Here's a scenario, Granger: a bloke fancies this girl for six years. Six bloody useless years where he thinks—knows—that she'll never feel the same way about him. Then out of the blue, said girl decides to give the bloke hope that maybe, just maybe she loves him back. So, one day, the bloke foolishly decides to admit to the girl that he loves her and what does the girl say, Granger? What do you think she said?"

Frozen, Hermione stared with wide-eyes up at Draco, unable to utter a word.

He sneered at her. "That's right, Granger, that's exactly right. She said nothing. Nothing at all. Worse, she avoids the bloke, giving him the impression that she actually hadn't felt the same. That he'd misjudged somehow. That she'd been playing games."

A short moment of perfect silence followed in which Hermione came to the realisation of two things: One, she was the biggest and most completely blind idiot this side of the earth. And, two, Lavender was right; she would be thanking her for today, particularly in a profuse and immensely adoring manner.

She lifted her hands, placed them on his shoulders, and brought herself up on tiptoe to press her lips chastely against his. His anger dissipating like smoke against a strong wind, he squeezed her body to his as he returned her kiss hungrily. Then, breaking the kiss, she pulled away from him, a devilish smirk on her lips.

"Here's a scenario, Malfoy: a girl fancies this bloke for two years, and is extraordinarily pleased to learn that the bloke feels the same way about her. When he tells her he loves her, she takes some time to tell him that she loves him too. And because she knows he doesn't like to play games, she decides to go the extra step and show him that she loves him."

Meeting his gaze brazenly, she shrugged off the jacket and let it fall to the floor, smiling even wider at his gobsmacked look as he took in her skimpy clothing.

"And what does the bloke say, Malfoy? What do you think he said?"

His eyes gleaming with devious intent, a wolfish grin on his face, Draco lifted her easily into his arms and said,

"He said: 'I'm one lucky bastard.'"

fin

AN: Well, that's it, folks. The curtains have fallen on this love story. And although I tried to incorporate a citrusy scene towards the end, it felt fitting to end it this way. I apologise for any disappointment caused, but I like the way this has ended.

In any case, many thanks to the wonderful souls who stuck with this story from start to finish, and also to the 'converted' newcomers! Hope you truly enjoyed the ride. :)

-MizSphinx