The party was in full swing by the time Hermione arrived. She’d gotten sidetracked at work, again, and hadn’t pulled herself out of her research until she’d already been nearly an hour late. The result was a quick floo from the office, not even stopping at home to change as she could already hear Ron and Harry’s gentle teasing of work being her life, and arriving at the party one hour and four minutes past the time the invitation had stated. She was wearing her blue work robes, comfortable but certainly not appropriate for a party, and she had soot on her face.

She didn’t even bother to wipe the soot away as she scanned the lavishly decorated ballroom for her friends. When she spotted them beneath a banner of burgundy and gold, she hurried through the crowd to reach them, wondering if she could be vague about when she arrived so they’d think she possibly make it here sooner. Harry noticed her, making eye contact as he pointed at the cartoon character on his wrist and then shook his finger at her before he laughed. Oh bugger.

“You’re late,” Ron said in a sing-song voice that conveyed his happiness at Miss Punctual actually being tardy for anything.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” she retorted before she swiped his glass of champagne and took a drink. The bubbles tickled her throat and she remembered that she didn’t even like champagne but Ron’s outraged sputtering was well worth the taste.

“It’s nice to know you went to such great efforts for us,” Harry said dryly as he looked at her work robes and made a face. “I don’t even like fashion, Hermione, and even I know those aren’t party robes.”

“I got distracted with some research at work and didn’t have time to go home and change,” she admitted with a wry smile as she ran her hand through her messy hair. “I look a sight, don’t I?”

“You stole my champagne so I’m not about to deny it,” Ron muttered before he glanced around and then stuck his tongue out at her.

“You look fine.” Harry lied through his teeth as he glanced at her hair and looked as if he wanted to say something. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he leaned forward and confided, “You know, there are several single blokes here---“

“Stop it, Harry James Potter,” she said firmly as she gave him ‘The Look’. “I don’t care if the entire room is full of single men looking for a shag. They can just shag each other. After all, it’s done wonders for you and Ron.”

“Hermione!” Ron squeaked and flushed as he gaped at her, still not accustomed to having her discuss his sex life quite so flippantly, if at all.

“Oh, really, Ron. Get over it,” she said with a smirk as she took a drink of the champagne. The smirk faded as Harry gave her ‘That Look’ in return and she realized she’d not successfully distracted him from his latest plan to make her happy; as if she needed some bloke and routine sex to be happy. Men, she thought with a scowl.

“I’ve already disqualified most of them for various reasons,” Harry continued as if she’d not interrupted. “You need someone strong and stubborn because you’re quite a handful, and, no, I don’t mean your breasts, though they seem about the right size depending on the hand in question.”

Hermione glared at him but didn’t give him the satisfaction of an outraged squeak. Her cheeks, however, turn pink when he leered at her cleavage and she smacked Ron because he was less likely to embarrass her than Harry.

“Hey! I wasn’t even looking,” he protested. “I’ve already seen it all, remember?”

“That was years ago,” she said primly, though she did smile in memory of their ill fated relationship so many years ago. She glanced down and wiggled a bit. “They’re bigger now.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Ron muttered, moving away quickly before she could hit him. “I might love Harry, but it doesn’t mean I’m dead, Hermione. They’re nice tits.”

Harry covered Ron’s mouth. “Not helping, Ron,” he said as he shook his head. “Go get some more champagne.”

“Yes, dear,” Ron said sarcastically before he brushed a quick kiss against Harry’s cheek and left before Hermione could hex him.

“Forgive him. He has this horrible disease that requires his foot to be in his mouth more often than not,” Harry said dryly, his eyes gleaming with mischief behind his spectacles.

“Please, I don’t want to hear about your kinky sexual acts,” she told him with a smirk.

“Jealous,” Harry teased as he winked and scanned the room. “As I was saying before we got sidetracked by your breasts, I’ve made a short list of blokes that might be able to handle you.”

“You make me sound so appealing,” she murmured as she rolled her eyes. Anyone who called her stubborn needed to meet Harry Potter. He never lost focus and it appeared that tonight, she was his focus.

“You’re perfect, of course,” Harry replied with a grin. “It’s the blokes that don’t measure up. Speaking of blokes, do you happen to still have a certain suitor?”

Hermione flushed and looked away. “Beautiful decorations, aren’t they?” she mused as she ignored Harry.

“You do!” Harry practically bounced. “That’s so sweet.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered as she frowned at him. “Actually, I haven’t seen him in several days so I think he got tired of trying.”

She refused to acknowledge that she felt disappointed about that because it would just make Harry’s night to hear her admit she might have acted rashly with her constant rejection.

“Why didn’t you ever say yes?” Harry asked softly, his voice taking on the best friend and surrogate brother tone instead of the annoying prat who wants to meddle tone.

“It was Cormac,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

“So?” Harry shrugged. “He might have been an obnoxious arse once, but that was years ago. He was solid during the war and he’s not so obnoxious now, is he? Besides, he has great shoulders and a nice arse, but don’t tell Ron I said that.”

“Harry!” She glared at him and had to laugh when she saw his mischievous grin. “All right, I’ll give you that much. He’s very…fit. But I don’t know. He’s not the type of bloke I usually date.”

“Exactly!” Harry said as he put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, “The blokes you normally date are harmless little mice who run away in terror at the idea of trying to handle you. I don’t think he’d have any problems handling you, Hermione.”

He bumped his hip against hers and waggled his eyebrows in a comical way at his last words. “You’re incorrigible,” she accused as she shook her head, though she had to admit he was right. One reason she’d told Cormac no the few times he’d asked her out to dinner was because he wasn’t easily controlled and that frightened her, slightly, even as it somewhat aroused her.

He was big, muscular, not very talkative, reasonably intelligent though not nearly as such as the other guys she’d dated, and he’d lost a bit of his arrogance during the war but still had a smug obnoxiousness about himself that was rather infuriating in a way that made her confused about her reaction.

“Ron is a bad influence,” Harry told her dramatically. He suddenly smiled and turned her to face him. He moved his fingers through her hair. “Your hair looks very sexy when it’s all messy like that.”

“Stop playing with my hair,” she warned him. “I know a few hexes that would definitely disrupt any plans you and Ron might have for after this stupid party.”

“I love it when you threaten to hex my bollocks,” Harry teased as he pulled her robes down a bit and then pushed her breasts up. He ignored her squeak of surprise and smirked. “So you fancied Cormac, huh? I should have realized that when you simply told him no instead of giving him the ‘if you ask me again, you’ll be hexed within an inch of your life’ look. You always have liked the big, fit Quidditch players, you sexy minx.”

“Sexy minx?” she repeated as she slapped Harry’s hands away from her breasts. She ignored the rest of his statement because denying it would just confirm to him that she was lying.

Harry smiled. “I’m going to go find Ron and snog him senseless in a dark corner somewhere. I recommend that you try the smoked salmon sandwiches and say yes to the next question you’re asked.”

“You can’t leave me,” she hissed. “I’m only at this silly party because you and Ron begged, whined, and finally resorted to emotional blackmail.”

“Have fun,” Harry said before he kissed her forehead and went in search of Ron.

“That annoying prat,” she muttered crossly as she turned to the table to see what they had to eat because she had skipped lunch while working and smoked salmon sounded pretty good. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed when she saw a familiar figure leaning against the table right beside the sandwiches.

“Hermione,” he said simply as he arched a brow and smirked slightly.

“Cormac,” she greeted politely even as she mentally ran through a list of hexes to use on Harry and wondered just how much Cormac had overheard.

“You look well,” he remarked as his gaze swept over her. “Working late again, I see.”

“Yes, I have a new case,” she replied as her own gaze did a bit of discreet ogling. “You’re looking fit. I mean, you look well, too.”

Bugger. She’d caught Ron’s disease.

Cormac grinned, an action that made his face transform from relatively cute to rather pleasant indeed. “I’ve been busy with work and my gran got sick so I had to go back home for a few days,” he told her. “Gran is good now, but that’s why I’ve not been around for my weekly rejection.”

“Oh.” Brilliant. She left Hogwarts with some of the highest marks in decades and she can’t even converse with a relatively attractive bloke without sounding like a fool. She was going to kill Harry. “I had, uh, noticed that you’d not been around for awhile.”

He stared at her for a moment longer than appropriate and then stood up and walked towards her. “You had?” His words were a slow drawl and she frowned as she realized that her body refused to listen to her brain say this was such a bad idea and the list of the reasons why she and Cormac were just far too different to even consider such a thought. He raised his hand and moved his thumb over her cheek slowly. “You have soot on your face.”

“Right, I took the floo. I thought I had gotten it all,” she murmured, unable to even think about hexing Harry and Ron for letting her stand there with soot on her face. Cormac’s thumb was rough against her skin and his hands were large and had her brain fighting itself in an ‘I really shouldn’t be thinking about sex right now but, God, he’s so very big’ sort of way.

“Just missed a spot,” he told her quietly. “So, to make up for the past couple of weeks, I’ll go ahead and ask. Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night, Hermione?”

Hermione sighed as his palm caressed her cheek lightly before he pulled his hand back. She met his gaze, saw the hope she always saw there since the first time he’d approached her and casually mentioned dinner, and vowed that she’d hex Harry and Ron silly if they dared gloat. “Yes, Cormac. I think I’d like that.”

The End