"You're remarkably calm about this."

"Granger, my mother is an adult; she can do whatever" there was a shudder "or whoever she bloody wants. Just... behave yourself."

Hermione scoffed indignantly. "What in Merlin's name does that mean?"

Draco narrowed his grey gaze as he glared at her from his desk. "You know exactly what this means. My mother's subtle, she's not a hound-dog like you, Granger."

Hermione was scandalized. "Hound-dog? Where did you get that impression?!"

Draco laughed. "Oh, just from Pansy, Parvati, Susan, Cho... even Luna, which frankly really surprised me." He waggled his brows. "They all said, and I quote 'Hermione's got game'. Just be aware that the usual tricks won't work on my mother. She's more traditional."

Hermione huffed as she tossed more papers into her 'out' pile. Part of her was a little hurt, but the other was immeasurably flattered. Nevertheless, she glared at Draco. "There are no tricks. I'm just taking Narcissa to dinner, that's all."

Draco's lips tugged into a sarcastic smug. "Yeah, right."

Hermione paid Draco no mind for the rest of the afternoon. He was most likely just trying to get into her head. It had to be weird to have your old school mate go on a date with your mum; she supposed Malfoy was just... adjusting.

And what an adjustment. Hermione had never expected to go on a date with Narcissa Black, of all people, but that was precisely what was on her calendar—what had been on the agenda for nearly two weeks. They had gotten to know each other better over the years as their work in the Ministry found their two departments overlapping quite often.

To Hermione's surprise, Narcissa was positively delightful to be around. Quick-witted, charming, and just overall lovely. Hermione had grown to appreciate the older witch's poise and enthralling elegance, as well as her sharp mind and incredible sense of humour.

It didn't hurt that Narcissa was possibly the most beautiful witch Hermione had ever laid eyes upon. Everything about her was alluring: her voice, her fair features, her rich, velvety voice that felt like a gentle caress. Hermione had been aware of her attraction to Narcissa the moment the other witch had come into her office one cold January afternoon, blonde hair billowing behind her as she rushed in with urgent files to be signed by the Department Head—Hermione.

From then on, it had been a steady evolution of short talks in the corridors to lunch meetings in the Ministry to inside jokes about the other Department Heads. Through everything, Hermione took her time enjoyed every single second of getting to know Narcissa, because she didn't just fancy Narcissa. No, Hermione genuinely liked her.

That was why she had been so patient, why she had done everything right. Draco wasn't lying when he said Narcissa was traditional—perhaps a bit old-fashioned, but Hermione wouldn't want it any other way. Tonight was the big night; after months of dancing around each other, Hermione had finally gathered all of her Gryffindor courage to ask the Slytherin out in an actual, real, proper date. Narcissa was a woman who deserved to be wined and dined, and Hermione would be happy to oblige.

Thus, she had decided on dinner and dancing; a perfectly traditional, perfectly acceptable old-fashionable date to get things started.

She was at Narcissa's door precisely as scheduled, at seven on the dot. Hermione wore a navy-blue blazer and slacks combo Ginny had convinced her to get, and the brunette had to admit her friend had made a good choice. The oxfords on her feet would be perfect for hours of dancing if need be. Hermione knocked on the door in a burst of self-confidence.

Narcissa answered promptly, her smile almost as disarming as her outfit. Hermione had to fight not to gape, but it was a near thing as her eyes followed the path of exposed skin from Narcissa's collarbone to the valley of her breasts, barely covered by some exquisite maroon silk that delineated her curves deliciously.

"Good evening, Hermione" Narcissa drawled, and Hermione gulped as she directed her gaze to Narcissa's face and only her face, with some difficulty.

"Hello!" she squeaked, wondering when Narcissa had gotten so tall. Heels, obviously, but Hermione was not chancing another look downwards. "Shall we go then?"

Narcissa smiled wickedly. "Of course," she said, looping her arm with Hermione's. "Lead the way."

Hermione felt better once they were seated for dinner—it was quite easy to use the menu to hide a bit of Narcissa's tantalizing cleavage, so at least they could engage in normal conversation.

Hermione had specifically chosen a traditional French restaurant because she knew—after months of friendship and maybe grilling Draco on the subject—that it was Narcissa's favourite cuisine. She chose the perfect Bordeaux—also Narcissa's favourite—and hoped to even impress the blonde enough by ordering entirely in French. Those summers in the French Alps had served some good after all.

Narcissa seemed quite happy, laughing at Hermione's bad jokes and looking suitably impressed at her efforts in the French language. She looked radiant with her cheeks flushed from the wine, hair wound up in intricate braids and blue eyes glimmering with mirth. They were laughing after some joke about Hermione's last encounter with Fleur Delacour and how the Frenchwoman found Hermione's accent 'orrible.

And then Hermione felt the toe of Narcissa's stilettos grazing her ankle.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Narcissa asked innocently, taking a wickedly sinful bite out of her tarte Tatin as Hermione shuddered.

Hermione could only stare back in befuddlement. Narcissa's eyes held a twinkle of... mirth? Defiance?

"Yes," the brunette replied after an evened breath. "I'm fi-ah!"

Narcissa's foot now had moved from Hermione's ankle to the inside of her calf, leaving a trail of goose bumps on its wake. Hermione had audibly gasped, gripping the edge of the table and making their wine glasses rattle. A few people turned to look at their table, startled by the noise, and she had to smile awkwardly to pretend there was absolutely nothing amiss, even if Narcissa's foot dragged torturously slowly upwards. She was certain her face was as red as a tomato, and Narcissa only smiled. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"My mother is subtle, Granger. She's more traditional." Hermione heard Draco's annoying voice on a loop. Bullshit.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look feverish to me." Narcissa quipped sweetly, her voice dripping like honey. She swirled her wine in the glass in slow, enticing movements. Hermione could tell she was maybe breathing a bit loudly, but it was unavoidable with the way her heart was hammering away in her chest. She had never expected Narcissa to be so... bold. And coy.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm..." Hermione hissed as Narcissa reached her inner thigh with a wicked grin. "Ah! The loo! I need to use the loo!" She nearly yelped, chair screeching back as she stood abruptly.

Narcissa's grin was positively devilish. "Don't take too long, darling."

Hermione nearly groaned as she high-tailed it out of the dining room with an unbearable heat between her legs. She reached the ladies' room in a mad dash, rushing to the sinks and unceremoniously bending over the sink to splash some cold water onto her face. And neck. And wrists. Anything to cool down, because there was absolutely no chance she would make it through a night of dancing if Narcissa continued on that path of destruction.

She stood over the sink, feeling the water drip from her nose and from some tendrils of hair that could not escape the onslaught of her desperate cool-down. It helped very little; Hermione wondered if she would just need to douse her whole head under ice-cold water for the heat to subside at all.

There was a click of a lock.

Hermione's gaze snapped up to the mirror in surprise, immediately connecting to Narcissa's mischievous blue eyes. Her throat immediately went dry as Narcissa spoke in a tone that rekindled that heat she had been trying so desperately to quell.

"I was getting worried you had died in here" she said, glancing over to Hermione, gaze lingering through the mirror onto her chest. Hermione followed her gaze, realizing an unfortunate splash of water had made her white button-up nearly transparent; her crimson brassiere and its lacy patters were rather apparent. Hermione gulped as Narcissa's heels clicked onto the tile in her graceful, panther-like approach.

"Thankfully it just seems you've gotten a little wet."

Hermione nearly convulsed at the other witch's deliberate, teasing inflection. She couldn't even bring herself to turn around to face Narcissa, she had to hold onto the edge of the sink with a white-knuckled grip to stop her body from trembling, but it was in vain—her shoulders visibly shook as Narcissa stepped unbearably closer behind her.

"You're shivering" Narcissa drawled, lips nearly touching Hermione's ear. Her arms wound themselves over the young Gryffindor, trapping her against the sink. "Are you cold?"

No, Hermione wanted to retort, but her jaw was clenched unbearably tight, because Narcissa had plastered herself against her back, giving her bum the subtlest of grinds. No, I'm burning up.

"Hermione, darling, you seem to be in some distress" she whispered seductively, lips just barely grazing the sensitive skin of Hermione's neck. One of her hands moved up Hermione's arm, finding her shoulder, then her collarbone. That delightfully wicked hand traced a gentle path down Hermione's sternum, through the damp valley of her breasts all the way to her abdomen, settling playfully right at the waistband of her slacks.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance, hm?" Narcissa murmured against her neck, nails gently scratching a teasing path along the line of Hermione's slacks. Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath.

"M-merlin."

Narcissa chuckled behind her. "Not quite the name I want you calling for, but we can practice that... extensively."

Hermione tried to retort, but she was spun in place, wedged against the sink and Narcissa's body once more as Narcissa captured her lips in a searing kiss. Hermione's gasp of surprise was treated as an opportunity for Narcissa's tongue to playfully make its presence known, and the brunette could not suppress a moan as her hands held on for dear life to Narcissa's shapely waist.

Narcissa let out a triumphant chuckle, teeth nipping at Hermione's bottom lip. Hermione could swear that, even as she kissed her, Narcissa was smirking rather smugly.

"Merlin" she managed to choke out once they broke for air. "What brought this on?"

Narcissa laughed. "You, being a tease for months. I've been rather patient."

Hermione's head spun. "Me? A tease? I was being respectful! When I asked him how to go about asking you out, Draco kept telling me you were... well, traditional, y'know?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes before turning a dead-pan look onto the blubbering brunette. "Hermione. Let me impart you some advice" she pinched the bridge of her nose, as if explaining something to a child. "If you're interested in bedding a woman... the absolute last person you should ask advice from is her son."

Hermione could only gape. Well, when Narcissa put it that way...

"Merlin," was all she could say. Narcissa patted her cheek with a laugh.

"Let's get out of here" her gaze became irresistibly provocative. "You're still calling for Merlin far too often. I ought to do something about it."