And she knew that Lavender had given her virginity to the Irish wizard two years ago.
Nothing had come of that, though, except Lavender’s resentment for the man.
It had taken until this year for them to just be comfortable in the same room together.
In the meantime, Ron had been on and off with Lav for the last nine months in a fuck-buddy manner, neither taking it as anything more than a bit of fun.
They’d all been sexually active, so what was the big deal?
Ron’s face turned an interesting shade of puce.
“Since no one else is saying it, I’ve got to: are you barking mad, ‘Mione? You can’t be serious? We’re talking about Slytherins here–Malfoy as head git of the lot. You talk about shagging any one of them as easily as tying your shoes!”
Staring him down with her most confident glare, her smirk widened.
“Crass, Ronald. But you’re forgetting a couple of very important things: one, that Draco, Blaise, and Teddy might end up with the girls from their own team, instead of any of us, and two, that I am still a woman, after all. It only takes a pair of decent, half-naked breasts to make your gender come to heel.”
Lavender giggled.
“And what are you on about?” Ron asked his on-again, off-again bed warmer.
“It’s not bloody funny!”
The honey blonde patted her beau’s broad shoulder.
“I think ‘Mione’s right. Forcing Malfoy, Zabini, or Nott to do the bidding of one of us women, and make them panting hot for more at the same time would be priceless. I can think of more than a few tricks to humiliate the blue-blooded caps right off of their precious heads.”
Ginny recovered, catching on to the idea, eyes bright.
“Ha! I’d make one of them kiss my feet and beg my forgiveness for every horrible thing they’ve ever said to me.” Brown laughed.
“Honey, you’re thinking too small. I’d tie them up and use a stinging hex on their privates. On and off for a good hour, at least. Let them try to reproduce after I’m through!”
Hermione grinned like a shark.
“It would be brilliant revenge for the years of horribleness those three have forced us to endure.”
Harry stood and nodded at Ron first, and they both turned to Seamus.
“Right, Ron and I are in. You?”
“Do ya have any idea who th’ Slytherins will be invitin’?” he asked, his Irish brogue thick with excitement.
Harry leaned against the back wall and crossed his strapping arms over his broad chest, which had expanded with hard packed muscle this last year, as he and the other members of the Quidditch team had begun a rigorous workout routine this last September, all so they could claim the House Cup this, their final year.
“As I said, it’ll be Malfoy, Zabini and Nott for the boys. He said Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis would represent the girls from his House.”
Hermione looked at all three men.
“Parkinson? Perfect. I’d love to see her squirm for one of you, too. How galling would it be to her pride for any one of you three to touch her ‘precious pure-blood limbs,’ much less make her squirm under your mouths and hands?”
Harry looked at her with amusement.
“Some days, you really scare me, ‘Mione.”
“She bloody terrifies me on a regular basis,” Ron added.
Seamus snickered.
“Are ya sure ya were sorted into th’ right House, lass?”
Ignoring the ragging, Hermione shared a look with Ginny and Lavender, the three of them silently communicating their agreement to go ahead with the plan.
When consensus had been reached, she turned back to Harry.
“Tell that rat bastard that we’re all in–to win.”
X~~~~~~~~~X
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland Slytherin Boys Dorms (Draco Malfoy’s room) Wednesday, June 10, 1998 (late evening)
The owl arrived to his window in the dorms that night about two hours after dinner.
With a tiny bit of trepidation, Draco held the parchment in his hands.
He threw a silent prayer to Slytherin that first, Potter and company had accepted his challenge, and second, that the predictable ponce had picked the one girl he was simply dying to lock horns (and other parts) with.
“Open it already!” Nott growled, brilliant cerulean eyes alight with anticipation.
His tall, broad-shouldered frame hunched over at the waist, as he placed his palms down on the edge of the mattress and leaned in.
“Go on!”
At the foot of the cot sat a silent, unruffled Blaise Zabini, unmoving, his attention on the note, not giving any indication that he was at all interested in the outcome of the challenge he’d been volunteered for by his best friend.
Draco knew the façade to be a carefully crafted lie, however.
Deep in the depths of his friend’s usually enigmatic, dark brown stare, the same burning desire both he and Theo felt simmered.
With a flair for the dramatic, Draco opened the letter with slow deliberation.
Reading its contents, his heart let out a loud and lusty shout of triumph.
Beaming ear to ear, he read the response out loud.
Malfoy,
We’re on.
If you chicken out, we’ll let the whole school know it.
Unless there’s a need for a last minute substitution because of illness, here’s our team roster: me, R.
Weasley, S.
Finnigan, H.
Granger, L.
Brown, and G.
Weasley.
Be prepared for your arses to be handed to you,
– H.
Potter Theodore Nott hooted with laughter.
“Gods, I can’t wait to mess with Granger! That girl gets under my skin with her know-it-all attitude. I’ve been waiting a long time to put that little swot in her place.”
Keeping his face as neutral as possible, Draco tamped down on the jealous surge through his guts.
“If you’re lucky enough to draw her name, she’s all yours.”
Of course, he wasn’t going to announce it, but he had every intention of cheating to assure Granger and he ended up paired off.
No onewas going to touch her except him.
She was his.
He’d waited years to finally get his hands on her.
He turned to Blaise.
“Bet you can’t wait to give it to the She-Weasel, especially after the last match.”