TO GRANGER. HOPE YOU HAVE THE HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS.
There was no name written on the card signifying who'd sent it, but the PARKINSON LINGERIE etched on the side of the accompanying box made it quite clear.
Hermione set the box onto her kitchen table and stared at it for a good minute, almost too scared to open it. Pansy's lingerie company was famous for its rather racy designs; she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out which lucky piece her friend had enclosed inside.
It wasn't like she wanted lingerie. Today was her birthday—she'd spent the entire day with friends, eating and laughing and celebrating. The Burrow in the morning, Grimmauld Place in the afternoon, and The Three Broomsticks in the evening.
Harry and Ginny had gotten her the full collection of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales, while Ron, bless him, had gotten her the Transforming Bookmarks that were all the rage in bookstores. Luna had handed her surprisingly-fun reading glasses that made the words of a book literally jump out of the page, and both Theo and Blaise had gotten her the same mahogany book embosser, funnily enough. Not that she minded. Two book embossers was better than one.
Pansy, meanwhile, had shown up to the Three Broomsticks with only a smirk. "It's on the way," was the first thing she'd whispered into Hermione's ear as she sat down, leaving Hermione to dread what would come for the rest of the evening.
And that dread was valid. Hermione slowly lifted the lid off the box in front of her, heart hammering—and groaned. Laying inside, settled on velvet cushioning, was a set of red lingerie, bright and daring and complete with lacy edges.
She could just imagine Pansy's smirk as she set the red lingerie into the box and sent it off to Hermione's via owl. She should've seen it coming, honestly, considering the fact that Pansy had sent her lingerie from her company for the past ten national holidays—even Halloween.
Hermione stared down at the red scraps of lace in front of her, unsure of what to do with them. She should probably just bury them into the back of her closet like she'd been doing with all the previous pieces Pansy had sent to her, but . . . She hesitated.
The red really was quite pretty. And she was alone in her flat anyway. And it was her birthday.
Hermione lifted the lingerie out of the box, eyeing it for one second more before bunching it into a ball and hurrying towards her bedroom to change into it.
When she walked out into her living room again two minutes later, she couldn't help but shiver. Not from the cold, but from nerves—she had yet to see what she looked like, as the only full-length body mirror in her flat was in her living room.
Her sudden bout of nerves wasn't exactly unexpected. Between balancing her career and her social life, Hermione had barely had any time for herself within the past few years.
She'd almost forgotten how it felt to feel beautiful. The last time she'd dressed up and felt confident in herself. . . Hermione was ashamed to admit that it had been all the way back in fourth year at the Yule Ball.
She didn't know how she'd feel when she saw herself in the lingerie. Part of her was excited, but part of her was scared—what if she didn't like what she saw? Hermione steeled herself, taking a deep breath as she moved towards the mirror by her couch.
She felt her breath quicken as she came closer, and closer, and closer, and closer, and—
Hermione sucked in a breath. She looked—
The fireplace came alive, and Draco Malfoy stepped through the flames.
He froze when his eyes landed on her. They stared at each other for what felt like a whole hour before Hermione leapt into action.
"Malfoy!" Her face was probably red enough to match her lingerie. She didn't know if she wanted to throw something at Malfoy or throw herself behind the couch. She knew she should probably cover up, but her feet seemed to be failing her. "Wh—what are you doing here?"
"I—uh, I just wanted to give you your birthday present. Since I missed the gathering earlier today. But you, uh, seem to be—busy." He coughed, looking anywhere but at Hermione. He tugged at his necktie as he examined a potted plant on her bookshelf with overflowing interest.
"Oh, I—thanks. Um, thank you." Manners overcoming her, Hermione rushed forward to relieve Malfoy's hands of the gift, forgetting her attire for a second, before coming to again and immediately stumbling back, blushing furiously.
"I'll just—um—give me a second—" she babbled, gesturing wildly towards her bedroom. "To—change—"
She didn't give Malfoy a second glance as she sprinted for her bedroom door, cheeks burning. How had she found herself in such an embarrassing situation? With Malfoy, no less?
"Granger, wait!" Malfoy was still standing by the bookshelf, but he now fixed Hermione with an indiscernible expression when she turned around at his voice. "It's fine—I'll just give you the gift and leave. Here." He set the box down and deftly unwrapped it, pulling out—
"Merlin's pants!" Hermione gasped, forgetting her entire predicament as she rocketed back towards Malfoy. "Is that—?"
"The Collector's Edition of Hogwarts: A History" Malfoy confirmed, grinning as he watched Hermione drop down to her knees to examine the book with unbridled elation. "I managed to get in touch with a few connections in the Ministry's archives."
"But—there are only two in the entire world!" Hermione stood up, knees shaking. She couldn't believe it— a Collector's Edition of her favorite book, and she was holding it in her arms. "How did you get one?"
Malfoy merely shrugged, though he was watching Hermione with the slightest of smiles. "As I said—connections."
"Oh Malfoy, thank you!" Hermione launched herself into his arms, joy overcoming her in the moment—until she remembered exactly where she was and what she was wearing.
"Merlin—" she stumbled back from Malfoy as though he'd burned her, face aflame and mind very conscious of what she was wearing—or the lack thereof. "I'm so—I'm so sorry—this is so inappropriate—"
Malfoy's hands reached out to grasp her shoulders, steadying her. He peered down at her. "Granger, calm down."
"But I'm—you're here—and I'm wearing this—"
"It's alright," he said firmly, though Hermione thought for a second she saw his left hand tighten into a fist. "I'll be leaving now. Calm down."
"I—okay." Hermione took a few deep breaths, staring at a spot on her bookshelf as she did so. She suddenly couldn't bring herself to meet Malfoy's eyes. Merlin, she'd utterly humiliated herself in front of him tonight.
"Happy birthday, Granger," he said as he stepped back into the fireplace and pulled out a small bag of Floo powder from the pocket of his trousers. "Have a good night." His gray eyes gleamed as he shot her a small smile. "And, for the record, you look beautiful."
Then, the flames roared, and he was gone.