Cupidity

Cupidity

By FenrisWolf

Part 5

~~~~~

Narcissa looked up at her agent and sighed. "You're positive of your facts?" she asked one more time.

"Yes, Ms. Black," the little wizard standing before her desk affirmed. "According to what her secretary told us, Ms. Granger and three of her friends--her female friends--went on vacation together, to somewhere on the coast of France. She didn't know any definite plans, but two of the witches involved, Grace Adamson and Marcy Brighton, both have reputations for somewhat...casual attitudes towards relationships."

"Wonderful," she muttered. And the plan was going so well, too. All it should have taken was one more little push and Granger and Potter would have been together, she was sure of it, but how the devil was she going to arrange the shove if she didn't know where one of the intended targets was staying? "I don't suppose there's any word on Mr. Potter's activities, either," she asked without much interest.

The answer surprised her. "We actually caught a break there, ma'am. According to the secretary, Potter flooed Granger's office looking for her not a half an hour after they all left; supposedly he was quite put out to have missed her."

Narcissa's attitude took an upswing. If Potter was actively looking for her, he had resources she couldn't touch to apply to the task. For that matter, he might already know where she was going...a question occurred to her. "You mentioned three friends travelling with Ms. Granger, but only named two. Do we know who the third one is?"

The agent checked his notes. "A friend of hers from Hogwarts, Virginia Weasley."

She felt the sudden stab of a headache. 'Minions...' she thought with a silent groan. "Caleb."

"Yes, Ms. Black?"

"What is the goal of 'Operation Cupid'?"

"To arrange a relationship between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, Ms. Black," he replied confidently.

"And to whom was Ms. Granger just recently engaged at the beginning of the operation, Caleb?"

"She was engaged to Ronald...uh..." he paled.

"Weasley, Caleb, Ronald Weasley, brother of Virginia, or as she prefers, Ginny Weasley." Narcissa smiled, and Caleb turned a sickly shade of green at the sight of it. "Now, don't you think the little item that Granger was vacationing with the sister of her ex-fiancé might be of concern to the operation?"

"Yes, Ms. Black, I'm very sorry, Ms. Black, I promise it won't happen again, Ms.--"

"Get out."

The minion got, and she sighed. The problem was, she had no idea if this was just a minor snafu or a first-class fubar, and no way to find out unless by some miracle they tracked down where Granger was vacationing and managed to get some observers in place.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up to see one of her contacts in the Sisterhood standing in the doorway. "Yes, Celeste? Good news, I hope? We could certainly use some..."

Celeste's face lit up with a huge smile. "The very best, Narcissa. S.U.C.K.R. copied his latest intelligence from Potter's personal secretary to us. Seems he informed his staff that he was taking a week of personal time, and then asked Trixie to obtain reservations for him at a hotel on the coast of France; in St. Tropez, to be exact!"

Narcissa's dour expression metamorphosized into a huge smile. "That's wonderful news!"

Celeste grinned wickedly. "It gets better! Trixie knew we were trying to keep track of Potter's movements, and planted a tracking charm on his cloak. So long as the person accessing it harbors no ill intent towards him, his own protections won't negate it."

Narcissa was both surprised and pleased; operatives who showed intelligent initiative were exceedingly rare. "Has the Sisterhood expressed its appreciation?"

Celeste nodded. "I've already offered to sponsor her, and arranged that all the time she's spent on the current operation will apply towards her initiate period. She seems very grateful to be considered worthy, and has already passed along the spells to access the particular tracking charm she used. Because of the low power necessary to conceal the charm from security sweeps, its range is limited, but our trackers will be able to pick him up once he gets to St. Tropez."

"Ex-cellent..." Narcissa breathed as she steepled her fingers.

~~~~~

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed in their hotel room and grimaced; so far the vacation had been something of a total loss. Grace and Marcy were having the time of their lives, of course, spending afternoons on the beach and partying or clubbing every night. Half the time they didn't make it back to their shared rooms until sometime the following morning, though at least they'd been considerate enough not to drag any of their shag buddies back with them.

Ginny was also enjoying herself, though not with the carefree abandon of her other friends. Not surprisingly, given her firecracker personality, she'd been the only one of the four to fully embrace the 'clothing optional' aspect of their stay, and spent most of each day on the beach completely au natural, socializing with a younger crowd of naturists who were vacationing there. What surprised Hermione a bit was how completely relaxed they all were with their nudity, and that while it was obvious that the male (and a few of the female) contingent of the nudists found Ginny's lithe, firm, Quidditch toned figure to be extremely attractive, there was nothing lewd or smutty about the looks they gave her, just...appreciative.

Hermione's good times were far more subdued. She enjoyed sunning on the beach, though she was still too modest to take things as far as Ginny regularly did. Grace and Marcy gigglingly had tried going completely buff a couple of times, but she just couldn't do it. Not that she was a prude, the virtually nonexistent, emerald green thong bikini she did wear was proof of that, but wearing even that little bit of fabric increased her self-confidence, which in turn made it far easier to ignore or decline the occasional offers her lush figure attracted.

"Are you almost ready, Hermione?" a voice called, and she looked up as the youngest Weasley stuck her head into the room. She noticed the pensive look on her friend's face and approached the bed, sitting down next to her. "What's the matter, thinking about my prat of a brother again?"

"Not...exactly," she temporized. Ginny knew of the breakup, but not of the subsequent events that had plagued both Harry and Hermione, and she didn't know how to approach the subject. She certainly didn't know how to go about telling her of her sudden awareness of her feelings for Harry, or the confusion they brought with them.

"You're not thinking about giving him another chance, are you? Because he doesn't deserve one! Hermione, you're the one who deserves something so much better--" She stuttered to a stop when her friend raised her hand.

"No, we're not getting back together. For one, he's happy with Luna, really happy, and apparently she is, too. And for the other, well...Ginny, try not to be too mad, but I think maybe I'm...I'm falling in love with someone else."

Ginny's eyes widened for a second, and then to Hermione's complete surprise, she squealed from happiness. "Reeeally?" she squeed, a huge smile on her face. "Mione, that's fantastic! Do I know him? Did you meet him at work? Who is he?"

Hermione looked at her in utter shock as she bounced on the bed. "You're not mad?" she asked, stunned.

"Mad? No, why should I be mad? I think it's great!"

"But, I just broke up with Ron..."

Ginny sighed. "Honestly Hermione, I never was too happy about the two of you being together," she admitted to her friend's complete surprise. "My brother's a nice guy and all, but he really wasn't right for you. You need someone who can meet you on equal terms, a partner, and Ron is just too, I don't know, immature I guess, to ever manage that. You don't need my blessing, but here it is anyway; go for it, girl!"

The two friends laughed and hugged, both a bit teary-eyed. After a minute Ginny eased out of the embrace and asked, "So, who is he? You didn't answer my question."

Hermione flushed and looked down at her hands. "H~~~P~~~r," she mumbled.

Ginny's eyes lit up. Did her friend just say what she thought she did? "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," she teased.

Hermione sighed. "Harry Potter," she admitted, waiting with some trepidation for the reaction. She wasn't disappointed.

"SquEEEEEEEEE! Hermione! Finally, it took you long enough!" Ginny shrieked, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Ginny--air--" Hermione gasped. When her friend relaxed her strangle hold she asked, "You're not jealous? And what do you mean, 'finally'?"

"Jealous? Oh, you mean my crush!" Ginny blushed for a moment, and then smiled. "I got over that ages ago, Hermione, once I realized I wasn't the one who could make him happy. And I mean you finally noticed that the perfect man for you, not to mention one of the best catches in the world, has been right next to you, pining away," Ginny replied, giggling a little at her friend's stunned expression,

Hermione stared at her friend, blushing furiously. "Wh--what? 'Pining away'? What do you know about Harry?"

"What everyone but you knows, apparently, that he's been in love with you for years!" She frowned when Hermione shook her head in bewilderment. "Mione, why do you think he's never had a girlfriend, let alone get married? Why do you think he was always there to try and keep you happy by forcing Ron to toe the line? Merlin, I don't think he's even had a date for the last four years, and that's not for a lack of witches lining up to take a crack at him. The man's mad about you!"

"I don't believe it, why didn't he ever say anything?" Hermione whispered.

Ginny snorted. "What was he going to say, 'I know you love Ron, but fancy a shag?' He loves you both too much to pull a rotten stunt like that; especially as long as he thought you two were happy together."

Hermione bit her lip. "I can't believe I was stupid enough not to notice," she admitted.

"I hate to say it, but it was kind of a relief to see that there was something at which you weren't perfect," Ginny laughed, chortling as her friend stuck her tongue out at her. "Well, it's true; it's kind of intimidating having the smartest witch in the world as your best friend."

"I bow before your superior knowledge of the male of the species, oh Wise One," Hermione retorted snippily. "Please, enlighten this unworthy one from your fount of knowledge."

"That's easy, Hermione," Ginny replied, suddenly serious. "Just tell him the truth."

"But I don't know what the truth is," Hermione moaned, collapsing back across the covers. "I have these feelings fluttering around whenever I think about him, feelings I never even noticed before, or if I did, I just wrote them off to friendship. I thought I was in love with Ron and that was a mistake; what if this is, too?"

Ginny reached over and took her friend's hand. "Just talk to him, Hermione, let him know how you feel, what you feel, and if it happens, it happens. Just one word of warning," she cautioned, squeezing her friend's hand firmly.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, sensing Ginny's serious mood.

"Don't tell him you love him if you don't mean it. If you don't love him, well, it'll hurt but I think he'll get over it eventually, especially once he has a chance to get his feelings out in the open. But if you tell him you love him and then change your mind...I think it would destroy him."

The two friends sat in silence for a few moments, but the Weasley personality was too strong to let Ginny stay serious for any extended length of time. "All right, enough doom and gloom!" she cried, tugging on Hermione's hand. "We still have several days' vacation, and you are not going to spend it cooped up in here. Time to hit the beach!"

"I don't know..." Hermione hesitated. Now that she had admitted out loud that she had feelings for Harry, it felt a bit like cheating to be thinking about beachcrawling with her friends.

Ginny shook her head in exasperation. "Just because you're not interested in buying, Mione, doesn't mean you can't enjoy window-shopping, and you have to admit there's been some spectacular 'merchandise' on display. Now, come on!"

~~~~~

Harry stood in front of the mirror in his hotel room and told himself, for around the 100^th time, "Right, you can do this."

The surveillance division of the Unspeakables had confirmed at which hotel Hermione had booked reservations, and Harry had, with a bit of effort, obtained accommodations on the same floor. Upon arriving a stealthily proffered 100 Euro note had elicited from the concierge the knowledge that while their evening schedule seemed to vary wildly, every day Hermione and her friends spent from around 2:00PM until sunset on the beach.

The clothing optional beach.

Harry sighed and fingered the chain of the Tactile Charm once again. He'd been very pleased with the effects, to all senses both Muggle and magical he now appeared to have pale blue eyes and shoulder-length, wavy, sun-bleached blond hair. He hadn't bothered to change his overall bone structure, but the telltale scar was gone.

His gaze traveled down the rest of his reflection. As promised, the charm was only strong enough to affect his facial characteristics, so for the rest he was reliant on what nature had given him. Fortunately for his already nervous stomach, what nature had given him wasn't too bad, and he'd kept in shape. Being a powerful wizard wasn't much good if you were too out of breath from a long chase to cast a spell.

He looked at the skimpy black Speedos he was currently wearing and sighed. He really, really wasn't looking forward to walking around starkers, but this was going to be difficult enough without having any perceived advantages. Psychologically there was a world of difference between wearing something that left little to the imagination, and wearing nothing, that left nothing to the imagination.

Besides, if Hermione could do it, so could he.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Harry stripped off the Speedos and then stood stock still, trying to get used to the idea of walking out on the beach. "Steady, old man," he told himself. "You're Harry Bloody Potter, you can do anything you put your mind to. Where's the British spirit, stiff upper lip and all that?"

Twitch.

Damn, never think the word 'stiff' when you're staring at yourself naked in the mirror. Self-control, that's the ticket. Think disgusting thoughts. Snape. Snape in drag. Snape in a white chiffon tutu, dancing Swan Lake.

Ah, that did the trick.

After taking a minute to make sure his self control wasn't about to slip, Harry picked up the terrycloth robe the hotel provided so that guests could travel from their rooms to the beach without flashing those people who weren't prepared for that much glory. The rear of the hotel's lobby had a set of glass doors that opened out onto a broad, shaded veranda, from which a wide set of shallow steps led down to the beach proper. At the foot of the steps was a kiosk where the guests could check their robes and receive a small pouch to wear around their necks for the room keys and other small valuables.

It was a matter of a moment's work for Harry to drop off his robe and sandals in return for the pouch and a claim chit, and a brief description of Hermione to the kiosk attendant (along with a 20 Euro note) confirmed that she and her friends were indeed on the beach, and in which direction they had gone after arriving. 'Gryffindor bravery, boyo,' Harry thought to himself, and started walking across the warm sand.

~~~~~

The four women in question were relaxing about a hundred yards down the beach, occupying a patch of sand they had staked out as their 'turf' the day they arrived. Grace and Marcy were laying on their stomachs, working at evening out their tans as much as possible. They weren't feeling daring enough to go totally bare this time, but between their skimpy thong bikini bottoms and the absence of a top, they were as close to it as was possible without going 'all the way'.

Ginny and Hermione were side-by-side in a couple of low beach chairs, their legs stretched out on the warm sand. In deference to her friends Ginny had donned her bikini bottom today, but she was as gloriously topless as Grace and Marcy. In her case, though, there really was no effort to eliminate tan lines, as the pale Weasley complexion simply did not tan. As Ginny had complained to Hermione at the beginning of the trip, her skin went from white to lobster to one enormous sea of freckles. Now a dusting of freckles across the nose is endearing, and a scattering of them above the breasts is intriguing, but a veritable ocean of freckles is just ridiculous. So Ginny dealt with the problem in the same way a Muggle would, by applying sunblock, though instead of using a messy lotion she was able to use a charm. Exposure to the sun wouldn't darken her skin, but it did give her a kind of glow, and she had never felt (or looked) more attractive.

Hermione, however, still wore both pieces of her admittedly skimpy bikini. The bits of fabric and string might only supply an illusion of modesty, but it was an illusion she clung to. Besides, the appearance of modesty it created meant that the more predatory males on the beach passed her over in favor of hitting on her more liberal (and it was to be hoped, libertine) friends, a situation that suited her just fine.

So it was that the four of them continued to enjoy the warm sun, with Ginny and Hermione chatting amiably while Grace and Marcy enjoyed the scenery, oohing and giggling whenever a particularly nice piece of eye candy wandered by.

"O, my, God, I think I'm in love," Grace moaned for what must have been the tenth time that afternoon. "Girls, don't look now, but MAJOR stud approaching from nine o'clock!"

Three sets of eyes shifted behind their sunglasses to join a fourth, and Hermione grudgingly admitted that Grace had a point. The specimen approaching from the direction of the hotel certainly was one of the finest examples of the masculine gender she'd seen so far. He had wavy, shoulder-length blond hair and pale, were they blue? eyes. She judged he was about two meters tall, weighing around 13 stone, with the broad shoulders and narrow hips of a gymnast or swimmer. He clearly took good care of himself, but wasn't one of those overmuscled, narcissistic bodybuilder types. His pale complexion suggested he wasn't a regular at the beach scene, but he was striding along as if being bare-ass naked in public was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione's gaze unconsciously traveled downwards as the Adonis approached, past the sharply defined pecs and washboard abs, and onward to--

"Eep!"

Ginny tore her gaze away, looking over at her friend as Hermione clutched convulsively at her arm. "What's the matter?" she asked, concerned at her friend's suddenly pale face.

"That's Harry!" Hermione squeaked.

Ginny glanced back at the object of their attention. Yes, he was the right height and general build, but there was nothing that screamed 'Harry' at her. She supposed he could be using a disguise spell, but then how had Hermione spotted him? She looked back at her friend, her eyes narrowing as she realized just where Hermione's gaze was riveted. "Mione," she hissed, "just what makes you think that's Harry?"

"Birthmark..."

Ginny followed Hermione's gaze and her eyes widened. Sure enough, there was indeed a birthmark, oddly enough shaped something like a snitch. The only problem was it happened to be decorating, and apparently identifying, the Adonis's very impressive 'equipment'...

~~~~~

Flashback

It was the middle of August, the summer following the Trio's sixth year at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione had joined their friend Ron at the Burrow, and were enjoying a last few weeks of freedom before returning to school.

While not public about it, Hermione and Ron were more or less officially a couple. It had begun towards the end of Sixth term, and had to date produced some very satisfactory snog sessions, as well as a few tentative explorations of a more serious nature.

When Hermione had first Noticed Boys, sometime towards the end of her second year at Hogwarts, she'd done what she always did when faced with a new and fascinating subject; she'd hit the books. While there was very little in the magical library at Hogwarts, the Muggle library near her home had a large selection on the topic, including a number of volumes in the adult section that normally wouldn't be available to the average 13-year-old girl. Hermione, however, was not and never had been 'average', and her blindingly precocious intelligence had convinced the librarians to grant her adult status at a very early age. Consequently, by the time she was ready to start doing field research to complement the empirical knowledge she'd acquired, Hermione had a good working knowledge of the basic differences between men and women, as well as of the mechanics involved.

Ronald Weasley, her titular boyfriend, was in all respects typical of the breed. In other words, he didn't notice Girls Were Different until something smacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four. In his case, it was seeing Hermione coming downstairs in her dress robes for the Yule Ball their fourth year. And again like most boys, he didn't make his first move until Hermione subtly convinced him it was a good idea. She wasn't quite certain if he was what she wanted for a permanent relationship, but he was good practice, and with a bit of training would do quite nicely as a steady beau.

The summer had been pleasant enough, with Hermione arriving to stay at the Burrow the week before Harry's birthday, and Harry arriving the day of. It had taken Harry the better part of his sixth year to finally come to terms with Sirius' death, but now he was very much his old self, as cheerful as any young man could be who had the darkest wizard on the face of the planet thirsting for his blood.

On this particular day Harry and Ron had gone off to practice some one-on-one Quidditch, more to hone Ron's Keeper's skills than anything else. Hermione's general indifference to all things Quidditch related didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the nice weather, and she'd followed them out to the pitch and settled under a nearby tree with one of her secret vices, a trashy Muggle romance novel. The foliage kept her concealed from the air, and while she could hear them laughing and talking, she only caught occasional glimpses of them through the leaves.

After a couple of hours of strenuous flying the day grew too warm for the boys to continue, even with the breeze generated by zooming around in the air. "What do you say to a quick dip in the lake, mate?" Ron called out.

Harry sounded a bit doubtful. "Shouldn't we be getting back to the Burrow? Your mum's going to be ticked we skipped lunch, and Hermione will be looking for us."

"Whatever happened the bravest student at Hogwarts?" Ron hooted. "Willing to face down the Dark Lord, but afraid of my mum?"

"Ron, you're afraid of your mum," Harry pointed out logically.

"Dead right I am," Ron agreed, "and with good reason. Mum's got sons to spare, but only one she's adopted. Stuff that would get me turned into a garden gnome she'll let you do without batting an eye." He turned his broom in the direction of the small lake hidden within the stand of forest. "You coming?"

Hermione watched as her two friends drifted off across the forest, and then darted through the trees. She knew she could have called out to them and joined them, but she wasn't interested in going swimming. She was reasonably happy with the changes her body was going through, but not happy enough to expose them in a swimming hole wearing only a bra and knickers.

That, however, did not mean she wasn't interested in getting a better look at the changes Ron had been experiencing, not to mention Harry. Both boys had shot up over the previous year as well as begun to fill out, but wizard robes left far too much to a girl's imagination. She wanted to engage in a little impartial investigation (well, sort of impartial) without having to deal with the distractions Ron would be glad to provide. This seemed to be the perfect opportunity to observe not just one, but two healthy examples of the gender that had her hormones twitching, and she wasn't going to miss it.

She'd guessed that it would take her long enough to get through the woods on foot that the boys would either already be stripped down to their boxers and in the water, or close to it. She was half-right; they were stripped down and about to plunge in, but the boxers were nowhere in sight, What was in sight were two sets of firm, tight butt cheeks, mooning her cheerfully as their owners dashed into the water.

Hermione leaned back against a tree, feeling a bit dazed as she listened to her friends whooping and splashing in the lake. After a couple of minutes she realized that she was risking missing a golden opportunity to add some empirical datum to the theoretical knowledge she'd acquired at the library. She worked her way stealthily through the undergrowth, making sure she didn't reveal her presence to her friends, until she found a vantage point close to their piled clothing where she could see without being seen.

The first to emerge was Ron, laughing at something Harry had said as he made his way carefully across the pebbly lakeside. The place Hermione had chosen was less than five meters away, and with her boyfriend standing in the direct sunlight using his robes to towel himself down, there was nothing she couldn't see.

His last growth spurt had left him lean and gangly, but he was already starting to add muscle to his just shy of two meters of height. He was absolutely covered with freckles from head to toe, a condition Hermione found slightly off-putting, and she blushed as she realized that the Weasley red hair was apparently a universal condition.

Finally she focused her attention on what was euphemistically referred to as his 'endowment', at least in the racier romance novels. She was both flustered and pleased to realize that he was above average in that department, at least according to what she had been led to expect from her research. Of course she wouldn't be certain until she observed him under what she clinically thought as 'controlled conditions', something she had already decided would happen before the end of their seventh year. Something she now looked forward to with much greater anticipation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Harry splashing ashore, and as her attention shifted she felt her mouth drop open and her face blush. He was a few inches short of his friend's height, though a bit broader in the shoulders. His muscular development was also behind Ron's, no doubt the result of the starvation rations his relatives restricted him to every summer, but he was still looking better than she'd expected. That, however, was not what was making her skin flush and her toes curl.

If Ron was above average, Harry could only be described as gifted. The size of him had Hermione almost mesmerized, and the thought of what his excited state must be like started a tingle in the pit of her stomach and made her weak at the knees. The idea of trying to accommodate him both thrilled and terrified her; surely there was no way that was ever going to fit there...

Suddenly she snapped herself out of her trancelike state; why the blazes was she even thinking about Harry that way? He wasn't her boyfriend, Ron was, and any interest she had in Harry's dimensions should be strictly for comparison's sake, and nothing else. She took one last regretful look, and her eyes narrowed, and then widened.

Harry had a birthmark. That in and of itself was not unusual; Hermione had one as well, a cloverleaf shaped one on her...well, never mind. The point was, many people had them, but Harry's had two things going for it to make it memorable. Number one was its shape; the first thing that popped into Hermione's mind when she saw it was that it looked just like the Snitch that Harry always captured as a seeker. Number two was its location; it decorated his foreskin, and Hermione said a little word of thanks that British medical practice had never wholeheartedly embraced the practice of circumcision.

Hermione twitched as she realized that the boys were finished toweling off and were beginning to dress. She needed to get moving if she was going to beat them back to the Burrow and avoid any awkward questions as to where she'd spent her afternoon. She eased her way back through the brush, and once she was far enough away, set out at a jog that beat them back to the Weasley homestead with time to spare.

She never told Ron of her adventure of course, not even after she had followed through with her plans to fill out her research with some 'hands on' experience. If she had, she also might have had to explain just why it was that after that day, and on many occasions thereafter, for the first time in her life Hermione dreamed of catching the Snitch...

~~~~~