Retribution

At the best of times, Hermione Granger was not known for her glamour. She usually dressed for practicality; it suited her lifestyle and suited her job and Ron didn't seem to mind. He told her all the time that she was beautiful just the way she was and for the most part she was happy with that.

There were times that they would be walking down the street and his eyes would follow a pretty blonde across the road but she didn't mind in the least. She had read enough books on human biology to understand that it was a pre-programmed response and it didn't mean he loved her any less. He was simply responding to a hormonal reaction, as all men did and Hermione was secretly proud of the fact that she was secure enough in herself and her relationship to remain entirely unaffected by it.

Nevertheless, Hermione was still a woman and from time to time she liked to remind herself of that fact. On the night that Harry finally finished his auror training, Hermione decided it was perfect excuse to let her hair down and give her husband a little of what his genetic programming desired.

It was to be a casual affair, just a few of Harry's closest friends having a quiet drink in the Three Broomsticks to celebrate his success, so Hermione chose her outfit carefully. An hour and a half before they were due to leave, she went upstairs and had a long, warm shower, revelling in a little long overdue pampering. She smoothed down her wild curls with a few well-practiced charms and twisted it onto her head, letting a few carefully placed tendrils fall down around her neck and shoulders. She put on some make-up; not too much, just enough to emphasise her natural prettiness, and applied a gentle perfume behind her ears and the backs of her knees. At the last moment, she boldly added a tiny dab of it to her thighs, a little trick Ginny had told her about that would give Ron an extra surprise when they got home from the party.

She selected a pretty skirt and with a wave of her wand, she raised the hem by a couple of inches, smiling to herself at the thought of Ron's face when he saw her, and then completed her outfit with a button-through blouse. Perhaps she would leave an extra button open tonight, just to be daring.

When she was finished, she stood in front of her mirror and assessed the results with a smile. She did look nice, she had to admit. Her skirt was short enough to be sexy without being too obvious, and her blouse fitted closely enough to make her look shapely. When she moved in a certain way it opened enough to show the curve of her breast and just the edge of her white lacy bra which made her a little nervous, but after a careful inspection, she decided that it was really only noticeable if you were looking for it. She decided to be daring and leave it as it was.

"Perfect," she whispered with a little twirl.

"Hearts will flutter tonight," said her mirror with a little shimmer.

Hermione giggled and went out to find Ron. He was still in the shower, having only left himself five minutes to get ready, as usual. She walked into the bathroom and pulled back the curtain, bracing herself for his reaction.

"Could you pass me a towel, hon?" he asked, his face covered in soap. Hermione obliged and stood back a little as he got out. He dried his face and body and walked past Hermione and out of the door.

He looked straight through her without a word.

Hermione felt a little deflated, but she smiled to herself nevertheless. Typical man, she thought as she followed him into the bedroom. He just needed a little push in the right direction.

"Do you think this looks alright?" she asked, smoothing down her skirt in the mirror. He was hurriedly throwing on a pair of jeans.

"Fine, really nice," said Ron without looking up as he fumbled with the zip.

He was a little distracted, and Hermione was sure he'd say something once they got out of the house.

They Apparated to the pub, and Hermione soon forgot about Ron and his lack of attention. She noticed that she caught the eye of a couple of men in the pub and her confidence soared. She was glad she'd made the effort even if Ron hadn't noticed. They settled into a booth across from the bar with Harry, who'd already bought them both a drink, and the conversation began to flow.

"So when do you officially start?" Hermione asked Harry, taking a large gulp of her drink.

"Not for a month. They like you to relax a bit first after the training," he replied.

"I was hoping you'd say that. I thought we could all take a trip over to France for a little holiday," said Hermione excitedly. "There's some lovely museums over there, all Muggle of course, but one of them has a fascinating display on witchcraft from the middle ages. What do you think?"

"Sounds great," said Harry. "We'll definitely do that.

"I read about it last week and I've been dying to go. Apparently they've got some old artefacts that they think are... they think they might be..." she trailed off. Neither Harry or Ron were listening to a word she was saying and their eyes were fixed on a point somewhere over her shoulder.

She looked behind her to find the source of their sudden fascination, and she didn't have to search hard to find it. The barmaid couldn't have been a day over eighteen. She had on a pair of tight black trousers and an extremely low cut top, her silky blonde hair trailing provocatively into her ample cleavage.

Hermione looked back at Ron and Harry. Their eyes moved in unison from one side of the room to the other, following the barmaid as she collected glasses from the tables as though they were mesmerised.

"I was saying," said Hermione, raising her voice a little, "that the Muggles think the artefacts might be implements used to make spells and potions. It would be interesting to see if they're right."

"Hmm," said Ron distractedly. The barmaid walked over to their table and lifted some empty glasses, bending over provocatively as she did so.

"Hello Heather," said the boys in unison to the barmaid's breasts. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How do you know her name?" she asked when Heather had returned to the bar.

Ron shrugged. "She's always in here."

"That's funny, I don't remember seeing her before," said Hermione, shaking her head. It was almost as though they were under a spell, the way their eyes glazed over whenever Heather appeared. They would stop dead in the middle of a sentence, stare across the room with dazed expressions for a moment and then carry on talking as though nothing had happened. If she didn't know better she'd think they'd been confunded.

After about an hour of this, Hermione was starting to feel rather invisible and more than a little irritated.

"Do you think she's pretty?" she asked a little too harshly, interrupting their reverie with a start.

"Who?" asked Ron, still looking over Hermione's shoulder.

"Heather, silly," she said, forcing an off-hand air into her voice.

The boys laughed. "Pretty's not quite the word," said Ron, exchanging meaningful glances with Harry before resuming their vigil on Heather's continually moving breasts. They seemed to carry on bouncing for a few minutes after Heather had stopped moving, and even Hermione had to admit that it was kind of fascinating, in an obvious sort of way.

"I was thinking about getting a top like that," said Hermione, determined to change the focus of the evening. "Do you think it would suit me?"

"I suppose," said Ron casually. He dropped a few coins onto the table. "Get us some more drinks, would you?"

Hermione stood up, dejected, and walked across to the bar.

"Merlin, Hermione! Look at your legs!" screeched Ron as Hermione turned away.

A little thrill welled in the pit of Hermione's stomach, and she allowed herself a small smile of triumph before she turned around to face them.

"You finally noticed then?" she said, with a wink at Ron. Her smile faltered as she realised they were laughing. "What?" she demanded.

"It's the pattern of the chair!" gasped Harry through his laughter. "It's imprinted on the back of your legs!"

Hermione was furious.

"Is that all you've got to say?" she demanded, facing them head on with her hands on her hips.

"But it's on your leg! Look!" said Ron, apparently believing that Hermione had misunderstood.

"Oh forget it. You're so childish sometimes." Hermione flushed angrily as she turned back towards the bar, their laughter still ringing in her ears. She bought the drinks and tipped the barmaid. It wasn't her fault, after all, and she actually seemed quite nice.

She felt foolish as she returned to the table. She knew she couldn't compete with the likes of Heather and she'd been silly to try. She pulled at the hem of her skirt, wishing she'd just put on a pair of jeans as usual.

As Harry and Ron chattered away, Hermione stared into her glass. It wasn't as though she was asking for much, but she'd really though Ron would have appreciated the effort she'd put into her appearance.

"You're very quiet," said Ron after a while. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing," said Hermione glumly.

"She's tired," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"I'm not tired!" snapped Hermione, trying to ignore the fact that Harry and Ron were quite obviously kicking each other under the table.

"She always gets grumpy when she's tired," said Ron, running a hand down Hermione's hair. She shook him off angrily.

"I am not tired!" she repeated. "Did you ever think that I might just be fed up of male company? Did you ever think of that?" As soon as she'd said it she regretted it. She knew she'd have to explain herself and she also knew they wouldn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Harry, a mingled look of hurt and mild amusement on his face.

"Never mind," she said with an exasperated sigh.

"You can't say something like that and then not tell us what you mean," said Ron.

Hermione groaned inwardly. Some days she felt like she was babysitting a couple of two year olds. "Alright. If you really want to know, I spent ages getting ready tonight and all you've done is stare at the blonde behind the bar - don't try and deny it," Harry and Ron closed their mouths quickly. "I made a real effort and I know it's not much, but the most you could say to me was that the chair had made a pattern on my leg. Sometimes I think you don't even notice that I'm a girl. Are you happy now?"

Ron shifted his chair a little closer to Hermione's and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Oh Hermione, you know I think you're pretty. You look really nice, honest you do. It wasn't like we were thinking she was better looking than you, it's just that she's got these really big tits and you can't help looking. Not that yours aren't nice, I just mean hers are bigger. I mean -" Ron looked at Harry in desperation. Harry simply shrugged.

"Drop it Weasley. You're digging yourself into a hole," snapped Hermione and finished off her drink.

The three sat in silence, the two boys staring at their shoes awkwardly and Hermione looking stony faced and feeling very irritable.

After a moment, Harry looked up, a relieved grin spreading across his face.

"Sirius!" he said, standing up quickly. "You're here!"

Sirius swept into the bar, his cloak fanning out behind him, his gleaming black hair falling down his back like a silken curtain. He embraced Harry with a smile and turned to Hermione. His mouth fell open when he saw her.

"Hermione! You look incredible! Stand up so I can look at you."

Hermione obliged, a slight flush creeping across her face. Sirius walked around her, his eyes raking her body in a way that made her suddenly very glad she'd shortened the length of her skirt. She noticed with amusement that Ron was shifting awkwardly in his seat, glaring at Sirius with something akin to hatred in his eyes.

Sirius moved in close to her and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her toward him and kissing her gently on her forehead. As he did so, he slid his hands around to her back and slowly up her spine.

"Very sexy," he whispered into her hair before he released her.

"Watch it Black, that's my wife you're talking to," said Ron with a scowl.

Sirius eyed him with a look of amusement. "And you'd do well to remember that," he said evenly. "Or one of these days I might just steal her off you."

He spun round with a flourish, leaving Ron staring open mouthed at him.

"Come on, Hermione," said Sirius, holding his arm out to her. "I want to buy the best looking girl in the pub a drink."

Hermione took his arm and followed without a backward glance. Once at the bar, she turned to Sirius and whispered to him in a low voice.

"So how long had you been listening to our conversation?"

Sirius grinned and slipped his hand onto her back. "Long enough. I heard you yelling at them from the street. The look on Ron's face was priceless though, wasn't it?"

Hermione laughed and stole a look over her shoulder. Ron was staring into his drink, clearly fuming while Harry whispered to him with an air of desperation.

"I wasn't making it up though," said Sirius. "You do look gorgeous."

She leaned across and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Oh Sirius, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

Sirius gave her a gentle squeeze and grinned impishly. "All part of the service, ma'am."

~

Later that night, Hermione lay in bed after an exhausting lovemaking session with an unusually enthusiastic Ron.

"What's that scent you're wearing?" he asked as he lay sleepily beside her. "It's really nice."

"Just a little something Ginny told me about," said Hermione with a small smile.

"Well it was nice. Sorry I was rubbish earlier. I do think you look nice, you know."

"I know," said Hermione as she turned out the light. She smiled to herself as she pulled the covers over her naked body. She somehow got the feeling that Ron was going to be a little more appreciative of her from now on, thanks to a certain Sirius Black. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. After all, she had a lot of work to do tomorrow if she was going to take two inches off the hem of all of her skirts...