Title: Bitter Wind

Author: hamadryad

Hermione was walking back to the castle with her nose buried in a fascinating book on thestrals that Hagrid had given her. She had been visiting Hagrid in his hut and then went for a short walk around the grounds. It had been a very pleasant Saturday afternoon. Ron and Harry hadn't been able to come along since they were still working on their essays - or more likely, playing chess as soon as her back was turned. Hermione had finished her assignments early, so she felt justified in taking the afternoon off to have tea with Hagrid and then have some "alone time". Now, however, she wanted to return to her dorm and get changed into some warm, dry clothes. It was almost time for dinner and it was getting very cold as the daylight faded and a light snow started falling.

She was walking past the Quidditch pitch, almost even with the changing rooms, when she heard a noise coming from the direction of the broom shed. She turned around to see what it was and was suddenly confronted with the sight of a young man darting towards her. He was dishevelled, out of breath and... sweet Merlin! completely, stark naked! He skidded to a stop with a dismayed expression on his face as Hermione looked on with wide eyes.

Hermione gasped in surprise and reflexively screwed her eyes shut. After a brief moment, she began to have second thoughts, however. She was a healthy teenager with a healthy level of curiosity, after all. When would she have a chance like this again? She wasn't likely to see Ron and Harry in this state of undress. Besides, they were her best friends and were not to be thought of in such a way; she cringed at the very thought. All the other Gryffindor boys seemed to be afraid of her, so there were no opportunities there, either. Hermione had limited interaction with the boys in the other houses, except during class, which certainly wasn't a suitable setting for gaining this kind of knowledge. It was obvious that she had been presented with an opportunity she could not miss. Satisfied that her reasoning was sound, Hermione cautiously opened her eyes again, and looked at the boy with great interest.

He looked familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite place him. She thought he was in her year, though. He had longish, dark tousled hair that curled over his forehead flopped down into his eyes. He looked vaguely foreign with a dark, tanned-looking complexion, even at this time of year. In the fading light, she couldn't see his eyes very well, but they looked quite dark and mysterious. Her eyes wandered down a bit further. No hair on his chest, just smooth skin over muscle. Actually, his body was surprisingly muscular for such a young man. She wondered if he was a Quidditch player. The sport had never interested her much, but most of the boys at the school were mad for Quidditch and it did seem make for well-toned bodies. Hermione's eyes slowly drifted lower as she absently reconsidered the benefits of Quidditch.

"Seen enough yet?" came a low-voiced drawl from the boy.

"Errr.. wh-what?" Hermione stammered, not realizing just how long she had been looking at him. She suddenly noticed a certain, significant portion of his anatomy beginning to stir under her fascinated gaze. Her eyes flew back up to meet his, as a deep blush of embarrassment crept up her neck and into her face. The mystery boy was looking at her with a crooked half-smile on his face, and one eyebrow raised. She noticed a glint in his eyes that did nothing for her peace of mind and suddenly became aware that he was no longer standing 10 feet away from her. Now he was slowly pacing closer to her, and bore an uncanny resemblance to a stalking panther. Hermione nervously backed away from him, until she abruptly bumped into a very solid and inconvenient wall. Apparently, she had reached the building housing the Quidditch-players' changing rooms.

"It's not that I mind furthering your... ummm... education. Only, I'm getting a bit cold standing out here completely starkers." He almost purred as he leaned in closer to her, reaching for the handle on the changing room door. "Perhaps we could take this inside, hmmm?"

Hermione's eyes opened wide at this. With a panicked squeak, she ducked under his other arm, which was braced against the wall by her left shoulder, and bolted for the school.

Smirking, Blaise Zabini turned and watched Hermione dashing towards the castle for a moment until the bite of the bitterly cold November wind gusting around the building recalled him to his situation. He quickly turned back towards the door, but paused when he felt something soft brushing against his foot. Looking down, he saw Hermione's red and gold Gryffindor scarf lying on the ground. With a crooked smile, Blaise picked up the scarf before ducking into the relative warmth of the small building. His smile quickly faded as he swept his eyes over the interior of the changing room and came to rest on the current object of his irritation.

Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall beside the door, his entire body shaking with silent laughter. Blaise noted, with displeasure, that Draco had already changed out of his Quidditch robes, into black trousers, a grey jumper and a warm cloak.

"Oh, that was smooth, Zabini, very smooth," Draco chortled. "Granger is definitely yours for the taking after that... performance." Draco slid down the wall and collapsed to the floor in a fresh paroxysm of laughter.

"Shut it, you great, stupid prat and tell me where you hid my clothes," Blaise snarled. "They clearly were NOT in the broom shed where you said they were."

Draco was laughing so hard, by this time, that he couldn't get enough breath to speak. He weakly waved one hand towards the far corner of the room. Blaise stalked over, looked behind the bench and found his clothes, shrunken to miniature size in order to make them easier to hide. He picked up his wand, which Draco had mercifully left untouched, and uttered the incantation to return his clothes to their normal size so he could get dressed again. As much as he would have liked another hot shower to warm up after his brief sojourn in the cold, he didn't trust Draco not to abscond with his clothes a second time and Blaise didn't fancy the thought of making his way back to the castle and into his dorm completely bare-arsed. He briefly considered hexing Draco who was still enjoying a good laugh at his expense, but decided against it. He would save his revenge for another day.

He finished dressing and grabbed Draco's arm to urge him out of the change room. "Come on, you great pillock. It's almost time for dinner. Stop your laughing and get your arse moving." Just before exiting the room, Blaise grabbed the scarf he had left lying on one of the benches. As the two boys made their way back to the castle he fingered the soft wool, and looked towards Gryffindor tower with a speculative gleam in his eyes. Sixth year could very well turn out to be more interesting than Blaise had expected.

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