Catalyst

Disclaimer: I don\'t own any part of the Harry Potter books. They are 100% Jo Rowling and not in any way mine, nor are any profits made in the writing of this story.


Chapter warnings: Attempted rape- nothing too graphic, but if the idea is disturbing, please don\'t read.






Hermione Granger was not a happy camper. She was currently tarted up, looking as though she were a “working girl” open for business. Her dress was at least a size too small, clinging like a second skin, and her shoes, consisting of a single strap across her toes, were a good four inches high. As she teetered precariously over to the mirror, she took in her own painted face, the lurid red lips, flushed cheeks, and the massive amount of eye-makeup, topped off by the truly heinous hairdo. Her curls had been piled on top of her head in a tremendous knot.

She turned to meet the laughing eyes of her best friends, scowling fiercely. “Explain to me again why I am being forced to leave my flat looking like a bloody streetwalker,” she hissed at them.

“Because you lost the bet,” Harry grinned at her unrepentantly.

“And this was the deal,” added Ron, looking a bit more chagrined as she cast them stern looks, but still quite smug.

“And you don’t look like a streetwalker,” sighed Ginny, shooting a glare at the two men, “you just aren’t used to being done up. You look quite tasteful, actually.”

And she did in truth. The dress was not too tight, but for once the appropriate size, and an appropriate garment for a young woman. Neither of these factors were typical for Hermione’s wardrobe, consisting of neat and tidy clothing that also happened to be generally very conservative and often oversized. And she rarely applied even light touches of makeup, so she was likely to feel lurid with even the tasteful application of cosmetics. None of this made her feel any more comfortable as she stood in front of the mirror, taking in Ginny’s handiwork with a queasy stomach.

“Right,” she said finally, “so what’s the plan, exactly?”

“Well,” began Harry, his green eyes mischievous, “we’re to apparate to the Leaky Cauldron, where we’ll be met by the rest of our party.”

The butterflies in her stomach began to flutter more rapidly as he mentioned the mystery guest. They would be meeting Ron’s girlfriend Katie, that much was known, but the sixth and final member of their dinner party (and consequently- her blind date) was to remain a mystery evidently. Hermione cursed the silly wager once more in her head.

The Christmas season had found the four friends at the Burrow, surrounded by the Weasley family along with their assorted spouses and significant others. A night of extensive drinking led to loosened inhibitions and the open discussion of Hermione’s love life, or lack thereof, as it often did when she found herself surrounded by her best friends. After a fair amount of mead followed by a few shots of firewhiskey, she had found herself tipsy enough to consent to the bet being proposed.

It was actually Ginny and not one of the more likely candidates (such as Harry, Ron, or the twins) that came up with the wager: a simple drinking contest between the two girls. If Ginny caved first, the entire group would cease to pester Hermione about her social life for a solid three months. If Hermione caved first, she would have to submit control of said social life to her friends for a single evening, participating in any activities that they deemed suitable.

In her drunken state, she bought into Ginny’s argument that it was a win-win situation for her. “Either way you come out ahead,” she’d explained, “either we leave you alone or you spend an evening with friends that you’ll end up enjoying. We love you Hermione, it isn’t like we’d subject you to anything cruel and unusual.”

Hermione had underestimated the petite redhead’s tolerance, or overestimated her own, as she was fairly tiny herself and rarely drank. Either way, Ginny had defeated her hands down.

‘Win-win, indeed,’ Hermione mused wryly. Actually if she was honest with herself, she was a bit excited for the evening. It had been a long time since she’d been on a date, and though she was trying not to get her hopes up, it would be nice to meet the man her friends were so obviously convinced would be a good match for her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to compose herself and turned to tell her friends she was ready to go.

* * * * *


An hour later, the six friends were seated in an upscale restaurant in Diagon Alley, enjoying a round of drinks as they waited for the food to arrive. Hermione had been pleased and relieved to see that her mystery date was Oliver Wood, whom she’d never known well but had always thought was handsome and admired from a distance. He’d stayed in touch with Harry over the years and played on the same team as Ron and Katie, so he was no stranger to most of the group. The atmosphere was relaxed, and Hermione was pleased to find that he was quite charming, and handsome as ever.

“So, Hermione, I understand that you’re working for the Ministry now. What is it exactly that you’re doing?” Oliver asked her as their meals arrived.

“I work in a new division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” she replied, about to go into more detail when she was interrupted by Harry’s voice.

“A new division that she started,” he added. “Our Hermione has never been satisfied with the generally accepted conventions of society, and she ensures that the rights of all magical brethren are protected,” he finished, smiling at her fondly.

“Well, that’s noble of you,” Oliver answered, looking suitably impressed. “Makes me feel a bit guilty actually, spending the majority of my time on a Quidditch pitch.”

“Makes me feel lucky, that’s what,” Ron replied, looking pleased with himself. “Not that I’m not proud of you, ‘Mione,” he added quickly as an afterthought.

“Well, I certainly have always found the treatment of some house elves to be absolutely abominable,” Oliver began, looking Hermione in the eyes. “I mean, okay, for many of them, serving their families is their sole life ambition, but that certainly doesn’t mitigate the cruel treatment they receive at the hands of some of wizarding families.”

Hermione watched him carefully, thinking that this was as close to her own feelings on the topic as she’d ever heard anyone come. Ever. Surely was a good sign. She smiled at him warmly. “Well, I certainly think so,” she replied softly, trying to ignore the looks that the other members of the table were exchanging in a manner that they evidently believed was subtle. She was hoping Oliver hadn’t noticed, but saw a brief look of confusion, then comprehension cross his face so quickly wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. Deciding that he had to have known this was a set-up before now, she dismissed her worries and went back to the conversation.

After dinner, the group headed to Harry and Ginny’s house for a nightcap. The six friends shared a few glasses of wine and more casual conversation before adjourning for the evening. Ron and Katie left first, leaving Oliver and Hermione alone at the Potter’s house.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind just making sure that Hermione gets home safely Oliver…” he trailed off, giving Oliver a knowing smile as he shook his hand. He leaned in to hug Hermione.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Ginny told her cheerfully as she hugged her goodbye.

Oliver took Hermione’s arm and they apparated away. After they materialized in her flat, they stood awkwardly for a moment.

“Well,” Hermione began, “that was awkward.” She gave a little laugh.

Oliver shifted, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Hermione, I didn’t realize that tonight was a set-up,” he told her, looking pained.

“Oh,” she answered stupidly. She felt frozen, unsure what to say. Clearly this was not going to be good news. He wouldn’t be upset that it was a set-up if it wasn’t some sort of problem. She waited for him to continue.

“It’s just, I’m actually really busy, what with touring schedules and such, and I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I don’t think that they realized my being single is not an accident.”

She\'d never felt stupider. So he was single by choice, whereas she just couldn’t get a date unless her friends dragged some unwilling man to meet her. As she saw the situation through his eyes, she felt more humiliated than she had ever imagined she could.

“Of course,” she forced herself to smile at him, “of course that makes sense. Don’t worry about it.”

“I did have fun though,” he looked at her, speaking softly, “and if I was in a position to date anyone, you’d be the first woman I’d think of.”

Hermione didn’t look up, and so missed the sincerity in his eyes. Feeling horribly embarrassed, she ended the conversation as quickly as possible and ushered him out, collapsing into tears after he was gone.

It wasn’t that she had fallen in love at first sight, or anything like that. But for one evening, she had felt desirable, attractive, and had convinced herself that she wasn’t some sexless intellectual crusader destined for a life of celibacy and solitude with only her cat for company. While she supposed Oliver’s excuse was genuine to some degree, nothing could remove the sting of being rejected by a man she’d only just met. He’d turned down the mere possibility of a relationship with her. It was a blow to her already fragile ego, to be sure.

After several minutes, she stood straightening out her dress and waving her wand over her face, clearing her eyes and fixing her makeup. She grabbed her wand and purse and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She wasn’t going to accept the role she had doomed herself to any longer. She had liked Oliver Wood quite a lot actually, but he wasn’t the only man on earth. She may look a bit tarty, but she’d also noticed quite a few appreciative glances from men this evening, and she’d had enough of feeling sexless. One way or another, Hermione Granger was going to break her dry spell this evening. She’d had enough of moping over her lack of Mr. Right. She just wanted some reassurance that she held some feminine appeal.

* * * * *



Theodore Nott was sitting at the bar, nursing a tumbler of Ogden’s finest when he saw one of the sexiest witches he’d ever laid eyes on strut into the Leaky Cauldron. Even in spike heels she was petite, just a little over five feet he’d say, and very slim, but with luscious curves. Her tiny, fitted dress left little to the imagination, and he leisurely perused her body. Quite a round arse, actually, he noticed as he analyzed her. Not quite on-the-verge of being out of proportion, but plump enough to make to make any bloke look twice. He leered at her, imagining the possibilities of his hands wrapped around her tiny waist while he fucked her behind, that delicious arse and those wide hips pushing against him. It was only when she drew near that he looked up to her face, noting the loose knot of dark ringlets piled on her head, spilling out around her face, the deep brown eyes and the delicate facial features.

‘Granger,’ he thought as his lip curled in a sneer.

She strode to the bar and seated herself at a stool, signaling for the barkeep and ordering some sort of muggle drink that he’d never heard of. She downed it quickly, smiling flirtatiously at the barkeep, who came trotting over obediently to refill her glass, looking disappointed when he had to walk away again to serve other patrons.

“You’re looking quite fetching tonight Granger,” he addressed her, pointedly eyeing her up and down.

She forced herself not to cringe, not to blush or cross her arms. After all, this is what she had wanted. A little masculine appreciation. And the masculine appreciation was rolling off Nott in waves. She reminded herself that she wasn’t looking for a relationship tonight, and Nott was as good as any to fill her needs. He’d obviously be happy to. And he was fairly easy on the eyes. The stringy Slytherin was now tall and lanky, light brown hair cut short, and attractive hazel eyes.

“Thank you Theodore,” she returned coolly with a smile. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She turned on stool, facing him now, crossing one leg over the other.

His eyes strayed down to the hem of her dress, which was currently riding up her thighs as she shifted her legs. “It has. You’ve certainly grown up.” He wasn’t even bothering to hide the lust in his voice or his stare. He noticed her empty glass, signaling for the barkeep once more, figuring that copious amounts of alcohol would keep Granger’s personality tolerable.

She swallowed it quickly, causing him to wonder what she was doing here, so obviously on edge.

“Theo, am I a pretty girl?” She was beginning to slur her words, leaning into him as she spoke.

“Very,” he replied honestly. “You’re bloody hot, actually.”

This seemed to please her greatly, as she fell forward into him, kissing him sloppily on the cheek before pushing herself back onto her stool and sucking down a fourth drink. He watched her silently, torn between amusement and lust for the sexy witch who was now plastered and on the verge of throwing herself at him, unless his sense of these things was totally off- which it rarely was.

She leaned forward once more, putting her lips next to his ear. “Show me how hot I am,” she requested drunkenly, grasping his arm.

He pulled her to her feet. “Come with me.” He led her into a darkened corridor at the back of the building, wasting no time in pushing her up against the wall, pressing his body against hers and kissing her roughly, groping at her. “I’ll show you alright Granger,” he rasped, pushing his erection against her, grinding it into her belly.

The press of his hard-on into her abdomen combined with the rough gropes of his hands sent a jolt of fear through her. She suddenly realized this was all wrong and clumsily tried to push him off of her. “Not what I wanted, sorry,” she was mumbling and whimpering as she pushed at him, but she was no match for his strength sober, much less intoxicated as she was.

He laughed nastily. “Oh Granger, don’t worry, I’ll make you feel like a woman.” He’d gathered enough from her attitude and questions to ascertain that she was questioning her feminine wiles. He’d show the drunken bint just how sexy she was. The mudblood had grown up to be a sexy piece of work and he was definitely going to enjoy this. Her body was that of a concubine’s- how could she not see that she was made for fucking.

She was terrified now, feeling his thick, calloused fingers pushing up her dress and grabbing roughly at her lacy knickers. Tears began to stream down her face as she pushed helplessly at him, wondering how she could have ever thought that this would make her feel better, more beautiful. She heard the fabric rip and felt his fingers roughly attempting to force entry while his other hand groped roughly at her breasts. She cried out in pain and thrashed wildly, only to have him tighten his grip on her and press his swollen erection into her.

He was thrusting against her roughly, his hands everywhere as he talked to her. “Such a pretty little slut; never would have guessed that know-it-all Granger would grow up to become a filthy cock-tease. But it’s much to late to change your mind now.\" His voice was harsh with desire and aggression. \"I’m going to give you the ride of your life. Rough, the way you need it.” The tears were flowing freely now. As she felt a clumsy finger poke at her folds, pushing against her entrance, she whimpered in terror, begging him to stop.

Suddenly, to her amazement, he did, pulling away completely in the blink of an eye. She looked up in confusion to see him being shoved to the ground roughly and kicked in the abdomen. Her rescuer leaned over him, hissing.

“Did you honestly think it was a good idea to attack a woman in a public place?” His voice was dangerously low. “Don’t you move a fucking muscle. I’ll deal with you later Nott.”

The man turned towards her. Adrenaline had been coursing through her veins and was now receding, leaving a feeling of unbelievable relief in the wake of her reprieve. Now, looking into the face of her savior, she almost passed out from the combined shocks to her system, coupled with a dangerously high blood alcohol level. Instead, she found herself bursting into tears once more as she looked into the furious grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.



A/N- Please review!