Chapter 27: The Hogsmeade Heat wave and the Unbuckled Fortress part-2
She reached for the key to the padlock around her neck. Her hands were shaking, partly from the cold outside and partly from anxiety.
"Here, let me help," Harry offered.
"No!" Hermione snapped, recoiling. "Do not touch the zipper! Do not touch anything! I will do it."
She unlocked the padlock. She grasped the heavy-duty zipper tab.
"Okay," she breathed. "Just unzipping. Nothing can go wrong. I have clothes on underneath."
She pulled the zipper down. ZZZRRRRT.
The thick pink suit opened from neck to navel. Steam practically poured out of the opening.
"Oh, that is better," she sighed, peeling the top half of the suit off her shoulders.
She stood up to shimmy the suit down to her waist, intending to let it hang there or step out of it.
But here was the physics problem I had engineered.
Her jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. Her shoelaces were untied. Her bra was unhooked.
The heavy snowsuit was made of a rubberized material on the inside for insulation. It had high friction against denim.
As she pushed the heavy suit down past her hips, the rubbery material gripped the denim of her jeans.
Normally, the belt would hold the jeans up. But the belt was undone.
So, as she shoved the heavy snowsuit down, her jeans went with it.
"Wait," Hermione said, feeling the draft.
It happened in slow motion. The heavy suit fell to her ankles. Her jeans, gripped firmly by the suit, pooled around her ankles as well.
She was standing in the middle of the crowded pub, next to the fire, wearing her jumper (which was loose because the bra underneath was unhooked) and... well, her jumper.
And from the waist down?
She was wearing a pair of thermal leggings.
(Damn,) I thought. (She wore leggings under the jeans. Another layer. Smart girl.)
But I had the Poltergeist Proxy. And I had Structure Analysis.
I looked at the leggings. They were old. The elastic waistband was worn.
(Poltergeist Proxy: Snap the elastic.)
Snap.
The sound was audible this time.
"Oh no," Hermione whispered.
The leggings, having lost their structural integrity and being weighed down by the heavy snow boots she was still wearing, succumbed to gravity. They slid down to join the jeans and the snowsuit at her ankles.
Hermione Granger was now standing in the Three Broomsticks, wearing a jumper, heavy boots and a pair of white panties with—I squinted—little red hearts on them? No, cherries.
(...cough...)
"System Alert," the voice chimed happily. "Incident recorded. Type: The 'Russian Nesting Doll' Wardrobe Failure. Multiple layer breach in a public setting. Target: Hermione Granger. Witness: Harry Potter and half of Hogsmeade. Rating: S-class. Reward: Skill 'Thermodynamic Control' and seventy-five attribute points."
Hermione froze. She didn't scream this time. She just stared at the wall, her eyes glazed over, accepting her fate.
Harry, who was sitting in the booth, looked up. He was holding a menu. He lowered the menu slowly.
He saw the jumper. He saw the bare legs. He saw the cherries.
His reaction was different this time. He didn't cover his eyes immediately. He stared. His face flushed a deep crimson, but there was a distinct lack of shock. It was more like resignation mixed with... interest.
"Cherries," Harry muttered, his voice dazed. "It is cherries today."
"Harry," Hermione said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Am I... am I wearing trousers?"
"No, Hermione," Harry replied softly. "You are not."
"I see," she whispered. "I think I will just die now. Goodbye."
She closed her eyes and swayed.
"Don't faint!" I shouted, jumping up. "You will fall into the fire!"
This snapped Harry out of his trance. He leaped up.
"I have got you!"
He wrapped his arms around her to steady her. But because her jumper was loose (bra unhooked, remember?) and he grabbed her around the ribcage...
The jumper slid up.
Harry found himself hugging Hermione's bare skin, his hands pressing against her back, right where the unhooked clasp of her bra was dangling.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. She felt his warm hands on her bare back. She felt his chest pressed against hers.
"Harry," she squeaked. "You are touching skin."
"I know!" Harry yelled, panic returning. "The jumper is loose! Why is everything loose?!"
"I don't know!" she wailed, burying her face in his neck. "I was a fortress! I was a marshmallow!"
The entire pub had gone silent. Madam Rosmerta paused with a pitcher of mead.
"Well," Rosmerta said loudly, breaking the tension. "That is one way to beat the heat, dear. But we usually keep our clothes on in here."
I grabbed the heavy snowsuit from the floor and hauled it up, effectively pulling her pants back up in the process.
"Wardrobe malfunction!" I announced to the room. "New experimental warming charms! They overheat the elastic! Terrible design flaw!"
I shoved Hermione (now vaguely covered) back into the booth. Harry slid in next to her, effectively boxing her in and hiding her from the room.
Hermione put her head on the table and covered it with her arms.
"I am never leaving this booth," she mumbled into the wood. "I live here now. My address is The Three Broomsticks, Table Four."
"It is okay, Hermione," Harry said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. He looked at his hand, then quickly put it under the table, as if afraid it might accidentally undress her again.
"It is not okay!" she sobbed. "Harry, you know what underwear I own! You know my entire collection! I have no secrets left!"
Harry coughed, his face burning. "They... they are very nice. The cherries. Very... cheerful."
Hermione let out a high-pitched whimper.
I sat opposite them, sipping the Butterbeer that Rosmerta had dropped off.
"You know," I said philosophically. "Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something, Hermione. Maybe you are just too restricted. You need to be free."
"I will free your teeth from your gums, Ronald," she threatened without lifting her head.
.....
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