The strawberry-blonde smiled back at her.

Hermione blinked at her as she passed. She swallowed and hurried to a stall, feeling the attention of the guard still on her. She used the facilities quickly — the strawberry-blonde taking the cubicle next to hers — and once she was finished and washing her hands, a toilet flushed, and the girl was exiting, joining her at the sinks.

They grabbed for a towel at the same time, and when Hermione turned to apologize, she saw the strawberry-blonde's eyes flick to the guard. "Your collar is askew," she said, in a thick Scottish accent.

The guard was staring at them in the mirror as the strawberry-blonde stepped forward, into Hermione's space. She cocked her head as she reached up and began tugging at Hermione's collar.

"Oh, thank you," said Hermione, her voice thin.

"You're not supposed to talk to her," the guard barked. Hermione jumped, and the Scottish girl's hands dropped quickly.

With a sway of her hips, the girl turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. "Mmm. We don't have to talk, I suppose."

And with a wink, the Scottish girl stepped forward, cupped her hands on Hermione's face, and pressed her lips to Hermione's.

Hermione's brows shot up, eyes wide open. The girl's mouth moved over hers, her hands sliding around Hermione's neck as she pressed their bodies together.

Hermione couldn't move — couldn't think. This was… What was this?

The girl brushed her fingers around Hermione's neck and let her tongue slide out, tasting Hermione's lips. She felt stiff and useless as the girl tugged at her collar—

Her collar.

Hermione gasped into the girl's mouth, granting her tongue entrance. The girl was doing something to her collar. She could see the guard shifting out of the corner of her eye, starting to come closer to them. She felt her pulse spike, gaze darting to the door.

The girl pulled back and turned to the guard. "No, no. Ya can't touch."

The guard leered at them with a mouth full of crooked teeth, and the Scottish girl giggled before taking her hand and pulling Hermione through the door behind her. Before she could catch her breath, she was pushed against the wall outside the restrooms — hands on her neck again, soft lips against hers.

Hermione gasped as she felt the girl tug at her collar again. Was she pulling it off? Wasn't Hermione able to take it off herself?

The girl pulled back, letting the collar rest on her neck again, the metal stretching snug against her skin. Planting one last slow, deliberate kiss on Hermione's lips, the girl winked and waltzed down the corridor...

...passing Draco.

He stood still as stone, his eyes tracking the strawberry-blonde girl as she passed. His lips were parted in a strange way, as if he'd been about to speak and abruptly stopped.

Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips, trying to make sense of the last two minutes. She'd followed her in the restroom. She'd clearly wanted something. Did she get it?