Sex and Candy

Quick Note: I do not own anything from the wonderful world of Harry Potter by JK Rowling.

"NO!" Draco Malfoy yelled angrily, causing many of the board members – mainly advisors and his PA – around him to jump in surprise, "This is NOT what I wanted, thank you very much!" he hissed, his grey eyes flashing menacingly as he took in each man sitting around the table, "And you all had better stop accusing me – your bloody boss – of trying to fuck up his own bank account! Just put my money in the shares I tell you to, damn it!"

He slammed the papers down on the table. Amongst the important parchment was one very significant newspaper that his PA had sent him. On the front page of the Daily Prophet was a picture of himself and Astoria grinning, despite the rather unfortunate and true headline: "GREENGRASS AND MALFOY: DIVORCE IN THE CARDS!"

Draco jerked his head away sharply, fuming. How in the hell did they find out?

"Mr. Malfoy–"

"Who did this?" he demanded imperiously, the initial shock and anger starting to wear off as fatigue began seeping into his bones.

He gave the family business – taking care of stocks and bonds and advising those in the Ministry – his all, and this stupid run-in with the Prophet honestly felt like the last straw. This was ridiculous. He doubted Lucius ever had to go through this amount of hell for petty, little things. Somehow, his father always had his affairs squared away – he never had to work long hours. Either Lucius's cold arrogance and threatening demeanor played a large part in keeping those working for him from trying anything stupid, or maybe people just got dafter and dafter as time wore on. Either way, it was completely infuriating. Draco felt as though he was the only bloody person who knew what the fuck he was doing. He found that quite ironic seeing as most of the people he hired were his advisors – they were supposed to know what the hell they were doing! That's what he was paying them for, after all!

"It was–"

"Fire whoever the hell it was!" Draco snapped before grabbing his wand and pointing it at the large double doors at the end of the room. They blew open with a loud bang. A few people jumped. "And leave before my head explodes from your idiocy!"

"Of course, sir," they all mumbled after a beat of silence before getting up and leaving as quickly as possible, a few of the spineless ones casting him wary glances every other second.

Sighing heavily, Draco slumped back into his chair – he hadn't even realized he'd been out of it in the first place – unsure of what the hell to do with the imbeciles working for him as, with a wave of his wand, the doors slammed shut and locked.

After kicking off his shoes, propping his feet up on the table, and resting his head in his hands, the blond realized just how fucking tired he was. Maybe it was time to ask Lucius how the hell he did this for over twenty years.

Deciding he'd rather fall asleep in his bed – which was, delightfully enough, going to be Astoria-free for the rest of his life – rather than at work like he had been for the past year now, he flung his long legs back off the table and put back on his shoes. Grabbing the few things he'd brought with him this morning – that included a flask of firewhiskey because, quite frankly, he needed it to get through the day – he checked the time. Noting that it was a little past midnight, Draco sighed once more before leaving. Stepping out of the elevator and out of the office building, he quickly cast a charm to make sure the wards were still up before turning around.

He scanned his surroundings – his business meetings usually took place in muggle London, so he was accustomed to ensuring no muggle would see him Apparating away – before his eyes landed on a sight that almost gave him a bloody heart attack.

Draco was frozen to the spot, his mouth dropping as his eyes widened.

It can't possibly be her.

He scrunched his eyes and blinked a few times before looking once again at the corner of the block.

It's actually her?!

It had been seven years since he'd last really seen her. Since she worked at the Ministry, he'd catch sight of her on occasion, but it was never more than a quick glance.

Those few and far-between times, however, could have never prepared him for this.

What the hell was Hermione Granger doing dressed as a hooker?

He swallowed hard as his eyes looked her up and down, unable to believe what the fuck he was seeing.

Wearing a black corset, extremely tight, black leather shorts, fishnet tights, and bright red stilettos – her long, brown hair wild and untamed – was, indeed, Granger.

She stood, completely comfortable with her attire it seemed, as she cocked her head and stared at him, as though waiting for something.

Draco couldn't do much more than splutter incomprehensibly.

When she started to tap her heels against the pavement, the sharp sound resonating loudly through the night air, he suddenly realized she was waiting for him.

Clenching his jaw and wondering what the hell was wrong with the world, he approached her cautiously, much like one would approach a crazed, wild animal. Draco's grey eyes darted from side to side as he looked desperately for a way out of this. He'd always thought Granger had been more on the… attractive side in their later years at Hogwarts, but this was extremely over-the-top, and a voice in the back of his mind was screaming that whatever he was doing was foolish and should be stopped immediately. Something, however, was pulling him towards her – whether it be the way her legs looked in those fishnet tights or the fact that prissy prude Granger was dressed as a whore.

Before Draco knew what happened, he was standing in front of her, his grey eyes wide.

She smiled mysteriously up at him.

"Why, hello, Draco," she murmured slyly, "Ready?"

His mouth dropped open again. Was she flirting with him?

"Er, what? Granger? Is that actually–" unable to really form any words other than that, he just left the sentence open-ended.

She rolled her brown eyes, which were rimmed with mascara and eyeliner and looked – unfortunately, he thought – quite lovely, before grabbing his hand and dragging him deeper into the alley.

"What the fuck are you–" he asked loudly, trying to get out of her grasp.

How the hell is her grip so strong?!

"Oh shut up, will you? We're already late."

His grey eyes widened as she suddenly Apparated them away to Merlin knows where.

The last thought he had before they Disapparated with a quiet pop was, Late for what?

Draco had no idea what to think at this point. She had Apparated to a brothel.

Hermione Granger had Apparated him to a brothel.

Something was seriously off today.

Not only that, but the same Hermione Granger who had Apparated him to this place – which smelled a lot like sex and something else – was dressed like she belonged in one of these… establishments.

As he looked around, his eyes almost popped out of his head. They were all here. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and… and was that Parvati Patil? Lavender fucking Brown? Was that the She-Weasel strip-teasing Potter?!

Panic started to creep up Draco's spine. He shouldn't be here. What the hell was happening?

WHAT THE HELL WAS HAPPENING?!

As he turned around, unable to believe what he was seeing, he caught sight of an elegant chair in the back of the room.

It wasn't so much the chair that made him fall unconscious. It was more like the man sitting in the chair that caused the terrible reaction which, he felt, was completely justified.

Why the hell was his dead godfather heading a brothel?

The last thought in Draco's mind before blacking out was quite justified as well, considering the circumstances.

Is Snape a PIMP?

He awoke to another sight he'd have rather not seen – Hermione looking over him in a concerned fashion.

"Hey, are you alright? You've never been this tired before–" she asked almost… sympathetically.

"I've been here before?!" Draco practically screamed.

She cringed before glaring at him as a few people – all Gryffindors – turned to look.

"Merlin, you've come here almost every other night for the past month, Draco," she snapped, grabbing him by the hand – he tried hard to ignore the shocking feeling of her hand in his once again – and miraculously pulling him up.

He once again wondered how the hell she was so strong.

"Excuse me?" he snarled, frowning angrily as he racked his brains for any memories of the past month.

His anger deepened when he found she was lying. He had not been here every other night for the past month! He wasn't some sort of sex-crazed lunatic who would resort to prostitution to get his kicks and take the edge off. What the hell?

"You. Are. Fucking. Mental," he replied before turning around and trying to find the exit.

He had to get the hell out of here. If she kept popping up everywhere, he'd start to think things about her he'd rather not be thinking. On top of this, he did not frequent a brothel. How utterly disgusting.

"Draco–"

He turned around so quickly she jumped and walked back a few steps.

"What–"

"One more question," he interrupted her, "Why in the hell is my bloody godfather a… a… pimp?!" he choked out, his eyes straying to Snape who was watching all the happenings inside the brothel dispassionately.

Draco swallowed the bile rising in his throat as images of Snape having sex unwillingly invaded his mind. Trying hard not to gag, he focused on the girl in front of him.

Hermione rolled her eyes as though it were obvious. He was taken aback, once again, by how nice she actually looked. It reminded him a lot of the time she dressed up for the Yule–

Snap out of it!

"What is this? Twenty Questions?"

"What's Twenty Questions?" he asked, confused, before shaking his head. "Just tell me what the hell is going on!" he snapped.

"You were the one who suggested he quit his post as Potions Master to start this, you idiot," she retorted, crossing her arms irritably. "Honestly, Draco? What is wrong with you? Did someone Obliviate you?"

The blond opened his mouth before snapping it shut quickly. Had someone Obliviated him? He immediately discarded the thought. How absurd. Of course he hadn't been Obliviated. He wasn't daft enough to allow someone to even draw a wand on him in the first place. Ever since the War, his reflexes had been heightened. He would have probably drawn a wand on someone before they could even mutter the words Obliviate if they tried anything.

"Of course not," he finally replied, taking deep breaths and looking around, "But… this is ridiculous and does not make sense. At all. Surely you must agree, Granger?" he asked a bit desperately, hoping that someone would sympathize. There had to be someone who thought this was completely mental! Snape quitting his job at Hogwarts? As if that would ever happen!

"I agree," she replied passionately, "We aren't getting nearly enough business tonight! I thought you said your friends were coming? Where are Blaise, Theo, Terence–"

Draco choked on his own spit.

WHAT? Granger's on a first name basis with my friends?! What the bloody–

"–and Goyle?"

She was watching him expectantly now, waiting for his answer.

He just stared at her, unable to believe his ears.

"What?" Draco finally asked hoarsely, "You're on a first-name basis–"

"Merlin," Granger sighed, rolling her eyes, "You're hopeless tonight. You didn't want to come here, did you? Why didn't you just bloody say so?"

"Who the hell would want to come here?" he replied, baffled.

"Hello? Are you off in La-La land? I'm beginning to think someone actually did Obliviate you, Draco." Her expression turned into one of concern, "Are you sure you're fine? Of course you'd want to come here… you own this place! Half of the money goes to you and the other half to Snape. Well, maybe you wouldn't have wanted to come tonight considering–Draco?"

He fainted.

When he came-to fifteen minutes later, the first thing out of Draco's mouth was, "I own a brothel?!"

He couldn't believe this. When the hell did this happen?! He thought Snape owned it! Snape was the pimp! Not him!

The blond shuddered, suddenly realizing how terrible that sounded and tried, once again, to shove the nasty images of his godfather having sex from his mind. Focusing on Hermione's question, fear started to creep up his spine. How much had he forgotten? Did someone purposefully Obliviate him? He was starting to think that may have been possible…

Hermione sighed before helping him up once again.

"What else don't you remember?" she asked, frowning thoughtfully.

"Everything concerning this place," he muttered miserably, gesturing to the brothel at large and trying hard not to focus too much on anything.

"Wait… so you don't remember what was going to happen tonight, do you?" she asked suddenly, her pretty, brown eyes flickering to his.

He swallowed thickly before shaking his head.

Shit, what was happening tonight?!

What could possibly be worse than half-owning a brothel with your dead pimp of a godfather with a bunch of Gryffindors as both clients and prostitutes?

"Well…" she started hesitantly, biting her lip in a move that he found kind of cute. "We were supposed to go out on a date tonight…"

"WE WHAT?!" he cried incredulously, "You're joking. There's no way–"

"Yes, Draco, we were. Gods, I can't believe this," she muttered, looking away from him, "I think we need to take you to St. Mungo's–"

"What happened to my business?" he demanded imperiously, his curiosity getting the better of him.

As far as he knew, his divorce was splashed across the front page. Perhaps something had changed and whoever Obliviated him took away the memories of his business as well–

"Well… after that Prophet article about you and Astoria, you just sort of started… this," she gestured to the rest of the brothel, "You gave Lucius his job back after you started to make a lot of money off–"

"How–What–Why–How come you're all employed?" he stuttered, panic enveloping him once again. The last thing he remembered of his business was the Prophet article.

Fuck…

"I highly doubt you would want to be a prostitute, Granger. I highly doubt any of your Gryffindor friends would want to," he snapped irritably, "Especially if that meant you'd be working for me."

Nothing was making sense. At all.

She shrugged.

"We changed after the War."

He stared at her wide-eyed again.

"I doubt you were so changed that you would willingly become a whore, Granger," he choked.

"You changed, too," she pointed out, walking closer.

He watched her warily, his eyes unwillingly roaming to her legs once again.

Damn fishnets! He thought angrily.

"I was extremely surprised and put off at first, but after talking it over with Ginny, Harry, and Ron, I found that maybe I should help you and, well, eventually everyone followed. We put our petty animosity to the side, Draco."

"B-But that still–"

"On top of that," her tone changed to something darker and more seductive as she sidled up to him, her eyes watching him deviously, "I thought you were quite… sexy."

"You–what?!" Draco practically squeaked, trying in vain to move away.

She grinned, cat-like, before following him.

"Yes, Draco Malfoy. I thought, and still do think, you're quite sexy."

As disturbing as this situation was, the sight of Hermione Granger walking to him with a predatory glint in her eye was an odd mixture of scary and arousing, and Draco froze, watching her with a terrified sort of intrigue.

"What?" he croaked, unable to believe his ears.

His entire body stiffened as she placed a hand on his chest – it practically burned from the contact – and stood on her tip-toes. Leaning in purposefully so he could feel her lips on the shell of his ear, she finally spoke.

"I think you're sexy, Draco."

He stopped breathing as he watched her slowly pull back and turn to look at him, her face and lips just inches away. As her double entendre slowly sunk in, Draco found his desire for her growing. Deciding to take an insipid chance, he leaned in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut at the same time as hers.

Just as their lips touched – a sensation that was electrifying – he suddenly flew forward and slammed into something hard, pain rocketing through his body and skull.

"Shit," he groaned, curling up on the ground as he cradled his skull.

What the hell just happened?

Scrunching his eyes open, Draco found himself on the ground in his room in Malfoy Manor.

A sudden perplexing wave of disappointment and relief washed through him as he shoved the palms of his hands in his eyes and turned to look out the French doors to his right. His lips curved downwards in displeasure as he surveyed the cloudy, grey skies and familiar, rolling hills of Wiltshire.

It was just a dream.

Even as he realized that, however, he remembered the way Granger looked and found, with a high level of surprise, that he almost wished it wasn't.

.

Fin.

Please do favorite/review!

Tumblr: potterston

Twitter: mnadzz