Chapter One

Hermione Granger shrugged off her loose fitting, burgundy trimmed over-robes and haphazardly threw them on her sofa, collapsing beside them with a huff. Not only had it been an impossibly long day, but tonight was the third annual Remembrance Ball and she would be going without a date for the third year in a row.

It wasn't that she was unattractive. Indeed, even she was aware of some of the admiring glances she received when she wore a particularly daring article of clothing out and about. Her hair had grown into one of her best features - still wild, but her curls had grown sultry and she had invested time into learning the best spells that she used in order to tame it. Her breasts weren't overly large, but they were perky, if on the small side. Her stomach was flat, her grace instinctive after being trained to move fluidly in battle.

It wasn't that she was dumb, either. She was the smartest witch of her generation, and while she might be prone to spouting off information, she made an extra effort to insure that she didn't offend other people who were less than her intellectual equals, either.

It wasn't that she didn't want the attentions of a man. She could see herself in a few more years, down on her knees begging a rare single acquaintance if he would do her the favor of breaking through her maidenhood. Shaking her head with a grimace of disgust to dispel that image, she wearily rose from the sofa and made her way into her bedroom, waving her wand in the direction of the bathroom in order to start the tub filling with hot water.

Her problem, she mused as she stepped out of her clothes, was that she didn't have the least idea of how men really worked, and she really hadn't had her heart in finding out. Sinking into the steaming bath, she twisted her hair onto the top of her head and secured it with her wand. The only man she had a… fascination with… (for she refused to call it a crush!) was not only twenty years her senior, but completely unaware of her being as anything other than the very worst sort of nuisance. Or he was. Granted, she hadn't spoken to him but four times in the past three years, (not counting the period of his recovery when he was unconscious and she crept in to visit him daily) and only in passing, but some old habits just don't die easily, right?

She idly strummed her fingers over her nipples and closed her eyes. This was ridiculous. Her attraction to the man was so much more than absurd, it was almost frightful! This was a man who had tormented her throughout her childhood…

Hermione grabbed the wash cloth and scrubbed angrily at her skin. It didn't matter anyway. Her attraction was something that she needed to bury and lock away. She needed to start looking at other men, really looking, and find someone that she could be happy with in the short term at least. Even a fling. Something to introduce her to the strange land of romantic male-female relations. Or sexual relations. Friendships, she could do. Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's proved that.

What she needed was a man who was at least mildly attractive, at least as old as she was (if not older; experience would be nice), not looking for a meal ticket by dating a minor celebrity, and could hold his own in a conversation. The last point might be compromised in the event of a one night stand. And if she didn't find someone soon, well… perhaps it could be compromised a bit further.

# # # # #

She tugged slightly at the tight, green satin Muggle evening gown she wore as she stepped out of the fireplace and into the entrance hall of Ministry. Following the sounds of merriment and the not inconsiderable number of other guests arriving, she made her way the Grand Ballroom and cautiously looked around her.

Harry and Ginny were out on the dance floor, gazing at each other in adoration. Ron was by the refreshment table, handing a glass of wine to Lavender. Neville and Draco stood in a cluster of men over the left; Draco caught her gaze and his face immediately lit with a smile as he waved her over. She started in his direction, her traitorous eyes still seeking him.

She was halfway across the distance when the idea hit her and she faltered, momentarily stuck in place. Draco. Of course. He was her friend now; she felt more comfortable with him than with Harry and Ron sometimes. And not only did she know about his secret side company, she knew that he could be counted on for his discretion. Not to mention ensuring her safety, if he let her go through with her unconventional idea. Shaking herself though her thoughts, she stepped lightly and purposefully across the floor to reach the group of men.

"Draco, Neville," she greeted her friends, looking around the small group with a smile.

Draco let out a low whistle. "Hermione, you look stunning! Why don't you show yourself off more often?"

"Draco!" Hermione cried, her face heating in a blush.

"You do look very pretty tonight, 'Mione," Neville put in.

"Well, thank you…" Hermione replied, unsure of what to say next.

Draco sensed her discomfort and gestured to the other men. "Hermione Granger, this is Odo Terwilliger," the middle aged man with the moustache inclined his head, "and Garth Walker," the broad shouldered, slightly younger man smiled at her.

"Pleased to meet you," she murmured.

"We're going to help Neville here open his nursery next spring," Draco continued.

Hermione turned to Neville with a questioning look. "You decided to do it? That's fantastic!"

"Yup!" he grinned, opening his mouth to say more, but before he could get anything out, Odo cut in.

"I really must be going, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Hermione. Neville, Draco, I'll see you at the meeting on Wednesday."

One by one the other men separated ways as well until Hermione was left singly with Draco by the dance floor. Holding out his hand, he smirked at her. "So what do you say, Granger? Would you like to dance with the Malfoy heir?"

She giggled amusedly, batting at his arm and taking her time in quite obviously schooling her face into a bland look before saying quite demurely, "Of course, my dear ferret. I would be delighted."

As they swept across the floor, her face glimmered in and out of apprehension as she opened her mouth several times, only to close it again quickly.

"Something on your mind, Granger?" Draco cocked an eyebrow.

"...Yes," she said slowly. "I was wondering...well, perhaps I should say..."

"Just spit it out," he advised her.

"Umm," she worried her lip between her teeth.

"The famous Granger at a loss for words?" he gently mocked. "Why this is a first! I'll have to mark it down for the history books."

She rolled her eyes and gave a little huff. "What I was wondering was," she instinctively tried to move closer in his grasp and lowered her voice, "if I could retain the services of your company in order to…" in for a knut, in for a galleon "learn about kinky sex," she flushed, finishing lamely.

He faltered in his steps before drawing her quickly off to the side, into a small alcove. "You know about Triskelion?" his mouth was drawn into a thin line.

She looked up at him meekly. "I found out months ago, when I was waiting for you at your flat. I figured you'd bring it up if you wanted me to know, but… Draco I'm tired of being a virgin, and not knowing anything about sex – except what I've read, of course – and what I've read makes me think I want to be s-submissive!" Ending in a furious whisper, she looked around them to make sure they hadn't drawn any undue attention.

He reached for her chin, firmly drawing up her head so that he could see her eyes. "Where did this come from, cariad?"

She pulled her face from his grasp and looked away. "Well I'm not exactly in high demand, am I? I want to know what it all feels like. And I don't want to be the one controlling every part of it."

He was silent for a long moment, looking intently at her face as if he could read it. "That must have taken some courage to admit," he finally said, gently.

There was another long pause and then, "I filched one of your books," she whispered meekly.

"What?"

"After I found out about your company, I was curious and I- I filched one of your books about...BDSM."

Draco chuckled. "So that's where it disappeared to."

"Yes."

"And you think you'd like to play, would you?"

"I...well yes, obviously since I asked you about it! But never mind, it was stupid and I'll just be-"

He grabbed her arm as she turned to walk away and jerked her back to him. "I understand that you're nervous, but that is no reason to be rude, Hermione. If this is something that you are really interested in, then we will discuss this like civilized adults. Now, do you know about both aspects of Triskelion?"

"You have professional dominants on staff, and a smaller…matchmaking service…for people in the...lifestyle?"

He nodded his head in approval. "That's right. Now, a professional dominant is not going to give you the sexual aspects that you want; they're not prostitutes. I have a man who is looking for a full time, romantic relationship with a submissive, but who hasn't found the right girl yet.

He is someone who I've known for years, and I honestly think that you and he are ideally matched, without any sexuality coming into play at all. But I want you to promise me that if I arrange to have you work with him, you will go into it with an open mind. Can you do that, Granger?"

She blinked up at his face, so serious and earnest. There was something that he wasn't telling her, but she was apprehensive and excited enough to let it pass. "…I can do that, Draco," she said quietly.

"Good!" He released his hold on her arm and smiled. "Now get back to the party and mingle. If he's available, I'll arrange for him to meet you tomorrow morning at nine in one of the private rooms in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. If he's not, I'll send you a letter by owl of when you can meet. Don't be late."