Sorry for the long AN! I have to touch on a few things. To those enjoying my fresh ideas and original content, thank you! Your kind words don't go unnoticed. I love hearing from you! Thank you so much for nominating Divinity in the Granger Enchanted Awards! I am also in the category "Favourite New Author!" If you'd like to vote for me to make the finals in either categories, I would blow me away! I realise the link wont work on FFN, but you can access the link on my tumblr gryff-in-the-game, my fb page Gryff_inthegame or vote on the Granger Enchanted Survivor's 18+ fb page.
Beta-love to MrBenzedrine. Oh yeah! And touching on that, we're only human. Mistakes happen. I don't claim to be a professional, this is a hobby. If you're expecting my fic to be 110% perfect you probably shouldn't read it. If you can appreciate the creativity in it, please continue. MrBenzedrine looks over my fics for free, in the little spare time she has so I'm appreciative of that.
For those upset that I haven't specified that Hermione will have multiple partners, I thought my AN at the start was obvious. I've promised Dramione is endgame, one would assume there's more to it. I don't wish to give away all the details of pairings and drop massive plot spoilers. However, I'm aware that some people are super sensitive to H being with anyone else, so I will update my description to specifically say she has multiple partners even though, at this stage I really only have planned for her being with Draco and Blaise.
GiTG
The meeting with Draco proved to be more thought provoking than ever. The discussion regarding her relationship with Blaise, although brief, has triggered a rollercoaster of emotions. She feels a cloud of doubt in the pit of her stomach, and the lump in her throat is like a ball of heartache. She can't swallow it; it's just sitting there as her angst grows...she's feeling physically weakened by emotions. If she didn't know any better, it's as though Dementors are attacking her well being. It's never crossed her mind to ask about the exclusivity of their arrangement, and she feels foolish for that. They were never public about things, which is fine with her. But the fact that Blaise may or may not be exclusive with her just makes her feel sick. She cares too much.
The rest of the afternoon is a blur as she wrestles with her woes. Her mind is her enemy as her struggles continue well into the night.
Hermione doesn't get much sleep that night. She was controlled by the turmoil of her thoughts.
The next morning, she wakes to the tapping of a little beak on her window. Upon letting the owl in, she receives a piece of parchment wrapped with red and gold ribbon, sealed by an unknown wax seal. She opens it to discover that someone has either forgotten to include who they are, or it's from someone who wishes to remain anonymous. Whoever it's from is generous. They've organised a spa treatment at a salon including a full body massage, manicure, pedicure, facial, full body scrub, head massage, and a haircut. She wonders if it's from Blaise. She hasn't made any beauty appointments as of late; a day at the spa to relax will be just what she needs to unwind.
Delighted by the generosity of the anonymous gift, she gladly readies herself for total and utter bliss.
Hermione arrives at a bustling day spa in muggle London. A petite brunette welcomes her upon entry, ushering her into a private room and instructing her to shower, redressing only in the robe and slippers provided. Her first treatment will be the full body massage followed by the body scrub.
Eager to commence her pampering session, Hermione does as instructed and is now on a massage table with only a light sheet covering her naked body. Her head is tucked comfortably, face-down in the slot provided while she awaits her masseuse. The door creaks slightly, and the soft, controlled voice of a woman speaks to her.
"Pardon, Miss Granger, but unfortunately there was a glitch with our booking system, and I was double booked. We only have one other masseuse available for your massage today, but he is male. Do you object? It's not a problem if that's so. We will be happy to reschedule your treatment. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."
"No, no that's fine. I'm here, and I'm sure he'll be capable of doing just as good of a job as you. Send him in."
"No problem, Miss Granger. And once again, we are so sorry for the mix up. He isn't much of a talker. He wants his clients in a state of total relaxation."
"That's not a problem, I didn't come here for conversation. I'm sure he'll be more than adequate, thank you."
Hermione waves her hand to signal everything is fine, a habit she picked up from Blaise regrettably, while she mentally prepares herself for a good massage. She feels bad at how she casually shooed the employee, but she needs this time to reflect, reevaluate, and relax. The gender of her masseuse is no big deal. Or is it?
Hermione's thoughts are interrupted once more, this time by the sound of a cupboard being opened, some sort of liquid being poured into something, and the sound of hands lathering the liquid.
Hermione relaxes as she feels strong hands slip under the sheet, peeling it away to expose her back. Before long, she is being warmed by the oils soaking into her body. The scent in the room is of manuka honey and fresh frangipanis.
"Oh, oh that's amazing. A little harder there, please. Yes, just like that."
The masseuse's hands are like magic, following the curve of her spine and kneading her shoulders, paying special attention to the top of them and the base of her neck. His thumbs roll in circles as he increases his pressure to work out all her knots. He's hitting just the right spot; the aroma in the room, mixed with the way he's touching her, stirs something in Hermione. She's in such a state of ease as his hands gently glide to her lower back...he starts massaging the base of her hips, just above the buttocks. His thumbs are working the top of her back while his fingers grip the sides of her hips. Just the feel of his fingertips in that vicinity has her slightly on edge, but she allows it as he hovers there for some time to make her comfortable.
Once her hips are free of knots, his hands boldly glide over her arse cheeks and finish at her glutes, pulling the sheet further down in the process. Hermione jumps at the at the sudden change. This asshole just exposed her and is being highly inappropriate!
"That's enough! I'm done here," says Hermione with her voice raised. She didn't come here for anything other than her massage, and this creep was far too comfortable touching clients. "Get out!"
She hears the sound of footsteps and the door closing. When she is certain she's alone, she hastily gets up to dress herself. She won't be taking her clothes off here again. Hermione feels compelled to march out to the front desk and demand to see the manager, however, with the rest of her treatment being given to her by others, she stays against her better judgement. She'll pen a letter of dissatisfaction this evening.
With that, she moves on to her pedicure and manicure and follows it with a hair treatment and fresh cut.
Hermione is sitting in front of a large mirror while a hairdresser trims her ends. She's oblivious to the fact that Cormac is lurking nearby, waiting to retrieve the cutoffs of hair he so desperately sought. He's still dressed as an employee to blend; using the imperius curse on muggles was far too easy. Last time he was lucky. He'd plucked a hair straight off the jacket hanging in her office. He hasn't been fortunate enough to be able to get close to her since. Everytime he follows her, she is with a Slytherin . He hates the fact that her and Blaise appear to have a "thing," but in all honesty, it means nothing to him. Rules of moral fibre are for peasants. He does whatever the fuck he wants with no consequences in mind.
He watches on, waiting for the right moment to sweep in. At the conclusion of her appointment, she is ushered toward an exit. Cormac can't hide his glee as he fills a phial with Hermione's hair. Cut off's just for him - she's at his disposal, and with that, he Apparates to Divinity to see Daphne.
Theo can't recall the past couple of days. Shit. He knows this week is important for the club, but whatever he trialed with Luna the other day really fucked him up. Fuck. Daph is going to be pissed at me. He rummages through his bedroom trying to find something, anything, that will help him recover. He's all out and settles on a visit to Luna, but before this, he needs to go face reality and see his girlfriend. Daphne can be hard to keep happy, and lately he's been walking on eggshells. He doesn't have a problem with her new found side-line occupation. He just needs to be better at keeping her happy so she'll be there less.
Theo doesn't need to sneak in through the side entrance. While he respects the Deity, he owns Divinity - so really, he can do what he wants. Considering he's been MIA for a few days, he needs to make some appearances. Now that he's back in the land of the conscience, he needs to do some serious grovelling to Daphne and touch base with Blaise. He'd done his best to clean himself up, but he's feeling rough. It's amazing how a good shower and a sharp suit can can make you look.
Upon opening her dressing room door, his eyes rake the young women in front him. She is dressed in a seductive little black number - french knickers tucked snug in between her arse cheeks. Currently, she's lacing the front of a bone-lined corseted bodice that hugs her curves in all the right places. Divinity has a selection of fine women situated throughout, but of all the women he's ever laid his eye's on...he is only interested in one of them. Her.
"Looking good, Daph," he says with a husky voice. He finds her alluring, mesmerised by her in every sense. His eyes feast on the delectable woman before him.
Daphne has finished lacing her bodice, re adjusting everything to ensure she is well put together. Cormac had called ahead and booked her for a session. Glancing at the reflection of her boyfriend, behind her through the mirror, she scoffs.
"What are you doing here?" she asks flatly. She's unimpressed by him being in her personal space. She acts as if she doesn't care any less, but she's pissed off at him. He's been spending so much time getting caught up in the clubs ministrations that she's beginning to feel like being with him is something that she no longer wants.
Theo is anything but entertained.
"Daph, I'm sorry," he apologises. Judging by her body language, she isn't receptive.
"Are you done? Because I have a client arriving soon."
"You're kidding me? I'm your fucking boss. I've been gone for days, and you're ditching me for the Deity?"
"Business before pleasure," she quips.
"Look, I said I was -"
"I don't want to hear it."
"If you're playing hard to get, can you stop? Because I'm having trouble reading you right now. Just talk to me," he pleads.
"I'm not playing anything. If you want to talk - check my schedule and make an appointment like the professional businessman you are," she sasses sarcastically.
"You can't be serious?"
Daphne looks at him with the kind of resting bitch face that Pansy had nailed in their second year. She doesn't know when she became bored of him, but recent experiences have led her believe she's more open to trying different things; she's open to exploring her sexuality. Her interest in Theo has dissolved pretty rapidly. When they got together the music had stopped, and they just decided to find temporary comfort in each other, but now the music is playing again, and she is seeking new notes.
Daphne continues readying herself for Cormac, shifting her hair to one side so she can bend over to slip on her stilettos. Theo has come to realise just how much he missed the witch. An action as innocent as slipping on some heels has him seeing nothing but seduction. Who can blame him for thinking wild thoughts when his woman is parading around in sexy lingerie? He approaches her, wanting to touch her, needing to taste her, but her energy toward him is off.
Daphne cops a whiff of his aftershave, noticing the closeness of him. She feels a slight pang of guilt by her evasion of Theo. After slipping on her shoes, she turns toward him, ready to exit her dressing room. Approaching the door, she brushes past him. He reaches for her, grabbing hold of her to stop her, but she is colder than the Slytherin dungeons.
"I really don't have time for this, Theo."
Theo pulls her into him, his lips making their way towards hers. Daphne diverts his lips to her cheek.
"You can't stay mad at me forever."
"I never said I was mad," she interjects.
"You didn't have to, Daphne. It's obvious."
Daphne suppresses an eye roll, trying to be sensitive to his feelings. "Maybe I'm not being obvious enough."
"Wait, what's that supposed to mean?" pleads Theo while perplexed.
Daphne doesn't let another word leave her lips as she walks away. Theo has this dull ache in his chest. Why does it feel like goodbye? Why does he feel like this over? He's irrational, plagued by his confusion of the situation. In a burst of anger, he curls his hand into a fist and strikes her dressing room door. He doesn't care about the splinters in his knuckles, or the fact that he damaged the fucking door. He's clueless as to how to "fix" his relationship. He won't let heartbreak get the best of him - Daphne can't win.
Theo makes his way to his office to "climb up Blaise's arse" so to speak. Upon entry, he finds Blaise pouring himself a drink early in the morning.
"Spirits at nine? Money? Or matters of the heart?" asks Theo while taking the initiative to pour himself a water. He actually wants to be conscious for the opening of their club tomorrow, so he's placing himself on a substance abuse ban until then. A clear head he should do him some good.
"Nott, you're alive!" drawls Blaise arrogantly. "Where have you been?"
"I wish I had an answer for you, but Luna needed a hand with an experiment, and well, let's just say it was out of this world. Eh - sorry."
"No problem here, just glad you're alright. Hermione and I held the fort. Was starting to worry about you a little bit."
"Aww Zabini, I'm touched. Is that the real reason you're drowning your sorrows?"
"Drowning? No. Dowsing? Yes."
"Does this have anything to do with you and Hermione 'holding the fort' ? Do I detect some tension - or conflict? Because I find your choice of words intriguing."
"Something like that."
"Don't be curt with me. You're acting like you're having your period or something. My actual heart has been ripped from my chest, and I'm getting by. When did you get so soft?"
"Fucksake Nott, stop being so fucking dramatic."
"Can't a mate express his concerns and the woes of his broken heart? What the fuck has got your wand in a knot? And yeah, if it's any comparison, I think Daph just dumped me, so my drama is warranted."
"Unlucky. You alright?"
"Yeah, I mean...it hurts...right here," he places his hands on his chest where his heart is located, underneath a cage of ribs, almost comically. "Feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. She didn't say the words, but it was strongly implied."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, obviously, I'm going to act as though I completely missed her point."
"It won't do you any good to play stupid. She won't take you for a fool. Besides, do you really want to be that wizard? The clingy emotional one that refuses to let go? It'll drive her nuts. "
"Hey! Witches like being chased! It's okay to be in touch with one's feelings. You should try it sometime instead of bottling it up. I think Hermione probably agrees; that strained look doesn't suit your pretty, aristocratic face. I'm not oblivious to what's been going on."
"When did you get so fucking annoying? If I wanted to talk about it, I would."
"Ahh, Blaise. The key to overcoming addiction is admission. I sense the dependency is strong."
"If you're not here to do anything constructive, fuck off. Go get yourself cleaned up for tomorrow night, and stay clear of Luna in the meantime. Save yourself for the opening."
"Don't have to tell me twice. Adios, Zabini! Chin up. Just tell her whatevers on your mind."
"Bye , Nott!"
He exists with a little spring in his step. So much for heartbreak, Nott.
Theo can be an annoying prick when he wants to be, but everything he said has struck a chord with Blaise. He's going to tell her. He doesn't know when, how, or what he's going to say, but he'll tell her. He hasn't entertained another witch in his bed since he started seeing her. The possibility of her being able to see another wizard make his skin crawl. The afternoon presses, and before long, the view outside his office is dimmed by the sun setting. He should go see Hermione, but he's "not ready." A bit more time to process things is what he needs. He settles on an evening meal in the comfort of his Mansion before drifting to sleep on his luxurious chaise
