AN: This chapter is dedicated to Izumi, who introduced me to this wonderful ship and who keeps calling me at 4 am just to tell me all about her fantasies involving Lucius Malfoy. I love your ideas but girl, let me sleep, please.

Lucius knew he would be attracting everyone's attention the moment the green flames vanished and he stepped out of the fireplace inside the Ministry atrium. It was the reason why he took longer than usual to prepare himself that morning. That, and the actual reason for his visit.

It was a masterful performance and he couldn't help but preen internally. He strode across the hall with his usual elegance, cane taps echoing on the marble floor, ignoring the gawping and double-takes as one of the Ministry staff realized the head of the Malfoy house, who had been reclusive since the war ended, was just now entering the lifts, and by the most public route possible. People who had been working in the Ministry for a long time knew that he usually took the private lifts, the one VIPs used. This was definitely going to cause a stir once it reached the papers.

The pressing crowds by the lobby obediently stepped back so that he and he alone may enter the lift. He couldn't help the satisfied grin to grace his lips that even after everything that had happened, people were still in awe of his presence. As the doors to the lift slipped closed, Lucius pressed the level 5 button and stood back against the far wall to wait. His mind drifted back to his visit with Severus the other day as he descended to his destination.

"It's nine in the morning, Lucius. You don't usually come here this early. What are you doing here?" Severus glared at him.

"Why visiting you, of course," Lucius rolled his eyes before walking past his old friend. He came to an abrupt stop once he reached the sitting room. "Draco?"

His son blinked at him a few times before finally snapping out of his trance. "Father," he greeted back.

Lucius heard Severus sigh behind him. "I take it you're here as well about Miss Granger?"

"What?" Lucius said, almost feverishly. What was his son doing here? What was he asking about Miss Granger? Were they—

He immediately schooled his features into a blank expression when he noticed Severus beside him was giving him an odd look.

"I don't know if you've heard, father, but there's a tender going on in the Ministry and Granger is one of the selection committees that will oversee the process," his son explained. "I've already talked to her a week ago but I want to ensure that our company will win that tender."

Lucius internally breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that Draco's intentions weren't inlined with his. Still, the thought of his son and Miss Granger on friendly terms didn't sit well with him.

"And as I've said to your son, I have no idea how to help," Severus sat on a sofa across his godson while Lucius sat on the only vacant seat. "Miss Granger is an insufferable know-it-all who hadn't changed one bit since graduating and I don't want anything to do with her. I've already got Potter visiting me here weekly on some misguided guilt and I don't want to add her as well."

"But Uncle Sev, you've taught her for six years. Surely you must know something about her?"

"I was her professor, Draco, not her paramour."

Lucius should've known that his friend wouldn't be of any help. After nearly a lifetime of playing double agent and teaching a bunch of incompetent imbeciles, Severus called it quits and went back to his small hovel in Spinner's End to live out the rest of his life in complete solitude. Although it didn't stop Minerva McGonagall from offering him a teaching post on Hogwarts every year.

No, Lucius might as well stop whatever he was planning. Severus might strangle his dear friend if he ever found out what Lucius was up to. On the other hand, his son had provided him an even better opportunity and he would be a fool to let it pass him by.

"Let me handle Miss Granger," he piped up. Two heads immediately swiveled in his direction. One was looking at him warily while the other sported an amused look.

"Father," Draco began carefully. "I… I don't want you to get in trouble again. I don't think the Ministry would be so lenient this—"

"I'll just pay Miss Granger a visit, Draco. I'm not going to torture her," Lucius was about to roll his eyes but eventually realized the error of his words when his son paled considerably in front of him.

"Uhm, I don't think you should mention that word to her," his son said meekly. "Especially after what… uhh, happened in the Manor years ago."

"Really, Lucius?" Severus snorted. "Can't you be any more tactless than that?"

"Oh, do shut up, Severus," Lucius replied drily before giving his attention back to his son. If they only knew that Miss Granger had been in the Manor a week ago and didn't seem too bothered by it. "You need to focus on the company, Draco right now. Let me try and make an offer to Miss Granger tomorrow and if that doesn't work, I'll let you take the reigns. Besides, I haven't been inside the Ministry in a while. I want to see how it looks like now."

"I have a bad feeling about this, Father."

"Nonsense," Lucius waved him off as he reached inside his robes for the shrunk bottle of Ogden's finest vintage. He had planned on bribing Severus with it but Draco deserved a toast for the wonderful opportunity he had presented Lucius. "Now, how about a little celebration?"

"It's a little early for a stiff drink."

"Don't be a troll, Severus. One shot wouldn't kill you."

"That's what the Dark Lord said when he tried to hit Potter with the killing curse," Severus drawled as he summoned three crystal tumblers. "Look where he is now."

"Oh, I do enjoy your dry humor," Lucius purred as he poured them each a finger. He twirled and sniffed the alcohol before raising it to his companions in a celebratory toast.

"To convincing Miss Granger."

The doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, snapping him out of his trance and Lucius continued his way, navigating the dark corridors of the Ministry and ignoring the people gawking at him until he arrived in front of a dusty little corner office. Lucius wouldn't have known that it was hers if it weren't for the nameplate bearing her name. He stood there, staring at the small piece of metal stuck at an odd angle for a few moments. Lucius had his doubts about coming over here and he briefly thought about just owling her but what would he say? Hello, Miss Granger. Do you mind coming over to the Manor? My cock is still achingly hard and I'd like to continue where we left off last week. That just wouldn't do.

Squaring his shoulders, he knocked thrice on the wooden panel, and a second later, there was a muffled "Come in" from the other side. Oh, I'll definitely come in, he smirked to himself before entering.

The room was quite small to be considered such an office. One might think it was a broom closet rather than a high-class workplace for the Department Head's Junior Assistant. The shelves were filled to the brim with file folders and binders while two small succulents were sat by the window sill. He found her hunched over her desk, furiously scribbling something over a piece of parchment. Her hair tumbled in like chocolate waterfalls all over and Lucius resisted the urge to walk across the room and sink his fingers through it. To tug it behind her, making her head tilt upwards.

"Just a second," she said, still not looking up from her desk, and when she eventually did, her plump pink lips immediately parted in surprise. "Lu—Mr. Malfoy. What brings you here?"

"Miss Granger," Lucius had to internally applaud her quick recovery. "I just came from the Minister's office and I thought I'd stop by and give you this."

It was a lie but it was not as if she was going to ask the Minister himself about it. He placed his cane by the wall near the door and pulled out a shrunken simple brown gift bag from the pocket of his robes before enlarging it with a wave of his hand. Lucius watched as Miss Granger's brows furrowed in confusion. She eventually stood and went over to him.

"Why are you giving me a gift?" she said skeptically.

"I'm not. Just," and he motioned with his head to check the contents.

She turned a lovely shade of red when she realized what was inside. "Oh," she set the bag discreetly on her desk.

"A house-elf found it while she was cleaning my bedroom." Another lie. He was the one who found it and debated for days whether to return her undergarment or not before settling with the latter. Of course, there were ulterior motives behind such gesture but Miss Granger need not know that.

"Thanks. I didn't expect to see it again." She bent her head to hide her discomfited smile.

Lucius took the opportunity to drink in her entire presence. All niggling misgivings evaporated at the sight before him. He took in the large black silk knot nestled at the hollow of her pale throat and the fit of the white silk over young, high breasts. Her skirt was long and narrow and stopped demurely at her knees. Her nude stockings were stretched taut over legs that go on and on. His eyes drifted down and then his mouth went dry. She was wearing those fuck-me heels.

Fuck!

"Nice shoes," he commented mildly but the blood was pooling to his cock and he felt almost light-headed with want and greed.

"Oh these old things," she shrugged, and twisted her body to peer at her heels behind her shoulder, affording him a peek at the rest of her figure, the curve of her back, and that delicious derriere...

Lucius took it all back. She wasn't inexperienced at all. She knew exactly what she was doing.

He took a step forward and stopped when she placed a hand on his chest. His smile was cocksure but he wondered if she could feel how fast his telltale heart was going.

"Did you plan this?" Her voice was low as her eyes searched his for answers.

"Did I plan what?"

"Did you sleep with me before, knowing that I was going to be on the panel?"

His lips quirked. "I'm flattered you think I'm that skilled in manipulation, but no. The dull truth is, I really had no idea about the tender until yesterday. Our meeting in Rose & Crown was purely coincidental. I am, however," he purred, "quite the opportunist."

He ventured another step closer and this time he felt no resistance. His face was mere inches from hers now but he will not touch her, stringing out the wait for both of them. He stared into her startling brown eyes and they mirrored the heat in his own.

"You're very beautiful," he murmured. And it was true. He had thought that his obsession with her would wane once he saw her under normal circumstances but he still found her equally desirable in this moment, if not more so.

"And you're trouble," she hissed. "They're strict about these things. I could lose my job."

"Would you like me to go?"

"You should."

"But do you want me to?"

Her silence was all the answer he needed. Snaking one hand into her hair and another around her waist, he pulled her to him roughly. Her face, her lips were a hair's breadth away. And then he kissed her, softly at first until he felt her lips yield and part. And then with a low hum that came unbidden, he claimed her, their mouths hot and fused, their tongues finding each other.

Whether he pushed them or she pulled him in, he did not know—only that his foot found the door and he kicked it shut behind him. Their mouths still meshed, their bodies locked in a fierce embrace, he eventually pushed her into the wall. Ever since he saw those heels, he had been itching to nail her to this very wall. Preferably with his bare, rigid cock.

"Someone might hear!" she managed to gasp.

Lucius didn't need to be told twice. He muttered privacy charms all over the room before his mouth claimed hers again. He had lost count of the number of women he'd bedded, rued the occasional tedium of foreplay, but with this woman—this woman—everything felt heady, uncannily new. His hands dropped to her hips and he pulled them possessively to his so he could ground his aching, twitchy cock into her center. He felt her kiss deepen in appreciation.

He broke away from her, and she made a small throaty sound in protest that was quickly replaced by silence and a quickening of her breath as he trailed the length of her neck with hot, wet kisses. They both quickly made work of her silk blouse and Miss Granger was soon divested of her upper garment, leaving her bra intact. Lucius then continued his earlier ministrations, his lips lingering around her décolletage, skimming the edges of those wonderful mounds and taking his sweet time until he felt her hand firmly grip his and pull it up to cover her left breast.

"Oh, I see," he replied and his voice was husky with want and knowing. Her breath hitched when he cupped her breast firmly when thumb and finger started to roll the sweet bud of her nipple, twisting until he felt she was on the knife-edge of pain and pleasure. He brought his head down and with the point of his tongue, he circled her areola lazily before wrapping his mouth around the sensitive tip. He felt her shiver. Her nipples were straining against the cotton now, the fabric going damp as he sucked and teased. Helpfully, he peeled the little straps off her shoulder, first one, then the other. He peeled that tantalizing undergarment down, freeing one heavy breast and then the other. He buried his face in them, licked them, and laved them. And she smelled amazing. A heady mix of fruity shower gel and musk that was all her own.

And then slowly he traveled, hot wet kisses going down, down, leaving those beautiful breasts bereft for now as he sank lower. His fingers gripped the zipper of her skirt and he looked up to find her gazing down at him, her eyes unsure, her lids heavy with want. With a wicked smile, he pulled the zipper down before yanking the skirt in one swift, practiced motion, taking her panties with it.

"I have to admit I was disappointed," he mused, "when we didn't get to do this the last time. It's been playing on my mind ever since as if I'd portkeyed all the way to the Royal Mansour yet neglected to... dine in."

He gazed at her sex in wonder and worship. French wax, but of course. As if she'd let her bush go wild, unlike her hair. Such a proper little lady, and meticulous right down to her most intimate of intimates. He gazed at the neat dark rows flanking her entrance and wondered if he could make her scream.

As if sensing his thoughts, her thighs clenched reflexively, concealing her sex.

She was nervous, he realized with a thrill. This was all relatively new for her. Oh, this is fucking Christmas.

"Shh," he soothed, stroking the outside of her thighs languidly so as to lull and relax. Up and down, up and down. "Are you comfortable?" he murmured. "Would you prefer lying down?"

"I'm alright," she replied and her voice sounded far too normal for a woman with a man poised at her hips to eat her out. That was not a good sign, noted Lucius. She was starting to tense up.

He slowly stood up so they were eye to eye once more. He cupped her face gently.

"Hermione," he whispered, their noses almost meeting, his gaze never wavering from hers. Lucius felt her shiver at the mention of her first name. "I'll stop if you want me to. I won't hurt you. Will you trust me?"

She blinked and he held his breath. A second or two passed before she slowly nodded.

He leaned in and kissed her deeply, felt a thrill run through him when she matched his fervor, her tongue exploring, her hands roaming his back. Their kiss still hungry and unbroken, she pushed his robes off, lifted his shirt and he happily obliged. She fumbled with his belt and he wondered how his damn fly wasn't already unzipping itself from the straining of his cock underneath it. He vaguely heard the heavy sound of wool gabardine on the floor before he stepped out of his trousers blindly and kicked them to the side. Felt the cool of the office hit the back of his legs—a sharp contrast to the heat of her soft, smooth skin on his. Nothing between them now except the flimsy fabric of his boxers now dotted with pre-cum and she, with nothing else except those fuck-me heels that will undo a man.

He wanted to sheathe himself in her right then and there and pound himself into her until he was utterly, utterly spent, and senseless. But he was nothing if not a patient man.

With his left hand on her back, his right hand found her left buttock and squeezed it before sliding under the length of her leg. He pulled it up suddenly and hitched it around his waist, then pressed his thigh on her apex and rubbed her slowly, maddeningly, reveling in the damp he felt where his thigh met her sex. No fingers and she was already this wet. Bloody Merlin, he wanted her.

Pinning her to the wall for support, he brought her other leg up to wrap around his waist. "I think a change in position is in order, hm?" he suggested and carried her across the room before she could answer.

He set her down gently on her desk, shoving everything that was on it to make way for her. He trailed kisses and nibbled down, down, down the length of that gorgeous body. A teasing tongue on one breast, a longer suck, and nibble on the other. He was going to leave marks if he wasn't careful. It wasn't like him to lose control but oh… A hand drew circles down her body, a lazy doodle that meandered across her tiny waist and flat stomach before inching ever south to warmer, wetter climes. His finger brushed her clit and she jerked.

"Shh," he soothed as his wanton finger continued its descent, eventually pushing in and eliciting a sharp intake of breath from her.

He stood straight then and she watched as he drew his finger out of her and placed it in his mouth, sucking it off from hilt to tip. Her eyes grew slightly rounder at the sight.

"Have you ever wondered what you taste like, my dear?" he grinned lasciviously. He gave his finger one more lick before answering. "You taste heavenly. Sweet like warm honey and it's fucking intoxicating."

Gently he parted her legs and eased himself down between them, nestling at her entrance. With a finger, he stroked the lips of her sex slowly, spreading her honey so it covered that perfect French wax and coated her bud. He parted her slightly, stroking the inside of her cleft shallowly, teasing her as his finger, his heated breath brushed across her clit so she squirmed involuntarily. "Lie back," he ordered gently. "Try and relax, see if you like it. I'll be gentle."

Dutifully, she laid her head back down on the desk and stared at the ceiling like a virgin thinking of England.

Challenge accepted, he thought.

With the point of his tongue, he licked the length of her slit, starting slowly from the base. She jerked again when his tongue swiped her clit, her fingers gripping his hair. And then he felt her thighs shift and pull further apart, tacit permission for more. He smiled.

His tongue circled her clit once more before his mouth closed over her sex. He sucked her slowly, his lips pressed over her sensitive bud, rolling it. Her hips were starting to lift again and he pressed his hands on them to ground her to the desk. His lips still gripping her clit, he pulled his mouth gently away and was rewarded with a cry that went straight to his happy, swollen cock.

"Fuck," she hissed. He'd probably never heard her curse before and now she was profaning the holiest of holies. She untangled her fingers from his hair, expecting to have torn out bloody chunks by the roots. But he was presumably made of sterner stuff. "You have one hell of a mouth."

"So I've been told," he whispered, his eyes glinting.

When his mouth descended on her sex this time, it was with a desperate, greedy want. He devoured her, his tongue roaming into her sex, lapping her honey as it pooled into his mouth. She tasted like flesh—clean, musky, otherworldly. He buried his face in her, tongue snaking and flicking across her clit, circling around her hood, drawing out sighs and small cries that made his cock twitch and grow heavy.

He pulled his lips from her slowly, drawing out that unbearable tension between pain and ecstasy. And then without warning—because he loved to keep her guessing—he slid in a finger just as she started to sigh and she cried out in surprise and desire. She was starting to push into his face now, craving depth, craving fullness. His mouth returned to her sex, licking and sucking her clit and her hood at that maddening, deliberate pace while his finger worked in her, searching her crevices. He could not find that spot, not yet, but he would not be thwarted. He pulled out of her and she whimpered until he dived into her once more—this time with two fingers curving up, hitting that magic spot almost instantly.

Another cry, and this time she bucked, lifting her hips as if to gather as much of him to herself. He was going for it now, his tongue relentless, his thick fingers jabbing into her at that precious angle again and again and again and again…

She was moaning without knowing she was moaning, her hips raised, her body writhing with frustration. And still, he would not break that rhythm even as his own excitement was mounting, as his own cock twitched and throbbed. He was starting to rut against the desk now, in a pale attempt to assuage his swollen cock. But still, he would not stop, each low moan from her an aphrodisiac, each cry a drug.

When she came, he felt her hand on his head holding him to her, a high, gasping, whimpering cry wrenched from deep within as she bucked and shuddered and clenched her hand. He was there with her right through her ecstasy, right through the crazy star-burst moment before the slow waft back down to earth. And still, he showered her with attention, kissing her and tasting her, lapping her honey and giving her aftershocks and still wanting more. Some women were a chore to give head to, seriously. But with her, he had damn well nearly come all against the wooden desk himself from watching her shatter under his touch.

The power over her. It was intoxicating.

He stood and leaned over the desk beside her. She was delightfully flushed and disheveled, and she stared back at him now with a look of wonder tinged with resentment.

"Don't look so smug," she scolded and he chuckled, immensely pleased with himself. "Gods, you're unbearable." She was actually embarrassed. Bloody adorable.

But then she was moving now and he watched, mesmerized, as she started to take charge. She hopped down from the desk in nothing but her fuck-me heels and ordered him to stand.

"My turn," she announced, shimmying down his body and he leaned back with an amiable expression on his face that died as soon as she grasped his cock and pulled upward in one firm stroke. Then another. And another. And then she lowered her mouth to the head of his throbbing, throbbing cock and gave it one wet, open-mouth kiss.

He hissed. Ohmyfuckinggodsssss…

His head dropped back and his eyes fluttered close. This woman, this devilish woman. Her grip was firm and she was pumping him now, slowly and surely like a piston. One. Two. One. Two… And that mouth! She could not take all of him, but he didn't need her to. Her mouth covered his head, hot, insistent, hungry. He felt her tongue swirling around him, and when she started to suckle, he almost lost it then and there.

Too soon, too soon, his mind was yelling. You can't possibly want to come already, you dill. But he was unbelievably close, and he was desperate to regain control. What could he think of? Something completely unsexy. Work? But a vision of her ass in that tight black skirt clouded over and he groaned. Issues in the Wizengamot? Could not care less. Cissa?

Don't you fucking dare bring Cissa into this glorious moment.

He shook his head clear and opened his eyes. Mistake. The sight of her actual mouth over his actual cock, a cascade of dark brown hair down her back, her long legs folded back casually, ankles crossed like a schoolgirl, and those shiny black stilettos that started it all in the first place… It was one of the most beautifully erotic things he had seen in a very long time.

"Stop," he ordered, his voice raspy and harsh even to his own ears, and he felt her freeze. She sat up immediately and he pulled her to him, his meaning and intent unmistakable. He was sitting upright on top of the desk now and she climbed on top of him, straddling him, her sopping entrance tantalizingly close to his length. All he had to do was buck his hips to pierce her...

"Are you sure?" she suddenly asked, her voice low, her eyelids heavy.

"Am I sure…"

"Should we stop?" her voice was innocent. "Don't want to put your company's chances in jeopardy after all."

"Oh, this is bloody unfair!" he whined and now she was laughing. Devil woman. He swallowed her laugh with an open-mouth kiss and bucked hard, thrusting into her. She cried into his mouth, which only spurred him on. Oh, but she was tight, so tight and hot and wet. The song of skin slapping skin was all that filled the room until she started to moan.

"Lucius!" she cried loudly, throwing her head back and repeated her screams as he hit a point within her that told him he could go no deeper.

He gripped her hair and pulled her head to the side to expose her long, creamy neck and he devoured her. He was going to leave marks. He didn't care, he wanted to mark her. Her rhythm was growing erratic now, her breaths jagged as she pumped him. And his mind was blanking. He couldn't think, couldn't think, only feel her. He was trembling, losing it. He had to act fast.

His fingers found her clit, already coated in her juices, and he flicked it over and over at a manic speed. And then he felt her come apart, her walls contracting around him marvelously and her cries now loud and keening, her co-workers be damned. And he came, thrusting into her harsh and deep, and then pulling out just in the nick of time, his cum shooting off against her creamy thigh.

Didn't even have the time to cast contraception charms like a fucking irresponsible teenager. Bloody hell.

She collapsed into his chest and he stroked her hair for a full minute, trying to untangling the occasional knot but eventually gave up when he realized how wild her hair had become. Lucius's body felt heavy and rubbery and it was all he could do to nuzzle the crook of her neck as their breathing began to return to some state of normality.

By and by, she slithered off his lap, and with a flick of his hand, the sticky mess on her thigh was gone and they were fully clothed again, looking as if they hadn't rutted like animals a few minutes ago. The contents of her desk righted itself as well, completely erasing every trace of their rigorous activity.

With nothing to do anymore, both of them stared at each other, lost in thought.

She was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you realize this doesn't give you some kind of competitive edge. We're still going to look at all our options for the tender. This changes nothing, Mr. Malfoy."

So they were back to formalities again. His lips curled into a smile. "I would expect nothing less, Miss Granger."

"Will that be all?" she coolly looked at him as she reclaimed her seat behind the desk.

Lucius took that as his cue to leave, he grabbed his cane leaning against the wall, and turned to look at her one last time. "Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Granger."

She shakes her head in wry amusement. "Believe me when I say that the pleasure's all mine."

With that, he strode out without a backward glance, whistling as the lift ascended back to the atrium; but he stopped before he stepped out of it because, of course, it wouldn't do to be seen leaving someone's office whistling.

Hermione waited five minutes after he closed the door before releasing an exhausted yet satisfied sigh.

Don't accept candy from strangers, every child was taught from the moment they were allowed to venture outside on their own. Bad things happened to girls who do, a repeated parental admonishment to scare good girls into remaining good.

Hermione always thought she was a good girl. But good girls didn't have sex inside their workplace in the middle of the day where anyone might catch them in flagrante delicto.

Good girls didn't hook up with men twice their age.

She must not have paid very close attention to those lessons.

Lucius Malfoy was no boy that much was clear, and he was a solid eight in her book.

He was a mess of contradictions. He was no spring chicken but something in him still brimmed with the earnestness of youth. There was a streak of mean his pretty pale blue eyes couldn't hide.

Hermione thought he was possibly more attractive in the light of day than he was that night. The way his blond hair fell smoothly past his shoulders lent him a distinguished air and she was really, really far too interested right now than she had the right to be.

It was all too clear that their relations would never be the same again—not that they even had anything in the first place. But she had to question if this would be a one-time occurrence or a regular tryst of sorts. She would never be so silly as to get serious with him or have his babies or marry him, but she was wildly attracted to him. This much she knew. No, she shook her head. Judging from the way he looked at her earlier, Hermione was sure it was going to happen again and she was powerless to stop it.

But his mouth was soft, moving downwards towards the valley in between her breasts, was shorting out her synapses and she was riding high on a rush of dopamine and serotonin.

Yes, drugs had nothing on the feel of Lucius Malfoy's warm, warm hands gently pushing her shirt off her shoulders, of his right hand trailing down the small of her back to insinuate itself into her skirt, giving her ass a naughty squeeze.

Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, gladly shut off her brain and gave herself over once more to sensation.

Only when her post-coital bliss began to dissipate did she realize the enormity of what they had done. She just slept with Lucius Malfoy. Again. On her desk. Merlin, what had come of the world?

She was not certain when the shift happened, when passion for the craft morphed into a constant struggle just to get through the day. Her interest had long been dulled by the mindless ennui brought about by unending routine, countless hours of nothing punctuated by spurts of frenetic activity, by the mad dash to meet a deadline.

There really was no reason to be doing this other than Lucius Malfoy could make her forget for a few brief moments the succession of confusing turns her life had taken as of late.

Maybe Ginny was right. Hermione should probably give shifting to the private sector a consideration.

Bugger.

*crosses out office sex on the list*