A/N: Alpha/Beta love to: msmerlin, cecemarty, and krazydaffodil32!

….

Hermione stared at the clock with a kind of nervous jittery anticipation, her attention solely on the hand ticking away the seconds as it filled the otherwise quiet space.

Three minutes.

She could hardly focus on the actual work she had to do today, and the case she was meant to be preparing lay at the corner of her desk while a simple packet of pure-white parchment took pride of place. Her finger floated across the top, tracing each loop and curve of the one name she never expected to come across her desk.

Especially not for the services she offered, and she didn't mean pro-bono work for disenfranchised clients. No. Miss Parkinson could afford the best in a legal team should she need it. Yet there it was: Pansy V. Parkinson, written in delicate script at the top of the set of forms Hermione had designed years ago when she'd taken on her first set of clients. Truth be told, one or two of them were still clients to this day including the pretty blonde witch currently standing in the corner of her office.

A quiet knock sounded at the door and she quickly disillusioned the blonde witch with her skirt rucked up around her waist and tucked into snow-white knickers. The outline of a thick plug could just be seen through the thin fabric before the witch blended into the decor under the disillusionment spell.

"Come in."

Hermione's perky receptionist pushed open the door and managed to simper even more than she did on a daily basis. The thought of turning the young witch over her knee had crossed Hermione's mind more than once, but it wouldn't do to discipline her receptionist in such a manner, especially when she was none the wiser to Hermione's particular proclivities nor to the fact that several of the clients she escorted to the consultation room or to Hermione's office were, in fact, not there for legal counsel.

"Miss Parkinson is waiting in the consultation room, Miss Granger."

With a curt nod, Hermione thanked her receptionist and rose from behind her desk as Miss Fawley began flouncing away. Before stepping out of the office Hermione pressed her body against the back of the witch standing disillusioned in the corner. Twisting the fingers of one hand through what she knew were thick, blond ringlets though she could not see them, Hermione yanked the woman's head back while her other hand snaked around the woman's front, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the woman's slit.

"You've done very well, my sweet girl," Hermione cooed, her lips hovering just over the shell of the witch's ear. She felt the witch shiver beneath her as she nipped at the woman's earlobe. When she pressed her fingers against the woman's clit through her knickers, the woman nearly keened. The hand gripping the woman's curls slapped over her mouth to keep her moan contained. "You're to stay in the corner until I return and finger your naughty cunt, Miss Abbott. If you come while I'm gone, you'll get ten with the cane."

By the heat radiating off of her body and the soft, barely contained whimper, Hermione knew Hannah was flushed with embarrassment and desire which is exactly what she had been hoping for when she'd placed her former schoolmate in the corner. She gave the witch a quick pat on the bottom and murmured, "Be my good girl," against her ear before retrieving the leather dossier from her desk and exiting her office, the door closing behind her with a snick.

Hermione crossed the reception area to the consultation room, inhaling a calming breath before turning the knob and pushing the door open to catch her first glimpse of Pansy Parkinson. Brown hair so dark it was nearly black brushed against the shoulders of a set of tailored, probably bespoke, black silk robes. A set of perfect calves peeked out from beneath the expensive fabric and ended in a pair of high dragon-leather heels. The only color anywhere on the witch, despite the slight pink color of her cheeks, was red nail varnish at the tips of her fingers and a matching shade on her lips.

Hermione relished in the bit of pink coloring Pansy's cheeks. She knew she had the upper hand and while she certainly wouldn't force the witch's attentions, she would lay out everything in her arsenal to get this beautiful creature across her knee. Before today, Pansy had been unreachable, unattainable, and utterly uninterested, despite the fairly blatant flirting Hermione attempted at their sporadic meetings at charity luncheons and benefit galas. The chance to pine over this incomparable witch was one of the reasons Hermione deigned to attend, despite the fact that she was lending her name and status to a variety of causes she held near and dear to her heart.

Harry laughed at her for it. Arsehole. Well, he laughed for all of about five minutes until she began dragging him with her and he'd been able to pine over Theo whilst she pined over Pansy. Luckily for her bespectacled best friend, Theo happened to have a chosen one complex and the two were snogging before the night was out at the first benefit the three had attended together.

Donning her most warm, winning smile - one specifically designed to put her clients (both legal and illicit) at ease, Hermione held out her hand, "It's lovely to see you again, Miss Parkinson."

…..

It was done.

When the "yes" rolled off of Pansy's tongue like a cool drink of water on a hot summer day, Hermione internally squealed, though it wouldn't do to let her newest client see exactly how much she was truly affected. (Looking at you, Gryffindor bravado!) She was able to keep the majority of her encounters with her clients from encroaching into the "feelings" realm, though she held some manner of affection for all of them. But this witch was different and if she wasn't exceptionally careful, she knew her heart could possibly be shattered into a million little pieces.

As it stood, Pansy held the power, though she didn't know it, and Hermione made certain to reassert herself before the witch stepped out of her consultation room—that Gryffindor bravado was good for something, at least. Releasing Pansy's wrist and rising to her feet, Hermione stepped around the small table separating them. Pansy placed her hand in Hermione's in a gesture to seal their agreement and rose to her feet. With a quick turn, Hermione pushed Pansy against the wall, pinning one arm above the witch's head while her other hand settled at the witch's waist.

The dark-haired beauty's crimson lips were parted, soft puffs of air escaping as her chest rose and fell with her quick breaths. The color on the apples of her cheeks darkened as the air around them grew warmer, her eyelashes fluttering over wide eyes where barely a trace of violet could be seen. Pansy's body subtly writhed with each pass of Hermione's hand as it trailed over the contour of her waist to just beneath the curve of her breast.

Perfect.

Dipping her head down, Hermione's lips ghosted over the sensitive skin lining the column of Pansy's throat. Tightening her fingers around the witch's wrist and hip, Hermione's tongue darted out to taste the sweet, floral scent clinging to Pansy's pulse points, before nipping at the delicate alabaster skin, so in contrast to her own honeyed complexion, with her teeth.

The smallest whimper escaped Pansy's lips, and Hermione couldn't help the pleased smile that rose to her own.

If she only got this witch once, she was going to make her beg for it.

With a quick step back, Hermione released the witch from her grasp and gathered her dossier, leaving a stunned and slightly rumpled Pansy against the nearby wall. Hermione made a point to open the door before she faced the witch again, her brown eyes staring pointedly into Pansy's, her tone nothing but business. "Please schedule a case review with Miss Fawley before you leave, Miss Parkinson. I look forward to servicing your needs."

Without another glance to the witch, Hermione crossed the short, bright space to her office and upon entering, tossed the black, leather folder onto her desk. Were it not for the small whimper of need coming from the corner, Hermione would have collapsed into her office chair and completely overanalyzed her interactions with Pansy. Unfortunately, she couldn't afford to be distracted. It wasn't fair to the lovely witch currently frigging herself silly in the corner.

Centering herself with a deep breath, allowing the intake of air to clear her mind and cleanse her thoughts for the moment, she released the disillusionment spell on the witch. Shedding her jacket with a shrug of her shoulders, Hermione laid the garment over a nearby chair and turned her eyes to the blonde witch who was leaning against the wall for support as she shoved two fingers in and out of her slit at an enthusiastic pace, eyelids fluttering in that place just between open and closed where the world was a haze.

"Did you come?"

Green eyes snapped open, fingers never ceasing their movements, "N-no, Mistress. I- oh fuck- I didn't. But, ple -"

Hermione took in the woman's flushed skin, the glistening wetness coating her thighs, and the rise and fall of her chest. "Hush, Hannah."

The witch ceased all movement, fingers still buried knuckle-deep in her cunt, looking every bit as wanton and wild as Hermione knew she would be after going this long without an orgasm. She looked like sin personified but it wasn't enough, it wasn't right. She was too tall, her hair was the wrong color—and curled for Morgana's sake—and her skin, too tanned.

"I didn't say to stop, Miss Abbott." Hermione approached the witch, slinking towards her like a cat to palm a breast beneath the witch's blouse. The witch redoubled her efforts, her entire body shaking like a leaf with the effort it took to simultaneously keep herself upright and not orgasm.

Slipping her fingers along the high of the witch's cheek, Hermione's fingers found purchase as they sunk into the thick, blonde curls and with a not-so-gentle tug, she pulled the witch forward and tilted her head so she could sink her teeth into her neck. The mark left behind was dark and purple when she pulled away.

"Come."

Within moments, Hermione caught the writhing witch in her arms as the orgasm washed over her and Hermione gently ran her finger tips through Miss Andrew's curls. "That's it, sweet girl," she cooed as the woman's breathing slowly began to come back to normal. She cast a featherlight and levitation charm on the witch and guided her to the sofa that was settled against the back wall in her office. Time to take care of one witch before she could focus her thoughts on another.

….

The sight before her was one she had seen with a surprising frequency and while it had taken what seemed like ages to get used to seeing Theodore Nott's cock buried in her best friend's mouth, she was just happy they were happy. Tall, well-muscled, perfectly gorgeous Theo had her best friend grasped by the hair and was thrusting with a sense of urgency, his cock tucked between Harry's lips as though it just belonged there, in the middle of the living area at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the hearth as she watched the scene unfold. She could set her problems aside for the next five minutes to watch two handsome men go at it, voyeur that she was. Harry was on his knees with hollowed cheeks, one hand grasping Theo's arse while the other pulled long strokes from the base to the tip of his own cock. The taller, well-muscled man with his trousers gathered around his knees had his head thrown back as her best friend locked his lips over the tip of Theo's cock and sucked, hard. A feral growl escaped Theo's mouth as he pushed past the suction, burying himself in Harry's throat and finding his own release, spilling the hot, bitter liquid. Hermione watched as Harry's adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, his own hand pumping furiously until thick spurts of come splattered across the rug. They looked spent and utterly sated.

Hermione was still a few days away from seeing her own handsome, blonde bit of sex relief and after watching that scene, she knew she'd be going home and reacquainting herself with her shower head.

Of course, they still hadn't realized she was there as Theo pulled Harry to his feet and buried his tongue in the other man's mouth, hips pressed together with their softening cocks nestled between them.

Clap after slow, painfully awkward clap rang throughout the room as the two men broke apart, the afterglow of completion still radiant on their faces. "Lovely show, boys."

"Fuck, Granger. When did you get here?" Theo reached down to tug his trousers back up over his hips.

If he wasn't completely bent, Hermione would've latched on to Theo in a heartbeat. She loved nearly everything about him, except for his annoying habit of folding down the pages of books to keep his place. He was tall with dark hair and eyes the color of the ocean after a storm, such a deep, pure blue that set her core to clenching. While Harry preferred to wear his hair longer so it curled around his ears, Theo's was cropped close on the sides and styled on the top—she could only imagine how many products it took to make it look as good as it did. On top of that, the man who'd stolen her best friend's heart was a genuinely good person.

Hermione pushed off of the mantle and crossed the space to plop down on the couch, casting her jacket aside on a nearby ottman before sinking down into the plush cushions. "About half a blow-job ago."

"You could've joined us, Granger," Theo teased with a waggle of his eyebrows as he tucked his softening member back into his pants and buttoned his trousers.

Hermione had to stop herself from staring as he tugged his shirt over his abdomen. Being a sexual person, Hermione appreciated all types of bodies—there was something beautiful to be found in all aspects of human sexuality and there was very little Hermione had not explored. She had her limits and preferences of course, and oogling a sexy man was definitely a preference but since he was married to her best friend, it was best not to linger for too long.

"First of all, Harry is practically my brother, so… ew. And secondly, you two are about as straight as a boomerang."

"A boom-uh-what?" Despite Harry's best efforts, Theo was still woefully inept at navigating and understanding the muggle word.

"It's a muggle thing. A bit of wood with a curved shape that returns to you when thrown a certain way." Harry clarified, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt, all of his clothing set to rights over his shorter, thin frame.

"Muggles throw wood, now? Well… I do come back for more… and often."

"We know."

Theo waved a hand dismissively and disappeared into the kitchen.

"So, I have a problem." Hermione interrupted, knowing that if she didn't stop the pair of them they'd end up in a fit of giggles googling muggle contraptions all night long. It had happened before and could have easily happened again. But, no, problem wasn't quite the right word. "Well, not exactly a problem, more of a… situation."

Hermione shook out her curls, a pile of pins in her hand from where they had kept her chignon in place, so they fell over her shoulders.

Harry settled himself at the end of the couch and threaded his arm around Hermione's shoulder, tugging her back against his chest. They sat like this more often than not when Hermione was over and Theo, thank Merlin, didn't mind. "What's going on? New case?"

"At which job?" Theo snorted as he sauntered back into the living area carrying a bottle of wine and levitating three glasses behind him.

Hermione couldn't help the smirk that rose to her lips as her fingers closed around the stem of one of the wine glasses, after Theo sent it floating into her grasp with a wave of his wand. "The fun one."

"That's not helpful, Granger," Theo shook his head slowly and uncorked the bottle of merlot, sloshing a bit into each of their glasses with an unpracticed hand. For a man who curated and produced various types of small-batch spirits for a living, he was certainly sloppy with the required pouring bit. "You enjoy both of your jobs too much for that to even be a hint."

Harry tightened his arm around her shoulder, fingers stroking along her arm, as she toed off her heels, leaving the black pumps askew on the floor and tucking her feet up under her. "I get enough of the legal team at work, so please tell me it's the one where you tie people up for a living."

Hermione nearly snorted out her wine through her nose as she attempted to take a sip, "You guessed it," she confirmed, reaching back with her free hand to pat Harry's cheek, "Good boy."

Harry's face instantly scrunched up as though he managed to taste a bit of pureed bat spleen during a potions lesson and flicked her hand away from his stubbled cheek, "Gross, Hermione. No thank you."

A wide grin spread across Theo's face and he leaned forward towards the platonic couple, forearms resting on his knees, filled wine glass dangling precariously from his fingers. "I'd like to see him be your good boy."

"You're not helping, Theodore."

"Oooh, the full first name. Somebody's in trouble." Hermione teased before sitting up from Harry's embrace like a predator about to catch her prey, lips pursed just enough to get the heart racing, and the smallest hint of mischief in her brown eyes, which she leveled on Theo, "Perhaps I should turn you over my knee."

Theo, bless him, had the grace to blush as he slowly slid back into his chair and away from the predatory dominatrix and immediately deflected, "Let's get back to your 'situation'," complete with air quotes.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat as she sunk back against Harry once more, pulling his arm to rest around her shoulders. "Don't dish it out if you can't take it, Theo," she said, motioning towards him with her glass of wine before taking another sip. "But yes, I have a bit of a situation. I have a new client."

"I know better than to ask who," Harry remarked, holding out his glass to Theo for a refill.

In the early days of graduate school, when Hermione first started taking a rather different sort of client than she typically saw during her legal internship, Hermione finally had to start jinxing her best friend when he stupidly asked who her clients were. As if she would enter into any sort of sexual arrangement with someone for money without an ironclad confidentiality agreement?

"What's wrong with this client"

"Nothing," Hermione groaned, free hand flying into her curls and feeling her tongue seize when she tried to use a gendered pronoun. She chose her words carefully. "... this client is perfect."

They'd had several conversations about different witches and wizards throughout the years and there was only one she'd ever described in such a way. Harry's reaction was visceral—his chest filled with air, a bolt shot down his spine, and his head tilted to look at his best friend, an incredulous smile sliding across his lips. "It's not."

"The spell won't let me confirm or deny," Hermione replied automatically, but she couldn't help her own grin and the spell seemed incapable of altering her facial expression.

"Holy shit, it really is."

"So, uh… do you two mind-readers," Theo motioned emphatically between the pair on the sofa,
"want to clue a very lost wizard into what the hell you are talking about?"

Harry looked to his husband while Hermione sipped her wine, "Hermione's dream witch just agreed to submit to her today. The one she's been pining over for years."

"Parkinson?" Theo's head tilted to the side as he swirled the red liquid around the rim of the glass.

"Again. Cannot confirm or deny."

"It's gotta be Parkinson. She's been arse-over-tits for that witch for years."

Hermione snorted.

Harry nodded, dropping a playful kiss to Hermione's temple, "Yes. The very reason I get dragged to charity event after charity event—so she can get a glimpse of her witch."

"To be fair, you met Theo because I dragged you to one of those charity events," she gently reminded him and while she was thoroughly irritated when he abandoned her to talk to his now husband that first night, she couldn't imagine him with anyone else.

"Fuck, Granger. That's tough. What are you going to do?"

Hermione glared at Theo, a jinx on the tip of her tongue. If she had to tell him she couldn't confirm or deny his suspicions one more time, she was going to cast it.

"Hypothetically, of course…" he added quickly.

"Hypothetically - "

"Yes."

"Get my fucking heart broken."