Hermione adjusted her hair; it was purple today. She grew tired of putting the work into the mission of the secured wigs, but Lockhart was positive that all the girls were compensated for the effort. The products and wigs were expensive and quality.

Once her dark makeup was perfected, she attached her mask. Her outfit was decent, but a bit plainer than her stage wear. Black lacy knickers that revealed her pert ass. The fishnets were classic, but the sheer bra showing her nipples was a nice touch. While she was adjusting her tits in the long mirror, a hand touched her behind.

"Evening, Strawberries," Lockhart purred.

Hermione breathed and smiled. "Good evening, boss. Are my boys waiting for me?"

"They are," Gilderoy murmured as he reached over for a bottle. "Let me help you?"

"Now, Gildy, darling, let her work her magic by herself," A sharp tone entered the space.

Hermione glanced over and exhaled. Thank god for Marlene.

Lockhart bent and kissed her cheek. "Make sure you give them more than they deserve. This will be a big pay raise for you if you do so."

Hermione nodded and took the bottle from him. "Alright."

Marlene rolled her eyes, and he left the back area. "I'm sorry, dear. He's an idiot."

"Don't I know it," Hermione grumbled. "Story on my V.I.P.s?"

"The brothers are here. Gildy was hush-hush, but it seems like they might be real estate investors. If we land their memberships, we may be set for the new addition you've been asking for."

Hermione tilted her head and nodded. "Well, it only makes sense to have a private room for parties," she mumbled.

Marlene walked up and started to brush out Hermione's wig. "From the attitudes that Gildy told me, they are old money. Not stanch or stiff, however. Good humor, and decent etiquette. Should be easy."

"Soft and fluffy?"

"No, more sensuous," Marlene remarked.

"Young and coy?"

Marlene scowled and huffed. "No, I don't think so. How about sweet and witty with a hint of sex kitten?"

Hermione smirked and leaned closer to the mirror, snagging up her pink lipstick. "Alright, that's an easy one."

The older woman patted her shoulder and sighed. "You're a masterpiece, Hermione. Don't you ever forget that. These men are lucky that they even get to see you. I want you to remember, no matter your endeavors. You're a queen among men."

Hermione beamed and touched her hand. "Thank you, Mars. I do appreciate you being here for me when I need it most."

"Now, go get that money, kid," Marlene patted Hermione's butt and smirked.

Hermione rolled her neck while setting down the tube and lotion. It was time to work. She snatched up her sheer robe and shifted it on as she strode toward the hall. Hermione always loved this part. The build-up between letting 'Hermione' take a back seat and 'Strawberry Champagne' take over.

Strawberry Champagne was unabashed about her body. She oozed confidence and sex. The core facet of her being was absorbing adoration and favor. That was what it meant to work at Blame. She could be Strawberry Champagne and still reserve the right to be Hermione later.

The room was beginning to fill with men. Some she recognized and others she didn't. A few noticed her and walked over with eager need on their face. One of them was an older Russian man who had a thick accent who donned an elaborate raccoon mask. The other was thin and menacing with the face of a hyena.

"Strawberry, darling," Mr. Russian murmured as he bowed and took her hand.

"We want to buy a dance," the other hissed.

Hermione giggled and stroked Mr. Russian's cheek. "My dearest, I have obligations to fill, and then I'm all yours," she purred.

He sighed and moved her fingers to his mouth. "I want to possess you, my girl. Don't make me wait."

Hermione brought her hand to his neck and smirked. "You will just have to wait, darling. I'm not easily possessed by one man," her voice was as smooth as silk.

She could see him squirm as he groaned. Hermione had to admit; she was great at reading men. Although, it helped that most of them wanted to possess Strawberry Champagne in one way or another. Once she found out what regulars liked, she became what they loved most about woman sexuality personified.

Hermione released his neck and waved as she sauntered off, looking for her mission. Where were they? She glanced around and roamed toward the bar with a scowl. The masked bartender slid her a shot and smirked. "Why aren't you out there getting paid, S.C.?"

The woman took the shot and winced. "I'm looking for a pair of brothers."

"Oh, you mean moneybags over there?" He asked while nodding in another direction.

Hermione pivoted toward it and saw them. They were speaking to each other and gesturing to the pole nearest them. The taller man was handsome and filed out nicely in his Fendi bomber jacket. Rebel but not overly verbose. The shorter brother was in a more classic Gucci look.

"Seems like they're more your speed," the bartender mused.

Hermione nodded and turned to fix her tits at the bar. "Do me a favor? Call your fucking girlfriend? She's pissed when you don't work and don't call her," she whispered and straightened her posture.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled.

Hermione smirked and turned to see the men had concluded their talk. She was nearly prancing over and waving at men settling in their seats. Strawberry Champagne was their celebrity crush, and she provoked swoon-worthy reactions.

Sirius saw it first and nudged his brother. "She's at the bar."

"I think that if we added in a few more stability features, it could be possible," Regulus continued as he gestured to the ceiling.

Sirius raced a hand over his beard and hummed. "Yes, as long as the girls stay safe, I don't think they'll mind."

"We'll go over the paperwork with Remus tomorrow. I think he'll have a nice bit of notes," Regulus murmured.

Their eyes wandered to the floor to see Strawberry making her way over to them. They both were stifling smiles as she glanced at each of them. She was bloody fabulous. Men fawned over her like she was the best thing since the male orgasm.

When she reached them, Strawberry placed a hand on her hips. "Gentlemen, I've been waiting," she pouted.

Regulus hummed and offered his palm. "Sweetheart, we're insurmountably apologetic."

Strawberry smiled and took his hand, letting him kiss her knuckles. "Any other circumstance, and I would be having you make it up to me."

Sirius grinned and nodded. "Oh, I believe we have a way. Would you like to warm up and give us a dance? We'd like to chat."

Strawberry shifted and agreed. "Only if you don't mind that I play my own music. I have a room set up just for my personal use."

Sirius shifted, and she wagged her index finger before turning. The other men around them were fuming as it was evident on their faces. Strawberry led them around the tables, glancing back a few times with a smile. No one else mattered. Fuck, she was bloody great at her job.

Into a doorway and down a hall, there was a room at the end. Strawberry Champagne turned and raised her face to see them. "You're welcome to anything in the room, just as long as you watch me," she whispered.

Regulus bobbed his head. "It would take an apocalypse to ignore you, darling."

Strawberry beamed and opened the door. When the Blacks entered the room, they were pleasantly surprised. It was a clean room with a circular sofa surrounding a platform with a pole. There were booze and snacks that displayed. This was an expensive adventure.

She wandered into the area and reached for a bottle. "Shall I make us drinks?"

Sirius waved his hand and met her. "I can. Why don't you make yourself comfortable and warm."

Strawberry grinned and touched his cheek. "You're clever, Mr. Fendi Bomber."

"Oh, not as much as you, love. You turn men into puddles of primitive goop."

She skipped over to the sound system and pressed a few buttons on the console before pivoting toward Regulus. "Mr. Gucci, come dance with me?"

Regulus grinned and walked over, enjoying the sensuous come-hither she was displaying with her hips. He was sold, Sirius could see that. Regulus had the woman grinding into him as she reached back and stroked his face. His finger peeled the robe from her and tossed it aside.

Sirius was slightly surprised his brother was so willing to buy into the fantasy. However, maybe it was nice for him that a woman was upfront about what she wanted; money and attention. When he finished making the drinks, Sirius wandered over, handing her a glass.

"Oh, thank you. How kind," Strawberry purred.

"Nevermind that, why don't you tell us what you enjoy?" Sirius asked.

Strawberry concluded her soft grinding and tilted her head. "I'm not here for me. I'm here for you."

Regulus touched her shoulder and pointed to the sofa. "Come, let us have a chat."

Strawberry tugged Regulus over with her free hand while smirking at Sirius. "What would you like me to do? A lap dance, Mr. Bomber?"

"That would be appropriate," Sirius smirked.

"Are you both twins?" Strawberry inquired as she settled Regulus in his seat.

"Brothers," Sirius replied.

"That's a shame, I always had a thing for twins," she laughed with a sultry tint to her voice.

"Well, we aren't twins, but fairly handsome," Regulus snickered.

The woman tilted her head before nodding. "Yes, I can see that." Strawberry sipped her drink and hummed. "Someone knows decent tastes. Who told you I was a whiskey girl?"

Sirius smirked and gestured to her. "You had an old-fashion last night. By the look of it, it was rye whiskey."

She set her drink down and straddled his lap, caressing his jaw. "Someone pays attention," she whispered.

Sirius had the chance to look into her amber eyes and frowned. "There's something," he paused. "Something familiar about you."

While she stroked his chest, she cast her face to the ceiling. "Your dreams."

Sirius glanced over at Regulus, who was hypnotized. "Why don't you dance for us, love. My brother is growing envious."

Strawberry caressed his shoulder and glanced back down at him. "You're very decisive, Mr. Bomber."

"I like to explore my options," He retorted with a grin.

The woman climbed off of him and stopped at Regulus to whisper in his ear. His face lit up as his curl lips revealed a toothy expression. "You don't say?"

"What's that?" Sirius asked.

Strawberry climbed onto the platform and began to dance with the pole. "I told him I'm rather interested in keeping our ménage à trois."

"In French," Regulus added.

"Oh, a woman of many layers," Sirius snickered before sipping his drink.

Strawberry grinned as she arched backward. "Very many."

"Hm, sounds like our bookish friend would enjoy the mind fuck," Sirius declared as he glanced over at Regulus.

Strawberry slid down the pole and stretched out on the platform. "You both are tough customers," she sighed. "I usually have men begging for me by now."

Regulus leaned forward and stroked her cheek. "Oh, darling, we are, but we are also very interested in Blame."

Strawberry crawled closer, her tits over the edge. "What do you mean?"

Sirius leaned closer. "Can you keep a secret, love?"

The woman nodded as she slid to a sitting pose with her legs splayed open. "What is it?"

"We are interested in investing a bit of money," Regulus murmured. "What do you think?"

Strawberry Champagne shifted and adjusted her thong. "Well, you're asking a sex object if she wants you to pay her in essence," she said smartly with a smirk.

"I wouldn't say sex object. More so, a woman very fucking decent at making men believe they're the only man in the world she wants to fuck," Sirius corrected.

Her hand ghosted her chest as she breathed. "Well, how can I answer your lingering question so you can enjoy my effort?"

Regulus touched her thigh and hemmed. "If you could change one thing about Blame, what would you?"

Strawberry scooted off the platform and crawled into his lap. "Truthfully," she whispered. "I wouldn't change a thing. I've enjoyed my stay since working here and look forward to this," she finished while stroking his trousers between them.

Sirius scowled as he glanced over at the woman. He finally saw it. There was a pawprint on her hip. He knew that tattoo. He was obsessing about it, and like an idiot struck dumb, he put two and two together. Now the tattoo on her ankle had made sense. 'Blame Me,' was written in cursive along her right foot.

"Reggie, we're going to do this," Sirius declared.

Strawberry straightened and tilted her head at him. "Really? I've tempted you enough?"

Sirius grinned and nodded. "Oh, yes, more so than you know."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm positive you won't be sorry, Mr. Fendi Bomber."

Sirius dug into his jacket and handed her an envelope. "For your excellent effort, love."

Strawberry pursed her lips as he could see her brow had furrowed under the mask. "I appreciate it, but this is too much."

Regulus caressed her shoulder. "Oh, darling, don't play modest now. You're a goddess and deserve the recognition."

"Well, if you insist. I'm sure Lockhart will want you to stay for the show."

Sirius nodded and caressed her cheek. "Oh, we will."

Strawberry glanced up at the clock on the wall and exhaled. "I have only a little more time. Did you want me to show you what I can do?" She asked with a smile.

Regulus rocked his head. "Certainly, after all, we are gratuitous at what you're willing to give."

Her smile evolved to be more sincere. "Oh, I like you, gentlemen. It's rare that I'm not an object."

"Never, love," Sirius responded.

Strawberry Champagne warmed up on the pole while the Blacks glanced at each other. Sirius enjoyed watching the woman bend and sway just for him, but it wasn't really her. This was an act, and to know who she was behind the mask sold him on it. If someone so magnetic outside of this club could convince the entire mass of men that she was sex and candy, then she could help them rule the whole of Britain higher class.