I realized I was in trouble about two months after my accidental spying when I noticed that I had been sitting at my desk waiting for Madam Black to come out for a meeting, and had been contemplating ways I might tamper with the door handle to get it to pop open again. I stared at it, willing the door to slip open and give me just one more glimpse. I told myself that I just needed to see it once more, and that would satisfy the curiosity that had been raging in me.

Finally, after Madam Black had left for a meeting one day, I went into her office to file some things and caught sight of something light-colored under her desk. Of course, thinking like the idiot I was, that it was a scrap of parchment that had slipped off the desk. I knelt down to get it and found myself holding a pair of lacy white panties. Even that might not have been enough to doom me, but then a fragrance caught my nose. A fragrance I had not experienced in far, far too long. I could smell Madam Black on those panties, and that sensory addition to the image in my head sent a quiver down my spine – and parts beyond – that I hadn't felt in a long, long, time.

The panties were halfway into my pocket before I realized that Madam Black would probably look for them later – not to mention I couldn't run around with Narcissa Black's underthings in my pocket. I replaced them under the desk, slunk back out to my own desk, and wondered how long it would take to get the delicious, softly musky-sweet smell of her out of my nose. That night, I found some of the strongest, spiciest food I could at a takeout place and breathed so deep I half-wondered if I were trying to actually scour my sinuses completely down to the bone. After that, I tried to erase the whole thing from my mind. I even considered Oblivating myself, but couldn't bring myself to do it for reasons I chose not to examine too closely. I resigned to do it the old fashion way – lots of self-delusion. I would have managed it too if it weren't for the construction needed to expand the Auror Offices.

One day, not long after panties incident, Madam Black had a case that went to trial with a huge client, the Blaises. They were finally separating after being in and out of the Prophet's headlines since the war ended with rumors they were on the rocks. This type of case, if handled correctly, could finally give Madam Black the political bump she needed to secure the Department Head promotion. She had been in a right state for two weeks – she was short-tempered and irritable instead of the emotionless mask I'd normally seen her wear. The standards she set for the staff became higher and higher, and she only spoke in short, condescending sentences, answering questions with cold glares. To top it all off, on the day of the trial, the construction wizards arrived next door to expand the Auror Office. Loud magical bangs and thuds reverberated through the whole office every few seconds.

I was sitting at my desk. The trial was scheduled to start in five minutes. Madam Black hadn't come out of her office, and I was worried. I hadn't put two and two together, or anything – don't worry, nowhere in this story is anyone going to accuse me of being my normal perceptive self – but I did think that she might have fallen asleep...afterwards. That's happened to me several times, so I know how easy it is to drift off after a well-needed orgasm.

I'll never know what I subconsciously hoped might be going on, but before I could think, I was up and knocking lightly on her office door. There was no answer.

I knocked again, slightly harder – still no answer.

So, yes, thinking that she would hex me if I caught her asleep with her hand up her skirt – or I'd die of embarrassment, whichever – I opened the door. It was better than her missing the meeting.

Madam Black wasn't asleep. Fortunately for me, she had her eyes closed, and she wasn't listening for the door to open. She was leaned back in her chair, her leg on the desk like before, her hand working furiously. Her head was back, her eyes closed – but her expression wasn't the dreamy look of a woman who has just had an orgasm, or even the straining look of a woman who's very close to one. It was the frustrated, desperate look of a woman who simply cannot quite get there.

I stared at her, thoughts I'll never remember racing through my head – and then there was a particular loud bang followed by several crashing noises from next door, and she actually groaned in frustration, shaking her head. I realized the problem immediately, having been there many times myself, and my mind slammed into one of those walls that we are all sometimes presented with in our lives.

I had two choices, and just two. If I did the ethical, professional thing and left her alone, I kept my job safe – but she would risk losing the Blaise trial, ruining her chances of promotion. Not to mention – if her recent behavior was anything to go by – she would be next to impossible to deal with after such well publicized failure. If Madam Black went into that meeting stressed, tired, angry – and now sexually frustrated – and tried to impress one of the oldest and wealthiest pureblood families it wouldn't go well. Not to mention the Minister, who was responsible for promotions and one of the few higher-ups that don't fall all over themselves at the sight of her, would be there…

One choice was good for me. One might be good for her. Again, it was probably one of those hints that I chose the one that was good for her and potentially disastrous for me, but...oh well. My brain, I fully admit, was turned off. Despite my initial misgivings about our brief but rocky past, Madam Black was a good boss. Much more competent that her predecessor. Plus, if I could somehow manage to receive a recommendation from the Narcissa Black, I'd pretty much have my pick of departments later in my career. I had to help her – and I only knew one way to do that.

I walked into her office, closed the door very softly, walked around her desk – and before she even knew I was there, I knelt down, carefully not touching her, leaned in, and just ran my tongue over and between her desperately moving fingers.

I have no doubt that, had she not been as close as she was, as desperate as she was, or as frustrated as she was, I would have either been kicked in the face, fired, or maybe even carted off to Azkaban. However, Madam Black was way too close for that. Her fingers, like the rest of her, froze at the first touch of my tongue, in shock – but I didn't waste any time. The flat of my tongue pushed her fingers aside, stroked over her clit, and started to flutter – that was all it took. What her fingers could not accomplish, thanks to stress and magical construction, my warm, wet, soft tongue, combined with surprise, managed beautifully.

Her frozen shock turned directly into rigidity, and her body locked up tight. I felt her spasm, heard a deep gasp, and then my mouth was flooded with the sweet, tangy taste of her. Her breathing stopped for a good fifteen seconds as the spasms continued, and then she went limp with a sigh of suddenly released breath.

I licked her gently through her orgasm, and stopped when she relaxed. I leaned back on my knees, glancing up at her face – I'll never know how I had the courage to do that.

Her head was still back, but her eyes were wide open, staring straight up at the ceiling. Her lips were parted, her breathing still shaky. She slowly raised her head to look at me, and those cold blue eyes were wide with shock, her normally pale face still flushed from orgasm.

Unsurprisingly I couldn't bear to meet that gaze, so I licked my lips clean, stood up – without touching her – and walked out of her office, opening the door and closing it behind me as though nothing at all had happened.

I knew two things for sure at that point – I would need a new job – perhaps a new life back in the muggle world – and I would never forget what she tasted like.

Two minutes later, exactly the time at which the meeting was scheduled to start, Madam Black opened her door and walked past me without a glance, striding off to the meeting.

I figured I now had until the meeting ended to pack up my things and run for my life, but I couldn't make myself move. Belatedly, I thought about the pussy that I had just licked, my mind whirling to process the sensory data, since I had not gotten a clear look, as absurd as that seemed. Soft, downy blonde hair, trimmed pleasantly close. Velvety soft, warm skin. That sweetly tangy scent that I knew would haunt my dreams. A taste that made me want nothing more in the world than one more lick.

I sat there dumbly, reliving the experience over and over in my head, wishing I had an office with a door, for a long time, unable to move or think clearly. My thoughts waffled constantly between shock at what I had just done, fear of my budding career ending, and an arousal that had me throbbing and squirming in my chair.

"Ms. Granger?" The sound of my name brought my head up with a jerk. I looked up – into cold blue eyes, staring down at me.

She looked at me and I looked at her, and it was crystal clear that neither of us knew what the hell to say.

"We won," she said finally.

I managed a smile that I'm sure was downright ghastly from the other side. "That's wonderful. Congratulations."

She nodded slowly. "I'm...going home for the day – I think I need a little vacation." She looked around uncomfortably – it was the first time I think anyone had seen her looking awkward. "Finish up the paperwork for the week while I'm gone...I'll see you on Monday."

I tried my best not to let my chin hit the desk. I wasn't fired? "Of course," I finally stammered. "Have a good vacation."

I wasn't deluding myself – she wasn't inviting me to keep doing anything, she was just a decent enough person not to fire me for trying to help, no matter how inappropriate what I had done had been. Maybe she wanted to pretend that she hadn't been sullied by a mudblood. By the time she came back on Monday, I had beaten myself up enough over the whole thing to be committed to acting as though it had never happened, and, as I had thought, Madam Black seemed to want to pretend the same. That was fine with me. I never wanted to feel that awful sinking feeling again – that feeling that you've just totally screwed up your life.

Nevertheless, life went more or less back to normal after that. Our interactions were polite and professional, and we slowly got back to where we were – her cold, calculating and in charge of any situation, and me attempting to anticipate her every need. Professional needs only that is.

Eventually, I convinced myself that Madam Black had practically forgotten all about it. I, of course, had not. She now featured prominently in my fantasies, no matter how hard I tried to change that. I had never really been attracted to an older woman before, though, she hardly looked to be in her late forties. I'm sure the danger of the whole situation helped with the eroticism of it for me, so I just couldn't help myself. Every night, I writhed on my own fingers, tasting and smelling and feeling her against my lips, again and again.