Hermione was glad by the revealing outfit she was wearing, which meant, as he examined her body, she had a chance to school her expression. The first stage of her mission was complete, and in a way she hadn't been expecting.
"Your drink, sir," Hermione found herself whispering as she leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage — and using it to watch the phone, hoping that there would be another answer from Potter, but there was not.
"Thanks, beautiful," he answered, but this time, she was more focused on her mission. Her actual mission. She hadn't been expecting such a direct confirmation, which was excellent.
One disadvantage. It left her completely unprepared for the next move. She hadn't been expecting to reach a quick confirmation, so she didn't have the next step prepared.
She leaned to place the tray on the small table next to the couch, far slower than necessary, turning it into a show as she used the opportunity to think. As she did so, he typed a bit more, his gaze once again missing her.
What would Lavender do, Hermione thought as she rose up, just as her temporary boss was putting the phone back in his pocket, telling her that her opportunity to react was dwindling. Once gone, she couldn't casually mention it once more.
She decided to be blatant once more as she stood next to him, and rather than sitting, leaned forward. "Neglected in favor of a phone, a girl might get … jealous, sir," she whispered.
"Sorry, sweetie," he said as he raised his head, once again looking at her — or, she assumed so with the sunglasses blocking her sight — "but it was a very important friend, and we're just confirming our meeting."
Hermione tried to follow up with an answer, but that died when he patted her leg. Her upper thigh, in particular, made her shiver badly. She felt her legs lose their strength for a moment, and only a hurried grab kept her upright.
Right to his shoulder.
Hermione prepared herself to lose her job, which, ironically, wasn't as important as the moment before. She not only had the confirmation that Harry Potter would there tomorrow, but she also knew of his time of arrival. Just for that, sneaking was an acceptable risk.
Naturally, she wanted to minimize even the acceptable risks, so she still considered a way to cover her mistake … then, it turned out not to be needed. She felt his arm sneak around her waist once more, this time even tighter.
He pulled her on his thigh! Like she was a naughty girl.
Well, she admitted in her mind due to shock. Technically, she was dressed as a schoolgirl, the realization enough to delay her. "An excellent reaction," he whispered. "Pity you don't dance. My friend would have loved to have you in tomorrow's meeting."
"Y-your friend, sir? The one you were writing about?" she whispered, immediately reacting to the opportunity to be a part of the meeting.
"Yes, you can say that he's a very old friend," he said. Hermione froze a bit, as that information was a surprise. For years, Dumbledore believed Harry was actually somewhere in Europe, only to escape to America once You-Know-Who returned from death a few years ago.
And Mr. White seemed to be contradicting that. Hermione needed to learn more. "A very good friend, sir?" Hermione tried to follow up even as she shifted her hand from his shoulder — she had forgotten to pull it away — to his neck, caressing softly. Hopefully, flirting would be enough to make him careless with his words.
"The best," he answered with a chuckle. Hermione realized that she was missing a joke, but she was not in a position to care too much about that.
"Well, sir," she whispered throatily. "If he's such a good friend of yours, I might not be as much against joining."
"Really?" he said as he tightened his grip against her waist, stroking the side.
Hermione did her best to copy one of Lavender's giggles. It felt wooden in her mouth, but luckily, he was busy putting his hand on her thigh, and didn't comment on that. "Keeping my boss happy is a smart decision, sir," Hermione whispered. "And, I'm sure you'll be very … generous for the happiness of your friend."
"And, a little private dance wouldn't be harmful, right? After all, will a tree make a sound if there's no one else to gossip about."
"Exactly, sir," Hermione answered, trying to sound enthusiastic. That was not exactly the case, as she would have to talk with the potential savior of the wizarding world in dubious circumstances, but that was better than the alternative.
Much better.
"Oh, I will be very appreciative," he said, and Hermione found herself trembling in the excitement of completing the mission … and something more.
Hermione purred. Which shocked her, as if there was one thing she never did, it was acting like a horny airhead. But the interview was having some weird effect on her, wearing down her resistance quite effectively.
She was glad that she was about to leave since the interview was over. Then, fate conspired against her once more. "Of course, you need to show me more before I allow you in such an important meeting."
"L-like what, sir," Hermione found herself asking immediately, her voice trembling.
"Let's talk about your strengths. Have you pole-danced before?" he asked. "That would be the easiest way to keep us happy."
"N-no, sir, I haven't," Hermione found herself whispering.
"Tell me about your strengths, then. What can you bring, other than your spectacular beauty while wearing even less, of course."
The realization that what she was wearing wasn't the sluttiest thing in the club wasn't news for Hermione. She had certainly seen more interesting items in the wardrobe, but the explicit mention still impacted her.
And, his hand, sneaking into her inner thigh, caressing lazily, impacted her even more. Something started to burn inside her as his fingers danced — thankfully not upward — but she ignored it with all her might.
But his touch on her bare skin wasn't ignored easily.
Hermione tried to think about her strength. There were a lot, from her incredible breadth of knowledge, to several magical inventions that helped to defend Britain against the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, none of those skills actually helped her to make a case.
Once again, she channeled her inner Lavender. "I'm sorry, sir. I thought I was going to be present. Surely I don't need anything but enthusiasm, especially with his preferences."
It was a dangerous attempt, almost random. Hermione prepared to be kicked out after her forward words, but instead, he just chuckled. "Explain," he said. Or more accurately, ordered, his tone leaving no doubt about what it was, but at least the humor didn't disappear completely.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to find her words, which were ignoring her attempts. A part of it was her lack of preparation, but what was happening between her legs wasn't helping. No one, including her fiancee, touched her inner thighs. Worse, his fingers started climbing upward.
She kept glancing down between her legs as his hand moved up further, his thumb moving in circles, dangerously close to a disaster.
It took all her strength not to slam her legs together. Things were escalating badly. But the mission was more important, so she resisted that input.
Instead, she decided to shift a bit. She threw her other leg and straddled him. A seemingly daring move, but still better than letting his finger go … there. "Well, sir. You said that he's not really interested in the more skilled and experienced dancers, meaning he's searching for something new, something fresh."
"Smart girl," he whispered, and despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt pride blooming her. "So, are you saying that you're willing to compensate for your lack of skill with your enthusiasm?"
Her words were nice, but his next action once again showed just how out of her comfort zone she was. She felt his hands slip under her skirt — not that there was a lot of skirt to be avoided — and landed on her ass, squeezing harder than she expected, enough to earn more than a dozen hexes from her.
But, under the circumstances, she had no chance but to moan obediently. A moan that had been more convincing than everything else she had done.
Unfortunately, her acting abilities didn't suddenly increase.
"Yes, sir," she whispered as throaty as she could manage, moving her body forward a bit, hoping to break his hold, but the only thing it did was to bring his face closer to her cleavage. Too much, her mind shouted, she was doing too much. "I'll be very enthusiastic."
"Good, show me, then," he challenged, and she felt her skin freezing and burning at the same time. But before she could even clarify, he followed it with another statement. "Give me a lap dance."
She was losing control…
Author notes: And, another chapter is here.
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