When Hermione woke up, she was ready to write off everything as a dream.
Unfortunately, there were disadvantages to having a sharp mind, and one of them was the difficulty to reject reality — not that it was possible in the first place with her body aching with the aftermath of what had happened.
She didn't know where she was, and she was afraid of opening her eyes. Her mind was filled with the implications of what she had done. She had just cheated on her fiancee, and even if it was for the mission, she couldn't just lie to herself and say it was for the mission.
She had the chance to stop. She just didn't, lost in the pleasure.
The prospect of opening her eyes felt far more difficult than such a move deserved, but she didn't know where she would find herself. Once she opened her eyes, she might come face to face with Ron, her fiancee, looking at her in disgust … or she might find himself in the bed of her new boss — temporary boss, she corrected, which was surprisingly hard to do.
She didn't know which one would be worse.
Yet, keeping her eyes closed forever was not a solution as well. She forced her eyes to open, feeling a blush creeping in as she did so.
She found herself in a familiar room. Candy's room, and she was currently resting on the couch, with a sheet over her to keep her covered. One that she appreciated, as underneath, the sensation was rather clear. She only had her skirt and stockings on, her shoes discarded on the floor.
"What a night," she murmured as a sudden disappointment hit her as she realized she wasn't where feared — maybe hoped, another detail she worked hard to ignore — and considered laying there.
But a quick glance at the clock on the wall showed it was already past midnight, meaning Ron was waiting for almost five hours.
Ron, the fiancee that had just betrayed in the most visceral way possible.
"It was for the mission," she whispered to herself, using it as a mantra to keep the guilt away. Instead, she focused on pushing the covers down, taking note of what was going on. She didn't ask about what was smelling musky on her chest. Despite fainting, her memory of the ending was very clear.
However, the presence of a black line was a surprise. She pushed a bit more, only to see it was text. Handwritten.
'Good job, you're hired,' read the text, making a sense of humiliation rise inside her.
And a warmth between her legs, but she did her best to ignore that, trying to convince herself that it was just the physical aftermath of what happened. She continued to push the covers down, only to find more text.
'Be ready for tomorrow's meeting. I want you to be impressive.'
'Don't worry about preparation. A limo with everything will arrive at your address.'
'Be ready at six.'
Hermione felt angry as she read those texts, the fact that he had written those onto her body rather than staying himself … then, she remembered what happened when he was in the room.
"Maybe a note is better," she murmured as she stood up. "But at least he could have used paper." As she stood up, her tits danced, a detail she wouldn't have noticed before tonight, but after what happened, her gaze inevitably went there, the pink marks of his touch still visible.
He had treated her roughly the last night.
Too bad she enjoyed that roughness very much, and the fact that he was daring enough to write on her somehow made things … sexier. "Something is wrong with me," she whispered. She wished she could suspect a potion, a spell, anything in that vein.
Unfortunately, she had been trained by Mad-Eye, and she could easily recognize every single magical trick they could pull to manipulate her. And while she couldn't rebuff Imperius, she could still recognize the impact.
That made her situation worse. She would have loved to have the option to blame the potions, but no, what happened was something simpler. Maybe it was the weird excitement of the transformation, maybe the excitement of the mission … maybe the striking green eyes of Mr. White, but she had made a horrible decision.
She took a glimpse of herself in the mirror, which displayed her body, her skirt too skewed to cover anything. Her body was stained with cum, a message written on her to treat her like an object, her neck with several hickeys, and the rest of her body showed signs of bruising.
Yet, even with her makeup missing, she somehow looked sexy. Maybe even sexier.
"Luckily, I won't see Mr. White again after tomorrow, and tomorrow he'll be too busy with the meeting to follow up," she said. Tomorrow she would contact Potter, and then, success or failure, there would be no reason to maintain contact with Mr. White.
With a sigh, she turned, but as she did so, she noticed something black on her bottom. Curious, she turned and used the mirror to check her ass, only to find another warning.
'Keep this safe for me. I might have a use for it,' the message read, followed by a little heart.
"Good riddance," Hermione growled in sudden anger as she walked toward the shower, one that she desperately needed. She was angry at what he had written on her ass, but once again, there was a nuance to her anger. She didn't punch him or hex him, she just wanted to grab his messy raven hair painfully, followed by some things she never imagined doing before marriage … and even when imagining those, never in that intensity.
Worse, she didn't feel horrible. She merely felt bad, the intensity far too low for such a huge transgression. Maybe their long mission out of Britain had worn out their feelings more than she realized.
She would make up for Ron … once they were safely back in Hogwarts. "Maybe I should treat it as training," she murmured to herself. She felt like panicking, but thinking just how great the distance between her and the mysterious Mr. White was, there was nothing to be concerned about.
She stepped under the shower, a part of her sad that she was getting rid of his marks…
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you—" Ron started to ask.
"Enough, Ron, I have explained to you before. It's safer for you to stay here and apparate for an emergency than staying outside the club, waiting," Hermione cut him off, her tone sharp. She was scolding her fiancee, and not for the first time.
It was not fair, she knew, but the previous evening's events were constantly crashing against her mind, making her irate. Even worse than the memories was the reality she would be sharing some more time with Mr. White, this time accompanied by Harry Potter, the absent hero.
Combined, it was above her capabilities to actually suppress that feeling, which resulted in her exploding anger. Fair, certainly not, but better than she could manage.
Ron grumbled in annoyance but still took a step back. "At least this time you'll be wearing normal clothes," he whispered as he walked away, absentmindedly, suggesting that she wasn't supposed to hear it.
She felt a blush creeping in. Another lie. He was feeling conscious about the skirt she had worn when she entered, which had almost ten times the fabric that she actually ended up wearing… She couldn't even imagine how he would react if he knew what she had worn…
And what costume awaited her once she arrived at the dressing room.
Hermione looked at the time. Five-forty-five, just a few minutes until the meeting. "I need to leave, Ron. Stay here, and wait for my signal."
"Are you sure you don't want me driving?" Ron tried one last time.
"No, Ron, I'm capable enough of driving," she answered. Far more than capable, especially considering his very limited capabilities, but it was not a fight she wanted to rehash. Not right now, at least.
Cutting anything else he might say, she grabbed her bag and exited the moldy motel they were staying, stepped into the car, and started driving.
Not for long. Five minutes later, she was already parking at the fake address she had given to the business, glad that she hadn't slipped her real address along with her real name. She didn't even remember telling her real name, but since Mr. White used it, she must have told it at some time.
After all, it was hardly the worst decision she had taken during those memorable events.
Yet, as she parked her car, she could already see a limo waiting for him, carrying the exact plate they had texted to her work number. Hermione shivered, realizing she should have arrived earlier and waited.
Leaving her car would be suspicious. Still, she left the car, carrying her small bag with some vital supplies — including her wand — to be used in case of an emergency. If they asked why she was in her car, she decided to say she took a small tour because she got nervous waiting.
Yet, even as she walked forward, she couldn't help but feel anxious, for a very different reason. She was wearing a simple combo of jeans and a faded blouse, and her hair was gathered into a simple ponytail despite the attempts of rebellion. Altogether, she was very different than the incredible beauty she had revealed, and that made her anxious.
Thankfully she would be getting another makeover before meeting Potter — and more importantly, Mr. White, a voice told her, but she ignored it.
Then, she stood at the passenger side of the limo, ready to open the door, when someone opened it from inside.
Not someone, Hermione corrected with growing fear. Mr. White.
The last man she wanted to see while dressed in her frumpy clothing!