She froze in panic, afraid of disappointing Mr. White.
She would have liked to say that freezing was only about the risk for the mission, that he might change her attendance seeing her like that, but she could feel that the fear came from a much more primal place.
A place that had been sleeping before the last night.
Yet, along with that, came despair. She avoided his green eyes, and this time, not because she wanted to avoid the feelings that awakened her. No, she didn't want to see the sudden realization in his eyes when he realized she wasn't the amazingly beautiful woman she had been the night before, and it was just Candy's amazing makeup work that elevated her.
Maybe she should just turn and leave…
"Come on in," he said, and Hermione found herself entering the car, ignoring her thoughts about changing her mind and disappearing. It was not the time, not yet. Yet, even as she entered the car, she could feel her disappointment growing intensely. It was wrong to desire that, especially when she was trying to focus on the mission…
But somehow, the opportunity to do it again with him, despite the situation, felt more important. Pity, he would never touch her again once he had seen her like this. No one in Hogwarts paid much attention to her, and none of them owned a club filled with incredibly beautiful women — women that were more than willing to throw them at him if what Candy said was accurate.
Not that she had any right to blame her.
Lost in her mind, she wasn't expecting his hand to wrap around her waist before she could sit down and pulled her into his lap, one hand nonchalantly gripping her right ass cheek.
"You suddenly seem a bit down, why don't you tell me about it," he whispered even as he pressed a button, and the limo started to move.
She opened her mouth, but her mind chose that moment to betray her. Trying to prepare herself for the certainty that she wouldn't be touched, the sudden reversal worked havoc in her mind. "I …" she whispered, then, looked forward, where there was an opaque window. "Driver?" she managed to whisper, hoping to use the excuse to get herself a moment to recover.
"Don't worry about it, the limo is completely soundproof, and unless we use the intercom, our driver won't hear anything.
"T-that's good," she whispered. Her next move should be to pull out of his lap and actually sit, but her body lacked the strength to do so. Especially as she could feel his presence reacting under her.
She couldn't help but feel excited at his moves, but she wouldn't let that make her hope. It would only hurt more once she finally rejected it.
"Now, why don't you tell me what you have in mind, Hermione," he whispered into her ear, soft, seductive, yet somehow domineering. Just like that, her whole determination was destroyed.
"I … I'm not beautiful without that makeup and clothes," she found herself whispering and made an attempt to pull off his lap, avoiding his gaze. It was a pathetic admission, but she felt like that at the moment.
She never had been confident outside of the classroom, and her current position was as far from usual as she could imagine.
She expected him to push her off his lap, aware that her lack of confidence was even more pathetic than how she looked.
"Oh, I disagree," he whispered, his tone throatier. Hermione expected to hear pity in his tone, but just because she didn't hear it didn't mean he wasn't feeling it. And she wasn't coward enough to delude herself. She looked up, wanting to see the pity in his eyes.
Maybe, if the green was stained with pity, she could sleep without dreaming about them.
But, when she turned to face him, she realized two things. First, they didn't have a hint of pity. In their depths, there was arousal, desire, and much other stuff… But not pity.
Second, they were close. Closer than she expected. Almost as if…
She only had a moment to react to his action, alerted by his hand, holding her chin gently. Then, his lips pressed against hers…
And she found herself kissing him.
The one thing she kept away from him the last night.
Somehow, the guilt she felt was even more intense than sleeping with him. It wasn't logical, of course, but she found that, for a rare break, the world didn't work on logic like she was used to. She was lost… but she didn't want to be found.
Lost in the guiltiest yet most magnificent kiss of her life, she didn't pay attention to her surroundings, which was a mistake, one that was supposed to be prevented by her training. Luckily, what she missed was not an attack, but a flash.
"What's going on?" she murmured as she pulled back, only to see him holding a phone. She felt panicking. "W-why the photo?" Not the most elaborate sentence she had ever uttered, but she wasn't in the mood to explore it.
"I wanted to answer your question convincingly, of course," he answered, his chuckle enough to anger her — she tried to convince herself that the tingling she felt was anger … and not something else.
"What question?" Hermione asked.
"About your beauty, of course," was his answer. "I told you that you are beautiful, I just wanted to show you that.
This time, she was sure that she felt anger. "How dare you, mock me like this!" she gasped, her fury growing, along with her disappointment. She didn't expect much from Mr. White, but somehow, he managed to break even those minimal expectations by mocking her. She knew that she wasn't beautiful. She didn't need any reminders, certainly not in such a mocking manner. "I know that I'm not beautiful—" she continued, grabbing the phone.
Then, her words ceased when she saw the screen. "Impossible," she gasped. The photo itself wasn't too clear. Just a simple photo, showing her face as they kissed. Somehow, she had trouble recognizing herself … she didn't look plain and boring.
"Impossible, that must be a trick," she whispered. "It doesn't look like me. And my face doesn't show." She raised the phone and took another photo of herself, one that showed her usual bookworm self — well, almost, with her lips a bit more reddish, but still usual. "Look, ugly," she admitted with a whisper.
"No, sweetie, you're not ugly, you're just tense. Let me show you," he whispered, and she felt his hands on her waist, then flipped her, so she found herself sitting on his lap once more, but her back pressing against his chest, ripping the phone off her hands as he did so.
Hermione tensed, preparing for another ugly photo, worried. It was ridiculous for her to feel worried about that, but, it wasn't the only ridiculous thing she was doing today. Yet, rather than taking it immediately, he pushed her hair away gently before starting to kiss her neck, each touch making her shiver helplessly.
"I thought you were going to take another photo," she found herself asking, even as she hated herself for that. Why did she ask that, instead of enjoying the treatment?
"Don't worry, I'm just making sure you're relaxed first," he whispered. "Now, close your eyes and enjoy the feeling."
She did so, enjoying his burning lips on her burning neck, slowly counting the passage of time as he rained kisses on her neck, his hardness very noticeable under her. She ignored the passage of time, like it was completely normal and nothing untoward was happening…
Even if she was on the lap of her temporary boss, hoping that he would do a lot of things to her before the meeting with Potter.
Mr. White continued to kiss her neck as seconds turned into minutes, with no sense of hurry. His hands were on her belly, gently caressing her shirt, almost idly. She wanted to ask him to hurry up, but the moment was simply too enticing to break.
So she let it happen… Until she finally saw the flash of the camera. "Are you ready to see your true face?" he whispered.
"Yes, I'm ready to see my ugly face," she answered, trembling as the words formed. She tried to sound angry, but it was hard after what had just happened.
"You're stubborn, Miss Granger," he whispered even as he turned the phone so she could see her face.
"You have no idea—" Hermione answered, ready to give a detailed breakdown of her famous stubbornness, but that fell to the wayside when she saw her picture. It was her, of that, there was no doubt … but somehow, she had trouble believing.
Somehow, in the picture, she looked sexy, and not just because of enough makeup to paint a wall or clothes to make a whore blush. No, just her, wearing a boring shirt and jeans combo, with next to no makeup, mussed hair…
Yet, still sexy. "I can't believe it," she whispered.
"Believe it, beautiful," he whispered to her ear, and she shuddered. Even as, for the first time, she found his words actually believable.
Maybe she was more beautiful than she thought…
"You don't look convinced. Let's take a few more photos to make it more convincing," he said. She opened her mouth, about to say that she was convinced, then changed her mind. There was no hurry. There was still time for the meeting, after all.
His next words made her doubt the rationality of that decision. "Let's make sure you look your best for the photos," he whispered … and she felt her bra being unhooked.