AN: Hello, FF and Harry Potter fans. I do not own Harry Potter but feel free to enjoy this or hate it. If you enjoy it, please leave a lovely comment, if you hate it, then leave some constructive criticism, thanks!
Can You Take the Jump?
Chapter 64
TW: NONCONSENTUAL SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SCENES WILL OCCUR IN THIS CHAPTER!
Rabastan turned around to see the bluest set of eyes he'd ever seen.
"Hi, I'm Angel."
…
Ten minutes earlier…
Hermione had watched Rabastan from the moment he walked in, like a predator stalking its prey. As soon as he sat down, she stepped out to approach him when someone stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"You're working the floor tonight?" Madame Virtue, also known by her rather normal and mundane name, Verma, asked with surprise. "Didn't you start this so that you could stop whoring?
"It looks busy, I thought I should help out."
"We were busier yesterday." Verma glanced at Rabastan, then at her. The look in her eyes warned her that he was dangerous as if Hermione didn't already know.
"Here." She handed her a small pink vial.
Hermione had seen the other girls take something similar before the night started.
"It's the good stuff too, none of the nasty shit the other girls are drinking."
"Thanks," Hermione took the unknown vial. She wanted to place it in her pocket and toss it later, but Verma watched expectantly. Hermione unwillingly uncorked the vial and took a discrete whiff. Contraceptive potion. Of course. She hadn't recognized it due to the pink hue, but she could tell from the distinctive smell of the bulbine plant that this was the standardized contraceptive potion.
"I appreciate it."
She drank the whole thing in one swig. She scrunched up her hair once more and took a deep breath as she stepped out onto the floor towards Rabastan Lestrange. Her heart was pumping, she felt warm and almost breathless as though she was nervous.
She paused when Rain got to him first. A part of her desperately wanted Rain to take him instead, but she'd been out of the information loop for a few months, there was no way she could get that much information out of him from simple pillow talk. She had to be the one to do it.
She approached him slower, glancing around at how business was going.
After tirelessly working for two weeks straight, night and day, the place was done. Due to a very limited budget, most of the magical renovations were done on her own, which quickly made her realize that Verma was a very particular woman, who needed things to be done exactly in a certain way. Normally, this did not annoy Hermione, as she was also a particular individual, but Verma didn't always know how to articulate what she wanted, resulting in Hermione having to redo much of the magical renovations to satisfy the woman's design. One thing they did agree on was the name, Deepest Desires.
In the end, she had to admit, the place looked good. The old scratched-up walls were sanded and stained into a dark oak, the various types of wood and colours that made up the mosaic wooden floor were uplifted with magic and reorganized to look like the floor was a wooden chess board, and one wall curved into the ceiling with unique wall moulding that made it look like there were picture frames that curved up the wall. She took donations from the girls, taking their old clothes and using the fabric to cover some old sofas that she'd scavenged around the neighbourhood and Diagonalley. After being reinforced and restuffed, they looked as good as new, wrapping around tables like booths in an actual nightclub. Unable to afford chandeliers, Hermione twisted wires into unique and intricate shapes to hold candles, and the sequins and other glitz and glams from the girls' clothes and donated jewelry. They shined and sparkled in the candlelight. Sure, it didn't look luxe, but it held character and mystery.
Not everything could be magicked and refurbished with a little bit of effort and creativity. Alcohol required money. Herbs to make certain potions and drugs required money. This was where Verma (and Perverted Philip) surprisingly came in handy. They had notoriety in the neighbourhood. People knew them and trusted them enough to give them a loan with a payment plan that worked. Alcohol piled in, in quantities and quality that Hermione hadn't thought possible. The illegal apothecary in the back alley of Knockturn that functioned as both a pharmacy and a recreational drug dispensary had given them an advance on some product with a contract that promised all the money owed would be repaid with interest within a month.
Basically, a lot was riding on this club being a massive success, or else everyone was in a shit ton of trouble.
She pushed all her business concerns to the side as she found herself in front of Lestrange. She shooed Rain away and gave him the coyest smile she could muster.
Rabastan Lestrange's eyes raked her up and down, undressing her with his gaze. Hermione suppressed the urge to gag.
"You look familiar; I think I might've had you before."
She maintained her enticing smile, although her cheeks hurt from holding it.
"I think I'd remember having a taste of a very strong and handsome man like you, sir." She purred her words, knowing men like Rabastan enjoyed women at their feet, treating them like kings. He was a lazy fuck who didn't want to do any of the seducing and arousing himself. In fact, Hermione was pretty sure that he thought so highly of himself that he expected a woman to be dripping wet just by the mere glance at him.
What an idiot. Didn't he own a mirror?
"Well," he chuckled, "I suppose I would remember a beauty like you."
"Hm," she leaned in closer, batting her lashes. She reached over the bar and topped off his drink, then took a quick swig herself.
The alcohol burned endlessly as it travelled through her. It was her first taste of alcohol in this life. She'd always steered clear of it due to her health, but she desperately needed liquid courage to do what she was about to do.
"Not a drinker?" His interest was piqued. Then again, there wasn't a prostitute out there in Knockturn who didn't drink like a sailor. She must've not been able to hide her grimace at the taste.
"Not a Firewhiskey kind of girl."
"Oh?" He put his hand on her leg and slowly crawled up. "What do you enjoy drinking?"
She put her hand over his and slid them up, closing the distance between them.
"You?" She whispered into his ear.
Without warning, he ripped her pantyhose and slid a finger into her. She gasped and then bit her tongue until she tasted blood. She could feel tears welling in her eyes. She held her breath, her hand frozen over her wand.
"Already wet, are you?"
WET?!
Realization dawned on her. THE FUCKING POTION VERMA GAVE WAS LACED WITH AN APHRODISIAC. She wasn't fucking nervous walking up to him, she was aroused!
"Well, to be in the presence of a man su-such as yourself, any g-girl would be," Hermione told him breathlessly as he dug his fingers deeper. She felt warm all over, especially in a place she shouldn't be. She had to stop this. She grabbed him by the wrist to stop his aggressive movements.
Focus. Compartmentalize. Don't feel. Just work the situation.
Her eyes dried, her thoughts resettled, and the cogs in her brain started turning once more, no longer frozen from the sudden uninvited intrusion. She knew this could happen and it did. Don't freeze. Don't feel. Compartmentalize that sense of fear, disgust, grief, and violation. Focus on the plan.
"But I am no cheap whore, sir," she managed to bat her lashes, pushing through the distraught she felt so deep inside for herself.
Rabastan scoffed. He reached into his coat, pulled out his coin purse, and tossed several galleons at her. "I assume that'll suffice."
She didn't even glance at the money. Even if she was a prostitute, there would've been no money worth having sex with a man like this.
"You misunderstand, sir." She leaned forward once more, sliding her hands over his chest and down his arms. She traced the seam of his tailored robes. "We have VIP rooms specifically for this. There are many things in there for you to use. Toys, blindfolds, gags, and whips. Potions and games, anything your heart desires." She held his hand and led him off the stool.
She walked him through the club, straight to the velvet rope that separated the main room from the rooms in the back.
With one glance at her, the guards, two burly men who used to be patrons of the pub weeks ago, removed the ropes, allowing her and Lestrange into a corridor full of doors.
"Which one's ours, sugar?"
She glanced down at the tent forming between his legs.
"This one," she pointed to the second door on the left.
He grabbed her and opened the door to reveal a luxurious room. He kissed her deeply, triggering a gag reflex she didn't previously have. Someone deep inside her died. He ripped the thin dress she had on and groped her breasts, the other hand grabbed her ass.
When he stuck his tongue deep inside, she couldn't stop herself from pushing him off.
"C-contraceptive potion," she sputtered out an excuse going to the corner of the room that had drinks in crystal-like decanters.
He watched her from the other side. She repressed the urge to straighten out her clothes and tuck her exposed breast back into her dress. Suddenly it was very clear to Hermione that she had become the prey and he was the predator.
"Marvelous room." He looked around for the first time. The room had been inspired by one of the rooms she'd seen in Malfoy's manor. It was a dark room with golden accents, velvet furniture, an animal pelt carpet, and so much more, but none of those things interested Rabastan as he salivated at the many BDSM toys that decorated the room.
He took the cat-o-nine-tails whip and gag off the wall as he smiled hungrily at her.
"You know the only thing missing here? Some handcuffs. Actually, ropes and ties are missing too." He noticed, looking around the room.
"Hm," she pretended to be surprised. "I'll let management know, but until then, I'm sure we can find some ways to enjoy ourselves." She gave him a sly smile as she poured drinks for them both. She made a show of dripping a potion in her drink but not his. She swirled the amber liquor before she handed him the glass and clinked hers with his.
"To our wild night."
"To our wild night." He repeated, downing the drink with her.
She gently pushed him onto the long lounge chair, "How about a show?"
She turned around and braced herself as she lifted her tight dress, peeling the clothes off herself. She could hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the rummaging of his trousers.
Her focus nearly broke. Her emotions almost flooded her.
She turned to him when her dress was fully off, revealing black lacy lingerie.
"Hmm," he nodded in appreciation as he stroked himself in front of her.
She ripped her pantyhose further from the hole he'd already made and stalked up to him, strutting one leg out in front of the other.
Her mind flashed through the last time she'd done a strip show like this.
NO! She cut off her thoughts before they fully formed Sirius's beautiful face and their loving time together.
"Distracted?" He asked, his eyes suddenly narrowing. People could say what they wanted about Purebloods, but if Hermione had to give them one thing, they could read people.
She straddled him, feeling his…organ against her. In the past, she thought it immature when people couldn't use the words penis or vagina, but if she were to face the fact that the warm thing touching her was indeed a… then she wouldn't be able to go through with it.
"No," she dropped to avoid looking into his eyes and let out a small chuckle. "I'm just a little offended that you can't remember if you knew me or not."
He smirked, his nails gripped into her thighs painfully as he grinded himself on her. "Well, if you do a good job, I'll make sure to remember you for the next time."
"Good," she balanced herself with her hand on his chest. "Close your eyes, and just feel."
Despite the dominant toys he had pulled out of the collection, he obediently closed his eyes at her command.
4. 3. 2. 1.
His grip slackened, his breathing deepened, and his arousal drooped.
Hermione remained frozen on top of him for another 5 seconds to make sure he was in deep sleep, but once she was sure, she jumped off.
Her walls dropped and her emotions rushed out as she huddled in the furthest corner of the room away from her slumbering assaulter. She heaved on all fours, vomiting on the floor as tears continuously came down her face.
She scrambled forward and grabbed her temporary wand off the counter far away from where she and Rabastan were, a gesture she'd done on purpose to make him assume she was unarmed and harmless. She scourgified herself until she felt raw, yet she still felt dirty.
She cried in a way she hadn't cried in years.
She curled up in a ball and wailed, trusting in the walls she'd soundproofed herself.
She pitied herself. She hated herself for making this plan. She missed her family. She missed Sirius.
She hit her head on the floor, punishing herself for making this plan.
Bang. Bang! Bang! BANG. BANG!
"Stop and get a hold of yourself." She knew that voice better than most. She hadn't heard it in months since the fire.
She looked through her tears to see Hermione Granger standing over her with pity in her eyes. For once, she didn't look angry or disappointed. She just looked sad.
"You cannot freeze. You need to get to work. Otherwise, all this effort and…trauma will be for nothing. Get up. You can't let this kill you. It's only the beginning. You need to get over it."
It sounded so harsh. It sounded cold and unbearable. Heartless.
"But it's the truth. More people will come after Rabastan spreads the word. You know he has a big mouth, and likes to brag about places he's been, people he's seen, and girls he fucked. He's just the first one."
It was such a devastatingly honest sentence.
With shaking limbs and tear-blurred vision, she lifted her wand to her assaulter.
"Legilimens."
She started with his memories of tonight. She'd always been good at manipulating memories, it was how she so completely and cleanly wiped herself out of her parent's lives when she was Hermione Granger. Wiping a memory and making people believe dreams were reality were different, but the procedure was similar enough. The vivid fantasies he played in his mind from the moment he laid eyes on her now truth, at least most of them and at least to him. Merlin, he wasn't just filthy, he was violent and sadistic. He didn't seem to care if she enjoyed it, no, he wanted fear and terror.
She had a terrifying feeling he wasn't the only man with these fantasies.
She gave him enough, none of the ones that involved her bleeding, or arms dislocating, or choking until she literally passed out. No, she didn't allow him to have those, even though none of it wasn't real. But she let him keep enough. The bizarre ways he bent her body, the toys he wanted to use, the dirty words he wanted her to utter, the begging, the slapping, the punishments and so-called rewards, the crying, the role play, etc. It was more than enough to feel fully satisfied and satiated with her service. Enough to leave a handsome payment, enough to come back with more friends, enough to relax and let his guard down so that she could probe further into his mind.
There was a gathering of Death Eaters in the Lestrange Manor, the Inner Circle and Voldemort were present.
"My lord, although the Aurors struggled," Augustus Rookwood sat near the end of the table, his Ministry of Magic employee badge telling her that this meeting must've been soon after work, around 6 pm. People were dressed in lighter garb, indicative of the heat wave that England was experiencing the past few days. "After much deliberation, they've confirmed that the three bodies burnt and buried were indeed, Mud…Miss Evans's parents and older sister."
"Good," Voldemort sat at the head of the table, stroking Nagini's head. The large snake had a large chunk of meat in its mouth, dripping with fresh blood. Hermione didn't even want to guess what type of meat that was.
"How is our new Head of the DMLE settling in?"
"Most of the old employees have been fired and those who were bribable were paid off." A frail-looking man with tremors and twitches, telltale signs of prolonged Cruciatus Curse, spoke with a hoarse voice. "Which means that the Mudblood Registration Commission can be brought to the Wizengamot soon, my lord."
"Hm, sooner than expected. Well done, Snyde, I wouldn't want you to be punished like before."
"Yes, my lord." The man visibly trembled. "I deeply apologize once again on behalf of my wife and I thank you for granting me this opportunity to prove myself worthy of your presence."
"You will be fully forgiven once you find Hermione Evans," Voldemort's eyes flashed red before they returned to his normal dark brown. "Has anyone found the damn girl?"
The Inner Circle glanced nervously back and forth.
"We've failed you, my lord!" The Death Eaters all bowed their heads.
"The girl…she's gone! My sources in Hogwarts tell me she's not been seen for the rest of the semester, not even for her exams." Macnair explained. "She's simply vanished."
"The muggle detective has expanded the search for her, but he comes back with no news," Lucius added.
"Crabbe, kill his wife. Perhaps he needs encouragement."
"Yes, my lord." Pop. The crack of apparition echoed in the large hall as Crabbe disappeared at the order of a kill without hesitation. Hermione felt breathless. She didn't know who this muggle detective was, but all because of her, he became widowed in a second. There was no chance of saving his wife. She didn't know when this was, but even if it had been a meeting tonight, it would still be too late.
Hermione felt breathless at the fact that an innocent life had been lost so fast.
"I've also spoken with Severus Snape," Lucius briefly glanced at the empty space where Crabbe Snr. had been. "He's one of her few friends, he's not seen her either."
"And if he lies?" Voldemort turned his head, creepily, almost like a doll that could turn its head all the way around.
"I have no reason to believe he would lie to me, my lord. He thought of her as a nuisance, an anchor to his already subpar status. He looked up to me, he has no reason to lie."
"Are you sure, Lucius?" He lifted Lucius's chin with his finger. His long talon-like nails stabbed him in the soft and unprotected underside of his chin.
"I am certain, Snape hangs on every word I say. He is desperate for me to put in a good word about him to you my lord, he is eager to be recruited."
Hermione could tell by his flinch that Voldemort was looking through his mind, searching for the truth about what he was saying. She watched Voldemort's face carefully, seeing if there was any sliver of doubt in what he saw in Lucius's mind.
"Severus Snape, you say," Voldemort looked intrigued as he pulled out of Lucius's min. Hermione let out a sigh of relief at his lack of explosive murderous anger.
"He is talented in potions as well. Above him is only Avery…"
Hermione grimaced at the way Lucius trailed off.
"And?" Voldemort prompted.
"And tied for second with Lily Evans."
Hermione wanted to stab Lucius in the throat.
"Lily Evans?" A smile crept up his lips. "The twin sister?"
Hermione couldn't breathe as the next words left his mouth.
Voldemort pulled her wand out of his pocket, the wand she'd lost during the fire. "I thought holding onto this would be enough, but clearly my sweet child is a lot more tenacious than I gave her credit for. Perhaps Miss Evans needs a little more initiative to come out from wherever she's hiding."
She immediately pulled out of Rabastan's mind and ran out the door. Her panicked mind was interrupted when the crowd in the main room whistled and whooped.
"What are you doing?! What happened?!" Verma was suddenly in front of her, covering her body. "If you're going to strip like this in front of everyone, at least charge them for it!"
Hermione blinked, looking down at her body. She'd run out of the room still nearly completely naked. Her tiny thong was pushed to the side exposing everything, one of her breasts was out of the cup of her bra, and tear tracks were probably still very visible on her face.
She gasped covering herself with her hands.
"What happened? Is it that guy from before? Where is he? I'll get the guys to kick him out and never let him back in."
"N-No!" She stopped. "Leave him. Give me a coat."
"What?"
"Verma, give me a coat, something to cover me up. Now!"
"What is going on?! I—"
A heavy and thick coat suddenly covered Hermione, nearly from head to toe.
She turned to see the vampire standing there with an annoyed look on his face.
"Go. Before I regret it. Return before the sun comes up."
She nodded. "I'll return before the guy in my room wakes up. Don't move him. And thank you."
"Angel!" Verma shouted after her, but she was already gone.
…
The way Albus Dumbledore liked to finish the day, no matter how long or short, how hard or easy, was with a small glass of sherry. He sat by the fire of his office with Fawkes by his side and an interesting book. He liked how quiet and calming it was. He liked how predictable it could be. It was summer, so there was no need to worry about the trouble students may cause the next day or the accidents that may happen. There was no need to meet the Board of Governors for another month about the financial aspects of running the school or their ever-persistent urge to change the course curriculum to 'fit their standards' which was their way of saying more pureblood-forward.
Fawkes cooed beside him.
"Yes, it is an interesting night, isn't it my dear? Something different is in the air."
The magic in the air trembled as if to warn him something was about to happen.
He closed his book and finished off his sherry. Instead of pouring himself another glass, he started a kettle of water and took out two teacups instead. He chose a calming and warming tea.
"Ah yes, ginger honey tea will be nice," he nodded at his selection.
He calmly waited for his kettle to whistle, he brewed the tea with dried ginger and a dollop of honey for some added sweetness. For an extra touch, he added a dried chrysanthemum flower to the teacup. The moisture and heat made the dried flower slowly rebloom.
The fireplace ignited with green flames as the flower finally bloomed to its fullest.
Dumbledore turned expecting to see a girl with flaming red hair and hazel eyes, only to make contact with the most icy blues he'd ever seen.
"Where is Lily?"
"Miss Evans?" He furrowed his brows, searching for a trace of Hermione Evans in the girl in front of him.
She blinked as if she just realized something. She pulled out a wand, which made his instincts reach for his own, but instead of pointing the end of the wand at him, she pointed it at herself.
"Revelio priori incantatum."
The blue-eyed girl became Hermione Evans, at least for a split second.
"I don't have time to wait for the Polyjuice Potion to wear out, so that's all the proof you get for now. Where is Lily?"
"I assume she's where she's been since the beginning of summer."
"Which is where?!"
"You do not know? Even though disappeared, I assumed you'd keep track of your sister."
"I've…been busy, so I'm only going to ask you one more time. Where is Lily?"
"How can I trust that you're Hermione Evans asking for this information."
"I just showed—"
"That is not real proof, and you know it."
"Fine, you and I made a pact that I would help you bring down Voldemort as long as you promised Lily and the Marauders were to never join your secret order to bring him down. Now. Where. Is. Lily?"
He smiled, "Your sister is safe. Her safety was reported to me, not even 20 minutes ago, when her guards switched shifts for the night."
"Twenty minutes…" She sank into the seat across from him with what he could only explain as utter relief. "What about right now? What's her status right now?"
"Miss Evans, if her status had changed, I would be informed."
"Dumbledore—"
He flicked his wand to conjure his Patronus. "Status update please, Caradoc."
Caradoc Dearborn, an original member of the Order of the Phoenix who disappeared, never to be seen again. He was presumed dead. Hermione's creative imagination flipped through the thousands of ways he must've died just to disappear like that… the horrors he must've experienced, all for the Order.
Soon, a small white Corporeal Patronus in the shape of a chipmunk floated into Dumbledore's office.
"Already?" A gruff voice, unfitting for the small animal, asked. "Must be some important kid…she's fine. Sleeping. Sprawled out and everything."
"See? Miss Evans? Your sister is fine."
She let out a sigh of relief, melting into the seat.
"Tea?" He gestured at the cup next to her.
"You knew I was coming?"
"I knew you'd never stay away too long, we have a world to save after all. As for tonight, I had a hunch. It's ginger and honey tea with a chrysanthemum flower."
She took a sip. "It's lovely, thank you."
He eyed the coat she was wearing. It was too large to be her own, the sleeves reaching past her wrist and all the way to her fingers. The coat was also too thick, even for the evening.
"How have you been, Miss Evans? You mentioned you were busy?"
She suddenly froze at the mention of her schedule, as if she remembered she wasn't supposed to be here.
"I need to return."
"Return to where?"
She hesitated, "I'm still in England if you must know."
"Why the secrecy? I know what you're disguised as, I can now look for you with your description."
"So I ask you not to do so."
"You ask for much, Miss Evans."
She knew he wasn't just talking about right now. He was using precious resources, time, and effort into protecting Lily, night and day.
"Thank you. Truly."
"When you asked your sister and the Marauders not to join my Order, it was implied that they could not get injured. So long as there are no active battles that require my people's presence, I will have your sister and friends protected."
"I promise you, I'll make it worth it." She placed the teacup down and clasped her hands in front of her. "This brings me to my side of this deal. I have information for you."
Dumbledore set down his own teacup, giving her his undivided attention.
"Augustus Rookwood. He's the spy within the Ministry for Voldemort. You'll need to watch out for him or leak false information to him, though I'd advise that strategy to be used sparingly."
"Of course," he nodded. "If he doesn't bring in reliable information to the Dark Lord, he'll be replaced, which only means there will be another pawn we don't know of."
"Exactly. Secondly, I'm assuming you already know this, but the new Head of the DMLE and the employees that followed him are all on Voldemort's payroll. The ones that are left behind from Mr. Potter's time in office are corrupt."
"We guessed this, but it's good to know for sure."
"You won't know this," she gestured for him to wait. "They're using this new group to push something called the Muggleborn Registration Commission to Wizengamot. They'll likely pass it off as something that's not a big deal, probably saying that it's something they're going to use to collect some stats, but it's all a ruse. They're going to capture muggleborn witches and wizards and force them to undergo a malicious and painful interrogation of how they "stole" magic from "real" witches and wizards, aka Purebloods."
"Dear gods," he let out a gasp.
"You have sway with the Wizengamot, you must not let this pass."
"Of course not."
Hermione nodded, "One last thing," she stood from her seat. "There's a muggle detective…he must've been my family's case for the fire. I think Voldemort got to him."
"Is he alive?"
"So far," she whispered. "His wife was recently murdered."
They locked eyes, "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you." She gave Fawkes a gentle scratch on his head before grabbing a handful of floo powder.
"I had hoped to see you during your exams."
She shook her head, "I would have been too easily capturable. They would have anticipated it."
"You are a phenomenal mind. Rivalled to my own, if I may say so myself. I would have liked to see how you would have scored in your exams. Perhaps I can arrange it for you in private sometime this summer?"
Her lips quivered, and she suddenly let out a laugh. A big hearty laugh, something he hadn't seen her do since her third year when the entire Slytherin table got covered with green slime.
"Oh Merlin," she wiped a tear from an already tear-stricken face. She saw the smudged mascara on her finger and realized what she must look like because the smile slid off her face immediately.
"Miss Evans, I can protect you. You don't have to do whatever you're doing."
She turned to him with a sad smile, "We must do our duties from where we are."
"Good night, Headmaster. Thank you for the laugh and the cup of tea…thank you for everything. I'll contact you again." She threw the floo powder into the fireplace and stepped in.
"The Leaky Cauldron!"
She disappeared in brilliant green flames.
…
"Mmergh," he groaned. He felt something heavy on his chest. He peered his eyes open to find his vision clouded by red. Red hair.
Memories rushed back into his head. He was in the new nightclub in Knockturn. He'd met this girl. They had wild and crazy sex. Sex unlike he'd ever experienced before. He'd never so thoroughly fucked a girl like that in his life. He's never lasted that long either.
"Hmm," she sighed on top of him.
"Hi," he greeted her, his voice deep with sleep. "Did I fall asleep first?"
"No, I must've because I remember you still fucking me as I passed out." She grinned lazily. Her lipstick was smudged, and her eye makeup was smudged and streaked with tears. She was lying naked on top of him, sweat, lubricant, saliva, and cum slick between them. The toys they used were tossed onto the floor and their clothes were scattered everywhere. The room even smelt like sex.
"I need to get back to work," her creamy skin felt like butter as she slid off, she leaned down gathering her clothes.
Of course, she sold her body as her work, but for some reason, he felt betrayed.
He reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back onto his lap. She stiffened but quickly relaxed.
"How much for a second round?" He asked, kissing and licking her shoulder and her neck.
"You can go again?" She sounded surprised.
He looked down, sure enough, despite his current intense arousal at the whore in his lap, he couldn't seem to get it up again.
She smiled knowingly, "Come back when you can go again. Maybe with some friends next time for my friends." She winked as she scampered off. She didn't even bother wearing her lingerie, she just wore her dress and held her undergarments in her hands as she walked out of their room without looking back. He sat there dazed.
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. He perked up, hoping it was his whore once more, looking for a second round.
"Sir, are you decent?" It was the gruff voice of a man.
"No," he said, but his voice cracked. He cleared it quickly and repeated himself. He stood up and grabbed one of the satin robes from the hooks behind the door.
"What?" he demanded as he opened the door. One of the security men that had opened the velvet rope for him and his whore stood outside his door.
"The next clients will soon need this room. We also require you to pay the bill for the night."
He snarled at being rushed. Who the hell did they think they were?
"We thank you in advance for your understanding."
He wanted to be angry longer, but after being utterly and completely satisfied, he didn't even have the energy in him. "Fine. Give me 5 minutes."
"Yes, sir."
He took double the time he said, just to piss them off.
"Hello, I'm Madame Virtue. How was your experience with one of my girls, sir?" An older woman, with one of the nicest pairs of tits he'd seen, stood waiting for him with a pleasant smile on her face and a quick-notes quill and notebook floating next to her.
"I wanna book that girl again."
"Oh, so Angel was able to satisfy your needs for tonight?"
"Yes yes! For fuck's sake. When can I book her again?"
The notebook flipped rapidly. "Unfortunately we don't have any spare time for her specifically any time soon, Angel is a special girl. She's one of our top girls, you see. However, we have some lovely other girls who would be very interested in seeing to your needs, sir."
"How busy can a whore fucking be?"
"Well seeing how she's already with another client right now, she's a girl quite in high demand."
He clenched his teeth tightly at the thought of the whore enjoying another man's dick so soon after he so thoroughly fucked her.
"Fine, when is she free next?"
"The next slot that's open is in…" she peered down at her notebook once more. "Three—"
"Days?! I have to wait three days for a whore?!"
"No, sir."
He sighed in relief.
"Three weeks."
He sputtered a cough.
"But I saw her today!"
"There was an unexpected cancellation today."
"Cancellation?! Who would cancel on…her." He inhaled through his nose loudly as the woman in front of him smiled as if she'd won the argument. "I'll pay double."
"I'm sorry, sir. All of Angel's clients already pay a premium price—"
"Triple."
The woman opened her mouth to deny him once more.
"Quadruple."
That made the woman's eyes shine.
"I'll see what I can do for you, sir. Here is your bill for tonight." She handed in his bill. He blinked at the price.
"That's for one fucking night?"
"As I've mentioned, Angel is—"
"Yeah yeah, a fucking special girl, pussy made of gold, I get it."
"Would you like us to forget about the next booking?"
"No!" He stopped the quick-notes quill before it could scratch anything out. "I'll pay. Actually, start a tab under Lestrange. Bill it to my Gringott's account."
The woman's eyes widened at the infamous name, "And the first name for this account is?
"Rabastan. Rabastan Lestrange."