errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
A Thief to Catch a Thief; a Death Eater to Catch a
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,707
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Lucius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
30
Views:
18,707
Reviews:
132
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Queen of fantasies
Queen of fantasies.
***
A/N: This first chapter is partly a tribute to all REAL women out there with real body shapes that aren’t remotely similar to the unhealthy-looking catwalk models or the dummies in shop windows!
Three cheers for looking gorgeous naturally!
***
She was the women that so many men wanted; the queen of their fantasies.
Skin tight, dove-grey trousers encased firm thighs, accenting the curve of her pert, firm bottom; her lower legs were encased in soft, black leather, knee-high boots (without heel), that laced up the back. Her legs looked longer than they actually were, but no man would complain if they were wrapped around their waist in passion! She walked with cool confidence, she knew who she was and wasn’t afraid of her inner strength.
Her soft, rounded hips swayed methodically as she moved; a seductive rocking that catwalk models would kill to achieve naturally; a hypnotic rhythm that rendered all men who gazed upon her powerless.
A rhythm she was completely unaware of.
A white tunic, with short sleeves, fell to her hips under a grey leather corset that laced up the back with ebony ribbons; little silver clips held the front. The tunic and corset covered her breasts and cleavage area completely, but the shadow of small swellings was visible. Her waist cinched in at the middle, but not so far as to be hourglass.
She wasn’t ashamed of her body image: she didn’t care that she wasn’t a stick-thin model; didn’t care that her boobs weren’t huge. She indulged in high calorie foods without guilt – and ignored the fashion-fad diets that deemed her “fat”.
She was most men’s wet dream come true.
A woman who was naturally stunningly attractive.
A real woman, with real curves.
Her hair fell in tight, springy curls to her chin, but stepped up to something shorter at the back – to some, the back was a ‘boyish’ style – but nobody could claim that the person was anything other than female.
Elbow-length, grey, calf leather gloves encased long, bony fingers; protecting them from the heat of curses and the cold weather. Her hands were a real clue to her mood: they accented her conversations with passion; she picked at the seams of the gloves when she was bored and her left hand’s little finger tapped when she was angry.
Sprinting down to the apperation point within the ministry of magic building, she had the attention of every male she passed. Grasping the wand that was strapped to her left arm in a black leather holster, she apperated to who-knows-where, five men dressed in a similar fashion following her lead.
She’d graduated from auror training after only completing two of the four years; and she’d rendered twelve qualified aurors unconscious with a non-verbal spell during the final exam. It had taken her barely three years to reach the role of department head.
She was the woman that so many men wanted; the queen of their fantasies… she was Hermione Granger, head of the auror department…
… And thus, she would have to remain a fantasy, because she was unobtainable.
***
A/N: This first chapter is partly a tribute to all REAL women out there with real body shapes that aren’t remotely similar to the unhealthy-looking catwalk models or the dummies in shop windows!
Three cheers for looking gorgeous naturally!
***
She was the women that so many men wanted; the queen of their fantasies.
Skin tight, dove-grey trousers encased firm thighs, accenting the curve of her pert, firm bottom; her lower legs were encased in soft, black leather, knee-high boots (without heel), that laced up the back. Her legs looked longer than they actually were, but no man would complain if they were wrapped around their waist in passion! She walked with cool confidence, she knew who she was and wasn’t afraid of her inner strength.
Her soft, rounded hips swayed methodically as she moved; a seductive rocking that catwalk models would kill to achieve naturally; a hypnotic rhythm that rendered all men who gazed upon her powerless.
A rhythm she was completely unaware of.
A white tunic, with short sleeves, fell to her hips under a grey leather corset that laced up the back with ebony ribbons; little silver clips held the front. The tunic and corset covered her breasts and cleavage area completely, but the shadow of small swellings was visible. Her waist cinched in at the middle, but not so far as to be hourglass.
She wasn’t ashamed of her body image: she didn’t care that she wasn’t a stick-thin model; didn’t care that her boobs weren’t huge. She indulged in high calorie foods without guilt – and ignored the fashion-fad diets that deemed her “fat”.
She was most men’s wet dream come true.
A woman who was naturally stunningly attractive.
A real woman, with real curves.
Her hair fell in tight, springy curls to her chin, but stepped up to something shorter at the back – to some, the back was a ‘boyish’ style – but nobody could claim that the person was anything other than female.
Elbow-length, grey, calf leather gloves encased long, bony fingers; protecting them from the heat of curses and the cold weather. Her hands were a real clue to her mood: they accented her conversations with passion; she picked at the seams of the gloves when she was bored and her left hand’s little finger tapped when she was angry.
Sprinting down to the apperation point within the ministry of magic building, she had the attention of every male she passed. Grasping the wand that was strapped to her left arm in a black leather holster, she apperated to who-knows-where, five men dressed in a similar fashion following her lead.
She’d graduated from auror training after only completing two of the four years; and she’d rendered twelve qualified aurors unconscious with a non-verbal spell during the final exam. It had taken her barely three years to reach the role of department head.
She was the woman that so many men wanted; the queen of their fantasies… she was Hermione Granger, head of the auror department…
… And thus, she would have to remain a fantasy, because she was unobtainable.