The Masked Lady

Chapter 2: A Worthy Cause









Hermione J. Granger, Director of Charity for the Ministry of Magic stormed into her office and kicked the door closed behind her with a viciousness that stunned the man sitting there waiting for her. She didn’t even notice Harry Potter sitting on the small settee against the wall as she threw her files onto the desk and gave her wastebasket a swift, brutal kick. She was muttering beneath her breath, clearly frustrated as she clenched and un-clenched her fists repeatedly as she paced back and forth in front of the window charmed to display an ocean sunset.







“Rough meeting?” Harry asked, somewhat amused as he stared at his harried friend. He loved Hermione more than almost anything else in the world. She was the most amazing witch he had ever known both academically and professionally. She was a loving, kind and understanding friend and she had a wicked sense of humor but when it came to her personal appearance she was just a mess. She didn’t seem to give it much thought if he was honest about it.







She was standing in front of him wearing a pair of khaki trousers that were at least 3 sizes too big for her, a hideous wool jumper that swallowed her from neck to mid thigh and a pair of brown leather loafers that had definitely seen better days. Her hair was wrestled into an extremely messy knot on the back of her head with curls escaping all around her face. She would be quite lovely with a little effort.







She looked up, startled at first to hear another’s voice in her office then visibly relaxed when she realized it was only Harry. She gave an exasperated sigh and fell into her chair, slumping down into the leather wearily.







“It’s the same story every quarter. There is always plenty of funding for spells, charms, and potions, a healthy budget for entertaining and foreign relations, but there is never quite enough funds available to increase the budget for charity.” She slammed her hand onto the desktop in frustration. “It’s ridiculous, Harry! I despise politics.”







“So you didn’t get the increase I take it.” He knew it was wearing on her to be continuously denied the funds she needed to actually do some good. She had been forced to cut several programs from her aid roster, most of them educational scholarships so she could shift the funds into programs that provided basic necessities such as food and housing.







“Of course I didn’t! But potions got an increase in their budget so that they can create a potion for erectile dysfunction! People are starving to death, children are going without magical education so that randy old wizards can get it up! It just doesn’t make sense to me, Harry! The government’s priorities are seriously screwed up.” She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths then reached into her desk drawer and withdrew a soda and a chocolate bar. She was self medicating her frustration as she always did with caffeine and sweets. “I’m sorry, I needed to vent, what brings you in here, Harry?”







“The same actually. I need to vent.” He ran his fingers through hair in desperate need of a haircut. “I need to ask you some questions too.”







“Alright.” She popped the top on her soda and waited.







“She struck again.” He said, shaking his head back and forth slowly. “The papers have labeled her The Masked Lady. She hit the theater fundraiser in the High Wizard’s District last night. Same story, she swiped a few pieces of jewelry, picked a few pockets, chose a few select wizards and witches to mug outside the theater. The witnesses who were in direct contact with her gave the same story, younger woman dressed in black leather, long dark hair and a black mask over her eyes.”







“Any leads?” She asked, sitting back in the chair and taking a long drink from her soda.







“Not a one. Whoever she is she is doing a fine job of covering her tracks, she doesn’t use magic so there is no way to trace her magical signature, she leaves behind no evidence to be collected and traced via muggle law enforcement techniques either.” He was clearly frustrated. “I need to know if you have received another anonymous donation, Hermione.”







“No, I haven’t. You have no way of knowing that the previous donations came from the thief, Harry, it could simply be some good Samaritan who doesn’t feel the need for recognition.” She said. Harry gave her a look that said he knew different.







“Mione, come on, it’s no coincidence that the woman told her marks that their money would go to a good cause and then your office received anonymous donations within a week of each event. You know the donations came from the thief.” He reached across her desk for a piece of her chocolate and fell back into the settee with a groan.







“I know nothing of the sort, Harry. The donations are left in an unmarked envelope with a note saying how the funds are to be used. No postmark, no address and no signature, therefore I refuse to speculate, I am simply grateful for the boost to my budget.” She handed him her soda and watched him take a drink. “Who has filed complaints?”







“Several affluent families actually, though in all truth she really doesn’t take all that much. Jewels, furs and their pocket money. She is never violent and polite by all accounts. The women say she is whorish but the men say she is quite beautiful despite the mask. No one recognizes the voice or any of her body language, she uses a sleeve on her wand to hide it so we cant get an ID that way…she really knows what she is doing.” He was frustrated by the case, by the fact that this woman seemed to disappear without a trace.









“Who really cares if she takes a few baubles and the pocket change from someone who isn’t going to miss it and gives it to a good cause?” Hermione said softly.









“I do, Mione. She is breaking the law and it’s my job to uphold it. We can’t have people going around with “Robin Hood” complexes robbing the rich to feed the poor!” He argued.









“I don’t agree. I think someone needs to do what is right, the wealthy get by with far too much and do far too little for worthy causes. I would feel differently of course if someone were stealing simply for their own personal gain, but they aren’t, every last sickle was donated so it wasn’t so much stealing as it is forced philanthropy.” She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet onto her desk.







“You know, you have a strange way of justifying things sometimes, Mione. I wonder if you would feel the same if it was…say….a wizard using the killing curse on pedophiles. Would you consider that justice or murder?” He mocked her pose from the settee. They often engaged in such debates. He got a bit of a thrill out of riling her, always had. She had a rather fiery temper once you got her going, not that you would know it by looking at her. It was that volatile nature that had ultimately brought her engagement to Ron to an end.







He nearly chuckled at the memories. Ron had never been able to handle Hermione and her spirit. To the world she was a mousy intellectual who fought for worthless causes and lived her life for her job and her books. But to those who knew her well she was a bit wild, a bit out of control at times, emotional and passionate. According to Ron her ‘passions’ could kill a man in their intensity, not that Harry wanted to know that about Hermione but Ron was his best friend and brother-in-law so he had listened to him vent like a good friend should. She was just too much witch for Ron in the end and they had walked away, still friends.







“That is a tough call. Pedophiles are notoriously given light sentences in favor of “rehabilitation” and the majority of sex offenders re-offend. In this hypothetical scenario would they be cursing repeat offenders only or all offenders?” Her brow was furrowed in contemplation.







“Does it matter?” He asked. It was a stupid question, of course it mattered, it was Hermione after all. “All offenders.”







“Alright…well, though they rightly deserve to be castrated, and I still do not understand why the ministry doesn’t do it with a spell or a potion…it would be murder. Though justified to a degree.” She said.





“Thank Merlin you didn’t become the prison warden, or worse a magistrate. You can be brutal in your justice.” Harry said shaking his head. He sat up and smiled at his friend. She was all he had since Ron had defected to the Romanian precinct. “Can you justify having dinner with me tonight? Gin is working late and I don’t fancy eating alone.”







“I think I can wrap my mind around a little dinner.” She grinned, wagging her feet back and forth, her mood certainly lifted by her best friend.

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It was late, nearing midnight as Lucius left his gentleman’s club. It was a rather chilly night and snow flurries danced on the wind in front of him. His coach was not waiting for him and he found himself irritated despite the fact that he had had a rather lucrative evening at the card table. The streets were empty, the gas lamps casting the snowy ground in a soft golden glow. He tapped his cane against his shoe for another several seconds before growing impatient and heading down the street towards a public apparation point.





He would have preferred a nice, relaxing ride in his comfortable, warm carriage instead of resorting to a common method such as apparation. He would definitely be minus a coachman come morning. It was impossible to find decent help now that the ministry forced them to pay servants a wage. They were cocky and lazy now that room and board were no longer their only payment. No doubt the young wizard he had hired as his driver was either pissed out of his mind or busy tupping some young witch. He had better not be doing it in his carriage or he would not receive severance pay.





He huddled beneath his cloak, his custom made leather shoes leaving tracks in the wet snow as he walked quickly along the pavement. He stopped suddenly when the gas lamps on his side of the street suddenly went out. The back of his neck itched the way it had during his death eater days when he felt threatened. His hand tightened on the head of his cane and he slowly withdrew his wand from the hollowed shaft.







“Well if it isn’t Mr. Malfoy.” The familiar, sultry rasp had an immediate affect on him as his pulse began to race and his balls began to tingle.







“We meet again.” He said into the night, his fingers wrapped tightly about his wand. “Will you show yourself to me this time?” He heard her low chuckle and watched as a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows against a building.







“Did you want an image to go with your fantasy, Mr. Malfoy?” The way she purred his name sent shivers down his spine.







“What fantasy would that be, my lady thief?” She was coming towards him, her cloak thrown back behind her as she walked towards him with a lazy sway of her hips. She was dressed in tight black leather pants that were tucked into a pair of knee high boots with a deadly spiked heel tipped in silver, they didn’t seem very practical for a thief but that was neither here nor there. A leather corset top nipped in her waist and plumped her breasts delightfully over the top. Long smooth leather gloves covered her arms almost to her shoulders. Her hair was long, glossy and curled softly down her back, her skin the color of rich cream and her lips shiny and red. A black mask covered her eyes and the upper part of her face just enough to make identifying her impossible.









“You know what fantasy I speak of, Mr. Malfoy.” She teased, that lush, glossy mouth tilting up in a knowing smirk. “I’ve thought about you several times since our last meeting. Your response was very interesting, intriguing.”







“So you thought to seek me out?” He asked, swallowing hard as he pictured those round thighs around his waist, the heel of those boots sinking into his ass as he rode her hard. If only he knew who she was.







“Your arrogance is astounding, Mr. Malfoy. I did not come here tonight to seek you out. In fact I was rather finished for the evening when I happened to catch sight of you walking in my direction. I just couldn’t leave without saying hello after such an intimate previous encounter.” She was only inches away from him now, not a single sign of fear in her tight, curvy little body. “Hello, Mr. Malfoy.”







“Who are you?” He asked, his voice deep and raspy.







“It doesn’t matter who I am.” She smiled and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her lips. “It was good to see you again.” She took a step back and slowly faded into the shadows. Lucius darted for her but it was too late, she was gone and left no trace of magic or footprints to follow, it was almost as if she hadn’t been there at all.







“God damn that woman.” He cursed, shoving his wand back into the shaft roughly. He pursed his lips and covertly adjusted his erection beneath his cloak. That was twice now that the witch, and he knew she was a witch, had gotten him hard only this time he had seen her…sort of. It was during his adjustment that he noticed the lightening of his pockets. “Well I’ll be damned….that little bitch fleeced me again.”