Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 6: Muggle Shopping and the Daily Prophet

It had been three weeks from the day that Hermione had nearly lost her life. During that time, she had woken up in his arms on twenty one consecutive mornings, felt the warmth of his body and the hardness of his erection as he cuddled with her. Yet every single morning, he would kiss her good morning on the forehead as though she were a toddler, get ready for work, go to work, come home when he was scheduled to, and lock himself in his library.

Enough was enough.

Today Lucius had informed her over a tension- laden breakfast that they would practice dancing together; they would be doing a lot of it at various events. He had awaited her outside their bedroom, dressed in shirtsleeves and trousers, his hair tied back loosely. On impulse, she had dressed in a “swirly” skirt that spun out from her body when she turned, going only to her knees. She had buckled her new pumps at the bottom of the stairs, not noticing the heated looks Lucius was giving her.

“All right, let’s begin with a waltz. It is very much like the waltz you may have learned as a child, but this has an extra step. When I signal you by moving my hand like this, we will both turn as one toward one direction side by side and you will curtsy. Remember your posture, or the cord goes back on.”

She glared at him, but nodded in agreement.

“Let’s see how we work together. Starting position.”

It was a disaster. Hermione continually tried to lead, resulting in several squashed toes. Lucius attempted to exert more control over her movements, so they crashed into one another. After an hour of muffled curses and rising frustration, they mutually agreed to a break. Lucius disappeared into the library, and Hermione went into the formal sitting room, propping her stocking feet up on a sofa arm.

Her eyes had just closed for a nap when she felt her feet lifted from the sofa and placed on a lap. She gazed at him sleepily as he began to massage her arches. She sighed and tried to focus on Lucius; clearly he had sought her out for a reason. He hadn’t sought her company just to be near her for nearly a month, after all.

“I apologize for my behavior just now in the ballroom” he said quietly, sliding long fingers down her instep. “I don’t usually behave so deplorably, but I have been quite on edge recently.” Fingertips slid over the stockings and she sighed as she felt the warmth of his body against hers, even if it were just his hands.

“Lucius, we need to discuss what happened last month. If we are going to make this arrangement work, I have to be able to trust you. That whole mess had nothing to do with you missing one night of sex, I know that.”

His hands slid up to her calf, kneading the sore muscles. He was trying to relax her, and it was working. He was deep in thought, and she waited for him to speak.

“My love, I have already apologized for the incident you mention. My behavior was unforgivable, but I did my best to remedy it.” He moved the massaged leg to the side and picked up the other, again starting at her toes.

She watched him, trying to figure out in her mind what he wasn’t saying. His behavior was confusing to her; the tyrant in the ballroom a stark contrast to the almost submissive way he was catering to her now. The fury in the office before the shove into the fireplace had also been a horrible contrast from the way he had feasted on her the night before and nearly begged her to forgive him. His fantasy of being dominated privately, with the opposing displays of imagined dominance in places of power. Public Lucius. Private Lucius. Ah, now she understood.

“You were angry with me that day in your office because I had barged in unannounced, and then tried to take control. I thought you would like the surprise, but you didn’t like me interrupting your routine.”

“My love, when I am at work I must keep a number of proverbial balls in the air. Each of those balls is worth millions of galleons. I cannot afford to be distracted for any reason. Had you but owled me, I would have made arrangements to be available to you.”

“Would you have let me seduce you at your desk like I tried to?”

He shook his head. His eyes locked on hers for the first time in days, and he growled, “I would have bent you over my desk and fucked you until you couldn’t see straight.”

She nodded.

“Today in the ballroom, you consider that business.” He nodded his head in agreement.

“In society, it is all about business. Appearances matter; who you associate with, who I associate with; who I allow you to dance with, it is all business. That may sound controlling to you, but I insist on being in charge of any and all decisions regarding our public life. I know the rules and players far better than you do. I will also insist that my opinion is the one you consider whilst interacting with the society wives; they will be doing the same for their husbands.”

“What about when we are in our rooms abroad, or here at the Manor?”

“In those situations, I can afford to be a bit more…vulnerable. If you recall, I have denied you nothing you have sought whilst we are here. I indulge your whims here quite readily. As long as you are discreet and not discuss our private affairs with others, I see no reason why that cannot continue.” He finished her other leg and positioned it on his other side, effectively pinning himself between her legs. He grinned up at her, his look almost feral. She returned it.

“Oh dear, Lucius, You have put yourself in quite a predicament, haven’t you?”

“What would my love like me to do to earn my freedom?” His hands slid up her thighs, spreading them further. One finger slipped inside her panties and began to slowly stroke her.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, you have denied me my favorite pleasures for twenty one days now. I feel it is only right that your payment to me involve things I enjoy, don’t you?” She lifted her legs onto his shoulders, trying to reach for his belt buckle. He obliged, the clink and rasp of its’ release causing her heart to beat erratically.

“My love, had you but indicated to me you wanted me to involve myself in your pursuits, I would have done so. I thought your last attentions were the result of the ritual.” He had pushed his trousers down, freeing his cock from its confines. Moving closer, he positioned himself at her entrance, then slowly slid into her.

Their coupling was fast and rough; neither of them wanting to take the time to attend to niceties. She screamed her release so loudly, she was sure the entire elfish staff had heard and was running toward them. His corresponding roar likely sent them scurrying for cover.

Catching their breath, he lavished attention on her bared chest with licks and bites. Running her hands through his hair, a stray thought occurred to her.

“Pegram thinks I’m dead, doesn’t he? And since there has been no news of my demise, he thinks he has gotten away with it.”

Lucius raised his head, licking a rather impressive mark under her ribcage before answering.

“It is quite likely that he does. We must correct this horrible misconception, and should do it soon, I believe. I have not been to the last two “meetings”, and I think he may be getting a bit nervous.”

“Lucius, he could have killed me. He intended to kill me. He doesn’t deserve to be out with the general public; he needs to be locked away for life.”

Dextrous fingers worked their way up her back, massaging each vertebrae. Kisses accompanied each massaged area and she tried to stay on topic.

“My love, we will hold him accountable for what he has done. At present, however, he has Wizengamot officials and other politicians in power in his debt. We must break his hold on them first; alienate him from his allies and leave him vulnerable. Only then will we be able to strike. To do otherwise would be premature and foolish.”

He ended his massage with his hands in her hair, thumbs easing the tension in the top of her neck. Hermione felt boneless, and it took every bit of energy to pull him close to her. He allowed the movement, basking in the warmth of her arms.

“We will not sleep here in a public room on a couch. It is completely undignified.” Moments later he had apparated them into the master bedroom, sprawled on the bed.

“So tired,” she muttered. He grinned, pressing a kiss into her temple. Truthfully, he was exhausted as well, the tension of the past few days leaving him. She had accepted him again, and they were back on track. They had public events starting in England at the end of next week; they needed to provide a united front in public. Plus, they now had a joint cause; bringing Pegram to his knees. Hermione was right in her argument to him the day he had sent her to the bastard in an impulsive rage: she would be a good ally. The perverted swine didn’t stand a chance.

His mind swirling with plots and plans to discuss with Hermione when they awoke, he allowed himself to be drawn into sleep, his arms pulling her close.

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After an extended nap, dance lessons resumed. Hermione was a far better student with adequate rest and focus. Once she had accepted he would be in charge, Lucius was able to move her gracefully around the ballroom. She had adapted surprisingly well to his movements, and even when teaching her more complex moves, she caught on quickly. She still needed work, but he was pleased that she was able to at least manage the basics.

His mother had often told him that a man could tell a lot about a lady’s character by the way she danced. A woman who insisted on fancy flourishes and had restricted her movement by a tight corset or an overabundance of petticoats would be vain and spend more than she ought; a woman who was too precise in her movements and unable to adapt to changing conditions on the dance floor would be too rigid and unyielding. Women who had poor form and clumsy steps would be influenced heavily by others and were unable to be trusted. Over the years, Lucius had found her guidance to be accurate.

Hermione was confident in her movement, but not excessively so. She mirrored his steps well, keeping her posture erect despite the fact he knew it probably hurt her to do so. She had insisted on her high heels instead of court shoes, but he admitted it made her taller and improved her posture. Finally, her blush as he caught her gaze gave her an innocence that he found refreshing. In short, she was perfect. His late mother would have found her acceptable, well if she was able to disregarde Hermione’s bloodline.

Leading her to a waiting table laden with lunch, he seated her before himself. She smiled again at the small courtesy; clearly she had not been keeping company with men who counted good manners among their talents. He found himself on occasion working to earn that small but delighted smile she so often wore.

Over lunch, they began to plot their strategy.

“I believe we should make a public appearance tomorrow night, perhaps at the French Laundress?”

“So soon?” Her fork froze midway to her mouth.

“Yes, I believe so. It will give the public time to see us as a couple.” He watched as she attempted to covertly fish the raw onion out of her salad and tuck it behind a lettuce leaf.
“Besides raw onion, is there anything you object to eating?” She looked up to see him watching her and flushed. She quickly looked down at her salad plate.

“I’m not all that picky. I can always find something I like.”

“Yes, but as it falls to me to order for you at restaurants, I would prefer to be made aware of what you don’t like.”

She looked up from her onion hunt. “What do you mean, you’ll be ordering for me? I can pick out my own meal.”

He closed his eyes, as if trying for patience. “My love, one of my customary duties is to order for you. We can of course discuss the menu, but I insist on placing the order myself. A lady should not address the waiter directly. It also makes it appear as though a gentleman doesn’t know his lady well enough to order for her.”

“That seems foolish. This is the 21st century.”

He looked at her, a glare on his face that made her sigh and throw up her hands.

“Fine. I don’t like raw onions, veal, lamb or any sort of game meat, avocados or any organ meats like kidneys or liver. I prefer coffee to tea, and will not drink decaffeinated versions of either. I despise pumpkin juice and butterbeer, and prefer firewhiskey or muggle scotch. I like anything with chocolate, most cheeses and bread.” She crossed her arms in front of him and met his eyes. He appeared to be cataloging her likes and dislikes in his mind. Finally he nodded.

“I understand.” He leaned back in his chair, as though waiting for her next barrage of questions.

“What do you not like, foodwise?”

He thought about it. “ Like you, I do not like organ meats, but I do eat both veal and lamb. I have never had muggle scotch, but I enjoy firewhiskey. I would like to point out that ladies do not drink whiskey in public, so if you are not fond of fruity drinks I would cultivate a taste for either martinis or wine. I quite like avocados, but despise olives of any sort. I am very fond of cheeses and breads as well, although I dislike the muggle white bread I was forced to try one afternoon at a luncheon. I do not like celery or smoked salmon. I believe that is about all.”

She smiled at his warning about what “ladies” drank. Rising from the table, she placed her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. He was at her side in an instant to help her stand.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve told you already. I have a waxing appointment in muggle London, then I’m meeting Luna for dinner.” She stood hands on hips while he appeared to consider the issue.

“I don’t understand this waxing. The way you explain it makes it sound like they pour hot wax on you and rip it off taking the hair with it.”

“That’s exactly what they do.”

“It sounds barbaric. Not to mention incredibly painful. I can’t imagine why anyone would put themselves through it.”

“Unlike purebloods, muggles like their skin to be soft and silky. You don’t seem to object to the efforts I make.” He slid his hand under her skirt and stroked her gently.

“Go, by all means. Just be back by 1900, I will need time to inspect the results of your waxing before we retire. I also want to talk to you about a more private matter.”

She moved closer and kissed him deeply. “Why won’t you ask me now?”

“I believe it is a subject that will require delicate negotiation, so I will need to give it some thought. Go, witch, and be back by seven.” She kissed him again, then yelping as he swatted her bottom, hurried to the apparition point.
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The fire in the study was crackling merrily, and the wind was howling outside the Manor as Lucius sat in one of the two Queen Anne chairs facing the fire. A balloon glass of brandy was in his hand, the alcohol glowing in the firelight. He was silent for a moment as he pondered his companion’s question.

“Severus, I haven’t spoken about it with her yet. We’ve only just fully made up.”

The dark man scowled. “I don’t believe Miss Granger will agree to your proposed arrangement. I still have trouble believing she is as wanton as you say she is. Miss Granger has always struck me as a bit of a prude to be honest with you.”

“You witnessed her response to us at the healing ritual.”

“Yes, but we were using powerful magic, magic that is known as an aphrodisiac. She would have come to the attentions of Longbottom.”

Lucius grimaced.

“If you intend to ask her to engage in a tryst with more than one man, you’ll need to do it while her mind is clear. She cannot be drunk or under a spell.”

“I’m aware of that Severus.” He snapped, swirling the amber liquid in his glass again.

The deputy headmaster watched his oldest friend, and took pity on him. Lucius was a boastful man, but he rarely lied. If he claimed that the Gryffindor princess liked rough sex and had fantasized about being with more than one man, he would believe him. Muggle women were known to be considerably more free with their sexual expression than purebloods, where sex was used as both a weapon and a bargaining chip. However, his claims about the bossy swot of Gryffindor fingering herself whilst Lucius watched or sucking his cock without reserve struck such a formal wizard as a bit odd. Purebloods rarely engaged in such behavior with their wives; those were the activities one had a mistress or paid a prostitute for.

Still, the two men had shared two women before. The sex had been fantastic, but came at a high price. Since then the subject had not been broached, certainly not when Narcissa resided in the manor.

The first had been a muggleborn witch whilst they were in Hogwarts. Anna had been a major fan of coitus and oral sex, but had drawn the line at the more debauched scenarios the boys had dreamed up. She had gone home for the summer, and never returned to Hogwarts. They had been disappointed, but that had been the summer Lucius had become acquainted with Narcissa Black, so Lucius had little time for games while he was trying to pass himself off as a gentleman. Narcissa had hated sex, complaining about the sweating and the smell and the messed up hair that came with a good shag. That was why they had found Antonia.

Antonia was a half blood married witch Severus had met at a potions conference. The two had met several times, then came the fateful introduction. She had begun a sort of affair with them, based mainly on her love of a particularly unusual form of sex for a witch: buggery. She had been terrified of getting pregnant, so this activity eliminated the risk. She had consented to being simultaneously being shared by them on only two blissful occasions. Unfortunately her fear of being caught had ended the liasons.

“I believe that Hermione will take to us enthusiastically”, Lucius reiterated, drawing Severus’ attention once again. “You should see the undergarments she wears, Severus. There is barely anything to them, just scraps of lace and silk. After decades of Narcissa’s three layer underclothes that covered her from shoulders to knees, I get hard watching my witch read, those plump tits barely restrained mocking me.” He sipped his brandy and stared into the crackling fire, lost in thought.


Hermione stood outside the door, the men inside oblivious to her presence. So that was what he wanted to talk to her about, she thought with surprise. Professor Snape was not a man she considered sexy as a general rule, however she had entertained a bit of a schoolgirl crush on the man during her Hogwarts years. She vaguely remembered his presence during the ritual that saved her life; he had been so gentle then. Was she willing to do this?
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Moments later, she had made her decision. Slipping silently to her bedroom, she showered quickly to warm up, then dried herself and slipped on lingerie she had not worn for Lucius yet. Collecting a pair of heels, she hurried back downstairs, pausing at the door to slip them on. Knocking lightly, she entered the room before she could lose her nerve.

The men turned to look at her as she approached, their mouths agape. She had worn a silvery sheer demi-bra, one that propped her breasts up as though they were plump little pillows. The black lace overlay did nothing to hide her rosy nipples, and the lacy thong she wore barely covered anything at all. She moved toward them, her eyes meeting briefly with Lucius’ before she turned to look at Severus.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I came home early because of the dreadful weather, and remembered you wanted to inspect my waxing.”

Lucius met her eyes for a moment; then caught his friend’s wrist before he could stand to leave. “Why don’t you show us, my love. I’m certain Severus is as eager as I to learn about muggle customs.”

She moved in front of the fire, feeling the heat at her back as she turned to face them. Unfastening the front clasp, she slipped the bra off her shoulder and let it fall to the floor. Moving closer, she stood in front of Lucius. With a devilish grin, he licked her nipple, then caught it between his teeth. Nipping gently, he watched as she moaned, reached down and caressed his erection. He released her nipple with a kiss and watched as she moved toward his friend.

Severus reached up and kissed her slowly, savoring the taste of her lips. He jumped as she reached for his trousers, running her nails up the hardening shaft. He sucked in a breath as she cupped his balls, before blowing him a kiss and returning to the front of the room.

When Hermione turned to look at them men, she saw a hunger in their eyes she hadn’t ever seen before. Pride and lust shone in Lucius as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers, and Severus stared at her like a starving man looking at a feast laden table. With a blush, she lowered her panties, kicking them away once they reached the ground. Fully nude, she moved toward Lucius once again.

“Severus, I have wondered about muggles for some time. Do you think they taste the same as a pureblood? I mean to say, do you believe that the habit of grooming their most private areas make one more fully able to experience their unique flavor?” He propped one of Hermione’s heeled feet on a chair arm, not blocking Severus’view as he lowered his mouth to her smooth labia.

Hermione felt like she was on fire. The forbidden experience of being watched by her former professor as one of the most powerful men in England laved her cunt was almost more than she could handle. She lowered her hands into the silken blonde tresses and turned her head to meet hungry black eyes. She closed her own eyes, surrendering herself to the sensation.

Moments later, she heard the rustle of fabric and then smelled the scent of cypress and tobacco as her breast was taken into a warm mouth. First one, then the other was licked clean and suckled in a perverse parody of nursing. One hand left the cornsilk blonde hair to tangle into the dark locks she had always falsely believed were oily.

Her climax minutes later shook her, causing her to lose her balance and nearly crash to the floor as she moaned. Four hands caught her and she was scooped up and gently laid on the antique Persian rug in front of the fire. Moments later, the fire was being banked and an errant spark popped and flew out of the grate, landing on Hermione’s bare tummy and making her hiss in pleasure.

“Severus, it appears that she looks, tastes, smells and sounds different from any pureblood I’ve ever known. She is really rather exquisite. I wonder though, are there any senses that we have neglected to test in our experiment?” Lucius looked down into her eyes, and saw no fear, only excitement. At that moment, he knew he would never let her go when the contract was up. She was his witch, now and forever.

“I believe we have in fact forgotten one very important sense. Lord Malfoy.” Severus voice was silky and seductive, a tone that very few had ever heard him use. Hermione shivered.

“Ah yes, Severus my friend. We have forgotten touch. We must explore whether deep inside, muggles feel the same as a pureblood witch. How silly of me to have overlooked it.”

Lucius knelt by her head, kissing her deeply. Reaching forward, he hooked his arms below her knees and sat back, resting her head in his lap. Her legs were stretched impossibly wide, and she felt the heat from the fire on her inner lips, a rather odd sensation. With a hiss, she felt a warm cock at her entrance hesitate momentarily and then move inside her. As her inner walls stretched, she had a second to wonder at the fact that she was being fucked by the last living Death Eaters before her mind shut down and she gave herself over to the sensation.


Severus had not lasted long; his last experience of being buried deep inside a woman too long ago to remember. He had just pulled out of her, pressing kisses onto her breasts when the letter flew out of the fireplace. Ripping it open, Hermione recognized the Headmistress’ precise script. Snarling, he leaned over to kiss her, then stood and went to find his robes. Moments later he was ready to leave for the castle, apparently to pass judgement on two students found in Hogsmeade after curfew. Lucius called him to accompany him into the hall, tossing a shirt over Hermione’s nakedness before he left. A heated argument in low voices ensued, then Severus hurried to the fire and was gone in a flash of flames.

“Those students are in serious trouble”, she giggled as Lucius clipped his hair up with one of her hair clips that had been discarded in the drawing room a few days prior. He looked ridiculous; but as he pulled her onto his lap and buried himself to the hilt inside her, the laughing stopped.

“Severus did not attend to your pleasure. He just got off and got out”, he said almost angrily as he grabbed her hips.

“Well, he was interrupted. Besides, you are just the man for the job.” She moaned as he thrust deeply into her.

“Perhaps Bill Weasley would be more accommodating to you. He certainly has a more feral quality that you seem to enjoy.” The thrusting continued, deep and pleasurable. Lucius muttered about Severus’ inadequacies until he felt her walls clench and then begin to spasm, signaling her climax. Sighing with satisfaction, he allowed himself to come.
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Chapter 6B: The Prophet

Hermione did her best to ignore the stares as they were whisked past the crowd of waiting patrons and into the private dining room. Lucius seemed used to the attention, and seemed to incite whispers as he leaned over to press a kiss to her neck as they waited for a plate-laden waiter to pass. The maitre’d waved them through with a flourish, and Hermione entered a room unlike any she had ever seen before.

White tablecloths covered mahogany tables that were scattered around the room. The walls were covered with large moving murals of Parisian landmarks in shades of sepia. Hermione was enthralled by one of the Louvre, the well known pyramid sparkling as painted people entered and departed from the open doors. Lucius seated her at their table, located so as to command a view of the entire room.

Her heart was pounding with nerves as she reached for her water glass, trying to ignore the stares. Lucius put his hand over hers briefly, then smirked as she visibly relaxed and picked up her menu. The prices were astronomical, but Lucius barely batted an eye as he ordered a bottle of wine almost as old as she was.
A flash out of the corner of her eye almost caused her to turn toward it.
“We’re being watched. The Prophet, I think.” The waiter appeared before she could respond.

Hermione had to admit, the food here was a million times better than she was accustomed to in the muggle world. Lucius had ordered her “Pork with Winter Fruits and Port Sauce”, a blend of tart and sweet that had her wanting to lick the plate when it was gone. Lucius had been equally pleased with his berbere -crusted lamb, the spicy fragrance wafting over to her. They were lingering over coffee when a familiar voice drew their attention.

“Lord Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise.”

A large dark skinned man was standing before them, accompanied by a sour faced woman in robes so tight, it was a wonder she managed to breathe. Hermione recognized him immediately as the man she had seen the day Lucius and Pegram tricked her into the contract. Of course, at that time he was pounding into a young thing who in no way resembled this woman in front of him that was obviously his wife. Lucius glanced at her briefly, and she nodded in understanding. She would not mention they had met before.
“Your Excellency, allow me to introduce to you Miss Hermione Granger. Hermione, his Excellency Marchbanks, head of the Wizengamot.”

The man’s widened slightly at the name.

“Lucius, we have missed you at Pegram’s meetings the past two weeks. We were beginning to think you had lost interest.”

Lucius took Hermione’s hand and smiled at her, a secretive smile that made her blush. He grinned, ignoring the fact that Marchbanks’ eyes were currently glued on Hermione’s cleavage.
“Quite honestly, I am losing interest in the whole endeavor. Pegram damaged something I treasure quite dearly, and I have no desire to associate myself with a man of such brutishness. A business is like a woman, responding to devotion and affection. In the two years I have been coming to meetings, the department has produced little of value, and I don’t see the devotion that is required to grow the business. As such, I have lost interest in his endeavors and have found more pleasurable ways to spend my energy.”

“I’m sure. I’d rather be free of him as well; he has been rather unpredictable lately. If you can find a way out of the arrangement he is pushing, the Wizengamot would be very happy, myself included” Marchbanks agreed, apparently mesmerized by the way Hermione’s breasts heaved as she breathed. Mrs. Marchwood made an odd sound in her throat and nearly dragged her husband away from them. Lucius’ smile widened. One down.

“Shall we leave, my love?”
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Hermione awakened to the smell of coffee. Opening her eyes she saw a cup of the brew placed on her night table. Lucius was already dressed and seated in an armchair by her bed reading the morning Prophet. Sitting up, she reached for the cup.
“Are we in there?” she asked, chancing a sip. It was actually quite good; Lucius had flavored it with just a bit of cream, just as she liked it. His smile was grim as he handed over the paper.
“Just remember that Skeeter is Pegram’s sister in law. We have obviously found another fish to fry”, he said simply. Hermione read the article in growing horror.

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“Prince and the Pauper?” blared the front page with Rita Skeeter’s byline. The article went on.


Last evening the crème of magical society was stunned to witness one of the most bizarre match-ups since the end of the war. Lucius Malfoy, Chief Executive Wizard of Malfoy, Inc. and notorious playboy, was seen by yours truly at the French Laundress in Diagon Alley. Lord Malfoy is often seen at the Laundress (as those of us in the know call it); what was shocking was whom he was dining with… lowly Ministry grant writer Hermione Granger.

Those who have read my book “The Buzz: Magical Society Insider Tells All” May remember my coverage several years ago of Miss Granger when she was a student at Hogwarts. Even in her earliest years, Miss Granger was known for attaching herself to well known wizards to advance her own self interest. Although a muggleborn witch in her mid-20’s, Granger has already been linked to celebrities like Viktor Krum and war heroes and celebrity endorsers Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.

Miss Granger did not receive an Order of Merlin following the war, leaving this reporter to assume that Granger’s role was more in line with distracting and comforting the wizards in the war effort instead of taking a direct role in the fighting. After the war, Granger attended muggle and wizarding universities and emerged with degrees in Potions and Chemistry (a muggle science). She secured a position as an entry -level grant writer for the Department of Experimental Potions and has remained there for several years. Lionel Pegram, her direct supervisor, calls Granger’s efforts “adequate at best”. While it is unknown how Granger managed to get her claws into Lord Malfoy, she is apparently resuming her climb to the top of the society ladder as the witch behind (or should I say beneath) those in power.
At the Laundress, Miss Granger chose to ignore the “formal dress” dress code and arrived in a knee length muggle dress showing ample amounts of what must be magically enhanced cleavage and high heeled shoes normally equated in her native muggle world with prostitutes.(see picture, above).

For his part, Lord Malfoy was clad in robes from renowned Italian designer Vicenzo, and carried himself with his usual elegance. One would assume he was trying to woo her to work for his well respected potions department; however he was seen in the Laundress kissing the Granger woman’s neck, an act so intimate it’s clear he has already sampled Miss Granger’s charms. He spoke briefly with Wizengamot officials before making his way out with the barely clad witch clinging to him like a lifeline.

Harry Potter, Granger’s former lover, has gone on record as being “shocked and outraged” at the pairing. Another lover, Ron Weasley, has described Granger as having “gone mental”, when approached at an advertising shoot for Pavarti Patil’s new fragrance for wizards, Prophecy (20 galleons/2oz. available at apothecaries throughout London). In society circles, Lady Eleanor Rosier-Fudge, the presumptive escort to Lord Malfoy for society season, has said she was “horrified and humiliated” at Lord Malfoy’s dalliance with a woman of such ill repute. She goes on to say, “I hope he comes to his senses soon, there’s very little time for me to meet with designers before the start of calendar.”

This reporter invites readers to speculate with her on what in the name of Merlin himself Lord Malfoy is doing lowering himself to consort with such a gold-digger as Granger. –Skeeter, London.
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Coming Up Next: Society Season begins, and the first strike against Pegram and Skeeter.
Authors Note: Sorry this has taken so long to update; I promise to do better in future. For those of you who enjoyed Last Exit to Eden, I have begun another mystery titled “Sins of the Father”. The first chapter is now up.-LV