"Woman" Series, HG/AW

Sooooo... I've got this awesome plot, but I had to insert this little four thousand word segway into the mix. Trust me, you'll enjoy this little plot twist. *Rubs hands together evilly.* Oh yes, my pretties, the plot thickens. No juicy lemons this chapter but I promise I'll make up for it! There are LOADS more to come! So basically this was an additional chappy that took on a life of it's own but that's okay. The more the better, right? Without further ado, here you are and please remember all I get for thanks is my reviews!!! Please review I love hearing from my fans!

A Scarlet Woman


Hermione finished the last of her work for the day and pulled off her torn robes with disgust. It was highly idiotic of the Ministry to conform Magical Creatures field operatives to the stuffy, ugly robes that were assigned, but one mustn’t’ rock the boat of impropriety and give the general populace the wrong impression about wizarding government’, as the flaccid fool of a Minister had trumpeted to her the one time she had dared to question the uniform.

Thankfully, her work had taken her to the outskirts of wizarding Britain, along the coast to a place where the salty spray of the ocean blasted her with the occasional shower, even as far in as she was with the Gryphons she’d been overseeing the care of. She turned her nose into the wind, grateful for the solitude that was afforded her by the job. As much as she’d enjoyed helping her friends through school, it was so nice to just get away from it all while getting paid to do what she loved. The friendly young man she’d worked with nodded gratefully to her and gingerly made his way back to the breeding pair, fussing about them to settle them in for the evening.

Hermione Apparated back to the Ministry. Normally, she was able to go about her business or go right home, but today she needed to replace her hated uniform. She arrived at the proper desk and registered more paperwork with the registrar as to the reason for her robes replacement. Then she filled out the proper report, as long as she was there, to conclude the day’s job and the progress of the Gryphons, finally stalking tiredly down the hall to the Floo. She’d promised she’d meet with Harry, and although she’d no desire to head to the Leaky for a pint, it was his preferred watering hole after Quidditch practice on a minor league team or a long work day.

The unmistakable blond head of Lucius Malfoy swept around the corner just in front of her. Hermione slowed her steps deliberately, hoping he’d get far enough ahead of her so as not to see her and decide he had some pressing, inane pureblood business to bother her with. The man was much more nosy, now that he’d not as many connections afforded him, what with his young relative usurping a good deal of influence with the Malfoy name and societal positioning. Lucius had become a social brown noser. His job was an informal one, a sort of influential PR head he had bought and schmoozed his way into. It rankled Hermione that the man could basically get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted just because he was wealthy.

She darted to an opposite line for the Floo when he stopped to natter with another wizard she didn’t recognize. The line grew shorter, as did her patience, counting down the people in front of her to leave the Ministry. Just as she was to step into the green flames a long, slender cane was thrust in front of her moving body. Caught off guard, she flung herself to the side and was neatly caught by Lucius himself.

“You going or not?” muttered the dumpy old witch behind her.

“Sod off,” Hermione grumbled, wrenching herself free of Malfoy’s grasp.

“No manners these days, I tell ya,” the hag bitched as she disappeared into the flames.

Hermione glared into the crystalline grey eyes of her usurper. “Do you mind?” she asked rudely.

“Actually, I do. Please allow me to apologize for detaining you, Miss Granger. If you’d be so kind as to have a word with me in private?” he indicated smoothly, gesturing regally toward a side hallway she’d never been down before.

Hermione looked from the hallway back up to Malfoy’s cool, expectant gaze. “Actually, I’m meeting a friend. So the answer is no, I am not available to have a word in private. You’ll have to catch me another time.”

With that flippant dismissal, she quickly jumped in front of another Ministry worker just as the flames turned green and disappeared to her destination.

“Pity,” Malfoy murmured. With a bold flourish of his expensive robes, Lucius strolled as if he hadn’t a care in the world, back to his own private Ministry office to send an Owl to one very special reporter who did side work for a gossip tabloid he privately, and secretly, owned. It truly was a pity she’d brushed him off so. No one dismissed a Malfoy and got away with it.


---

Hermione sagged into her chair opposite Harry after he’d hugged her with a wide, boyish grin.

“Hiya ‘Mione. You look like you’ve been run down by a Lorry,” he observed, taking a deep draught from his pint.

Hermione nodded tiredly while ordering herself a shot of Firewhiskey. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at the stiff drink, but didn’t otherwise comment. They’d some catching up to do and she seemed on edge lately. It was best to let her take her time explaining things, if she felt inclined.

The two sat in companionable semi-silence for a while, the soft clink of glasses, the soft susurrus of mixed conversations, and the arrival of more after-work folks tumbling through the Floo like a balm to Hermione’s battered nerves. After a second shot of Firewhiskey she switched to plain water. It wouldn’t do to be sloshed before she got home.

She reached across the table and grabbed Harry’s hand, squeezing it once and gracing him with her beautiful smile. He returned it and squeezed back, running his thumb casually over the top of her own smaller one.

“You’re alright now, yeah?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, keeping hold of his hand. She blushed and broke eye contact, studying the various cracks in the table. Knowing he’d want an explanation sooner or later, she decided to get right to the point.

“It’s not what you think,” she said in a near whisper. Harry leaned in closer to catch her low tones.

“Who’s judging? I’m just curious, is all. It’s your life, ‘Mione. You can sleep with whoever you want. I’m just worried you’ll get hurt. Snape’s not the nicest wizard around.”

He wasn’t shocked by the vehemence of her reply, but winced nonetheless. She had a quick temper, and he’d been on the receiving end of her wand on more than one occasion.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she seethed, pulling her hand away, nostrils flaring. “I know that! I had no choice!” Her hand clapped over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that much.

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together to compliment his deep frown. “What do you mean, you had no choice? Did Snape do something to force you?”

“No! It wasn’t like that!” she tried to amend, but Harry was already clenching his fists into tight balls on the weathered tabletop. “I’ll kill him if he’s hurt you.”

“Don’t say things like that! I’m trying to explain, but I can’t tell you everything. You have to trust me!”

Harry studied his friend. This Hermione was definitely someone that had grown in a different direction from him. In a way, it was his own fault for not returning her owls, turning her down when she asked him out for a drink, but that hadn’t happened in a long while. More recently, she’d been the one to turn down his and Ginny’s offers to socialize. It had been a two-way street, he supposed, and there was nothing to be done but start at the beginning again.

Gently, he unclenched his fists and laid them flat, the dampness from his pint glass sweating onto the side of his palm where it rested against his left hand.

“Okay, I’m sorry I lost my temper. I just can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you.”

Hermione ran one hand through her bushy tangles. God her hair was a mess after work. She needed to charm it up but was too tired at the moment.

“I know, Harry. It’s just….. complicated.”

“I gathered that,” he nodded, motioning the bartender for another pint.

“I’m not with Professor Snape in the conventional sense. That is- we’re not a couple,” she began carefully, nervously running her fingers around the rim of her empty shot glass.

Harry waited, observing the simple break in her thoughts as she collected where she was going with them.

Hermione’s mind wandered back to the encounter. Her indignation and fury when Snape had announced what he wanted from her had been monumental. How the professor had humiliated her in front of everyone had been criminal. The way he had made her come so wantonly against a tree mere yards from the party, so darkly divine…… Her face flushed a bright pink.

“He’s a pig, and it’s not going to happen again,” she said with finality, nodding once to emphasize her point.

“People are going to talk-“ Harry began, but she cut him off.

“So what? What do I care what most of the pure and half-blood hypocrites of the wizarding world have to say? It’s not as if it has any real bearing on my life or my happiness!”

Harry wanted to protest that she had just lumped him in with ‘the rest’, but figured it was a moot point. Instead he asked her, “And are you happy? I mean, really?”

His brilliant green eyes seemed to pierce into her soul and Hermione couldn’t help but bite back the traitorous truth that wanted to spring from her lips. No. She had to shore up her resolve. Not even Harry could know she was shagging Arthur. As accepting as he’d been of her one-time tryst with Snape, there was no telling how he’d react to her ongoing affair with Ron’s father.

She leveled her most even stare, matching his intensity before shrugging her shoulders. “Sometimes, like now, when I’m with a brilliant friend like you, Harry. These times, I’m happy.”

“I wish you’d smile more, ‘Mione. You’re very pretty when you smile.”

They both laughed at each other and broke the sappy moment by reaching for a hug across the table, Harry slopping a little of his drink on it.

He held her tight and whispered into her ear. “I’ll always be here for you. Me and Gin; we’ll never turn our backs on you, no matter what’s going on in your life. If you need me, I’m just an Owl away. I love you ‘Mione. I always will.”

“I love you too, Harry. Take care of Ginny and the kids. Give her a big hug for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Hermione stood and pulled away, their fingers held together until the very last moment before they separated. Hermione Floo’d home and soaked away her cares in a tub full of fragrant bubbles and charmed bath salts that created a spa effect, soothing her muscles and cares away before curling up with a good book and another double finger of Firewhiskey.

---


Rag ‘n’ Bull Your only reliable news source for the discriminating witch or wizard!!!


Love at last?


It seems too good to be true, but over a dozen witnesses caught Hogwarts most ill-reputed Potions master, Severus Snape, in flagrante with the indubitable Hermione Granger, heroine, receiver of an Order of Merlin First Class and Ministry worker under the esteemed Arthur Weasley, head of the department of the Care of Magical Creatures.

It’s long been a source of speculation whether Severus Snape was a bachelor by choice or if he, indeed, batted for the other team. Spurning the affections of hero-seekers everywhere, the dark wizard has publicly been seen berating any woman that crossed his path with the intent to woo the untouchable man. Having been assumed this intensely private man would never be seen with a lover, imagine this reporter’s surprise at having secured a first-hand, eyewitness report from a person close to the source.

The witch in question, for privacy purposes, spoke on condition of anonymity.

“It was disgraceful. You should have seen the way she crawled out of the bushes like a common Knockturn Alley whore. Her dress was torn, hair mussed; why, it looked like she’d rolled in the mud with more than one wizard. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she had. I heard she cheated on Ron Weasley, which is why he broke it off with her. Oh yes, quite the tart, that one. All brainy and innocent on the outside, but once you get to know her she’s got a mean temper. She’ll hex you as soon as kiss your husband. Then out pops Severus Snape, calm as you please. And wouldn’t you know he actually smiled? Then zipped up his pants, he looked right at the little minx with her paws wrapped around Arthur Weasley, her boss no less! Does the woman have no shame? She’s a disgrace to the Ministry! I’m surprised she hasn’t been sacked!”

This same sentiment was repeated by more than a few other eyewitnesses and many second-hand accounts from trustworthy friends who had told them of the torrid affair.

“I heard she’s been shagging him for years,” said one witch, rolling her eyes toward the sky.

“A little birdie told me there’s some sort of dark magic going on between the pair,” whispered another.

Rumors abound, and there are sure to be more juicy details as this illicit romance develops. Make sure to subscribe.

If you miss an issue, you miss a lot!

---

An owl fluttered against Hermione’s window the morning after her little chat with Harry. She was just about to leave for work, but quickly backtracked and flung it open to see what was so urgent. With a gasp she was thrown back as several dozen owls swooped into her tiny flat, crowding her to the ground as they dropped their missives and bumped against each other frantically to get back out the window.

“Shoo! Scat! Get away!”

She batted and smacked at the confused owls until the last of them was herded from her flat. With a massive sigh she closed the window tight, frowning darkly when two more owls promptly tapped on her closed window.

“This is ridiculous! I have to be getting to work!” she complained, stooping to the floor to pick up a couple of the dropped letters. There wasn’t one among them she recognized, all addressed to her in different script. Curious, she opened one and gasped, outraged at its content. She opened another, then another, all scathing and horrid, slanderous dressing downs put to parchment. Assuming they were all the same, she conjured a roaring blaze in her hearth and ushered them all into it except the few she held, now ignoring the gathering horde of birds outside her window.

With a determined stride she Floo’ed into work, her small feet taking her straight to her boss’s office.

Hermione flung the door open hard, allowing it to bang effectively against the wall opposite. Arthur was on his feet and around his desk in an instant.

“Hermione- what-“

“Don’t you ‘Hermione’ me, Arthur Weasley! You know damn well why I’m about to hex your bits into so many pieces not even St. Mungo’s will be able to put them back together again!”

“Wait, Hermione- I think you should calm down.” He managed to get three steps closer before the enraged witch had thrust her wand under his nose.

“How dare you tell me to calm down after everything that’s happened. This is all your fault!”

Arthur held up his hands in supplication, clearly confused. “Hermione, I have no idea what you’re referring to. Perhaps if you told me what I’m to blame for, we could make some sense of this.”

Irate, Hermione thrust the horrid parchments under his nose where he grabbed the fistful and read through them, silent, her wand still pressed into his chest. He didn’t seem surprised.

“You think I’m to blame for this? Why would this be my fault?”

“Because YOU were the first one there! You are the only person who would have a reason to hurt me this way! Tell me. Which paper was it published in? The Prophet? Some other scandalous bit of rag? How much did they pay you?”

“I had nothing to do with this! I swear! In fact, I was just discussing this-“

“With me,” intoned the dulcet tones of Lucius Malfoy, rising from one of the pretentious wingback chairs in front of Arthur’s desk, which Hermione had failed to notice upon her blind entry into her boss’s office.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she gaped, dumbstruck. If Lucius knew about her affair with Arthur, they were both in a whole world of shit.

Trying to seem discrete, Hermione tucked her wand back into place and turned her back slightly to the advancing man, mouthing to Arthur, ‘Does he know?’

Arthur shook his head imperceptibly; afraid Lucius might have caught onto some of her comments that he was the only person with reason to hurt her.

The subtle exchange was not lost on Lucius, but for now he pretended to remain ignorant of the curious exchange.

“Miss Granger, I was just discussing this abominable article with your employer. This is an outrage. I won’t stand for this type of slander to be perpetuated about Ministry officials or its employs.”

Lucius played an informal, but powerful role in maintaining positive PR for the Ministry. It rankled him to have to make the imposter Minister Malfoy look good, but it kept him close to the pulse of government, right where he wanted to be.

Hermione didn’t know what to think at this point. On the one hand, she was still seething, inwardly blaming her lover for seeking revenge on her for leaking the sordid incident to some raunchy magazine. On the other, he certainly wouldn’t be here talking to the senior Malfoy about it if that were true. He truly looked as confused as she.

“You were?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. Shall we all have a seat?”

Hermione nodded dumbly, chastened by his impeccable manners and unexpected presence in the office. What the hell had they been saying about it anyway? She was almost afraid to find out, but still a bit relieved she hadn’t said too much already.

After taking their seats, Lucius quirked one eyebrow at the subdued witch. “Are you going to tell me why you raised your wand to your boss, or am I going to have to report this to the Auror division?” he inquired smoothly.

Hermione fidgeted with her hair, chewing on one of the long ends. She honestly had no idea what to say. This wasn’t part of her morning plan, to have to explain herself to Lucius Malfoy. Thankfully, Arthur cut in just as the silence was getting awkward.

“If you’ll excuse me Lucius, I think I can explain for Hermione, as uncomfortable as this may be.”

Lucius nodded once. “Do tell.”

Sitting back comfortably, Arthur pushed the offending article at Hermione, who had yet to see it at all. He carried on as she snatched it from his polished desk, reading voraciously, her jaw dropping as he continued to address the blond aristocrat.

“I must have your word this shall go no further than this office, Mr. Malfoy.”

Intrigued, Lucius leaned forward on his cane. “Indeed? Well, that depends on what the nature of the information is. I cannot, in good faith, let anything that will harm others or the image of this government go by unchecked.”

“It’s not that sort of information. It’s of a personal nature and has no bearing on the situation other than Miss Granger’s reaction to me.”

“I see. In that case, you have my conditional word that barring anything overtly harmful; I will not reveal what you say to me, anything of a strictly personal nature involving either you or Miss Granger.”

The oath took hold and the men shook on it.

Hermione almost fainted when the increasingly alarming conversation got her attention over the end of the article and her dumbstruck reaction to it. Trying hard to swallow through the cotton balls that had suddenly found their way into her throat, she shifted nervously in her chair. What in Merlin’s name was Arthur going to say?

Arthur shot her a warning glance and opened his mouth. “Hermione has a severe sexual addiction.”

Incredibly, Lucius managed to keep a straight face in light of this titillating bit of information. He filed it away for later.

“And this is relevant to the situation in what manner?” he inquired, rolling one finger in a circle to help Arthur get to the point.

“She confided in me a few months back about her problem. She felt it was interfering with her work focus, so I’ve been paying for her to see a private therapist out of my own pocket. At one point she was doing rather well, but lately she seems to have been skipping her appointments and disappearing after work. It being after hours, I had no say as to her personal business, but as her friend I was concerned for her well-being. After the little incident at my home the other evening, I believe Hermione feels I’m to blame for slipping the information to the press. The first thing her addiction does is drive her to blame others for problems that result from it. Naturally, having been seeing to her well-being from the beginning, you can understand it was only natural for her to want to lash out at someone safe who knew of her situation.”

Lucius was nodding as if they were discussing a new employee contract or some other mundane Ministry business. He ran his thumb over and over the head of the silver snake-head cane, so badly wanting to test the little deviant sitting next to him but knowing full well not to tip his hand until the right moment.

“There is still the matter of her raising her wand to a senior Ministry official.”

Arthur shrugged. “You can report her, but then there would be questions to answer. As the person instigating the report, even under Veritaserum you wouldn’t be able to fully disclose the nature of her intent. I don’t think it’d be wise to further fan the flames. It appears enough damage has been done with this horrid gossip rag printing lies about her and the Professor.”

“But are they lies?” Lucius asked, turning to Hermione. He already knew the truth, or what Snape’s version of it was, anyway. The man had no shame in bragging of taking the Gryffindor Princess down a couple of pegs at a Weasley function, no less. What Lucius couldn’t discern was how he had managed to get her to agree to such an illicit liaison. Arthur’s story about a sexual addiction helped some of the puzzle pieces fit together, and served to lend credence to Severus’ story, but there were a few things that didn’t add up. The brightest witch of her age could have shagged practically anyone, if all she’d wanted was a quick fuck to scratch an itch, as it were. Why would she pick Snape?

Hermione bit her lip and looked away, shaking her head. She couldn't believe Arthur had put her in this position, but she wasn't in one of her own to argue with him. Her own lack of foresight had landed them in the dung pile, so now she had to try and dig their way out of it somehow.

She was visibly trembling and looked like she was about to cry.

Lucius slid from his chair onto one knee beside the upset girl, leaning his cane against the desk and taking one of her hands in both of his much larger pale ones.

“Hermione, look at me.”

Sniffing, the young witch did so, warily, but met his gaze, raising her chin a little in the process.

“I have connections. I promise you I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but I need your cooperation. The fact that Arthur’s name was mentioned in the paper warrants an investigation into exactly who leaked this incident to that trashy gossip rag, and more importantly, the witch or wizard that allowed it to be published is going to have to pay, and be forced to retract it publicly.”

“But that damage is already done, Mr. Malfoy. I may as well hand in my resignation right now.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have a way to keep this from getting out of control but I need to speak with you further in private. Will you trust me to handle this?”

He brought one finger to lift her chin just a little, running his thumb over the smooth skin of her lower lip.

Feeling as if she had an ally in Lucius Malfoy, Hermione acceded to his request to speak with him privately and thanked Arthur for helping her as well. Another privately shared glance promised they’d talk when it could be arranged.

Lucius took his leave of Arthur Weasley and shut the door to the man’s office, gesturing for Hermione to walk before him down the gallant halls of the Ministry’s Care of Magical Creatures division before turning down another set of corridors that lead to his private office.

He smirked inwardly. The old Slytherins’ plan was set into motion, and if he had his way, he’d not only have the ripe little witch stuck on the end of his cock before it was all through, but he’d also have paid back an old vendetta to a traitorous fool, as well as secured himself the position of Minister of Magic. Hermione would never know he’d been the one to commission the article, and he could discretely make up some reason to have Arthur canned, relegated back to the rubbish heap he called a home. Things were looking up for the Malfoy family and he intended to keep it that way.


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