Dirty Little Secret

Title: Dirty Little Secret
Rating: NC-17 all the way. This will NOT be a rape fic; that’s definitely not my thing.
Pairing: LM/HG
Disclaimer: JKR and her merry band of lawyers own all. I am working to improve my writing only; believe me no one would be willing to pay for my writing skills. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: Hermione is tricked into a contract as Lucius Malfoy’s date for several months. What follows is one of the most bizarre courtships in magical history.
Author’s Note: Despite the angry tone of the first chapter, this is first and foremost a love story. It will get there eventually, but Lucius and Hermione have to work through some issues first. I promise that the tone will lighten up in the next installment.

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Chapter One: The Contract


Hermione Granger wiped the sweat from her brow and tried to push her wildly frizzing hair off of her face. The air conditioning had gone out two weeks ago, and England was in the grip of the hottest summer on record. Cooling charms were only minimally successful at lowering the temperature, particularly because the office had nine employees crammed together in one small room.

When she had graduated from University, she had accepted the position at the Department of Experimental Research planning to create new spells and potions to benefit mankind. Her mind had been whirling from the possibilities.

Unfortunately, her job had nothing to do with actual research.

While others actually got to do research, Hermione and those in the department kept the paperwork in order, ordered supplies and drafted grant proposals. For twelve hours a day, five days a week, she sat at this desk and worked as a glorified secretary. Well, except for an three hours on Tuesdays. Then the torture was even worse. Her dreams of saving the world had crumbled several years ago; now she was just another paper pusher. Right now, she was a paper pusher without air conditioning.

Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, and she was pretty sure she smelled. Certainly Mr. Crowley at the desk next to her seemed to have forgotten his deodorant this morning. In disbelief she watched him pull a tuna sandwich with onions out of his desk and begin to unwrap it, oblivious to the glares of those around him.

A voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Miss Granger to Mr. Pegrams office. Miss Granger to Mr. Pegrams’s office please.”

She glanced at her calendar, the one with an animated house elf doing the Macarena that Fred and George had gotten her for Christmas last year. Closing her eyes, she attempted to forget that she had been paged. Maybe if she ignored it, Mr. Pegram would think she had called out sick and would choose another in the department.

“Miss Granger to Mr. Pegram’s office. Miss Granger to Mr. Pegrams office NOW!”

She stood quietly and climbed around her desk to the door, cursing her fate and swearing that this time she wouldn’t put up with it. Of course, she did this every week on her way to her boss’ office. It never worked; she needed the job and with no experience on her CV other than this position, no one else would hire her. Muggleborn prejudice still ran deep, especially in a world that depended on grants and sponsorship for its continued existence.

On her calendar, the elf wiggled and shook its hips whilst pointing at the day of the week: It was a Tuesday.


Mr. Pegram looked around the conference room at the men in front of him in satisfaction. Tuesday afternoon meetings were always a bit nerve wracking in the beginning when he first got into this position. Then he got an inspired idea, and his Tuesdays improved dramatically.

Following the weekly meeting where he kept his donors abreast of the progress the research lab was making, he had begun having a happy hour of sorts. Lovely young ladies from the escort service came down to distract the wealthy donors with a bit of skin, all very much legal of course. Just a bit of slap and tickle to keep the men who kept him in business happy. To ensure this would be able to be written off as a business expense, he began having one of his young girls from the grant writing department come down to serve drinks and answer questions. At first, he had rotated the girls, wanting a bit of variety for the men. Then one of his most wealthy donors had expressed interest in one specific girl, and he made sure she would be the one to come to these meetings weekly.

What Lucius Malfoy wanted, he got.

At first, Granger had complained and threatened to quit. Honestly, Mr. Pegram had no idea why. It wasn’t as though she were one of the escort ladies sucking cock on her knees in a lavatory. Yes, she had to put up with a pinch here and there as men were served their scotch. But she was young, it wasn’t like this hadn’t happened to her before in a pub or dance club.

She needed to learn her place in the world. Today, he was going to give her a job that would teach her just that.


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Hermione bit her tongue as another donor “accidentally” brushed her breast as she handed him his drink. These meetings were demeaning and the amount of money that must be spent on them was staggering. One less meeting like this, and they could certainly afford air conditioning.

A blonde man in the corner signaled for another drink, and she walked over to him. Lucius Malfoy had been coming to these meetings for two years now, and she had never seen him with one of the women. Even after his divorce a year ago, he never seemed interested at the women who threw themselves at him. Instead he sat in the corner, drank his scotch and interrogated her on various subjects when she came over to refill his glass. Last week he had argued with her about the enslavement of house elves; and earlier today they had started to debate the ability of Aurors to enter a private home without a search warrant-a new law that had been passed a week ago.

Mr Pegram intercepted her on her way over.

“Miss Granger, Lord Malfoy has made me a very interesting offer; one I am certain that you will be excited about once you see the benefit for our division.”

She cringed at his nasty breath as it assailed her nostrils. As she approached, Lord Malfoy stood and walked into the apparition room. Mr. Pegram dragged her along, and her heart started to pound, What was going on?

Two couples were engaged in some sort of intercourse as they entered the room. One, a man Hermione recognized as second in command to Scrimgeour was behind a woman on her hands and knees driving into her with a force Hermione wondered she could stand. The other, a dark skinned man, was being serviced by a woman with the puffiest lips Hermione had ever seen. Turning away from them, she heard a quiet Muffliato cast by Malfoy. Mr Pegram then began to address her.

“Granger, Lord Malfoy has offered to fund an entire wing of office and research space for our department. It will be state of the art, a jewel in the crown of our division. He has only one condition, one which I didn’t hesitate to make on your behalf.”

“My behalf, what…?”

Malfoy spoke, his eyes burning into hers.

“Miss Granger, society calendar is upon us in less than two months. I am expected to show up at one event or other nearly every night for the next four months, as well as entertain at the Manor. I have neither the time nor the patience to schedule a lady to accompany me to these events. As such, I have arranged to move you into a set of rooms at the Manor and you will accompany me to these events as scheduled. I have arranged for your belongings to be moved from your flat to these rooms, and am willing to assume the cost of a new wardrobe; I doubt you own anything close to suitable at present.” He looked supremely confident she would be thrilled with his plan; after all, who wouldn’t?

Hermione looked from him to Mr Pegram in disbelief.

“Mr Pegram, you can’t sell me. I’m not a possession.” The greasy man grinned.

“Granger, I can mandate your hours and overtime as I see fit. I see fit for you to do a favor to one of our most valuable patrons in gratitude for your employment here in our department and his benevolence to us all. Besides, all women have these Cinderella dreams of being swept off their feet. I don’t see the problem here. Unless of course, you attempt to tarnish his good name and mine by blabbing about this to your little friends. In which case, I will sue for slander and you’ll end up in Azkaban.”

Tears filled her eyes. What the hell was going on here? This could not be happening to her. Pegram was a pervert, but this was ridiculous.

“Sir, this is not legal. You cannot do this.”

Pegram sneered, and pointed at the dark skinned man now energetically fucking the fish lipped girl.

“This is His Excellency Marchwood, head of the Wizengamot. We could of course stop his activities to debate this issue, but I don’t see how that would work in your favor.”

She paled, and Mr. Pegrams voice dropped to a hiss.

“Granger, I don’t care if you have to spend the next six months being impaled by every Death Eater who has ever walked the earth. If you plan on ever working in this world, ever, you will shut your know it all mouth and do what he says. If we lose this contract, this department will suffer lay offs the likes of which you can’t imagine, and my career is over. Absolutely will not happen. My decision is final. Deal with it.”

He grabbed her hand, and she felt Malfoy’s leather clad one slip into her other. A green glow began to spread between them as Malfoy chanted in Latin. Pegram grinned in malevolent glee as she struggled to free herself from their grip. A smirk crossed Malfoy’s face as he turned to her and asked:

“What is the word of the woman to seal this binding in secrecy?” She glared at him and snarled “Absolutely n ahhhhh!” She cried out in pain as Pegram sank his teeth into her arm to prevent her from finishing. A golden rope wove around them as the spell completed; obviously not recognizing her duress. Distantly, she heard Marchwood’s shout of climax as Malfoy jerked her away from Pegram and disapparated with her.

Moments later, the room was quiet except for Marchwood’s heavy breathing and Pegram’s cry of triumph.

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Coming up next: Hermione arrives at the Manor and ground rules are set.