Chapter 1
Hermione was seated in the little Muggle pension at the shores of France, having a quiet supper alone.
She had just travelled over the Canal and was now waiting. She wasn't naïve, she knew what men came here to do, and that usually the women staying there were their mistresses… Part of her despised this place for its treacherous clients. But she knew that what she was about to do would probably not be considered any better. Even if she acted to save her father.
She was a right bundle of nerves, expecting a man to come up to her at any moment. Was it going to be that man in the corner of the dining area? He did look quite old, but that didn't mean he couldn't have been the one in the shadows. After all, he had smiled at her just moments ago.
The truth was, she didn't know how she was going to recognise the mystery man she was to meet. Well, she was to do a lot more with him then just meet…
But, seriously, how was she to know? She berated herself for not listening more attentively to his voice back at London. All her memory told her was that it had been a soft baritone, but how was she going to base his entire appearance on that?
Was he going to be extremely ugly? Was he going to be ruthless with her? Taking a deep breath, she pushed her anxiety aside, and remembered what Madam Pomfrey had warned her about. It would hurt the first time, but afterwards, it could be more bearable. Was it going to happen tonight? Was he even going to show up tonight?
Resolving herself to be brave about this, she left her dinner table and went up the stairs gingerly. Suddenly the feeling struck her that he had to be in her room. It would make sense really… Drawing a shaky breath, she opened her door, to find a gentleman leaning on the mantelpiece above the hearth.
She couldn't help but stay frozen in the middle of the doorway. He had looked up at her entrance, and she was struck by his intense green gaze. Unable to do anything but look at him, the silence grew between them. He was quite handsome. His hair looked windswept and just ruffled, and though he wore glasses, it didn't make him seem any less imposing.
He had an aura around him, an aura of power, despite the rather awkward situation. He must be a powerful wizard, and Hermione didn't know if that should scare her even more. Finally he spoke:
"I didn't want anyone to see us enter here together…"
Ah, she was right, that's why he had waited in her room for her to finish supper. Coming out of her trance, she stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her. Again, the room was illuminated by firelight only, no candles had been lit. It contained a bed and a little table with a few chairs around it.
Both of them moved slowly closer to the chairs around the little table and sat across each other. It was then that she noticed the drink he clutched in his hands. Aha, so he wasn't as calm as he looked, too.
"I have a reputation to uphold, not only my own, but that of my entourage. Do you understand?"
Hermione said nothing. How could she say she understood? The man was probably married, or there wouldn't be the need for this much secrecy. And how could she understand this man leaving his wife's bed to use her?
She could also guess his wife had proven not to be able to conceive, which had lead to this man trying to buy an heir from a woman that wasn't his wife. If her father hadn't been in the situation he was in, she would've disapproved of these happenings with burning passion. However, she was a Muggleborn witch, she didn't have much other choices.
So yes, she understood the need for secrecy. It wasn't like she would be proud to confess to the world what she was about to do for money. And yes, she understood a man didn't want his indiscretions blemishing his reputation. All the same, she remained stoic.
The man, however seemed to find it important she understood: "I don't want them to suffer… You do understand…"
However, when Hermione stayed silent, returning his questing gaze unblinkingly, the man seemed to accept it and moved on. He swirled the rest of his Firewhiskey in his glass and downed it in one go.
"We will meet each other here every day after supper. You understand the requirements of our bargain?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat and the nervousness she had managed to push away until then came back full force. Instead if answering him, she asked:
"Will we… meet… tonight?"
The man didn't look at her:
"Yes, I only have three days before I have to return to London. I just wanted you to get comfortable with the idea first this night… To be ready…"
While saying this he had poured some more Firewhiskey in his glass from a flask he carried with him. Hermione was quick to answer, before she lost all nerve:
"I'm ready…"
If this quick confirmation fazed the man, she couldn't really tell, but he did stop swirling his Firewhiskey around and again downed his glass, before setting it on the table with a soft 'thunk'.
Hermione's controlled her breathing, when he got up and reached inside his robes to pull out his wand. After casting a locking spell on the door and a silencing spell around the room, he looked down at her, but she diverted her gaze elsewhere, feeling a furious blush coming to her cheeks.
The man just faced the hearth, and waited silently. Slowly Hermione stood from her chair and started unbuttoning the outer layers of her dress.
The silence was broken momentarily, when the man remarked, still not facing her:
"The fire illuminates more then one would believe…"
Hermione didn't know what to think of this sentence. Did he want to put out the fire so they could do this in the blackness of the night? As tempting as it sounded to pretend this wasn't really happening by doing this in total darkness, she didn't fancy having to do this in a stone cold room either.
Finishing the buttons of her dress, she slipped it off, working on her skirts next. After they fell in a pool at her feet, she was dressed in only her undergarments and her corset. Unlacing the latter, she was reluctant to shed the rest of her clothing. Her breasts, stomach, and thighs were still covered, but really, this was the most undressed she had ever been before anyone already. And from what she gathered, her underpants would leave enough uncovered for him to… well, plant his seed within her.
Not really sure what to do with her hands, she let them drop alongside her body, fighting the urge to wrap them around her.
"Will this do?"
She asked softly, to which the man turned, and racked his eyes over her figure. It was the first time he let his own nervousness show in his gaze, too.
***
(an: 19th century underpants leave the area at the juncture of the legs open!)
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