The John grunted loudly, his breath coming faster and faster till Hermione thought he might have a heart attack while atop her. But no, there it was, the telltale groan as he buried himself as deeply inside her as his meager member would allow, and came. As he panted and tried to catch his breath, sweat dripped from his chest down onto her face. She grimaced.

"You liked that, didn't you?" he leered confidently as he rolled off. Hermione didn't have to fight the urge to wrinkle her nose in distaste- the anonymity charm hid her reaction.

"Oh yes. You're a stud." Her special modification of the voice altering spell hid her sarcasm as well. Outwardly she was smiling and talking sweetly to her latest customer. Which was important if she wanted to get a good tip. She'd found early on that Johns weren't likely to shill out extra galleons unless their egos were stroked as well as their manhoods.

"I knew it. Dirty little slut." He flipped her a coin and Hermione caught it in the air. The weight of it instantly told her that her foux-flattery had been worth it. A full galleon. She added it to the mental tally she had continuously running in her head. "I'll see you next time. I'm sure you'll be gagging for it again by then." He grinned and left. Hermione gave him the finger as soon as the door shut. She'd only serviced him twice before; with any luck, she wouldn't be at the brothel by the next time he visited. He'd just have to find another girl to get his rocks off with.

With hope of the end in sight, she bounced off the bed and scoured herself thoroughly. First with a scourgefy charm, then with scalding antibacterial water, then with a disinfectant spell. She thought about taking her healing, contraception, and immunity potions but decided to wait. It was possible another John might come in, even this late, and she didn't want to have to take them twice. They were so expensive and her stores were running low. Most of the girls scoffed at the enormous expense of taking even the contraceptive potion, let alone all three Hermione took. But she'd been here long enough to have seen the disastrous effects a disease or pregnancy brought on one of the whores. Madam Peony didn't suffer ruined girls in her main house. The main house was for only the best. The girls who were clean and young and flawless. Whores of less desirability were sent to the secondary houses in smaller towns. The client pool was smaller, the pay minuscule, and the rules much more lax. Without Madam Peony there to oversee directly, sometimes girls...slipped through the cracks. Hermione shuddered, able to imagine all too clearly what happened to them.

She reminded herself that soon, so very soon, she would be out of this world forever. The last two and a half years had been hell, but she was on her way to freedom. The more Johns she could take on, the quicker she could get the money she needed to buy out her contract and start a new life. A soft chime rang through the house, alerting the girls that a new client had arrived. Another chance to add to her account. She thought quickly, then slipped into a silver silk nightgown. It seemed neutral enough to appeal to a wide range, and it was really all she had time for. Her corsets and more elaborate outfits took longer to don, even with the aid of magic. Still, the gown accentuated her generous curves and small waist. The side slit showed off her long legs to perfection. It had been tailored to entice and seduce. And if it did its job well, it might just score her a few more galleons that night.

She headed down the stairs, slowing at the first floor landing to try and catch a glimpse of the new John. All she saw was a black cloak and the blur of an anonymity charm. Hmm...married? A member of the government, perhaps? She didn't really care what his reasons for hiding his face were, as long as he paid well. Before Madam Peony caught her spying on the foyer, Hermione headed down to the parlor where the rest of the girls not occupied were waiting.


Madam Peony put on her most welcoming smile. She was past her prime, but with the careful application of cosmetics and charms, she looked half her age. Even though she no longer peddled her own flesh, she'd learned long ago that a little flirtation, a little flattery, went a long way to getting what her girls were worth and more from her customers. She planted her hands on the counter before her and leaned forward, giving the wizard walking in a clear view of her ample bosom.

"Well now, what can I do for you?" she asked in her throaty Irish brogue. The man drew back the hood of his cloak and Madam Peony's reaction was immediate. Her sickly sweet smile fell and she straightened. "Otch, you should've used the back entrance Master Potione. The girls'll be thinking there's a new customer. No need to cause an uproar over this week's delivery."

"Actually, I am here as a customer as well as to drop off your order," he drawled. "My regular at the establishment I normally frequent has moved onto greener pastures. As there wasn't another woman there that met my needs, I've come to check among your 'shrinking violets'." He seemed doubtful. Madam Peony's eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"Ah, there's a lad. And I suppose we can come to some kind of arrangement for this exchange of services?" When he gave a curt nod of assent, she licked her lips, ready for a good bartering session. "Say half off your current prices?"

He didn't laugh outright at her outrageous offer as she expected, but he smirked. "Hardly. Ten percent off is generous and you well know it."

"Maybe. Or maybe the other madams gossip a bit and I know your tastes run to the extreme."

"And you're thinking your discretion as well as the service of your girls should be a factor?"

"Otch, no. I run a high class establishment. My business is my own and none of anyone elses- customers included. But if I can expect you to wear the poor girl out so she can't take any more clients the night you visit, I expect to be reimbursed accordingly."

"As I'm sure to come so late at night as to be the girl's last customer anyways, I hardly see how her state after I'm done with her is a factor."

"Twenty five percent." Madam Peony pushed unabashedly.

"Find me a woman who fits my needs exactly and I'll go twenty. If I'm less than satisfied, you'll get fifteen and be lucky for that."

"Well then, Master Potione, give me your specifications and I'll see what I can do." She already had a good idea of what he would want, but getting that extra five percent off would save her heaps of gold. If she got his goods at twenty percent off, then offered her girls a five percent discount of the full price, she would make fifteen percent full profit. Plus, the more of the girls who took the potions, the longer they could fetch high prices for their services. It was win-win for her.

"Voluptuous but not obese. Willing to do whatever I tell her without argument. Not crass or vulgar. High stamina. And most importantly she must be clean. I'll be using my own diagnostic spells each visit and if I find any disease or impairment I will be terminating our arrangement immediately."

"I think I've got a few that'll fit that description," Madam Peony purred. "You'll get your end and even have pick. Just wait here while I bring them out." Her original suspicion of who he would end up with deepened, but variety sweetened any deal. She stepped into the parlor where the girls were waiting. Seeing it was only her, the girls that had been sucking it in or pushing their breasts forward relaxed. "Rose, Hyacinth, Lily, come with me." Rosemary got up eagerly and turned to stick her tongue out at Lavender, who had been sitting next to her. Lavender flipped her the bird with a grin. Lily, the quietest of the girls, followed with her eyes downcast. Hermione smoothed her gown and checked for the third time that her anonymity charm was in place. Clearly this was no ordinary John. She wondered what arrangement he'd made with Madam Peony and how she could use it to her advantage.

The girls lined up in the foyer and looked curiously at the man waiting there. He was tall, slender, and wearing an anonymity charm that gave him generic facial features, including plain brown hair and eyes. He stepped forward and scanned Rose. She licked her full lips, knowing her face was pretty and the thick makeup she wore only enhanced it. "No." He dismissed her immediately and turned to Lily.

When Rose would have protested, Madam Peony cut her off. Rose stormed out of the foyer. Lily looked up at the man and then dropped her eyes back down. Like Rose, she didn't wear an anonymity charm, but unlike Rose she wore no makeup at all. Her bright green eyes needed no adornment. Even though she was only a year younger than Hermione, she often appealed to Johns who wanted the young, innocent type. The man paused, almost startled at her eyes. "What is your name?" His voice was distorted with a spell but it was still deep and drawling. Lily nearly jumped.

"Lily, s-"

"No." He snapped the word so quickly that the poor girl really did jump. She didn't even wait for Madam Peony to usher her out. She fled the room and didn't look back. He turned his eyes to Hermione. She inclined her head in greeting, sensing that a handshake would be too forward, but a curtsy would look like she was trying too hard.

"Belladona? Lilac? Daffodil?" He seemed less than amused at the floral pseudonyms Madam Peony insisted upon.

"Do you have a preference?" Hermione asked after a pause. Perhaps he wanted to give her a name of his own. She'd once had a John who insisted on calling her Jenny any time he visited. When he only scowled, she decided that wouldn't be the case with this one. "Hyacinth."

"Are you clean, Hyacinth?"

"Of course."

"Then you don't mind me checking for myself, I presume."


He narrowed his eyes at her. "Show me your breasts." Hermione pulled down the neckline of the gown she wore immediately, knowing he was testing her. He barely looked at them, instead gesturing for her to cover again. "Do you take potions to maintain your health?"


"She'll do for the night," he said to Madam Peony while his eyes stayed on Hermione. "I will let you know before I leave what I decide about the percentage."

"Of course," Madam Peony demurred. "I'm sure Hyacinth will be everything you're looking for." She gave Hermione a hard look that nearly shouted 'you'd better be!'

The two of them made their way up the stairs, and Hermione led him into her room. Once inside, she warded the room so they weren't interrupted, and placed a sound barrier spell. "What do I call you?"

"Your mistress knows me as Master Potione."

"Would you like me to call you Master? Master Potione? Or would you prefer something more informal?"

A small smile twisted his lips at her perceptiveness. "Why don't we start with Master and see how things go?" Hermione inclined her head in agreement. "Please sit," he gestured to the bed. "I'm going to run a diagnostic spell on you and then there are several things we need to discuss before we begin." Hermione perched on the edge of the bed and stayed still as he ran the spell. Then he tipped his wand toward his temple and read the results. She knew what they were without asking. He began to pace, a habit she suspected was long formed. "I have made an arrangement with your mistress for my services and products."

"Potions," Hermione presumed.

"Just so. She is receiving a substantial discount in return for your services, on certain conditions."

"Conditions such as?"

"Such as my contentment with you and your ability to meet my needs. If you can do that, you will earn your mistress quite a sum of money in savings. And with you I am willing to come to a separate arrangement that I'm sure will make you happy."


"I presume you are used to being tipped by your customers?" At her nod of assent, he went on. "How much do you usually receive?" Hermione thought quickly. Too little, and he might think she wasn't worth the extra gold. Too much and he would think she was trying to rip him off.

"A galleon or two from regulars," she answered truthfully. His eyebrows rose in surprise and then lowered in speculation.

"You must be talented indeed." Hermione said nothing, not willing to risk sounding haughty. "Instead of tipping you in money-" Her heart sank. No money? She doubted Madam Peony would apply all of what she was saving from their arrangement to Hermione's contract. Perhaps this wouldn't be the big break she was looking for. "- I propose to tip you in potions."

Hermione's ears perked up again. Potions of the type she used were expensive. And because of her insistence on taking no chances, she went through many of them. "How many potions?"

"As many as you use."

She couldn't stop her eyes from widening in shock. He couldn't mean that as a blanket offer. She would be getting far more from the deal than even Madam Peony was. "Please clarify what you mean."

"I mean that I will supply you with any and all of the potions you use from one visit to the next. You will never have to buy another one from your mistress. And this will continue as long as I continue to use your services."

"A healing potion, contraceptive potion, and an immunity potion every night, plus a health potion every week." She wanted to make sure he knew the enormity of what he was agreeing to so that he couldn't claim later it was too much.

He inclined his head in agreement. "All that you need, until our arrangement is done. As long as you fulfill my needs."

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes narrowed. How extreme were his needs that he was willing to pay so much to have them serviced? "I don't do scat, blood-play, or bestiality or any kind. Madam Peony charges double for leaving marks- scratches or bruises. And leaving a scar will get you banned from the main house. Even with your arrangement, I'm sure."

"Do you have any other personal restrictions?"

Hermione's chin rose a fraction. "None." If he was willing to stay within those guidelines, he could do whatever he wanted to her for that price.

"Then I think we will get along very well. I am going to use you roughly, but you will receive no real harm. This is about meeting my needs sexually, and I am under no illusion about meeting yours. You will not be making any false sounds of pleasure, nor will you fake an orgasm. It is not necessary and will only distract me. You will do what I say, when I say, and there will be no other speaking necessary between us. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. On your knees." Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him and her mind slipped into business mode. She had a job to do. One she could do well. Her body was completely detached. She could preform a spectacular blow job the same way she would bake a pie or write a letter. It had no effect on her mind or body. It was a task. He unzipped his trousers and pushed his boxers down over his erection.

Normally he would have grabbed her hair and started using her mouth immediately, but he was curious as to her skills. Without instruction, she slipped the tip of his cock between her lips and sucked till the force pulled him deeper into her mouth. Her tongue rubbed lightly, then more firmly against the under side of his shaft and slid around the head when she pulled back. He groaned and jerked involuntarily. She was talented, alright. And a quick learner. Once she realized he liked the move, she did it again. And again. In a few minutes he was closing his eyes against the pleasure. At the touch of his hand against her hair she pulled him deeper till the tip of him descended into her throat and closed around him. His breath hissed in through his teeth. She only had to do it a few more times till he was ready to come. He gripped her hair tight in a fist to hold her head still and fucked her throat roughly. His whole body tensed as wave after wave of his orgasm crashed over him, sending spurts down her throat. When he released her, he expected her to jerk away and gasp for breath, but instead, she swallowed around his semi-hard cock, making him gasp at the unexpected last jolt of pleasure. Then she slowly drew her mouth back, keeping the suction till the last moment and releasing him with a pop. She must have known how to breathe through her nose while working him in her throat because she wasn't even out of breath.

Oh, this was going to be very, very good.

"Strip," he ordered her once she was on her feet. "Then on your back on the bed." Hermione pushed the straps of the gown off her shoulders and let it fall into a pool of silk on the floor. His eyes raked up and down her naked form and she lingered for half a moment, letting him appreciate the view. Then she laid on the bed and parted her legs slightly. He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it on the edge of the bed, then toed off his boots and socks. Last came his slacks and boxers, which he folded quickly and neatly. Naked, he knelt on the bed between her legs. For a minute or two they just studied each other.

Hermione looked him over from top to bottom, noting with some surprise that he was well built and almost what she would call well hung. Most of the men she serviced were either too ugly to attract a woman of their own, or their packages were so insufficient that a whore was the only woman who would bed them twice. As she objectively admired his physique she again wondered why he was there. Why use a prostitute if he was good looking enough to get it for free? Perhaps his anonymity charm hid a facial disfigurement. Or perhaps he was just a dog who was tired of his wife and didn't trust an ordinary woman to keep quiet about an affair.

While she was studying him, he was studying her back just as intensely. She was truly lovely from head to toe. Big breasted, slim waisted, long legged, and a perfectly shaved sex. With her legs parted, he could see it clearly. Everything was neatly tucked away and a bright pink colour. Idly he wondered what colour her pubic hair would be, were it not bare. The hair on her head was auburn at the moment, but he was sure that was simply the charm. He leaned down and slid his hands under her ass, pulling her hips closer to him and feeling soft skin over firm muscle. Her knees fell apart as he pressed himself to her. Looking at her had gotten him hard again and he used one hand to fit the head of his cock against her. It wedged against a surprisingly tight opening, then slid inside slowly.

He let out a low hum of approval as she stretched around him, warm, wet heat engulfing him. Her breath caught when he pushed deeply and his pelvis rubbed against hers, but true to his instructions she didn't try and augment the sound into a moan of false pleasure. Normally by this point with a John she would be panting in pretend furor, lifting her hips to take him eagerly, moaning at the feel of his (likely small) erection moving inside her. Meanwhile, her mind would be cold and calm, subtracting his commission from her contract and adding profit to her ever running tally of money.

It wasn't that there hadn't been any talented partners in her time at the whorehouse. There had been a handful that weren't bad. She'd even orgasmed once or twice with a John. But most of the men she'd been with didn't seem to know what a clitoris was, let alone how to find it. And the few who had the right package and movement to stimulate her g spot didn't last long enough to make her come. Not that she was expecting satisfaction of any kind from her customers. It was decidedly unsexy to have an overweight, smelly man sweating on top of you for ten minutes. So instead of focusing on what was happening to her body, Hermione turned inwards and let her act take over.

Her newest client was hitting some nice spots, spurratically rubbing her clit with his pelvis or stroking her g spot with a well tilted thrust, but as he had said, her gratification wasn't what he was after. He kept one hand on her hip and the other moved up to the crook of her shoulder- only just not on her neck- and squeezed. Hard enough for her to really feel it but not so hard that it would leave a bruise. He had his head back as he started to buck his hips faster. Soon he'd found a rhythm and he was riding her hard and fast. On it's own accord, Hermione's breath came faster from the exertion and her skin flushed pink. After the initial surprise of his furor, her mind started to wander. It seemed she would be in for a long romp. He kept hitting those spots that sent warm tingles through her, but still only every so often. After a while, she started feeling wound up and tense, unable to distract herself with her thoughts. Why couldn't he either stop stroking those good spots or hit them a little more consistently?

Finally, she just couldn't take it. She grabbed his thighs for support and tilted her hips up to him on his next thrust. Ahh, there it was. His hips kissed her pelvis just as the tip of his cock slammed against her g spot. She closed her eyes and bit back the cry that would have escaped her lest he think she was ignoring his rules and faking it. Since he didn't move her hands or stop her from tipping her hips up to him, she kept on, not interfering with him in any way but twisting her body so that she was getting the satisfaction she needed. He was slamming into her with brutal force, riding her without holding anything back. She was starting to get sore from his vigorous ministrations, but she was also starting to get close to orgasm. It was the first time Hermione was hoping a John would keep going just a little bit longer. She was so close... She felt a bead of sweat roll between her breasts as she strained and tilted her hips while pushing up against him as he thrust into her. There, there, there it was! She couldn't hold back her gasp as she finally got release. She bit her lip and let her eyes close as her body tightened.

His eyes jerked down to her as she bucked against him. Was that really what he thought it was? The walls of her sex clenched and fluttered around him in a way that couldn't be faked. Much to his surprise, he instantly orgasmed. Whether it was from the fiery grip her body had on his cock or the fact that she seemed to have come merely from his thrusts he wasn't sure. Probably both. Either way, there wasn't time to think about it. The orgasm slammed into him with the force of the Hogwarts Express at full speed and he shuddered as he emptied into her for the second time that night. He drove into her several more times, letting the pleasure draw out and enjoying the way her teeth bit into her lower lip as she was awash in her own release.

Instead of his erection waning as it usually did after an orgasm, he stayed hard and throbbing. It had come on so fast and so unexpectedly that it was as if he hadn't come at all. "Turn over," he ordered roughly. Still dazed and surprised from coming, Hermione struggled to do as he said quickly. She rolled to her stomach and he lifted her up to her knees. There was a cool, slick sensation on her back side and then he leaned over her and said, "I hope that was pleasurable enough for you, because this is going to be unpleasant." Before Hermione could say anything, she felt the head of his cock pressing firmly against her ass. She barely had time to take a breath and brace herself before he pushed hard until the tip of him made it past the tight ring of muscle and then the rest of him slid inside. She let out a garbled cry at the fiery ingress. Behind her came the sound of harsh panting as he pulled back and slammed into her over and over again.

Hermione tried to catch her breath as the pain lanced her like a hot iron and then began to recede. It wasn't that she'd never done this before. Far from it. But it was usually on her terms, and not without a few subtle, well placed spells to aid her. He rode her as if the devil himself was on his heels. Each thrust was harder and harder till he was nearly lifting her off the bed with the force of them. She tried to brace herself but it was as if she were no more than a rag doll against his ferocity. Suddenly he wrapped both arms around her waist and buried himself deep inside her. She could feel him jerking spasmodically as he came. She let out a sigh of relief when he unwrapped his arms from around her and disentangled their bodies.

The warm tingle of magic brushed her and Hermione snatched her wand from it's magically concealed strap on the inside of her forearm. In a flash she had it pointed at her customer. "What the hell did you just cast on me?" He looked as if he wanted to snarl something at her and try to knock her wand from her hand but then reconsidered. He held his hands up as if in surrender.

"Merely a healing and pain relief spell. I don't believe I caused you any real harm but I imagine you were in pain."

She wasn't inclined to believe him, but shifted experimentally and realized that the pain was indeed gone. "While I appreciate the thought," she said, keeping her anger at his presumption tightly controlled, "in the future please refrain from casting spells of any kind on me. I don't react well to people casting them at my back."

"So I see," he drawled casually, glancing at the wand still clutched tightly in her hand. She noticed it was still pointed at him and lowered it. "As you wish then." He cast a scourgafy at himself and got off the bed. Hermione was somewhat mollified to see that he was a little unsteady on his legs, as she was sure she would be on her own. He dressed quickly and then pulled something from his pocket. It was a small box. With a quick spell he returned it to it's original size. "Have you heard of a vanishing cabinet?"

"I have." She shuddered as she recalled the last time she had known of one in use. Draco Malfoy had used it to sneak Death Eaters into the castle, eventually leading to the death of Dumbledore. She had found out later that his death at Snape's hand had been inevitable- and part of a carefully constructed plan- but the object which had facilitated his demise still seemed somewhat...sinister.

"This is a similar device. Write down the names and number of potions you need and put it inside, and in a few minutes they will appear in the box. Use it as often as you wish." He sat it on the table beside the bed and rested his long fingers on it for a moment. Hermione wondered what he was dawdling for. "If you want to back out of this deal now would be the time to do it. No repercussions. I can tell Madam Peony I've changed my mind through no fault of your own. The choice is yours alone."

Compassion, magnanimity, from the man who'd just ridden her ass into the mattress with no thought to her comfort? Still, the offer was a very generous one. Whatever deal he'd made with Madam Peony was likely one she wanted rather badly. Unless he was the one to back out and said that it was not because of her services in any way, then she had no chance of backing out without bringing serious trouble down on herself.

He hadn't been gentle with her by any means. He had stayed within the rules of the house...barely. The orgasm had been a pleasant surprise, certainly, but had been more a product of his stamina and her ability to move her body in the right places than any talent of his. All these things ran through her head in a split second. But what it really came down to was the opportunity taking this deal with him presented. She refused to sacrifice her safety in order to get out of her situation, so a huge chunk of any money she made went to the potions. If that expense suddenly disappeared... She could cut her remaining time in half, if not more. Honestly, he could have done much worse to her and she still would have taken this deal without complaint. She'd learned in her time at the whorehouse -and in the months before it- that she could handle anything for a little while. She just counted down her time until it was over. No matter what, she could endure. She could bide her time. All in all, this wouldn't be the worst thing she'd had to handle; not by far. No, this wasn't an opportunity she could pass up.

"I appreciate the offer. I truly do. And, the fact that you even made it helps make this decision even easier. But nothing you did in here tonight would deter me from this opportunity. So thank you, but if you are happy with me as your choice, I gladly accept the position."

He studied her carefully, hearing her sincerity even through her voice distortion spell. He gave a curt nod and went to the door. With his hand on the knob he paused one more time. "You don't plan to do this for the rest of your life, do you." It fell somewhere between question and command. Hermione was somewhat taken aback at the very personal question, but answered.

"No, I-" She was cut off as he made a face as if disgusted with himself.

"Stop. I don't care." Then he turned and left, nearly slamming the door behind him. Hermione flopped back on the bed and let out a sigh. Could wizards be bipolar? He was all over the map. Brutality and gentleness, cruelty and consideration. She could tell that her time with him would be interesting, to say the least. Exhaustion weighed on her- until she remembered to take her potions and realized she would never have to worry about paying for another potion in the whorehouse. She bounced off the bed and began her cleansing routine with more excitement than she'd felt in a long time.

Downstairs, Madam Peony tapped her nails on the counter impatiently. It was long past the time when all the rest of the girls were asleep and customers should be gone. She knew Hyacinth was talented in bed. All the girls in the main house were. And she should be exactly what the potion master was looking for. So there was no reason to be nervous that the girl would screw it up. Madam Peony just hated having the final say of this deal out of her hands. She controlled every aspect of her life and business carefully. It was what had allowed her to rise beyond common street whore to respected House Madam.

It was the slight waft of witchazel more than any sound that alerted Madam Peony to the presence of Master Potione. She straightened immediately and put on a cool, confident expression. "I trust she met your expectations of twenty percent."

"You'll get your twenty percent, Madam Peony. Hyacinth will do nicely for my purposes. This weeks stores will be delivered around back as usual. You can expect me to see me again in a few days."

"Should I also expect that percentage to go up to twenty five if I find marks on her in the morning?"

"The gossip amongst the madams didn't cover my predilections toward violence?" he asked sarcastically. "You won't be finding any marks on her. Not tomorrow, not ever."

"Hmm," Madam Peony said noncommittally. "But if I did-" she pressed.

"Then you would be reimbursed accordingly, of course."

"Then you and I understand each other perfectly, Master Potione. Delighted to be of service." She grinned at him, a genuine smile at such good fortune. She held out her hand for him to shake. He took it and their deal was sealed.