AN1: Yes... I know, I should be updating A Battle of Wills rather than starting new stories! I'll admit: I am a proud binge music listener and sometimes when I get hooked on a song I can listen to it on repeat for hours or even days. Well this time it was Lady Gaga's Telephone and it gave me this idea.

It was a pretty good outlet though, I needed one so I could write dark dark angst-y stuff. I'm hoping that if I can write it out of my system I'll have more fun and light stuff for Battle of Wills so yay for this one, right? :)

Also this is yet another musical story: Unsurprisingly Lady Gaga's Telephone is the recommended song but just about anything in the same vein will do.


A shapely brunette stepped into the dimly lit club, instantly commanding the attention of a number of males and females. Her aura radiated self-confidence as she stepped onto the dance floor, basking in the feeling of eyes caressing and undressing her from afar. A single predatory glance at her surroundings told her that there were at least half a dozen people shadowing her, trusting that primal instinct pumping in their veins that led them to believe that a worthy prey had just entered the game. Scoffing under her breath the young witch internally rolled her eyes, confident that she could play any and all of them and it would be her bending the rules and their will to her desire. She had the intention of using them to satisfy that carnivorous craving eating at her soul, forcing her out at night, from the warmth of her bed.

It had been six months since the fall of Voldemort and she had yet to adjust to the lack of constant adrenaline rush that being on the run had provided. At first it was barely noticeable, the first few weeks of rounding up rogues provided her fix almost on a daily basis. But then the nightmares started creeping to the forefront from the darkest edges of her consciousness, robbing her of her sleep. She had not told anyone, telling herself that it would pass. She expected to at least find solace in her wake hours but that was also there, etched into her arm as a constant reminder. And she found that she could not cope. She felt empty and filthy, especially at night. 'I don't wanna think any more…' was the last coherent thought in her head as she started moving her body to the pumping rhythm of the music.

At first she just enjoyed the music, her eyes were closed and no one else existed. With the aid of an almost inaudibly murmured spell she deftly avoided contact of any sort. To the utter confusion of the muggles around her, whenever someone even thought about approaching her she just happened to dance away from them, despite her eyes being closed. The stimulant potion she concocted earlier that day was finally kicking in, making her body buzz and her brain just fuzzy enough around the edges to lull her senses. Finally she opened her eyes, surveying the crowd expectantly.

In a matter of seconds the first brave wannabe approached her, gyrating to the music, presenting his mating dance in the hope of attracting her attention. Sizing up her first prey of the night Hermione looked at him from thigh to head – never the other way around – and deciding that she did not like the offering – 'ugh, too greasy' – she threw him a disdainful glance of dismissal and turned her back on him.

The next candidate appeared to be much better prey. This one was a slim latino woman, with hair as black as the night and a set of smouldering brown eyes that promised a night of fiery passion. Smirking in approval she stepped closer as their eyes locked, her prey assuming they were circling one another, silently communicating their expectations. She felt the first welcome spikes of adrenaline as their bodies connected, silently dueling as they adjusted to each other's rhythm. As always, it was her nameless prey that eventually gave up control and followed Hermione's lead.

They had been dancing like that for some minutes, Hermione skillfully avoiding the woman's seeking mouth, baiting her only to reel her in and let her loose before the first brush of lips could happen. She enjoyed the tension building between them but it was not enough. It was never enough. She turned around, momentarily giving up control of their movements as she glanced around for a second prey.

The woman eagerly seized control, snuggling sensually to Hermione's jeans-clad ass, her hands ghosting over the witch's hips as her crotch connected with the well-toned backside of the slippery siren she thought she was hunting down.

Hermione wasn't even phased by the new sensation, she was expecting it. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone preposterous enough to assume that they could get a two for one deal. Soon enough, a nicely built specimen presented himself. Silk shirt stretching over a well-toned chest, an almost too well-groomed circle beard, dark hair, and most importantly, no sign of hair gel which allowed his hair to move around his face to the rhythm of the music. 'Mmm, me likes. Something to grab onto.' Catching his attention was not necessary, he was eyeballing the two women intently, looking for an opening – one that Hermione was secretly eager to give. She but had to crook a finger in his direction and he was coming onto them like a puppy dog. 'How… pathetic.' Hermione thought as she turned back, offering her backside to the approaching male, knowing that her female partner might need to be coaxed into the new situation.

Upon turning she found herself to be yet again correct, the woman she'd been dancing with was clearly showing various signs of doubt despite her inebriated state. Hermione turned her seductive vibes up into full gear, giving the woman her best fuck-me- senseless smirk from not more than an inch afar, her eyes radiating sexual promise.

The woman still looked skeptical, especially when the newcomer's hands snaked around erotically gyrating hips, but Hermione knew just the cure. She threw another suggestive look at the woman, an eyebrow raised expectantly as the very tip of her tongue grazed her upper lip. It worked like a charm. Always. The woman was just about ready to devour her before the guy stepped in and was almost as ready after Hermione's little stunt. She knew it was a challenge. As the woman stepped closer again, she grabbed her by the back of the neck single-handedly and dragged her into a scorching kiss.

"She's there." Harry said, elbowing his best mate in the ribs and discretely pointing out the third of their trio who was currently sandwitched between random strangers. At first they had been clueless about their friend's behaviour, albeit for different reasons. Harry was so engrossed in building a new life with Ginny that the two of them often disappeared, while Ron...Ron was just clueless as to why the woman he so desperately wanted to date started acting out recently.

When the redhead finally spotted his Hermione sandwitched between some random beefcake and...a woman? His first response was a jealous rage but upon seeing Hermione enthusiastically making out with a woman he was struck dumb. After what seemed like hours he tore his gaze from the sight and turned to Harry. "You knew she swings that way!?" He asked incredulously. Not that he had anything against gays but he just understood that the whole bloody world was a potential rival when it came to the attentions of the curly brunette.

Hermione broke the kiss as the need for air was slowly becoming an issue. 'Hot damn, this woman can kiss. I wonder if she has other skills I might be interested in...' A decidedly smug expression graced her features and she was about to dive back in but she caught something from the corner of her eye. She subtly turned her head to the right, which the night's conquest assumed was an invitation and she eagerly started planting wet kisses down the now otherwise engaged brunette's throat. Hermione used the muggles to her advantage as she manoeuvred them into a position that allowed her a better view of what she wanted to see. 'God knows I've had to repair those bloody glasses enough times to never mistake them for anything else...' Hermione thought with displeasure as she realized that it really was Harry and Ronald, most likely looking for her. They did not seem to have noticed her yet and she was going to make sure it stayed that way.

"You think we should call McG? She totally screwed us over the last three times..." Ron asked, staring at Harry in an effort to not accidentally look at them again.

"I don..." Harry started only to be cut off mid-sentence.

"There's no need for that..." Came a disembodied voice in a decidedly Scottish lilt. Only his Auror training kept Ron from yelping and jumping a feet away at the unexpected sound of his ex-professor's more than stern voice. After a pause, most likely smirking at Ron's terrified deer in the headlights expression, she finished the sentence " I am already here."

"Pr-professor, oh, fancy you here." Ron said, momentarily forgetting about their mission.

"Perhaps under more agreeable circumstances." She said flatly. "And Minerva will do."

While listening to his best friend and ex-professor's antics he noticed that the music, completely out of sync with what had been played before, changed suddenly to something he had noticed he heard the last three times as well. The muggles around them seemed completely oblivious, adjusting to the new song without a pause, leading Harry to assume that they were hearing something entirely different.

Stop coming', stop coming',

I don't wanna think anymore!

I left my head and my heart at the battle before.

Stop callin', stop callin',

I don't wanna talk anymore!

"Dammit, she spotted us." Harry growled, taking a purposeful step forward only to falter a moment later. "We've lost her... goddamnit! I told you we should have used polyjuice." He cursed under his breath.

"Care to elaborate?" Came the still disembodied voice of the renowned Transfiguration Mistress.

"She spotted us. She's using some kind of a bloody complex glamour spell. It's impossible to find her like that. She could be any one of those people in there." He ground out, angry at himself for allowing this to happen again.

"I would not have assumed that Hermione...would be so far off the deep end that she would be openly using magic like that in front of muggles?" Minerva made it a question, her voice betraying her utter shock even without the facial expression to go with it.

"She's not." Ron said. Both sets of eyes snapped to him, although he could only see one of them. He actually had the good grace to look guilty for not sharing sooner. "Yesterday I confronted her about just that. Told her that she could end up in serious trouble for violating the international statute of secrecy..."

"And?" Came the impatient urging from nowhere.

"At first I thought it would just earn me a disdainful scoff but then she told me that dragging her in front of the Wizengamot was not necessary. She said something about a special charm that worked differently for muggles and magical beings. Apparently it works with muggles like a sort of glamour. She doesn't change shape or whatever but whatever she might be doing she looks completely normal and uninteresting, while with magical people it's like polyjuice."

For a minute neither of his companions spoke a word, and eventually it was Minerva who spoke up. "That is a remarkable bit of spell work. And she's doing this wandlessly I presume? Truly remarkable." She paused a moment to gather her thoughts. "It is a good thing that Harry lent me his invisibility cloak. It puts us at an advantage."

"But prof... Minerva. What can you do if you don't know where she is? How could you find her if we can't? You're a magical person too!" Ron said, not noticing what he said until after it was too late, growing beet red in the process.

"Ehm... well thank for that assessment Mr. Weasley." Minerva dead panned. Although she had to admit that without the power of facial expressions it was only half the fun. "A tip for your Auror training: you have not only eyes. Sometimes your other senses come in handy. Especially if you are an animagus." With that she brushed past the two, intent on knocking some sense into the woman she saw in an obscene situation just a moment ago. "Stay there and...make a spectacle of being completely at a loss."

Hermione, on her part, groaned in satisfaction when she allowed a hand to slip into her pants. It had been trying for about the hundredth time that night but she would have none of it before. She manoeuvred her dance partners into a relatively darker corner of the club. Not that she needed the privacy for what she was about to do, but it would certainly ease her drunken conquests' minds. Public sex was not something most people were into even if they were as drunk off their asses as these two. She shot one final glance at her friends who looked completely dumbstruck by her little decoy, her expression saddening for a moment – 'You should have understood that you can't save everyone…' – before she turned her attention back to her own distractions.

When Minerva closed her eyes and focused on her other senses they heightened exponentially. One of the wonderful aspects of being an animagus was that she learned to trust her smell and hearing just as well as her sight. Knowing that she would have no use for the latter, she threw out the proverbial net of her other sensors, seeking out the young woman.

It was her ears that gave her the first hint of where the woman's general location might be. Her delicate hearing could pick up a thousand various sounds in her immediate surroundings depending on what she focused on. Music, rustling clothes, skin on skin, voices speaking, humming, singing... moaning. Taking her time to allow the wave of sounds to wash over her she stood motionless in the middle of the crowd. After a few minutes passed she picked up a sound that could belong to no other than Hermione. To Minerva's utter shock the woman was already moaning and groaning due to whatever atrocious attentions she might be receiving from her random conquests.

Once she knew where to look, it was a piece of cake for Minerva's keen senses to pick up Hermione's unique smell. The club felt completely saturated with sexual tension but even among so many distractions she could clearly pinpoint exactly where Hermione was. It was a clever spell, she never would have guessed her to be hiding behind the glamour of that specific muggle woman who appeared to be dancing rather awkwardly with a man at the very edge of the dance floor.

At first she just picked up the scent of her skin, but a fraction of a moment later something else assaulted her nostrils. She picked up on the musky scent of Hermione's arousal. 'Goodness woman. What the bloody hell do you think you are doing!?' Minerva did not know whether to be angry, disgusted, aroused or mortified at being aroused in such a situation. The bright young witch was worth so much more than this. She pushed away all thoughts of the inexplicable heat collecting between her thighs. She would have to deal with that mystery visitor later. Much later.

Hermione felt alive. She found that the excitement of having sex in the middle of the crowd, without said crowd even noticing, was an extreme aphrodisiac – one that seemed to be instantly addictive. Her original plan was to take these two somewhere else but her friends' arrival pissed her off and one thing led to another... and now she found herself tumbling into a new level of excitement. There was a naked erection shamelessly pressing into the lower section of her back, just above her ass while a hand of each of her conquests were shoved up under her skirt, hurrying her along the much welcomed passage of pleasure towards her release.

Minerva felt that it was rather difficult to concentrate with all of Hermione's constant moaning and groaning assaulting her ears, not to mention the slick wet popping sounds that were increasing in speed. 'Sweet Merlin, get a grip of yourself woman!' She growled at herself for the fourth time as she tried to block the obscene smells and sounds from her consciousness. Her eyes were screwed shut in desperation, focusing on the difficult spell she was about to perform.

Assuming that the young witch was far too gone to think about changing locations she resorted to completely blocking out all of her senses to be able to find that inner peace that was necessary for what she was about to do. Having used magic rather proficiently for the better part of the last five decades Minerva knew exactly how to counter whatever Hermione had done. She had to admit that were this an entirely different situation she would be most interested in how Hermione managed to use a charm that essentially worked in two ways at the same time; but right now she would be content to break it and make it her own. She sent her magic out of her body as if it was a disembodied hand, delicately caressing the edges of Hermione's glamour to get a feel of it. Then she set out to do what, since Albus's death, only she was able to do in the United Kingdom: instead of transfiguring matter, she transfigured Hermione's charm to shift and work as she saw it fit.

She was almost there. She felt completely animalistic as the raging erection at her back kept rubbing between her buttocks, resorting to seeking release there since she chose not to allow the poor sod inside. Both fingers and a mouth were now busily working her toward that bliss she craved. She could feel her pleasure begin that final ascent before throwing her over the edge, making her throw her head back at the chest that was conveniently there.

And then she felt it. Her magic had shifted. Her eyes snapped open, her orgasm momentarily forgotten as she stared into the crowd around her. Her most immediate panic was quenched as the muggles were still completely oblivious, they did not spare her so much as a glance. Despite her heightened attention to her surroundings she could feel her orgasm rearing its head again and her eyes rolled back into her head as it began to overpower her mind.

Minerva was shocked into speechlessness for all of five seconds when her spell revealed the trio to her. There was Hermione Granger, her star pupil, in all of her half-naked glory, about to climax right in front of her. A leg was draped over the shoulder of some woman whose face was buried between her thighs while a man she was clinging to was desperately thrusting away in a decidedly odd angle.

'Bloody hell...' Minerva thought before she finally found her voice. "Hermione Granger" she growled out "don't you dare disgrace yourself like that".

The voice continued to echo inside her head as her pleasure was abruptly turned into mortified shock. Her eyes snapped open yet again, only to be greeted by the absolutely livid expression in emerald green orbs not more than a feet away from her. She could do absolutely nothing but stare, wide eyed, mouth dropped open, she was in complete shock. Her leg came off the woman's shoulder of its own accord.

"Who's the crone? Yur...muther?" Came the slurred question from the dimwit stud that was still half-heartedly attempting to shag Hermione's buttocks.

A moment later he crashed into the wall with a gurgling scream as a fist connected with his nose and broke it effortlessly. The woman was either not as dumb or she simply sobered up after witnessing the brutal beating because she knelt there silently, and Minerva could swear that she was not even breathing. With economic wand movements she obliviated both their minds but before she could turn her attention towards Hermione there was a familiar pop as the young witch apparated away from scene.

Harry and Ron were alerted by the soul shattering scream, that was let out by a distinctly male voice. It was obvious that the entire club had heard because the music suddenly died down and everyone started chattering, wondering where the screaming was coming from.

The two young aurors-in-training pushed past the jostling crowd to where they had last seen Minerva but they could not make heads or tails of the situation. Clearly there was a man with a broken nose sitting by the wall, cradling his face with one hand while he attempted to nudge his now flaccid penis back into his pants but the crowd did not seem to be aware of this.

Both young men looked at their ex-professor for clarification. "Disillusionment with a bit of a twist. Much like the Knight Bus." She said, her voice still shaky with anger "Let us retreat for now. Hermione's gone. She apparated before I could so much as say a word to her."

To Be continued?

Shall I? Can Hermione be saved from herself? Or should this be a 'never after' type of oneshot?