Bound.pdf - Fictional Story PDF

~ The Contract "Hey! 'Mione, where're you going?" Ron shouted from their table in the Three Broomsticks. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. "I wanted to get some birthday shopping done and there's supposed to be a new book out that I’ve been waiting for. I'll meet you at Honeydukes." Nobody...

~ The Contract "Hey! 'Mione, where're you going?" Ron shouted from their table in the Three Broomsticks. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. "I wanted to get some birthday shopping done and there's supposed to be a new book out that I’ve been waiting for. I'll meet you at Honeydukes." Nobody had time to reply as she slipped quickly out the door and down the street. She walked swiftly through the bustling crowds, following a sensation in the pit of her stomach that she found difficult to deny – it felt like a rope was tied around her waist, pulling her towards something. She paused at the edge of town, where the noisy, milling crowd became sparse and the cobblestone path gave way to a smooth, solid dirt track. Still, the urge to follow pushed her to continue, and so, holding her breath, she took a step. Her foot sank into a thick, clinging mixture of moss and mud. After a brief struggle to free herself, she pointed her wand at her boots and muttered, “Tergeo.” Once again clean, she cast a charm on her feet to make her footsteps feather-light. Stepping out again, she found she barely even made tracks, and was soon striding confidently along the track. Some minutes later, when the village and its people were nothing more than a dull buzz behind her, Hermione released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. It formed a white, cotton-candy cloud before her - odd for this time of year, even in Scotland – and then it disappeared. Every breath disappeared, mere inches from her mouth. Puzzled, with her heart beating a tattoo against her chest, she lifted a hand up, stretching out her arm. For a heartbeat, it felt like pins and needles had engulfed her hand, and then it transformed into a pleasant tingle running up her arm. Her hand had disappeared from sight and, emboldened by the apparent acceptance of the strange magic, she followed. The same pins and needles spread throughout her entire body, followed by the pleasant tingle of the wards, and she could once again see her hand. Looking about warily, wand clutched between her tingling fingers, she saw that the snow was utterly devoid of disturbance. It struck her as odd that someone would ward an empty hilltop. Feeling her curiosity piqued and, given the stupidity of her actions, strangely confident, she pressed onwards. After several steps, the tingling of the wards washed away, as if a shower had been cut off. Hermione stopped. In front of her, appearing out of nowhere, was a huge, gated mansion. There were three floors lined with darkened windows, above which sat tall, pointed roofs of weathered, slate-grey tile. It looked every part the old, Victorian mansion, with an apron of patio slabs that lead around one side of the building, presumably to what had once been a servants’ entrance. She wrapped her hand lightly around one of the black bars of the towering, wrought iron gate and the great, shaggy, grey dog dozing on the top step lifted its massive head. It stared intently at Hermione for several seconds, while she remained frozen with bated breath, then lowered its head and went back to napping. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” Startled, Hermione spun in the direction of the voice. Not far from her stood an unfamiliar witch. Her robes, a deep burgundy reminiscent of fine wine, clung to her tall, slender frame, and her sleek, black hair reminded Hermione of Morticia Addams. Her eyes, the striking colour of forest leaves in the summer, flickered from the high-reaching rooftops to the bushy-haired little witch before her. “Come with me.” Awestruck, Hermione nodded and stepped aside as the woman approached the gate. With a wave of her hand, what had appeared to be a single, solid gate split down the middle, both halves swinging open in silent welcome. The woman beckoned for Hermione to follow and started towards the house. Entranced, she followed without a word, hardly noticing the stark white pebbles which lined the path as they crunched beneath her feet – instead, her attention was captivated by the thrumming buzz of magic all around her. "So, what brings you here, young lady?" "I don't really know, to be honest," Hermione replied, her voice soft and oddly breathy. "Magic, I suppose. I just, sort of, wandered here." “That is the most common way,” said the woman as a thoughtful look crossed her angular face. Brushing it off, she ushered the young girl inside. “I am Mistress Marian, and this is the Fiendfyres’ Pleasure House. I oversee all activities here, on a day-to-day basis.” "Pleasure House?" Hermione repeated absently, looking around the tidy reception area with its grey marble floor and warm, cocoa walls. "What kind of pleasure house?" "Come with me, Miss..?" Marian trailed off, awaiting an answer. "Oh!" Hermione turned her attention back to the older witch. "Granger. Hermione Granger." “Well, Miss Granger, now I know why you seemed so familiar. You are one of Mr Potter’s friends, aren’t?” “I- I am,” she said nervously, suddenly wondering whether it was the right thing to do, giving her name. What would Harry say if she got herself caught by Death Eaters so easily? Her instincts, however, told her that she had no need to fret. “Hmm. I must warn you – this is a safe place for our members. All politics and perceptions are left at the door, without exception. Many of those whom we entertain are in precarious positions, and many find themselves in the unenviable position of choosing what is right and what is safe. Do you understand that, Hermione? If you cannot agree, then I must ask you to leave now.” “Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied with a firm nod of her head, not quite sure herself why she used that title. “Although, I’m certain I can’t think of anyone I might know here.” Marian smiled. "You would be surprised. Now, as for those other questions, come with me, Miss Granger, and you will have your answers." Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led down a long corridor, into a luxurious office with walls of a rich, ruby red against panelling so dark as to be almost black. The carpet was a soft, creamy colour, and to the left, in front of a large window that showed a beautiful view of the Scottish Highlands, sat an ancient, leather-topped desk of glistening mahogany. It was practically bare, with the exception of a quill and an inkpot. To the right was a stack of filing cabinets, exquisitely made from matching mahogany. Hermione sat in the seat that was offered to her – an oversized desk chair of supple, cream coloured leather – whilst Marian walked around the desk to sit in her own seat, made to match. She promptly began rummaging through drawers for something, and finally pulled a sheaf of parchments out, placing it in front of her. She slid the package across to Hermione. "This should explain everything, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. At the back, there is a contract for you to sign; this facility is kept under a charm somewhat similar to the Fidelius, so the contract protects both the owners and members of Fiendfyres’. If, after reading this, you decide not to sign, a specialist will Obliviate you and you will be sent on your way with a vague memory of reading under a tree on a hill, or some such thing, depending on your regular pastimes and the like. Should you choose to stay, arrangements will be made for you to begin your training and we will proceed from there." Hermione nodded and, in true bookworm fashion, dove into the thick pile. She lost track of the time she spent reading through the minutiae of the agreement, devouring every scrap of information provided by the documents. A comfortable silence filled the room, only punctuated by the occasional question. True to her word, Marian replied with detailed answers that left Hermione’s famous curiosity sated. "You have a contact at the school?" Hermione asked, turning to the last page and taking the self-inking quill in hand. "We do," Marian responded, "When your formal training is completed, you may continue to learn with them." "This contact, are they a teacher, a student, who is it?" "Miss Granger," Marian leaned forward with a soft smile, her elbows on the desk, hands linked at the fingers – long and slender – upon which her chin rested lightly. "This is information I simply cannot disclose until you sign that contract – even then, I cannot reveal that information until your training is complete. I assure you, you will be in safe hands. I can, however say that he is a very protective and caring Master." Well that narrows it down to, oh, about half the school! Hermione thought. With her lip between her teeth, Hermione turned her attention back to the parchment before her and scratched her tidy signature on the line. She initialled several times and signed twice more, and then Mistress Marian sealed the agreement with her own signature and a tap of her beech wand. The magic of the contract swirled through the room and the parchment rolled itself up and was sealed with swirled black and red wax bearing what appeared to be some sort of crest. The parchment stored itself away in one of the filing cabinets and Hermione's stomach flip- flopped as the realisation of what she had just done hit her like a bludger to the gut. "Congratulations, Hermione; you are now a member of Fiendfyres'." Marian smiled and leaned over the desk for a hug. When they parted, she rummaged through her drawer and removed two unadorned silver bracelets, made of the finest chain link Hermione had ever seen. "Hold your hands out, darling. These bracelets are goblin-made silver, we use them to identify trainees. Masters who are unattached or looking for a new sub will sometimes wear gold. They are not visible to anyone unless you or I make them so – and there are few in this world capable of seeing through the concealment charms." Hermione raised her shaking hands and watched as the light chains were slipped around her wrists, shrinking immediately to fit snugly. Marian smiled, held up her finger and said, "Now, before you go, I will give you your journal." From another drawer, she retrieved a small, but thick book with a green leather cover and handed it to Hermione. "I want you to keep a daily record of your meals and exercise in here and every evening, you will write an entry summarising your day. I have a second journal that is kept here, and the two are charmed so that I may read your entries and write messages to you. Every so often, I will set you a task, on which I will expect a report. You are to check the journal each morning when you get up, and in the evening before and after dinner." Hermione nodded, thumbing through the blank pages of the journal. "Yes Ma'am," She replied. "Call me 'Mistress' or 'Madam,' Hermione. We must be proper – I am no longer your host, but your training Domme," Marian corrected, "Please take the submissive pose – the position should come quite naturally to you." "Yes, Mistress," Hermione answered, lowering herself to the ground. She tucked her legs under her body, sitting back on her heels, with her hands resting on her thighs, just above her knees, palms upward and open. Mistress Marian placed her foot between Hermione's thighs, nudging them slightly further apart. "Well done, Hermione. Now, you had best get back to your friends before they wonder where you've gone. I will find my contact and talk to him about making arrangements for you." "Yes, Mistress." Hermione nodded and shifted fluidly to her feet. "Thank you for this opportunity." Mistress Marian waved her away with a smile and she collected her bag and hurried back to Hogsmeade. A quarter of an hour later, Hermione entered Honeydukes. She had just seen the distinctive red hair of the Weasleys heading inside. A mischievous grin spread over her face as she walked up behind the unsuspecting Weasley girl. Her fingers found Ginny’s ticklish sides as she shouted, “Boo!” Ginny squealed and turned on her assailant with a glare to rival her mother's. "Hermione! You can't just do that to a girl!" Hermione smirked, trying to control her laughter. "Too late now, Gin. What have you guys been up to?" "Oh, not much. We just went and had a look at some brooms and Quidditch gear – nothing you'd be interested in." "Right, well we have fifteen minutes to get our sweets and get back to the meeting point before McGonagall comes head-hunting." "We can do that," Ron piped in, arms already laden with sweets. "Get a basket, Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen food!" "Yes 'Mione." He turned away to find a basket, taking Harry and Ginny with him. Shaking her head, Hermione sighed and set off to collect her own basket of sweets. After paying for their treats and shrinking them down to fit easily in their pockets, the group scurried back to the meeting point just in time to blend in with the crowd and avoid a reprimanding. Shortly up the path, Hermione heard a whisper-soft crack of apparition. She turned and looked over her shoulder, only to find Snape following behind them, the middle and ring fingers of his right hand in his mouth, his cheeks hollowed. A loose gold chain, as delicate as her own silver bracelets, glinted on his slightly exposed wrist. Nobody else seemed to notice him until he removed his fingers and began chastising stragglers. Unwilling to get caught staring, Hermione turned away, self-consciously pulling her sleeves further over her hands. She knew the bracelets weren't visible, yet Snape's uncanny ability to spot even the most sophisticated of concealment charms left her paranoid. What did Mistress Marian say about bracelets? Gold for...? Shaking away the thought – Snape, a sexual deviant? Yuck! – she continued on up the path to Hogwarts. When they returned to the castle, Hermione slipped away to her dorm and jumped onto her bed. She drew the drapes around her and warded them heavily. The walk had taken longer than expected and it was almost dinner time, so she flicked to the first page to check for notes. She was uncertain if the note she found was a warning or a demand – ‘Do not show your bracelets in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.’ With a sigh, she scrawled a quick, though tidy, acknowledgement before checking the time. Realising she was about to be late for dinner, she hid the journal and made her way through the common room and down the stairs. As she waited for one of the staircases to move back into position, she mulled over the note. Something in Defence class was a threat to either her safety, her secret, or perhaps even both. The only thing that came to mind for either was Professor Snape. With that unsettling thought floating in her mind, she tugged her sleeves down past her wrists and followed a group of Ravenclaws into the Great Hall. She felt eyes on her from the teachers' table, but when she looked up, she saw naught but a few owls tittering on the backs of chairs, or resting on perches. The teachers were all conversing or eating, none of them paying much attention to the rowdy students. Hermione took her seat between Harry and Ron and helped herself to a plateful of the rich-as-ever feast. She was careful to keep track of everything she ate and scribbled every last detail down in the journal after dinner, while nibbling at a slice of strawberry cheesecake. She added her cake by way of dessert, tucked the journal away in the locked and warded trunk under her bed, and then lay back onto the mattress. What have I gotten myself into? She crossed her arms behind her head and pondered this. What had she gotten herself into? A mess, if my past is anything to go by, she thought gravely. With that notion weighing heavily on her mind, she fell into a light, restless sleep long before the other Gryffindor girls returned.  ~ Changes and Drama (Swan Chick) Chapter Notes 'Swan Chick' is a reference. If you get it, you get it. If you don't, look into who Leda is and her role in Greek Mythology. Zeus is involved. You won't be disappointed. See the end of the chapter for more notes Throughout the first week, Marian left a series of suggestions based around correcting Hermione’s dietary habits – she should eat less of this, or more of that, cut those out and start eating these. With the changes to her diet, she began to feel different in herself. She had more energy, her magical endurance had increased and her hair was even starting to behave itself – well, more or less. She had also noticed that, despite providing all the necessary components, Hogwarts was hardly promoting the healthiest diet. Nevertheless, she was glad of the change – her increased energy certainly helped with the ever-increasing piles of homework and, though she would never admit it, she was pleased by the attention she gained from boys as her hair became more manageable – one Cormac McLaggen seemed to be particularly interested in this development, among other things. Once she had implemented the adjusted diet, almost a week passed before she heard from Marian again. She still spent at least half an hour writing in her journal, recording each meal as accurately as she could, before writing a detailed account of her day. As instructed, she studiously avoided letting Snape – Professor Snape – see her bracelets, taking care to always cover them with her long sleeves. When questioned, she would cite the chilly weather or having had a sniffle the night before. Hermione tapped her quill against her lips. Her first serious reprimand over her sleeves had been a bit of an ordeal. Thankfully, it had only landed her in detention, and not sitting before her head of house. Frowning, she set quill to parchment; detention had made her late to bed, and Marian was surely wondering what had kept her. -*-*-*-*-*-*- Sorry, Professor Snape gave me detention with Filch, all over an incident in D.A.D.A. today. Details to come. -*-*-*-*-*-*- She paused, a tingle tripping up her spine as she remembered the encounter. Something about Professor Snape that day had made her stomach clench – whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, she was yet to decide. -*-*-*-*-*-*- Snape stalked silently through the room, the ominous thud of his dragon-hide boots on the floor distinctly audible over the sound of non-verbal spells zipping through the air. Hermione was the only student who hadn't removed her jumper, having cast a cooling charm over herself to ward off the heat of the magic buzzing through the air. Her body stiffened as the thudding footsteps came to a sudden halt directly behind her. "Miss Granger, would you care to explain why you have elected to cast a cooling charm upon yourself, rather than removing your ridiculous jumper?" Hermione's words caught in her throat. She could feel him towering over her much smaller frame, and his eyes, black as sin, boring into the top of her bushy head. She swallowed thickly and barely managed to force out a half-strangled, “Sorry, Sir,” before Harry, sweet-hearted idiot that he was, leapt to her defence. “Who cares what she’s wearing? She’s practically top of the class, and there are no rules saying she has to take off her jumper to please you!” His outburst was followed by a mumble of agreement from the Gryffindors and snickers from Draco and his Slytherins. Snape whirled around to face Harry, and Hermione turned with him. She could feel the fury rolling off him in waves and a shiver tripped up her spine. "Did I ask your opinion, Potter?" he sneered, "No. Now, if I recall correctly, the idea of this exercise was to practise non-verbal spells. Miss Granger, remove that jumper at once, the rest of you – get on with your work." "I'm sorry, Sir, but I would prefer not to," Hermione piped in. His attention snapped to her and she found herself thinking that it would be rather convenient if the floor were to open up and swallow her whole at that moment. She could feel his raven eyes roving over her face and turned her gaze resolutely to the floor in a bid to keep him from invading her mind. After a moment of tense silence, he snarled, "Remove it." She stubbornly refused and hoped that he wouldn't wring her neck when he growled, "Detention. You will join Filch tonight at eight," and strode away in a huff. -*-*-*-*-*-*- He hadn’t wrung her neck – although he had seemed tempted. Hermione closed her journal and shoved it into her trunk, before pulling the sheets up to her chin and promptly drifting into a deep sleep. When she woke the next morning, Marian had left a humorous comment on her interaction with Professor Snape, having finally responded to her notes. Hermione had read Marian’s notes, scribbled a brief response, and hurried to breakfast. Fortunately, Snape had decided that essays were in order for the day's lesson and he mostly ignored the students as they sat and scribbled on varying lengths of parchment. At the end of class Hermione discreetly ensured that her bracelets were concealed before handing in her scroll. Snape glared at it, admittedly some two feet longer than requested, then turned his raven eyes on her. At Hermione's seemingly calm expression, he sneered and dismissed the class with a discontented growl. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike fled from the room – and their foul-tempered professor – scooping up their books and equipment on the way. Hermione, being furthest from the door, was last to scurry out, books clutched tightly to her chest. When the heavy slab of oak slammed closed in her wake, she wasted no time in racing to her next class – anywhere but the Defence classroom. A few days later, a note appeared in her journal with instructions to use the floo in the Room of Requirement to get to Fiendfyres' in her next free period. Nerves and excitement ran through her as she realised her next free period was first thing that morning. Scribbling a note of confirmation, Hermione showered and dressed quickly before strolling down to the great hall for breakfast. She entered the hall with a group of Hufflepuffs and chattered amiably with Harry, Ron and Ginny over pancakes and fruit until they were dismissed for classes. She filed out with everyone else, then darted up to the dorm to collect her journal before heading back to the seventh-floor corridor. She paced until the door appeared: a simple oak door with a black handle and no lock. Checking that the coast was clear, she slipped inside. The room was about the size of Myrtle's bathroom, with a large fireplace and a soft, blue rug with intricate golden embroidery running throughout. Deciding to look more closely at the room later, Hermione made directly for the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and, with a short call of, "Fiendfyres'," she felt herself spinning away, before practically falling out into an unfamiliar room. The walls were soft blue, accented with dark cherry woods and several paintings hung upon them – muggle ones, complete with blank, unseeing eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it calmed or unsettled her; it was so out of place in the magical world. The hearth she stood on was made of pale grey stone. The furniture in the room was made of the same wood as the intricate decoration of the walls, and the armchairs were upholstered in a midnight blue material that almost seemed to shimmer. As Hermione stepped off the hearth onto the carpet – a creamy, off-white colour – she noticed her shoes had been cleaned by a charm. She was halfway across the room, intent on examining the upholstery, when the door flew open. Mistress Marian, looking extremely frustrated, strode in and promptly settled herself into one of the chairs. A calculating stare fell upon Hermione, who had frozen mid-step. "Hermione, I am pleased to see that you are following my instructions." She smiled widely, taking a deep breath. As she exhaled, every trace of her frustration seemed to wash away. "Sit. We will take tea before starting your training." "Yes Mistress," Hermione replied, "Where should I sit?" "Well done. You may take the armchair." Marian offered another smile and gestured to the armchair opposite herself. Once Hermione was seated, Marian called, "Pippi!" and a tiny elf wearing rainbow socks on her ears popped into view. "We would like tea please, Pippi. The usual, thank you." "Yes Mistress!" the elf answered, almost vibrating with excitement, "Pippi will bring the tea with a special cup for the young Missy!" The elf winked out again and was back moments later with a full tea service. She picked up one of the cups and handed it to Hermione. "This is Missy's cup. It will help Missy to learn and train faster. Missy must drink all of her tea!" "Thank you, Pippi," Hermione replied, gently taking the cup from the small elf's hands. "I promise I'll drink all my tea." "It is Pippi's honour to serve Missy!" the little elf squeaked, before looking to Marian, who dismissed her with a wave of her hand. When the elf had left, Marian stood and poured them each a cup of tea. “Depending on the details of the arrangement you enter into, your Master or Mistress could very well expect you to serve food and drinks for them, and possibly their guests. This is something you would need to discuss with your Dominant, of course, but we will deal with that in due course.” Handing Hermione her cup, the elegant witch returned to her seat. “Many members here prefer to use aliases, glamours and distraction charms when we hold events here at the house, or indeed any time they attend. This is particularly true for those who are prominent figures in the wizarding world. As I am quite certain you would like your identity protected, in light of who you and your friends are, I had planned to spend your first session devising a suitable appearance and nom de guerre, as well as ensuring your charms are robust enough. Do you have any objections?” "No, Mistress," Hermione replied. Marian nodded in return and the two finished their tea in silence. When the teacups had been placed back on the tray, the tea service vanished. Marian gestured for Hermione to stand, doing so herself. She conjured a plush cushion on the floor between them, gesturing to it. "Please kneel, Hermione. I will check your position, then we can begin." Hermione nodded and dropped onto the cushion, quickly assuming the submissive position; her legs folded under her body and slightly apart, bum touching her heels, back straight, head tilted down and hands on her thighs with the palms facing upward. She watched Marian as far as she could, without moving, before the other woman disappeared behind her. "Well done. This is perfect, Hermione. Of course, your Master or Mistress may change this position when you are collared, but this is the basic pose that most use.” "Now, shall we begin with a name? Do you have any ideas?" "Yes, Mistress. I like the name Leda," Hermione replied, keeping her eyes down, "She was –” "A figure in Greek mythology, yes I know of her," Marian finished thoughtfully, "I like it. Leda it is, then. This will be the name you use both here and when you are acting as a member of Fiendfyres' in public – in short, whenever you wear your glamours, you are Leda. Understood?" Hermione nodded slightly, "Yes, Mistress." Over an hour was spent after that, layering glamours to create a look both unrecognisable and yet close enough to her natural appearance that any potential Dominants would not feel deceived once they were removed. In the end, her glamours consisted of darkened hair and eyes; a slightly longer face which served to make her appear slightly taller; a slimmer nose, and emphasis on the soft, barely- there freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks. Marian also devised some modifications to her school uniform – shortening the skirt and tightening the shirt – to ensure that her clothing, always somewhat oversized, wouldn’t give her away. This, along with a few well-placed distraction charms, would ensure that even those close to her would be unlikely to recognise her. Having completed Hermione's disguise, Marian decided a tour of the House was in order. The charms hiding her true identity were checked for any flaws and, satisfied that they would hold, Marian led the way out of the room. Beginning on the top floor, which consisted of several small, apartment-like rooms used by guests, the pair worked their way down through the floors, via a series of ornate staircases. Hermione learned that the old mansion was expanded considerably and that the knobs on the doors to private areas and guest rooms were charmed to change colour depending on whether they were vacant, occupied or reserved; green for vacant, red for occupied, and blue for reserved. Marian also demonstrated that the doorknobs would disappear if the person attempting to enter was unwelcome and that a simple charm, cast from inside, would make the door translucent to the occupants' choice of people – any and all passers-by, or only specific guests. When the pair finally reached the dungeon level, Marian showed Hermione the main public playroom. It was a large, open space with high ceilings and a series of wooden and leather structures scattered about. At the far end of the room was a tall, black podium with a matching cushion of soft velvet placed atop it. Several smaller podiums, all a deep, rich red stood on either side of the black one and served to form an incomplete ring that took up about half the room with the last, which would have been directly opposite the black one, absent, forming an entrance into the circle. This path was marked with a matching red carpet, which ran all the way up to the tallest podium and formed a circle around the outside of the ring of podiums. "The carpet marks the path used when we display new and unattached submissives," Marian explained, "There is a door directly behind the black podium and the submissives wait in that room while they're announced, then they file out in two lines, each of which parades around one side of the circle, before merging together to continue down the middle. They then leave the line in pairs to take their places on the podiums either side of them. The black podium is usually reserved for new trainees on their debut night, or special guests showing off a submissive. The platforms expand to accommodate limited play for trials or shows." Marian demonstrated how each platform could be modified for different purposes, then turned back to Hermione with a smile. "Of course, the podiums also change colour to suit the décor of any occasion." Hermione nodded, still trying to process everything. When she had finished gazing around the room in amazement, she turned back to Marian to ask, "So, when you've finished training me, I'll go on the black podium?" Marian nodded. "That is correct." "How long will I train?" "That depends on how well and how quickly you learn – I would say a year at most," Marian replied. "Now, we had best get you back to the school for your next class." Once they'd returned to the training room, Marian asked, "Now, Hermione, do you have anything you would like to change, anything you want to ask about before you go?" Hermione thought for a moment, then said, "Yes, Mistress, one thing." She pulled her sleeves up to reveal the delicate silver bracelets. "Could these be moved higher? They're a bit hard to conceal, especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts; Professor Snape sees concealment charms better than even Dumbledore – sometimes he sees through them. The past weeks have been quite difficult – I've been trying to conceal them from him and I'm afraid he's getting quite angry with me." Marian nodded. "You can place them on your upper arms," she replied, tugging the chains upwards. They expanded to accommodate the wider part of her arm, then contracted again to fit snugly, just above her elbow. "There. Continue to hide your wrists like you’ve been doing, though; we wouldn’t want anyone to notice a sudden change. Can you manage that?" "Yes. Thank you, Mistress." Hermione nodded. The pair said their farewells and Hermione flooed back to the Room of Requirement. She carefully checked that the corridor was clear, before disillusioning herself – another spell  Marian had helped her master whilst they were working on her glamours – and making her way to the girls' bathroom. After dawdling in the bathroom for a while, she headed off to class. Chapter End Notes Thanks for reading and pretty please do stuff - Kudos and Comments, I believe are the things I'm looking for! Hello! So from now on, chapters will be published fortnightly. I have written over 60k words, so while I appreciate people being concerned about aspects of the story, I am not willing to change anything at this late stage. To be honest, even at 6k words, I wouldn't be willing to change the plot. I still appreciate comments with constructive criticism or praise or whatever you wanna throw in there - just be warned that if you're persistently rude or pushy, I will eventually stop being polite. Sorry to grumble! Enjoy!  ~ The Stranger Chapter Notes Okay, so the chapter is about half an hour later than I'd hoped it would be, but I got distracted... In other news, I got some nice sparkly jewelry for my piercings today! Aaaaaaaanywaaaayyy... Enjoy! The following morning, Hermione woke to the beginnings of a fitness regime scribbled in the journal. A quick tempus charm told her she had an hour until breakfast; time for a run, but nothing more. With this in mind, Hermione donned a t-shirt, loose sweat pants and trainers, then made her way quietly out of the castle. She jogged a lap around the Black Lake, before returning hastily to the castle, wanting to shower before breakfast. She managed to reach the dorm before Lavender and the others woke, and she showered quickly, threw on her school robes, then made her way down to breakfast. When she reached the Great Hall, she hurried to the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Ginny. The youngest Weasley was having a very animated 'discussion' with her brother about her relationship with Dean Thomas. Ron was told, in no uncertain terms, that, "My love life is none of your business and you'll keep your nose out of it unless you want to lose the big, ugly thing!" The Weasley boy's face turned a very unbecoming shade of puce and he grumbled a reply, before stuffing his mouth with sausages and scrambled eggs. This, too, earned him a reprimand, this time from Hermione, for eating like a pig. After she’d eaten, Hermione rushed back to her dorm to get her books and record what she had eaten, then hurried off to her first class – Ancient Runes. At the beginning of term, Professor Babbling had given the tiny class of four access to a series of books kept in the restricted section of the library. Their task since had been to translate and analyse the texts in relation to each other and the snippets in their textbooks. Hermione usually worked with the two Ravenclaws in the class – Lisa Turpin and Oliver Rivers – while Draco almost always worked alone. His notetaking, however, was impeccable and Professor Babbling would always collect and duplicate everyone's notes at the end of class so that everybody would have the same information. Hermione’s evening was spent helping the boys with their homework and doing her own. By the time they were done, it was almost curfew. Nonetheless, Hermione hurried down to the Room of Requirement, which provided her with a spacious room containing some basic workout equipment and a magical display to track her heart rate and record the intensity of her workout. After a short, rather intense workout, she disillusioned herself and crept back to Gryffindor tower for a shower before bed. She was fortunate enough to reach the tower without encountering Filch – or his dreaded cat – and removed the disillusionment charm before rounding the corner and giving the password to a somewhat begrudging Fat Lady. Her nosy roommates were already well and truly asleep when she reached their dorm and she was able to shower and go to bed without being nagged over her whereabouts and dishevelment. Over the next few days, she organised her fitness regime to fit around her classes and homework, as well as adding more activities. Hermione was surprised to find that, in just the few days since she started exercising, her body shape had already begun to change, albeit minutely; the little bit of pudge on her tummy rapidly disappeared and her breasts seemed to swell slightly, becoming fuller, firmer and rounder. She also noticed that her hips had rounded off nicely and her thighs, while they would never have a gap between them – not that she particularly wanted one – were becoming less wobbly. She seemed to have both lost and gained weight all over her body and was thankful for her robes and oversized uniform, which easily concealed the changes from any would-be observers. Her next trip to Fiendfyres' was scheduled immediately after lunch the following Sunday. It was on that same morning that Marian had left a note informing her that she would be undergoing a medical examination to check her physical condition – flexibility, strength, nutrition and overall health. Hermione had scribbled a quick acknowledgement of the note, before sneaking out of the castle for her morning run. When she reached the path encircling the Black Lake, her usual running track, she was surprised to find that she was not alone. Across the lake, barely visible in the early dawn light, was a lanky figure with a curtain of dark hair obscuring their face, reaching down to just past their shoulders. The stranger – male if the lack of shirt and breasts was anything to go by – was pale-skinned, his complexion so shockingly light that he might have disappeared in a snowstorm. As it was, she had only spotted him thanks to his black shorts, and the flash of movement as he jogged towards a short slope of rock that jutted out into the lake. She watched the unknown figure accelerate into a flat-out sprint, long legs propelling them up the rock slope and off the edge. He contorted his body into an arc, before landing with the faintest ‘splash’, barely audible, even in the early morning stillness. The black head surfaced, turned in Hermione's direction and immediately disappeared underwater. After waiting several minutes for the mysterious person to resurface, Hermione assumed that they had employed a charm of some sort to hide or escape unseen. Disappointed, she turned onto the path to begin her morning run. Despite stopping far too many times to search for the mysterious man, Hermione managed to return to the castle with time enough to spare for a quick workout and a shower before the rest of her dorm awoke. She showered quickly under cool, refreshing water, washing the sweat from her body and the heat from her flesh, then dressed in her pyjamas and went back to bed for a quick nap before starting her day proper. As instructed, Hermione flooed to Fiendfyres' after lunch and waited for Marian to arrive. While she was waiting, she practised applying her glamours, ensuring they were strong enough to last several hours as she was uncertain how long her check-up might take. She had been waiting nearly fifteen minutes when Marian entered. The older woman stopped just in front of Hermione and inspected her work. After casting a few charms to check the strength and durability of her work, Marian nodded and said, "Well done, Hermione. This will save us having to do it before the Mediwitch comes. Instead, we can take tea while we wait for her – Pippi!" At her Mistress' call, the little elf – this time wearing her long, rainbow socks in a big, floppy bow on her head – popped into view. Her wrinkled little face lit up at the sight of Hermione and she bounced excitedly on her toes. "Pippi knows what Mistress needs! Pippi will be back in a flash!" and with that, she winked out. Marian shook her head at the excitable creature and took her place in one of the armchairs. With a smile, she gestured Hermione onto her cushion by the coffee table. Hermione had just gotten into position when Pippi returned with a full tea service, including an extra teacup for their guest. "Pippi remembered Mistress talking with Madam Evalyn about doing a check-up on the young Missy today, so Pippi made certain to bring an extra teacup for the Madam Evalyn!" "Well done, Pippi," Marian answered, smiling indulgently at the little elf. "I will call on you later if we require your assistance. You may return to your friends." "Yes Mistress!" Pippi replied, her large ears flapping wildly as she nodded enthusiastically, before disappearing with a 'pop!' Marian shook her head, smiling fondly at the excitable little elf, then turned to Hermione. "Do you remember when I mentioned some Masters requiring their submissives to serve tea - among other things?" Hermione nodded silently and waited for Marian to continue. "Good. Today, you will learn how to serve tea to the standard most dominants, myself included, expect. “In this case, you will remain kneeling, however you will rise into what we call an active kneel. Your back is to remain straight and you will bend at the waist. You are to hold the pot by the handle with your right hand and your left will be used to hold the lid in place. “Before you pour, you will politely enquire as to how the guest takes their tea. Guests are served in order of rank, unless otherwise specified, and are to be addressed as 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. When you pour the tea and milk, the pot is to be held low over the cup, but not so low as to touch any part of it. A new spoon is to be used for each guest if they require milk, sugar or any other additives and you will use the same spoon to stir. “Do you understand?" Hermione nodded, but remained mute. Marian smiled. “You may speak to acknowledge and answer direct questions, Hermione.” "Yes, Mistress. I understand." “Wonderful. Now, any submissives present are to be served after everyone else, yourself last. Usually, your dominant will be the last served before the submissives, though depending on the event, this order may change – some dominants prefer to be served first." "Yes, Mistress," Hermione responded. Marian smiled. "Why don't you have a go now – practise." Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and rose onto her knees. She reached towards the cup nearest her Mistress and asked, "How do you take your tea, Madam?" "Very good," Marian answered, "Black with one sugar, please." "Yes Ma'am," Hermione said, before taking the teapot as instructed and filling the cup. When she was done, she gently replaced the pot on the tray, carefully wiped away a drop about to run down the side of the pot, then added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it in gently. She dried the spoon on a napkin and placed it on the saucer beside the cup. Finally, she handed the cup and saucer to her waiting Mistress. Having watched carefully while Hermione prepared her tea, Marian took the cup with a nod and congratulated Hermione on her flawless execution of the task. A rapid knocking on the closed door signalled the arrival of their guest and a wave of Marian's hand saw the door swing open to admit an older witch. She was short, with a round, wrinkled face and sky-blue eyes, still full of youthful joy, though visibly aged. The witch took a seat in the armchair opposite Marian and beamed down at Hermione. “You must be Leda. I must say, you look in good health, and very pretty, at that.” She gave a little huff and gestured to Marian. "Mari here has been nagging me all week to come and check you over – she's awfully proud of you. Oh! I'm forgetting myself! My Name's Eva – I've known Mari since she was just a babe, best friends with her older sister, I was – still am!" Marian glared at the older witch, "That is enough of my life-story, don't you think, Evalyn?" "Oh yes, I'd forgotten how you hate being talked about in front of your trainees." She winked at Hermione, a smirk on her bright pink lips. "I'll take my tea with a splash of milk and a drop of honey, dear. I see Mari's already started you on the domestic side of things." Hermione nodded and replied with a soft, "Yes Ma'am," before preparing the tea as instructed. Once Eva had been handed her cup and saucer, Hermione looked to Marian, who nodded her approval of Hermione's unspoken request. With permission from her Mistress, Hermione served her own tea and sat back on her heels to drink it whilst the two older witches conversed. After their tea, Marian conjured an examination bench and helped Hermione onto it. Eva cast several diagnostic charms to determine her nutrition, fitness, muscle tone, strength and overall health. Next, they tested her flexibility, which required Hermione to remain in a range of positions, some of which were quite uncomfortable, whilst Eva cast several diagnostic spells on her joints and ligaments. Occasionally, she would forgo the spells in favour of simply pushing and pulling manually. When they were done, all three returned to their seats and Hermione once again served tea, while Marian and Eva discussed her results. It turned out she was in good health and quite fit, but a bit stiff – nothing a little work couldn't fix. Eva left shortly thereafter and Hermione worked with Marian for the rest of the afternoon, practising formal domestic duties and learning some positions from a muggle yoga book. The session had seen her returning to the school with a copy of the muggle yoga book, courtesy of Marian, and a suggestion to begin a yoga group with some friends. Hermione had immediately thought of Ginny who, when asked, was all too glad to have a go at some ‘funny muggle poses.’ The red-head was even more enthusiastic when she discovered that their new afternoon activity would not only be fun and relieve some of the stress of studying, but would also benefit their joints and muscles, thus helping with their overall fitness. They also managed to recruit Luna and Neville, but all attempts to include Harry and Ron fell on deaf ears. Instead, the boys preferred to roughhouse and play wizards' chess, or talk about Quidditch with their mates. They simply weren't interested in yoga. Initially, it annoyed the girls that they couldn't – wouldn't – see the benefits of such a relaxing activity, but they later found that they were relieved to get a break from the boys' bone-headedness for half an hour each day. The yoga sessions with Ginny continued throughout the term and, when they were just three and a half weeks out from exams, both girls were glad of the half-hour's reprieve it provided. Another check-up with Eva confirmed that the yoga was, in fact, increasing Hermione's flexibility, and that, combined with her fitness regime and healthier diet, it was actually steadily increasing her power and stamina – both physically and magically. These things would eventually plateau, but for the time being, she was doing well. Since that morning at the lake, Hermione hadn't seen the pale man. He seemed to have disappeared and, despite her best efforts, Hermione couldn’t find anyone who looked like him amongst the students or even the staff. She concluded that the encounter was either a coincidence – he just happened to go to the lake that day, or that he was still going to the lake, but had changed his timing so as not to be spotted again. During one of their numerous training sessions, she had asked if Marian knew who the stranger could be, but she simply shook her head and said she couldn't remember ever seeing someone of that description near the lake. Disappointed, Hermione was left wishing that she’d been able to get a closer look at him. If she could have at least seen his face more clearly, she might have had a chance at identifying him. She soon realised that it simply wasn’t to be. In the end, with exams closing in, she completely forgot about him, choosing instead to concentrate on her studies.  ~ It's Time Chapter Notes ON TIMEEEEE!!!! Also, Minerva VS Sev! XD Marian found herself pleasantly surprised by the speed at which Hermione was picking things up – they had managed to get through several months' worth of work in just a few short weeks. By the end of their sixth week of training, Hermione had become accustomed to wearing corsets and high-heeled shoes, along with a variety of other rather revealing articles of clothing. Her proficiency at glamouring herself had also improved significantly – she was now able to cast strong, durable charms relatively quickly, without compromising on their believability; they were seamless, barely discernible as anything other than her true features. Despite having completed so much in so short a time, they had still managed to find time for Hermione to practice both Legilimency and Occlumency and she had even learned some basic daily-use beauty charms – mostly for controlling her still-wild hair. Given her rapid progress and astounding self-control, Marian decided it was time to test Hermione’s training in public and so, at the end of a training session one Friday afternoon, she waved the young witch over and directed her to kneel at her feet. She pulled Hermione forward and rested the girl's chin on her lap, an affectionate act that had become common practice throughout their time together. "Hermione," she began, "you have been advancing very quickly in your training – I believe you may be ready to attend one of our functions." "Really?" Hermione asked excitedly, raising her eyes to look into those of the older witch. "Will I be on the black podium?” "Yes. Tomorrow evening, there is to be a Showcase. You are to arrive here at a quarter to one in the afternoon. An associate of mine, a seamstress, will be coming to design and fit your outfit. I will be arriving with her at one o'clock, precisely. You are to be kneeling on your cushion with your glamours in place by the time we arrive." "Yes, Mistress," Hermione replied, averting her gaze. “Furthermore,” the older witch continued, “tonight, you shall enter the castle in disguise. You are to adjust your uniform as I have shown you, and you will visit each of your professors and ask after ‘The Prince’. You must observe their reactions and record each one in your journal.” "Yes, Mistress," she replied, once again. "Good girl, Hermione. You have done so very well," Marian cooed. It was almost dinner time as Hermione was leaving and Marian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Do you have any questions, Hermione?" "Just one Mistress," Hermione replied. Marian nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead." "Well, I was wondering if you would introduce me to the school contact sometime soon – it would be wonderful to have someone to talk to that could help me through my training." "Ah, the Hogwarts Dominant." Marian smiled. "Well, I expect him to attend this weekend for the Showcase – though he rarely ever attends functions – but if he doesn't make an appearance, I will arrange for you to meet him sometime soon. Now, do you have any more questions?" "No, Mistress," Hermione replied, "Thank you for inviting me to the Showcase." "Good girl. Now, don’t forget to write up your results tonight. I expect to see them in the morning and we might discuss them tomorrow whilst you prepare." Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and Marian checked her modified uniform and glamours once more, before sending her through the floo. Hermione stumbled out into the Room of Requirement and quickly grasped the mantle to regain her balance. Odd. The floo isn't usually so rough... She scourgified her uniform to remove any trace of ash from the fireplaces and opened the buttons over her breasts, revealing more of her cleavage. Checking a mirror above the fireplace and deciding that she was satisfied with her appearance, even if she did feel out of place, she prepared to leave the Room of Requirement. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and slipped out, hurrying down to the castle entrance. By the time she had walked to the gates and back, making a diversion to Hagrid’s en route, the students and staff alike were well and truly ensconced in common rooms and offices. She began her task on the highest floors, working her way down and through the castle. So that she could stop by the kitchens for some dinner when she had finished. -*-*-*-*-*-*- Task Report (Alphabetical Order) Babbling: "There was a character in an ancient runic tale known as 'the Prince', but I doubt that's who you're looking for." – I remember that story. It was very muggle, actually. Binns: "Now, I do remember – yes! I taught young Eileen Prince when she was in school – haven't heard from her since, nor her father. Taught them both, I did. I remember, etc, etc, etc." – I got stuck with him for almost half an hour. He recounted an awfully long tale about the Prince Family. Burbage: "No, I can't say I've ever heard of him. You might try asking the headmaster." Dumbledore: I couldn’t find him. He’s been increasingly absent recently. Firenze: "I've never heard of him – never seen you. I think it best if you leave." – He was clear, but not overly rude. Flitwick: "I cannot help you, Miss – I do not know of this 'Prince'." – He kept looking away and wouldn't make eye contact. He didn’t recognise me though. Hagrid: "Erm, well, no. I've never 'eard of 'im. Sorry. I'll – er – keep an ear out though." – I feel a bit bad. He was so flustered. Hooch: "Well he certainly doesn't fly – I've never heard of a Prince in Quidditch. Oh well. Off you go – and do fix that uniform." – It would seem she doesn't really remember anyone unless they play Quidditch. Sinistra: "No, dear – do fix that uniform." – She seemed quite unfazed. Slughorn: "Now, I'm not exactly certain. You might come in while I have a look through my records." – He kept looking down my top and some surface Legillimency showed that he mostly wanted me to come in so he could get a better view, so I declined. Sprout: "Now dear, that's not correct uniform. You'll need to find something more appropriate to wear. Prince? No, never heard of him. Now fix that uniform, off you go." – She was more worried about my uniform than any Prince. Trelawney: "I see a depraved spirit headed down a dangerous path! Beware! Beware!" – I… I don't even know how to react... I’m not entirely certain whether she was talking about me, The Prince, or someone else entirely. She may not have even known I was there. Vector: "No, I have not. I suggest you fix your uniform or find a new one." – She was quite terse, but not outright nasty. The most interesting ones were McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall was appalled at my modified uniform and tried to take me inside – "Come in, come in, dear. We'll sort you out and you can get back to bed." – she had a vague idea of who 'The Prince' might be, but I couldn't push further without her knowing what I was up to. Snape is still in the dungeons and when I knocked, he made me wait before telling me to "Enter!" and opening the door from his chair, then he was his usual terse self. -*-*-*-*-*-*- She knocked gently on the door and waited for his response. Moments later, she heard a muffled, "Enter!" and the heavy oaken door swung open. She stepped inside and crossed to the desk, where the man in question was sitting, hunched over a pile of papers, red-tipped quill in one hand and a teacup filled with something that looked – and smelled – suspiciously like brandy in the other. She waited patiently for him to finish slashing red marks across a second-year's essay and spoke only when he sat his quill aside and glared up at her. “What do you want?” He demanded. "I'm here to enquire after The Prince," she said sweetly, pushing her chest out, into his line of view and fluttering her eyelashes. Behind her back, her hands were clenched into tight fists, the only outward sign of her nervousness – what if he looked closely enough to see through the glamours? What if they weren’t good enough? His eyes narrowed in response to this request. Hermione could see a vein bulging in his forehead and his already pale skin whitened across his knuckles as he gripped the handle of his teacup tightly enough to cause it to split with a soft 'click'. "I know of no 'Prince' and you will do well to remember that I do not take kindly to being asked stupid questions. Now, as you are clearly a student – former or otherwise, I suggest you either adjust your uniform and take yourself to bed, or else remove yourself from the premises." He flicked his wand and Hermione found herself standing outside his now-closed door. She pondered his reaction on the way back to Gryffindor tower, stopping briefly at the kitchens for some dinner, and in the bathroom to remove her glamours and fix her uniform. When she was done, she checked her bracelets and hurried the rest of the way to her room... -*-*-*-*-*-*- I skimmed the surface of his thoughts for a bit, but he was pushing at my occlumency walls and he's much more experienced than me. I know he was really mad, though. My mention of The Prince angered him, and his inability to snoop about my mind only made him angrier. -*-*-*-*-*-*- Hermione woke to someone beating urgently on the door of her shared dorm. Seemingly the only one not otherwise occupied, Hermione slipped out of bed, stretched and crossed to the door. She heaved it open and looked at the person on the other side with bleary eyes. "Hermione! Get dressed quick, Snape's having a fit!" Ginny shouted excitedly, garnering the attention of the two other girls. "Gin, I really don't--" she started, but was cut off as Ginny shoved past her and pulled her uniform out of her trunk. "C'mon, Hermione!" she whined, "We'll miss it." With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she agreed and quickly readied herself for the day, before following Ginny down to the hall. "Minerva, that girl is hiding something and I will not tolerate it. My job is to teach them to defend themselves and I cannot do so when a student is allowed to conceal a potentially dangerous item on her person. Not to mention we had an unknown witch roaming the halls last night – in uniform." Snape seethed, voice dangerously low. "I'd hardly call that a uniform," The older witch scoffed, shaking her head. "All the same, Severus, I cannot allow you to manhandle a student without proper evidence." His jaw clenched and the look in his black, black eyes was fairly murderous. "Evidence? I saw the concealment charm. She's hiding something!" "Albus has said no," McGonagall retorted. "He did not!" Snape almost – almost – shrieked, "He said to deal with it later – now is later." "Well she's my student," the older witch argued, folding her arms defiantly. "Not only that, but she is a responsible and honest student. She wouldn't hide anything dangerous – especially not on her person." "Which of us here is the Defence Against The Dark Arts professor and an expert in concealment charms?" Snape seethed. "You also have a paranoid, imaginative mind. Now suck your lip in before you fall over it and eat your breakfast!" McGonagall replied tersely, the tiniest of smirks tugging at her lips. Snape glared murderously at the older witch and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Stubborn, boar-headed, uptight old ninny," before returning to his breakfast. It didn't go unnoticed, however, that McGonagall's food was suddenly evading her fork as if it had a mind of its own and she let out a frustrated shout as it apparently formed some kind of word or image on her plate. Fortunately for Snape, he had stormed off before the Transfiguration Professor's food began misbehaving. Hermione looked to Ginny, whose face was almost as red as her hair from her effort to suppress her laughter. "Don't get caught laughing at him," she warned, smirking at her friend, "he might just use an unforgivable today." At this, Ginny pursed her lips and the two girls made their way over to the Gryffindor table where the rest of their house were attempting to stifle their laughter. Some of the older students had cast silencing charms and notice-me-nots and were indulging in what Hermione imagined to be quite raucous laughter. She smiled, shook her head at them and filled her plate with a carefully measured breakfast. It was almost half an hour later, near the end of breakfast, when Harry and Ron turned up, a heavily made-up Lavender Brown hanging off the red-head's arm. Hermione huffed and subtly cast a muffliato around herself to block out the ridiculously high-pitched voice of Ron's 'latest conquest'. I wonder, she thought coldly, is there a charm that might seal her mouth shut, or at least make her less inclined to screech? Probably, she thought, and looked across to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and his gang were tossing around some poor Hufflepuff's inkpot; it didn't look particularly special, but it was certainly breakable. A silent Accio brought it swiftly to her hands and she levitated it back across to the girl, who looked on the verge of tears; Hermione recognised her as one of the first-years and shook her head at their cruelty. -*-*-*-*-*-*- "Granger. Stay," Snape commanded when she made to follow her classmates out after Defence, their only class on a Saturday. Hermione stopped short and turned back to face her dour professor. "Sir?" she said, looking at him quizzically. Snape waited until the final student had passed the threshold, before slamming the door with a flick of his wand and levelling his gaze on the young woman. "You have completed the curriculum for this term, have you not?" he said after a moment. "S-sir, I--" Hermione stuttered, eyes wide. "Do not lie to me, Miss Granger," he warned, eyes narrowed dangerously. Hermione hung her head in resignation, "Yes, sir," she answered, "I have." He smirked. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" "No, sir." "Aside from Mister Malfoy, you are the only student in this school that has even the slightest chance of successfully brewing any form of medicinal potion. As Mister Malfoy is otherwise occupied with his schoolwork, I am left with no choice but to request that you become my assistant." "Professor?" "You will not be attending theory classes for the remainder of the term; instead, you will be working in a private laboratory, assisting me in the restocking of the infirmary's potion stores," Severus confirmed. “If you are capable, that is.” "Isn't that the job of the Potions Master?" she asked, slightly confused, "Why would we need to do it?" "Because Horace is so far up--" he stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes at the girl, "The resident Potions Master is busy supervising… extra-curricular events, and therefore has no time for brewing outside of classes. I also have very little time available for such tasks, therefore, I require an assistant that will not kill the entire school with poorly-made potions. Now I ask again, are – you – up – to – the – task?” "I suppose so..." she trailed off thoughtfully, "Where will I be brewing? What do I tell my friends?" "You will be brewing in the private laboratory in the dungeons and you will tell your friends," here, her sneered, "that you have been asked to complete an extra-curricular project. It is simple – do not attempt to over-think it. You will also be learning a small range of advanced potions and defensive spells in return for your assistance, as you will need to acquire some level of competence with them to complete your work." "Yes, sir," she muttered, "When would you like me to start?" "Tomorrow morning. You will come to my office at exactly eight and I will show you where you will work." He looked her up and down, lip curled in apparent disgust. "Be dressed appropriately for potions work and do not be late." "Yes, sir," She replied awaiting her dismissal. "Leave," he snarled, flicking the door open. Hermione jumped at his tone and, picking up her bag, scurried out the door.  ~ Debut Chapter Notes See the end of the chapter for notes Hermione ate a light lunch before her appointment and hurried to the Room of Requirement, where she quickly flooed to Fiendfyre's. Conjuring a mirror, she began to carefully assemble her glamours, ensuring they were as strong and flawless as possible. She had just vanished the mirror and made herself comfortable on her cushion when Marian and the seamstress arrived, bursting through the door in a flurry of colour and noise. They were arguing about "too much skin" and "she's only a trainee," to which Marian replied, "Nonsense! Masters Abraxas and Tobias will be here tonight and I will not have her overdressed. Master Tobias is highly sought after and he has refused to collar anyone for years. Besides, I have found his perfect match." "Master Tobias would hex you black and blue for that." The seamstress tutted and Hermione looked up through her lashes at the two women. Standing not far behind her Mistress was an older witch with a narrow, pinched face and sharp hazel eyes. Her hair, long ago turned white, hung in two tight plaits that bumped against her hips as she moved. The two witches discussed the matter some more, before turning their attention to Hermione. Marian strode to the centre of the room and cradled Hermione's cheek affectionately. She then directed her to stand and transfigured the cushion into a footstool for Hermione to stand on. A rush of cool air hit her skin as her uniform disappeared, reappearing in a neatly folded pile on the mantle just seconds later. After looking her over, the seamstress conjured a deep purple corset, trimmed with black lace, which sat just below her breasts, pushing them up and together. The idea was immediately dismissed by Marian. “No. You know Master Tobias will want to paint her. He won’t appreciate having to remove a corset.” The seamstress huffed. “You are impossible, Marian Rosier.” “Not impossible – just difficult.” The older woman rolled her eyes and turned back to Hermione. “Tell me what you had in mind.” After thinking for a moment, Marian stepped closer to Hermione and traced the tip of her wand across the girl’s skin. A bright trail of white light, as wide as two thumbs placed side- by-side, was left in its wake. When she was done, there was a ring framing her navel, and from each side the thread wrapped around her back, and then back to the front, crossing her breasts so as to hide her nipples and then about her neck. Another trail of light encircled her, just below her hips, connected to a second ring at the front. The last strand of light dipped down between her thighs, joining to the back. Having watched carefully, the seamstress stepped forward and her own wand trailed over the young witch’s flesh, leaving a red light in its wake. When she was done, the lines around Hermione’s upper torso had remained untouched. The bottom half, however, had been completely replaced by something akin to a thong, with a ring nestled on either hip to hold it all together. The entire thing was joined by threads of light that ran from her navel to her hips. Marian nodded appreciatively, then muttered, “Smart arse.” The seamstress snickered. “That’s why I make clothes and you train submissives.” Marian glared half-heartedly at the older witch. “Shall we take tea now and finish this afterwards, or will we take tea when we have finished?” “If your submissive is comfortable as she is, we might discuss materials over tea,” the seamstress answered. “Very well. Leda?” “I’m fine, Mistress,” Hermione said, nodding slightly. “Good. You may join us if you would like,” Marian offered. Hermione hesitated for a moment, before responding, “I think I’d like that.” As an afterthought, she added, “Where may I sit.” Marian smiled proudly. “Take an armchair.” Once they were all seated, Marian called Pippi and requested tea and some sandwiches. The little elf nodded, winked out and reappeared moments later with a tray of sandwiches and a tea service. She placed everything on the coffee table, then began pouring cups of tea. Once the elf had left, they sat quietly, sipping their tea. After a while, the seamstress sat her teacup back on its saucer and turned to Marian. “I do believe I forgot to introduce myself.” “Yes – because you were too busy trying to over-dress my trainee,” Marian answered, smirking into her tea. The older witch rolled her eyes and held her hand out to Hermione. “My name is Constance, but please call me Connie.” Hermione hurried to place her teacup back on the saucer so she could shake the woman’s hand. She looked to Marian, who nodded subtly, then introduced herself, “I’m Leda. Nice to meet you.” “What a lovely name. Greek, isn’t it?” Hermione nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” “Not your own, I suppose?” “No, it isn’t,” Hermione answered. “Do you still attend Hogwarts?” Connie asked, taking a sip of her tea. “Yes. I’m in sixth year,” Hermione said, smiling. Connie turned to Marian. “Sixth?” “She was a year older than her peers starting out and a time-turner has aged her an extra year. Biologically, she is eighteen,” Marian explained. Connie nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.” The trio continued to chatter over tea and sandwiches, before returning to their work. They had decided on black satin with silver rings and Connie spent several minutes conjuring strips of the material and arranging it to follow the lines marked on Hermione’s body. She would occasionally pause and tap her wand to a section where the material overlapped to hold the pieces in place. When Marian and Connie were both satisfied with the positioning, the seamstress conjured three silver rings and attached them to the material, ensuring that it was secure, before dispersing the charm used to sketch the lines on her body. The two women stepped back to admire their work and smiled. “I think we have done well,” Marian commented. “‘We’ indeed,” Connie replied, rolling her eyes. Marian reached over and swatted the older witch on the shoulder. Connie swatted Marian in return and turned to leave. “I’d best be off. Shall I check in with the others on my way out?” “If you would,” Marian answered, walking her to the door. “Consider it done.” Once they were alone, Marian removed the glamours and began to reapply them, layering in several makeup charms as she went. Her eyes were lined with kohl and given a dark smoky- eye look, and her lips painted with glossy, black lipstick. Her hair – glamoured, as usual – to appear slightly shorter and several shades darker, was curled loosely, supported securely with a number of charms, and left to flow freely over her shoulders. Marian checked several times whether the glamours were secure, occasionally adding another layer or touching up a flaw. Eventually, she added a few charms to distract anyone who might recognise her and smiled, satisfied with her work. With the look complete, Marian led Hermione from the room and down the corridor into a larger chamber. A group of women sat on wine-red leather couches, each wearing her own bespoke outfit. An identical pair with platinum blonde hair and matching ensembles turned to greet the new addition to their group. They moved more fluidly together than even Fred and George and before Hermione had a chance to blink, they had produced a black ribbon and were tying it around her neck in a delicate bow. Marian grasped Hermione's shoulders to turn her around, taking in her appearance. "Are you ready?" she asked. "I think so," Hermione responded after a short pause. "Good girl," the older witch smiled, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "Now, the main podium will be green tonight and the others black. Tonight, the green is yours. The other girls you see here are submissives who have not yet been collared. They will be on other podiums around the room. You will be attended at regular intervals by a group of collared women, who will stand you up, check your blood flow and massage your muscles to relax them. They will also help you to get back into position. I have already mentioned that Masters Abraxas and Tobias are expected to attend tonight. Master Tobias has not taken a submissive in some time and I believe you will be able to catch his eye. If we are lucky, you won't be kneeling for very long." "Although he is known to be an evil bastard at times," interjected a short, brown-haired girl. "Yes, well I did say 'if we are lucky,' did I not?" Marian replied with a sigh, "We are, however, fortunate enough to have Master Abraxas attending as well. He and Master Tobias often work together and Master Abraxas' attention is much more easily caught." Before any more could be said, Pippi popped in, holding a pair of black high heels, open with criss-crossed straps all the way up the foot, ending at the ankle. "Pippi has charmed Missy's shoes! They will be very comfortable all night," the little elf squeaked, the socks on her ears flopping about as her head bobbed. "Missy looks very beautiful. Master Tobias will surely want to play with Missy!" "Thank you, Pippi," Marian said patiently, "Please help Leda into her shoes. Bianca, if you would balance her?" "Yes, Mistress," answered the brown-haired girl, stepping forward to hold Hermione steady, while Pippi placed the shoes on her feet. With everyone wearing heels, Hermione found that her own ridiculously high pair made little difference to her height in comparison to the other girls; she was still shorter than most of the women in the room. Seemingly reading her thoughts, Marian smirked and, with a hand on her lower back, led her to the door, ready to step out when instructed. "Don't worry, Masters Abraxas and Tobias both prefer smaller women – it’s a male thing. Some Dominants may request to play, in which case, you will do as you are instructed by them – unless it contradicts anything I have already said. I will be setting limits tonight as you are very inexperienced, however you may still find yourself challenged. If you find you are unable to endure an activity, do not hesitate to us your safe word – Arithmancy. Now, you should all know your positions in the line – Leda first, Bianca, twins… Good. You know what to do. Ready?" Everyone answered in the affirmative and the girls formed a line behind Hermione. Marian inspected each girl carefully and then, with a nod of approval, left the room to begin the formal opening of the night. Once she had left, Bianca lightly touched Hermione’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Good luck. I hope you get Master Tobias.” Several minutes later, a young woman with a strip of red leather around her neck opened the door and instructed the girls to follow in their line. At the front of the line, Hermione moved forward and the other girls fell into step behind her, eyes downcast as Marian had trained them. The lines split off into two, one twin on each side. They completed the parade with perfect timing and one-by-one, the girls dropped off to take their places on the podiums. The last to go was Bianca, leaving to find her place just after the twins, who broke off together to share one podium. Hermione suddenly found herself standing alone before her podium, a brightly lit green that reminded her of the Forbidden Forest’s leaves, and which was about two feet taller than the rest. Marian stood beside it, looking out into the small crowd. "Tonight, I am presenting my newest trainee, Leda, who has been with us for eight weeks. Those wishing to play with her will do so under my supervision and on display only. As she is still a trainee, all play will be restricted within certain parameters, depending on the request – impact play, should I choose to allow it, will require a lengthy discussion beforehand." At the end of her introduction, the woman who had collected them from the room gently nudged Hermione forward, indicating she should climb the stairs onto the platform. Marian then instructed her to turn slowly so that everyone could see her, before gesturing for her to kneel on the cushion at the top. She did so quickly, ensuring she was positioned correctly so that she would be able to maintain the stance for as long as necessary. After the first half hour of people coming and going, two women came over to her and helped her to stand. Each of them had a different coloured collar around their neck. Once Hermione was on her feet and balanced on the high stilettos, they cast a series of diagnostic charms and then gently massaged her legs, arms and lower back to get the blood flowing. She was then instructed to slowly turn a full circle to show herself off to the groups of dominants – some with their submissives – who had come to watch. Hermione suppressed a shiver at being so openly ogled. It was difficult to tell whether it was pleasure, trepidation or a mixture of the two. Her turn complete, the women helped her back into position, before leaving to attend their other duties. Several men – and even a few women – came to inspect her. Most would simply circle the podium from a distance, but a few came closer. Of those, perhaps half touched her – a  delicious mix of rough and smooth, prod and caress. Some talked to Marian and several times Hermione saw her Mistress shaking her head. A group of several young men remained close by for quite some time, leering at her. Several times, she suppressed a shudder at the feeling of eyes on her body. Marian had been watching them since they had arrived, but allowed them to stay as long as they kept their distance and didn’t disturb anyone else. Nearly two hours into the Showcase, a streak of blue flashed over the crowd, and Marian ducked into a side room, joined immediately by the shapeless light. Hermione could only conclude it was a patronus. When Marian returned to the dungeon, she flicked her wand and the temperature of the room – or perhaps just Hermione's podium – fell. It wasn't enough to be uncomfortable, but the chill in the air made her nipples tighten, forming an obvious peak beneath the satin. Marian proceeded to inspect all of the girls on display, correcting posture and ensuring their outfits, hair and glamours were immaculate. When she reached Hermione, she ran her fingers through the young woman’s hair, moving it about so that her face was framed nicely. She cast diagnostics on the glamours to see that they were intact and still strong, then made some last-minute adjustments to her outfit. Marian tugged the satin sitting over her nipples so that they pressed into the centre of the strips, creating a clear peak, while still preserving her modesty. She also moved the pieces around her waist so that they sat properly to compliment her figure and created a discrete split in the crotch of her bottoms, whispering that it would allow better access. The hushed murmurs started shortly after Marian had finished. Hermione had been kneeling on the podium for well over two hours by then and, from her elevated position, she could see the crowd beginning to part. Chapter End Notes Someone asked to rewrite this story not long ago... I asked for a draft... I made a mistake... They essentially wanted to use my plot with different characters and tried to smoosh Marian and another character into one and he turned out like a pervy headmaster. My editor read only the first two paragraphs - OF 16 PAGES - and told me to print it purely for the sake of burning it. I did not. I did, however politely decline their request to write the story.  ~ The Masters They walked shoulder-to-shoulder; two tall figures gliding through the parting crowd. Matching black robes, trimmed with delicate silver, swirled behind them with an elegance that reminded Hermione of Professor Snape’s billowing robes. They headed directly for the podium she was knelt on, Marian stood proudly beside her. The Domme greeted each of them with a bright smile. The taller of the two had light grey eyes and lank, blond hair reaching just past his shoulders. His features were severe, but not unattractive, with an aquiline nose that was, perhaps, slightly too large for his face. His lips were full, but drawn into a thin line as Marian released him from a tight hug and he stood straight again. Hermione could only interpret his expression as one of displeasure, although she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. The other man, less than an inch shorter, smirked at the discomfort of his companion. He was strikingly handsome, with dark eyes set in aristocratic features and sleek black hair that fell to his waist. Their hair shimmered slightly as they moved, giving the impression that they were using glamours. Marian gestured for Bianca to take their cloaks and began leading them briefly around the podiums. As they walked, Hermione was able to better see their figures. The light-haired man was lanky, a bit on the skinny side, but evidently well-toned. His raven- haired companion was more muscular, she decided, and yet lean. It fit the dignified demeanour. Their tour of the podiums was punctuated with the occasional praising comment or sharp reprimand for the girl in question. Hermione hastily averted her eyes and corrected her posture as the trio finished with Bianca, who had taken their cloaks and returned to her podium. They turned in her direction, finally coming to a halt directly in front of her. "This is my newest trainee, Leda. She has proven herself to be a fast learner and a natural submissive – very confident in her body and highly obedient. She can move confidently in little more than her heels and bracelets and is now quite flexible enough for any type of play, including the insane things the two of you could devise," Marian explained. Hermione suppressed the urge to look up as one of the men muttered, "Leda..." as if testing the name for himself. His voice sounded oddly familiar and Hermione mentally urged him to speak again in the hope of identifying the strange man. "Her mind is strong," came another, deeper voice, presumably that of the other man, “I can barely read her surface thoughts – but she would like to hear your voice again.” "Is that so?" the first man purred, "Perhaps we should request a session." "I believe so. I would like to see how she reacts to proper play.” The second man's voice also sounded familiar, but Hermione could place neither and instead focussed on the conversation at hand. "Mistress Marian, we would like to request a session with your trainee, if you will permit us?" "Of course, Master Abraxas. Tonight is her first public event, so I would like her to remain here, on display. There will be no impact play and I would like her to remain pure – entirely, Master Abraxas." The last was said in a warning tone that brooked no argument and Hermione could almost imagine her Mistress shaking her finger at the two men. The second man snickered. "If you say so, Madam," said that almost obnoxiously smooth voice. "Look at me, girl," said the deeper of the two voices, clearly directing his command at Hermione. Obedient but nervous, she slowly lifted her head and her gaze met that of the taller, silver- eyed man, whose eyes narrowed back at her. "She is glamoured?" "To preserve her identity, yes," Marian answered. "Her features are mostly natural, though." The man grunted, "Good." His eyes roved over her nearly-naked body. "I am Master Tobias. You will address me as such, or as 'Sir'. I am going to use hot wax to decorate your body, whilst Master Abraxas ties you. Remain still and silent unless you are told otherwise. If you are unable to follow these instructions, you will be punished.” His tone was commanding and he turned to Marian. “What is her experience with wax and ropes?" "None," Marian replied. "Very well. We will take that into consideration." "Tobias, you've rather spoiled my fun now," complained the other man, "I wanted to introduce us." He pouted, then shrugged and continued speaking, "No matter. Stand, darling; I would like to inspect you." Hermione quickly did as she was instructed, moving fluidly onto her high-heeled feet. "She moves quite well, doesn't she, Tobias?" "Indeed, she does. Have you devised a safe word, Marian?" Marian tutted. “Of course I have; it’s ‘Arithmancy’.” Master Tobias raised an eyebrow amusedly. “I see.” Hermione stood perfectly still as the two men inspected her from all angles, and then returned to her knees upon instruction. With a flourish of their wands, the pair conjured their equipment and set to work. Master Abraxas began by wrapping ropes of soft, black cotton around her body, carefully binding her arms behind her back with her hands clasped and elbows almost touching. He encased the entire length of her forearms in the black rope, then used a series of dark brown ropes to twist around her upper arms, branching out at seemingly random intervals to spread across her back in a twisting pattern with no clear rhyme or reason. When he was done with the brown rope, Master Abraxas helped her to her feet, legs apart. He conjured more black rope and, tying it from her wrists, created a series of twisting, zig- zagging lines, charmed to stay in place, down her back and onto her legs, over the curve of her arse. More black rope was conjured – finer this time, like black string – and joined to the thicker lengths. With a few flicks of his wand, he charmed them to stand stiffly, creating a pattern that looked like black roots across her pale flesh. Master Tobias flicked his wand and watched as Hermione was lifted off the ground and turned so that she was floating face-down. The platform had grown to accommodate their play and so that only Masters Tobias and Abraxas could see what was being done to her. A moment later, Hermione felt her hair being brushed out of the way and secured with a charm, then hot wax began dripping onto her skin, filling the gaps between the lengths of brown rope with large drops. Hermione found the feeling strange, but not altogether uncomfortable. In fact, the hot wax dropping onto her cool flesh was something akin to putting on freshly ironed clothes – warm and comforting – but the wax also sent a hot buzz through her body that pooled in her groin. It made her want to squirm and beg – for what, she couldn’t decide. Done for the time being, Master Tobias placed the dark brown candle, flecked with glimmering gold, onto a newly-conjured table which sat just within her view. He picked up a candle that was a mix of bright, vibrant green and the dark, elegant green often associated with Slytherin house. She felt a line of heat drip across her back in line with her elbows, then there were several thin flicks of wax that streaked up from the slightly uneven line across her back. More drops were placed, seemingly randomly, across her back between the line level with her elbows and where the ropes began to splay out like the fingers of a spread hand. What felt like hundreds of droplets fell on and between the splayed ropes. Without putting down the green candle, Master Tobias picked up another. It was bright orange, marbled with red and yellow in such a way that it looked like a tongue of fire had been caught to be preserved for eternity. She soon understood why the green candle had not been put aside as drops began falling in pairs where green wax had already been poured and later in new places. Lone drops continued to fall as the green candle was placed on the table, though these were smaller than any she had previously felt – barely a fleck. Larger trails of wax began to fall, mingling with the line of green and swirling down either side of her bound arms. Once again, he picked up a new candle when he was done, this time a deep black with silver flecks glittering within. More tiny beads fell onto her lower back and exposed bottom and she nearly shuddered at the feel of it. "Tobias," Master Abraxas called suddenly. "Do you smell that?" Master Tobias paused and inhaled deeply. "Indeed, I do, Abraxas." Hermione felt herself turn and found herself suddenly face up, looking into Master Tobias' smirking face. "Arousal." "Ah, the sweet smell of a sopping cunt," sighed the raven-haired man. Master Tobias' smirk broadened. "What do you want? You may speak, girl." "Please," Hermione panted, "Please." So focussed had she been on staying silent that she hadn't quite realised just how aroused she had become. "'Please,' what?" Master Abraxas teased. "Please, Sir," she mewled, "I want you to touch me." Tobias turned to Marian, blond brow arched. "Marian?" Marian huffed. "Touch only. Nothing more, Abraxas," she warned, glaring at him. "As you wish, Marian," he smoothed, bowing deeply, a cheeky grin on his face. She glared some more, then relented. "Fine. Go ahead." Master Abraxas’ grin morphed into a salacious smirk. "Keep quiet as long as you can, little one. I want to see what your control is like." "And do not come," Master Tobias added. Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and the two men set to work. Master Tobias smirked, knelt beside her and moved a strip of satin aside, revealing a hardened, pink nipple. Dipping his head, he blew cool air on her taut nipple, then flicked the tight peak with his tongue. Half a moment later, he had sucked it into his hot mouth, applying gentle pressure and rolling it around with his tongue. When Hermione was clenching her jaw and arching into his mouth, he bit lightly on the little nub, then released it with a pop. His teeth scraped along the pebbled flesh as he did so. She screwed her eyes shut as hot wax immediately landed on her abused nipple, coating it in shining, pale gold. A smooth, long-fingered hand trailed down from Hermione’s navel, cupping her mons and making her jerk, eyes flying open at the sudden pressure on such a sensitive place. Still, she bit her tongue and remained silent. Master Abraxas was stroking his fingers up and down the black satin covering her crotch, a smirk coming to his perfect lips as he found the discretely placed slit. Perfect? They are rather beautiful, aren't they? Master Tobias snorted. “What?” “She thinks you have pretty lips,” Master Tobias answered, his tone teasing. Hermione's cheeks turned a deep crimson, the blush spreading down her neck and onto the tops of her heaving breasts. Well I wouldn’t mind having either or your lips, actually. She corrected in her head, earning another amused snort from Master Tobias, who was on his way under her levitating body to reach her other side. "Only because mine do this –" he rumbled softly, dipping his head once again to take her bare nipple into his skilled mouth. Hermione arched her back, her mouth falling open in a lax 'O'. Master Tobias bit down on her nipple, scraping his teeth along the erect flesh before sucking lightly and releasing it again. More hot wax landed on her sensitive flesh. Hermione looked into his silver eyes and she could have sworn they turned black, just for a split second, before returning to their familiar silver-grey. She was distracted an instant later as the fingers that had been tracing light swirls on her inner thighs suddenly disappeared. She mourned the loss for a moment before a firm, but light slap landed on her clothed pussy, sending a jolt of fire racing through her body from her over-sensitive clit. Seconds later, a head of raven hair was buried between her thighs, lapping at the dripping juices there. As Master Abraxas sucked her clit into his mouth, she was vaguely aware of a line of heat being run from one wax-coated nipple, down to her belly button and back up to the other nipple. There was a brief pause. Hermione felt the tip of a finger teasing her soaked entrance. The finger plunged inside her – right down to the third knuckle – and two perfectly straight, parallel trails of wax crossed her torso, just beneath her breasts. She opened her eyes in time to see the pale gold candle being put down, while the black one from earlier traced a line from the one below her breasts, up to the dip at the base of her neck. Master Abraxas gave his partner-in-crime a wicked smirk from between Hermione’s thighs. She felt the finger, which had been slowly thrusting into her, curl in a come-hither motion. After several repetitions, she had to close her eyes and clench her jaw to stop herself from moaning loudly – as it was, she couldn’t help letting out a tiny whimper, which quickly turned into a tortured whine. Just as she thought she would come, Master Abraxas paused his manipulations and added a second finger. He hissed as she clamped around the two digits. "We'll be fighting over her first time." "And the rest," Master Tobias replied. A flick of his elegant wand, which struck Hermione as oddly familiar, turned the light on the podium a stunning shade of sky blue. She barely noticed the light, however, as Master Abraxas was holding her skilfully on the very edge of orgasm, keeping her stimulated to the point that she was almost in pain from the sheer pleasure, though not quite stimulated enough to come. She felt a tingling sensation around her head and, a moment later found herself dangling upside-down, still levitated off the ground. The gathered crowd, which she had failed to notice, was staring at her body in awe. On her front, now clear as she was hanging upside- down, were the initials 'A' and 'T'. The two letters shared a stroke which formed the bar of the 'A' and the arm of the 'T'. The former was drawn with a shining pale gold wax and the latter with the same silver-flecked black that had also been used on her back the two colours meeting in the same place as the letters themselves. When the crowd had finished ogling her upturned body and the letters adorning her front, Master Tobias once again flicked his wand and she was turned so that her back was facing the crowd to reveal the intricate marriage of rope and wax adorning her back. The crowd fell silent with awe as they took in the view before them.  ~ Trust And Terror Despite her earlier, uncontrollable writhing, the wax was still perfectly intact, a thin shell over her back. It formed a beautifully intricate tree set aflame. The winding lengths of brown rope wove across her shoulders and upper back, forming the roots of the tree; wax of gold-flecked brown became the soil between them. A layer of green atop the soil created a grassy surface, with flyaway streaks scattered here and there to imitate thick tufts of grass. Black rope and strings wrapped around her arms and spread out across her lower back to form the almost skeletal outline of the scorched tree, its widespread branches twisting around her hips and legs. Green wax mixed with flaming orange to form leaves falling from the boughs, burning in a beautiful maelstrom. Streaks and patches of the marbled orange were the tongues of flame scorching the grass, lapping at the trunk of the tree and giving it a bright crown of dancing fire. Glittering black wax, tiny flecks here and there, formed ash that seemed to drift to the burning ground. A sky-blue light gave her pale flesh a soft tint that became the bright blue sky in the scene the two skilled Masters had created. “Come,” Master Tobias commanded softly. Without warning, Master Abraxas dipped his head between her legs and sucked her clit into his mouth, biting softly on the tender flesh. She had been teetering on the edge of a delicious precipice, and it was enough to thrust her over as waves of pleasure engulfed her. With a loud moan tearing from her throat, her body jerked hard against his mouth. When he decided to prolong the intense sensations for longer than she thought possible, Hermione began to writhe and moan, causing the artwork on her back to sway as if blown by a strong wind, the tiny pieces of glitter embedded in the wax shimmering as they caught the light. She groaned softly, sweat dampening her hairline, as the sensations became unbearable and she screwed her eyes shut, silently begging for it to end. Master Tobias held up his hand and muttered, "Stop. That's enough for now." Master Abraxas slowly removed his hands and stepped back. "She has done well, given her inexperience." "Exceedingly. Will you manage aftercare while I talk with Marian?" Master Tobias flicked his wand once again and Hermione landed lightly on her feet. When she swayed, a firm hand between her shoulder blades steadied her and remained there in case she should become unsteady again. From behind her, she heard a soft, "Yes, go. Arrange more sessions with this one. With Marian's permission, we might take over her training." "That won't happen," Master Tobias replied, sweeping away without waiting for a response. Master Abraxas shook his head and set to work on methodically removing the wax and ropes from her body, rearranging the satin strips as he went so that they sat correctly on her. Hermione had to bite back more than a few sighs at the sensation of his gentle hands tracing slowly over her hot, flushed skin. When the ropes and wax were gone and her outfit restored to its original condition, Master Abraxas gently massaged her arms and shoulders to relax the strained muscles. He did the same for her quivering legs and placed a soft kiss on her tummy. He stood once more and, with a finger curled under her chin, tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes. "You have been a very good girl, Leda. Tobias may not show it, but we are both very impressed with your talent," Master Abraxas said, just loud enough for her to hear. "Just stay here a little while longer and I will attempt to convince Marian to allow us a private session." Hermione nodded. "Speak, little one," he commanded. "Yes Sir. Thank you," she replied breathlessly. “Good girl. Now, get back into position and we will collect you momentarily.” Hermione nodded and obediently dropped to her knees, quickly getting back into position. Master Abraxas placed an affectionate hand atop her head, and a tingle of magic brushed through her hair as his fingers swept it back into place. He then proceeded off the platform to join Master Tobias in sweet-talking Marian. The trio remained mostly out of earshot for Hermione but, by watching through her lashes, she could somewhat follow the conversation. She saw that Master Abraxas had suggested something the Domme didn’t like; Marian was glaring coldly at a grinning Master A