I woke up around noon, the taste of a certain bushy-haired beauty still on my lips, delicious enough to tempt me for another visit. Unfortunately, I had important matters to attend, and some of them were in financial nature, and couldn't be postponed. Still, it wasn't a big sacrifice, considering there was a particular blond beauty that was currently in the employ of the bank, a beauty that I had been neglecting during the last few days.
My destination, Gringotts.
There was a simple reason for my urgent financial needs. The recent takeover of the Ministry had left quite more than a few key functions in shambles. And nowhere else the situation was as bad as the departments with a role on the muggle side of the business. Combined with the total collapse of the relationship with the non-magical side, it was a mess that was impossible to recover. This state of things, combined with my status which allowed me to sneak into the department that was responsible for monitoring overall magical activity levels, gave me free rein on wandering around in the muggle side. Some magical observation, a few compulsion charms, and I had found myself in possession of several million pounds, and an almost equally sizable cache of dollars. All completely untraceable from the magical side, and since their source was criminal, muggle side wasn't aware of them as well.
Luckily, Goblins, true to their reputation as greedy little fucks, were more than willing to offer a combined service of laundering the money and converting them into galleons. And they just asked a small cut of sixty-five percent. A criminal cut to be sure, but I didn't let it bother me much. After all, it wasn't that I worked hard for them, and having a sizable pile of cash outside the control of Voldemort and Malfoy Senior was worth it.
And all that excessive fees had another nice side benefit, making me a favored client. I was far from the richest customer in terms of total holdings, or even cash holdings, but my activities generated a lot of revenue for the goblins that were managing my accounts, which was always more impossible than a huge pile of money they weren't allowed to touch. Which was why, when I asked a particular person to be my dedicated contact person for the legal side of things, they just grumbled rather than taking an actual insult. They wouldn't normally agree to assign a non-goblin account manager to an account this important, taking as an insult to their business acumen, but not with the money I was bringing to them. For Goblins, there were scarcely few insults that couldn't be mended with the attractive shine of gold.
At Gringotts, I stopped by the Goblin responsible to handle the dirtier side of my business. That meeting took less than five minutes. Their cut-throat attitude was annoying, and they were intentionally nasty, but there was an advantage to working with them as well. They never took a second more than what was necessary. There were some benefits to being unburdened by things like kindness, humor, and empathy.
Now, I was sitting at a private room 'kindly' provided by Goblins, quite a bit bigger and more comfortable than their usual offices, for a small fee of several hundreds of galleon each hour. For another hundred galleons, they ever agreed to lift the ward that was preventing apparition. I was waiting for my new account representative to appear, feeling the anticipation burning in my heart.
When the door opened after a brief knock I felt my heartbeat quickening in anticipation. Then, the door opened, revealing Fleur on the other side, breathing deep in exertion. Her panicked hurry made sense, as I couldn't imagine goblins acting understanding if one of their human employees dared to make a high-profile client wait due to employee's lateness.
The shock invaded her face the moment she had seen who was waiting for her in the room. I used the small distraction to examine her clothing -a fashionable, strategically tightened on certain locations to make it more appealing without being gauche-which looked perfectly pristine, not showing a sign of disruption despite her labored breath. Probably a quick cleaning charm, or maybe some permanent runes to of preservation.
"Mrs. Weasley," I said with a surprise that was fake, mostly because I didn't bother to make it genuine. There was no point of doing so, even if I had tried to make it genuine, she was smart enough to know goblins would never be assigned her to this task in their own violation after seeing my financials. And in the current state of our relationship, it was barely a bother. Her knowledge didn't change anything, not when goblins would never allow her preference to change the customer. "What a surprise, when the management had informed me that I was going to have a new point of contact, I hadn't imagined being this lucky."
For a moment, she said nothing, just standing still, immobile enough to be mistaken with a statue if it wasn't for the creeping redness on her face, overriding her exhaustion. The conflict on her face wasn't a surprise, not with all the changes our encounter had developed during the last month. From a perfect stranger to a thug that blackmailed her for her husband's safety, from the savior of her sister to the man that explored her body again and again… And our last encounter, where I took her virginity over the unconscious body of her husband didn't exactly help the typhoon of confusion. "You…" she whispered.
"Long time no see," I said with a smirk, letting my eyes dance over her body. I let my desire to float on the surface, reminding her of the state of her dress during our last encounter, nothing but my bite-marks and finger-prints. "Why don't you take a seat," I said, patting the seat next to me on the opulent leather couch I was occupying.
"I'm good like this," she said, trying to sound resolute, but her eyes, fluttering in panic, told a different story. She was anxious.
"I insist," I added, once again gesturing towards her intended seat, but this time, my voice was much sharper, laced with a warning she managed to catch. Another second passed in hesitation before she followed the direction. It was good to see she hadn't forgotten her lessons during the short break I had given her.
She sat next to me, her gaze on the ground, her hands together, pressing to the skirt of her skirt, like that would prevent me if I wanted to get a taste of her. I said nothing, letting her speak first. "Why are you here," she mumbled.
"It's nice to see you too, Fleur," I answered, deliberately stretching her name, enjoying every syllable that left my mouth. Her blush intensified, but she hadn't said anything else. "Come on, honey, is this the way you should treat the man who saved your precious husband."
That comment managed to break her determined silence. "How dare you!" she said as she raised her gaze. "How dare you mention him, after what you have done."
I couldn't help but smirk at her anger. "What I have done? Honey, correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't remember you trying terribly hard, trying to stop me as we tested certain parts of your precious love nest. Not while we were in your bedroom, or in your living room, and certainly not when we were in your kitchen." At the mention of her complicit surrender to my not-so-tender attention, her anger wilted, her eyes shifting back to opulent carpet that covered the floor. "There is no use talking about it," I said. "It's not like there will be a repeat of it."
The statement cut through her forced calmness like a particularly well-enchanted knife. "It won't?" she questioned loudly, her face twisted in shock, and if I was reading correctly, underlined by an instinctual disappointment.
"Our deal was for five evenings, and despite a few hiccups, we completed all of them. So, you're free of your obligations," I explained in a matter of fact tone. "It's not like you want to continue that arrangement, right?"
"Of course I don't!" she shouted, trying to convey her determination through the loudness of her voice. I had a feeling that it was aimed at herself rather than me.
I shrugged. "Understood. Then, should we move on to work, then," I said, gesturing the large pile of paperwork on my various investment.
She nodded, and reached for the first of the files. Her eyes widened slightly after examining the first document, especially the number below the line, showing the total amount of money on that particular account, but she managed to hide it much better than she could hide her reaction to my touches.
I made sure to act in perfect professionalism as we discussed my financial matters. Well, almost perfect, as occasionally, I let my fingers to slide carelessly as we passed the documents back and forth, trying to remind her about my touch.
At first, it seemed that my attempts were going to be a waste, that I had overestimated the lasting effects of our short, yet steamy acquaintance. Every time I brushed my fingers, her hand slid away in a controlled manner, as if she was impervious to the desire now that I lacked leverage to force her compliance. I still had quite a bit leverage I could bring of course, but they were all more heavy-handed than I would have preferred.
Before I could decide to use one of those extreme methods, her defense, impressive as it was, started to crack before the turn of an hour. Her skin was the first one to surrender, turning into a slight pink. As the minutes rolled, the pinkness deepened, becoming a darker color that almost deserved to be called red. The next ability that was compromised by her rising arousal was her breathing, slipping out its soft rhythm into one that was reminiscent of the nights that we spent together.
I had started to feel the delicious weight of her allure just before her fingers showed the first signs of surrender, losing their impetus to escape, the contact stretching longer and longer with each 'accidental' touch. Soon, I wasn't the only one that was initiating those touches, her gaze flickering towards me whenever they touched.
I would have pitied her if I wasn't such a heartless bastard. She was a woman who spent her early life away from the temptations of the flesh, trying to prove that she was more than her heritage. She had been the top student, and a champion for her school. She was good enough to get a prestigious job in Gringotts, and she was even selfless enough to join a hopeless resistance against tyranny in another country. But then, just before the finish line, she tangled into my web, unaware of my true reach, every attempt of struggle pushing her deeper into the descent.
And now, here she was, marginally more than ten days after our initial meeting, her desires pushing her to a point where she was sending glances that were nothing more than wordless cries of temptations, filled with hope that I might lose control and take her over the desk.
The funniest thing was, I was sure that she wasn't aware the full extent of the display her body was putting. She was haughty and prideful enough to think that, despite the storm that was raging inside her heart, she had managed to hide her thoughts and feelings from me, forgetting the fact that, during our intense trade, I had learned to read her body perfectly, that her attempts of obfuscation were doomed to fail.
"That's a good progress," I said as I leaned back on my seat, almost an hour after we first started. "I think that's enough work for one day, and I'm already feeling famished."
From the corner of my eye, I continued watching her expression, which twisted by a sudden disappointment. It took a few seconds for her to erase that expression. Even then, she wasn't entirely successful, leaving a distinctive ghost behind that told the whole story. "Whatever you prefer," she said.
My initial plan was to leave her stewing after the initial contact, but that was harder to do when her perfect beauty lay in front of my eyes, and her allure quickening my blood flow. "Actually, why don't you accompany me for the lunch. We can continue working there."
Her eyes shone in excitement at first, which then quickly replied with disappointment. "We better not," she murmured. "It's not exactly advisable for us to seen together in this environment."
I smirked. "Not if we eat at the non-magical side," I countered.
"Non-magical?" she stammered. She looked astonished, which, admittedly, was understandable. Here I was, a Malfoy, not only offering to spend time on the non-magical side voluntarily, but also carefully avoiding any term that might be construed as insulting, like mudblood, or even muggle.
"Sure, I wouldn't say no to some good sushi, though anything other than the greasy mess that Leaky Cauldron tries to sell as food is an achievement. Why?"
"You have a reputation for…" she murmured before stopping for a second. Looking for a better word than a bigot, no doubt. "Favoring older traditions of the magical world," she continued. "I wouldn't expect you to try sushi."
"I'm a man with many surprises, Fleur," I said, this time not referring her with her surname. I didn't want to break the intimate air, and a reference to her married state would do that easily. "Let's go," I said, grabbed her arm, and before she could say anything, apparated away.
We found ourselves in the secluded corner I had prepared as a convenient arrival point, protected by several spells to keep people away. After looking around to make sure the spells were still holding, I turned my attention back to Fleur, who was trying to gather her balance after the surprise teleportation. Even with the power of the Death Stick, side-along apparation was a nasty feeling when unprepared. "Are you ready to go?" I asked her.
She looked at me angrily, but she was smart enough to keep her tongue from saying anything she might later regret, proving that her training wasn't a waste. I removed my robe, revealing a simple jeans and shirt combo underneath. I stuffed the robe to the pocket of my jeans, which was charmed to hold anything I put in there. Her expression shifted when she noticed the sudden change of clothes. "No," she murmured. "I don't have any non-magical clothes with me. I can't come here wearing a robe."
I doubted that. Even in the ridiculous stuff that the magical insist to treat as respectable clothing, Fleur looked more beautiful than a runway model, and her robes could be easily explained as a new fashion statement. I had no intention to tell her that though. I would never miss the opportunity to make her wear something more appealing than those robes, especially when I could watch her change. "No worries," I said as I reached for my pouch, and pulled a small, white dress that I had specially brought for this occasion.
Her eyes weren't free of suspicion as she turned towards me, but that didn't last long, especially when she raised the dress against her silhouette, and saw that the dress was not only short enough to leave most of her legs bare and with a deep cleavage, but also tight enough to make sliding inside a challenge. "Umm…" she murmured.
"Is there a problem," I asked, but I was careful to keep my tone dark and forbidding, suggesting to her that complaining might not be for her benefit.
"No," she answered resignedly. "Could you turn your back so I can change."
"No," I said, copying her answer. Or more accurately, copying the words of her answer, as the tone and intention couldn't have been more different, her silky resignation replaced with blackened steel. Beginnings of an outrage appeared in the depths of her eyes, only to disappear in the same exact speed the moment I quirked my eyebrow. The next few seconds, she continued looking into my eyes, but this time, begging rather than trying to demand. "Do you need any help," I asked, my hands rising to display my enthusiasm.
She shook her head. "I can handle myself," she answered in a squeaky voice as she turned her back, her hands already working on the buttons of her robe. Her easy surrender made sense. Considering the times we spent together, underwear could be counted as overdressed. But, regardless of my overexposure of her beautiful body, I couldn't help but feel excited as her ugly robe slid away from her body. Her elegant back revealed first, its beautiful arc interrupted by an ugly, beige strap. The robe fell further, until it met with the ground, which unfortunately revealed that her panties were equally ugly. It was an outrage I had no intention of allowing.
I waited until she managed to stuff herself into the tight wrap of the dress, which was tight enough to look painted. I took a step closer as she struggled to zip her back. "Let me help," I said as I grabbed the zipper, and started to pull it up softly. Since she had to look at the other side, she missed my wand leaving its holder, noticing only when its tip tapped at the strap of her bra, vanishing it into oblivion. Nothing less than that ugly piece deserved in my opinion.
"What was that!" Fleur asked in panic, but I could hear the involuntary excitement in her tone.
"Just making sure to put the dress to a maximum effect," I explained even as I pointed my wand down, and subjecting her panties to the same ignoble fate. "Here, isn't it much better," I said even as I grabbed her hand, forcing her to turn. She failed to answer, her excitement pushing her breathing out of control, leaving her panting and gasping in an uncontrolled manner, her instincts, trained during our payback session, readying her body for a sweaty, extended embrace. Her nipples, hard rock with arousal, pushed against the white fabric, begging for me to take them into my warm hold.
"Shall we," I asked instead as I presented my arm to her. She reluctantly put her arm onto mine, and we started to walk. Yes, taking her immediately was fun, but I wanted to see her begging, aroused. A lunch without her underwear as I continuously teased her should do the trick…