Hermione has problems and she is at the end of the rope when Luna suggests to her a very unconventional therapy with the most shocking and unexpected wizard. The therapy works but to what end?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.
A/N: In agreement with my beta – I'm posting this chapter unedited when she finishes with fixing the grammar and with me, I will re-post this chapter at a later date.
At that time, I do expect that some parts will be enhanced and there will be no grammatical errors.
I leave it to you to read it now or wait some more.
When I upload edited chapter I'll remove this note :)
Just the quick not for those that follow "Troment" – the chapter is written but I'm still fiddling with it, and I'll need another day or two to post it.
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This is a new kind of trial, the hardest one he faced. He clenched his hands under the table, the patina of perspiration coating his palms. The air rattles in his chest, thick as a dough.
Breathe. Stay in control. Stay calm.
This is different.
She sits across him, calm and composed and he can't but feel pride. She is as she is now his work after all.
"What do you want, Miss Granger?" The voice does not betray him. Very good.
He resists the temptation to bite his cheek, instead, he bites his tongue - painfully. This must be her decision, her initiative. After all, what she is going to ask of him is vastly different than what he wants for and from her.
Her eyes widen just a fraction, rose colour her cheeks. She is an image of perfection.
"I. . . I read about this, but I won't claim that I know how this works." She starts, her voice mildly uncertain but determined.
Of course you don't.
"But, . . . I know what I want." she states with conviction that elates him and frightens him at the same time.
"And what that might be?" He asks.
Her eyes roam around his living space. This is private, so he called her to his rooms.
"Well, it depends on what are you willing to - grant me." She clears her throat. "I want. . . No, I need to feel it again! That sting and that warmth. The flogger." She clarifies.
"That can be arranged." He nods. Hands twisting where she can't see them.
"But, I want more!" She continues and his heart lurches in his throat, choking him. "I won't claim that I know what I like or what I have taste for, but. . . Well, you see, I did a bit of reading."
Of course you did.
"I know I like the flogger. I like the feel of ropes, being tied up. I don't like too much of pain but in small amounts. . . I'd like to try candles as well. I think I wouldn't mind blindfold. . . I know, I think it's not much, and probably very limiting but. . ." She swallows hard, the first crack in her posture.
