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The English Rose	By : TempestLore Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 20398 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter Universe, nor do I make any profit off of this story or any others.

Chapter List
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The English Rose

Chapter One

     It was colder than a witch’s titty the day the Death Eaters arrived in the northern town of Blind Falls, England. I was pouring over the weekly receipts when Rob entered the shoebox room that was the back office of the brothel I owned and operated. Rob being Ron of course. We had to change our identities after we lost the war, otherwise we would have been pushing up daisies like some of the fallen members of the Order of the Phoenix. Instead, Ron was carrying wood so that I and my girls didn’t freeze to death in the dead of winter. That was his job as caretaker of the establishment. I know what you’re thinking, Ron a glorified handyman and Hermione a Madam who runs a brothel? Fat chance. You of course would be wrong. There’s a perfectly good reason for my exile and it has everything to do with war reparations and the death of Harry Potter. That’s right, our side had to pay reparations for our misdeeds. Of course the whole notion of that was wrong on so many levels and yet it still happened. In fact, we were in favor of it and even asked the Dark Lord Voldemort himself if we could please pay reparations. The alternative was that every Muggle born like myself would die a torturous death to pay for our crimes. In our eagerness to pay reparations, which was not done by galleons alone, the Muggles were saved and even allowed to assimilate back into the wizarding world once more. That did not apply to members of the Order like Ron and I though, our punishment was death, hence our need to escape into exile which we accomplished successfully. It did apply to other Muggle Borns everywhere in Britain though. Of course the laws forbade ‘Mudbloods’ from taking on any sort of a respectable profession. Those were reserved for those of the Pureblood lineage and to a lesser degree, the Halfbloods. So, that is how I became the Madam of the Cum Shot Comfort Hotel. At least that is what it was called when I took it over. I changed the name to something more dignified. Now it’s called The English Rose Brothel. I am Rose. That is not to be confused with the former me who went by the name Hermione Granger. That person died the day Harry Potter was defeated by Voldemort. When that happened, Ron and I went into permanent hiding. That was five years ago when we fled the war torn city of London and its surrounding area. Ron and I never looked back. Such is life. Now I was Madam to more than fifteen Muggle Born comfort women. I prefer to call them that versus prostitutes, but that is essentially what they are, at least to our patrons. To me, they are everything. They are my friends and my family. “Hey ‘Mione,” Ron whispered as he stacked wood neatly on the hearth of the grand fireplace that was the centerpiece of the brothel. “They’re here. I saw them in town. What’s the plan?” he asked and he sounded nervous.
     “Make sure our papers are in order, Rob,” I said, refusing to call him Ron. It bothered me that Ron insisted on still calling me Hermione. It was dangerous should anyone hear him, not to mention it was stupid. I said goodbye to Hermione years earlier. Hermione wanted to be a school teacher, not a Madam. Hermione wanted kids and a family, respect in the community and a shining reputation to be proud of. No, Hermione died and I was content to keep it that way.
     “They are,” the redhead said and I nodded.
     “Then we have nothing to worry about.”
     “What if he recognizes us?”
     “He who?” I asked.
     “Bloody Malfoy! He’s here. Word on the street is we are getting a new Liege to replace the fat arse Death Eater that died last month. You don’t think it’s him do you? I couldn’t believe it when I saw him. He was yelling at the carriage driver about something. What if it is him? I can’t live in a town where Malfoy is the ruler!”
     “How does it affect us? It doesn’t change anything. Voldemort’s government approves of Muggle- Borns selling their bodies for money, so what difference will it make whether Malfoy is our Liege or some other Pureblood?” I explained. “However, we should probably use glamors just to be on the safe side.” Ron nodded in agreement.
     “I’m not any good at those spells. Can you do it for me?” he asked and I sighed.
     “I’m short this month. I’m sorry. I used up my allotment of spells on Jasmine when one of her regulars got drunk and beat her up. I only have two spells left, and I’m going to need them for myself.” That was another law of Voldemort’s. It was called the Mudblood Wand Act and it called for all Muggle-Borns to surrender their wand at the end of each month whereby their wands would be checked to see if they went over their allotted twenty spells per month. It was a joke. Advanced magic was frowned upon. Only simple spells were deemed necessary although the law did not directly say that only household charms and spells were allowed, although performing advanced magic assured that you received a thorough interrogation and if the spell that came from a Mudblood’s wand was deemed unworthy or unnecessary your monthly spell allotment would be adjusted. That happened to me twice, which is why I was down to a meager ten spells per month. It was referred to as your ‘lot’ and it was threatened upon you every time you stepped out of line. Since a wand is viewed as an extension of your arm, to a witch or wizard at least, and since nobody wanted their ‘lot’ to be reduced or worse, taken away altogether, it kept the people in line. Threaten to take a person’s wand from them and you gain complete and utter compliance. Voldemort had truly won.
     “You can use my wand,” Ron said. “I still have forty-nine spells left,” he quipped as he passed me his wand. Ron had half-blood designation, so he received fifty spells a month, even though he was a Pureblood, his fake papers cited him as Rob Winston, Halfblood. The laws were much more lax for Halfbloods. Originally I had tried to get Halfblood papers but the Pureblooded chap by whom we got our new identities from (for an extravagant price I might add) was fresh out of Halfblood status documents, so I had no choice but to continue my Mudblood existence.
     “Your red hair is showing through, so I’m going to darken it again, otherwise you look fine. If you come upon someone that we know just don’t engage with them. Your voice is a dead giveaway,” I said as I waved my wand and chanted and then watched as Ron’s hair changed to a deep brown.
     “How about me, how do I look?” I asked as Ron stared at himself in the small hand mirror that I held in front of him. He turned his gaze on me.
     “You look beautiful…so much different than you used to look. Some days I don’t even recognize you ‘Mione,” he said softly and he blushed. I smiled at Ron.
     “I’m not using any glamours,” I admitted.
     “That’s all you?” he asked, shocked. “I always assumed all these years you were using well, you know, enhancements like the other girls. You look aces ‘Mione.”
     “No, this is me. I grew up Ron. So pretend you’re Malfoy, would you recognize me?” I asked and I straightened up in my seat and dragged a hand through my wavy hair.
     “No, not a bit. You’ve really blossomed into a striking woman, ‘Mione.”
     “Rose,” I corrected him.
     “Rose. Sorry, my bad. I spent more time with you than he ever did, and I say you don’t look a bit like Hermione Granger.”
     “Good then, we should have nothing to worry about. Besides, isn’t Malfoy engaged? I thought I read something in the Daily Prophet on the society page. He’s engaged to Astoria Greengrass, right?”
     “Aw I don’t know…Rose. I don’t keep up with those arseholes. All I want is to find Ginny and the rest of my family. I could care less about the likes of Malfoy.”
     “Any news on that front?” I shot Ron a sympathetic gaze and I reached out and held his hand.
     “No. I mean, just rumors.”
     “Stay hopeful. I don’t know why but I feel like the winds of change are upon us,” I said with a smile and then I went back to counting my coppers.

__0__

     “Madam Rose, come quick,” Jasmine said and I threw on a black negligee and raced from the back room.
     “What’s the problem?” I asked as I followed her down the stairs into the main room of the brothel. The section was known as the tavern where a witch or wizard could come in and order a relaxing drink while he watched one of our exotic dancers move to the beats of the day. Consequently it was where most of our trouble started and ended. I frowned when I saw Ron holding a wizard at wand point as he stood between a drunk and belligerent patron and a sweet dancer named Katydid.
     “What’s the meaning of this?” I asked when I swooped onto the scene.
     “He spanked me Miss,” Katydid said through tears.
     “Rob?” I asked as I comforted the twenty-two year old Katydid. She had been a ballerina at the Wizard Ballet Company before she came to work at my establishment. She was outed as a Mudblood by a jealous understudy and in so was cast out of the company with only the clothes on her back.
     “I told him he can’t spank the dancers, but he didn’t listen and he climbed onto the stage and started wailing on her bottom,” Ron said.
     “Sir, this is unacceptable behavior. We do not condone the spanking of our professional dancers,” I said and I wagged my finger in his face.
     “This is a whore house. I’ll do anything I bloody well please,” he said and spittle formed on the sides of his mouth lending to the appearance of a rabid dog.
     “Rob, please escort this troglodyte out,” I said with narrowed eyes and Ron heaved him from his seat.
     “I’m sorry Katydid—“ I said but then suddenly my attention was drawn to the door where a rowdy bunch of wizards entered the tavern.
     “Barkeep. We want firewhiskey. Now,” a wizard said and he snapped his pureblood fingers. This is trouble, I said to myself.

__0__

     “I don’t like this,” Ron said with folded arms and a glaring expression.
     “Shush, you’ll blow our cover,” I admonished.
     “He’s sitting in our chairs, sipping our firewhiskey. I hate him,” Ron seethed through gritted teeth as we sat at the bar and watched the Death Eaters laugh and carry on like a pack of wild wolves.
     “Just rein it in. So they drink and perhaps pay for a dance and then they will be on their way,” I said hopefully but Ron wasn’t the only one disturbed by Draco Malfoy’s presence. I had visions of that night at Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix Lestrange hexed me and Malfoy stared on unable or unwilling to stop it. I hated him too.
     “Where’s the Madam of this dive?” the blond quipped and again he snapped his fingers. I shot daggers at him from my perch but then I stepped up and made my way to the Death Eaters’ table. All in a day’s work, I reminded myself. It wasn’t the first time a Death Eater swaggered into my establishment, nor would it be the last. Just deal with it, Hermione—I mean Rose.
   “Did you need something?” I asked as I strolled up alongside the table. I purposely did not stand anywhere near Malfoy.
     “Yes, are you the owner of The English Rose?” Malfoy asked and I nodded. “We want rooms, and your finest ladies,” he said and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing on him.
     “Certainly, but they don’t come cheap.”
     “Money is no object. I’m treating my men to a night of fun. Bring us three bottles of your best Elf made Wine and a trollup for each man,” he said in his normal condescending way. I motioned to the bartender to bring the wine and then I took a deep breath to calm myself.
     “We don’t have any trollups here.”
     “This is a brothel is it not?” Malfoy asked and again I bit my cheek.
     “Yes, it is, but all our girls are bright, accomplished women.”
     “Good. Bring the lot of them out here. Marcus, you will pick first.”
     “But…They’re Muggle—Mudbloods. Surely a Death Eater must find them to be…well…beneath the likes of you. No?” I stammered.
     “Do not try my patience, woman,” Malfoy said with a slightly raised voice. “I’m your new Liege and I will shut your operation down in a second if you—“
     “Let me go and gather them, my Liege,” I said and I bowed my head as I excused myself. It was the proper etiquette to show a Liege. Unfortunately.
     “I want the one with the big tits,” Marcus Flint said slurring his speech. He was so drunk I doubted whether or not he could even get it up.
     “Marcheline,” I said and the French hooker rolled her eyes. She was the only girl of all my girls who was a lady of the night prior to Voldemort’s hostile takeover of the Ministry and consequently the country of England as well. The degrading act continued as all of Malfoy’s men picked their bed partners. Three girls remained who were not spoken for and Draco Malfoy himself was the only remaining Death Eater at the table by the time it was all said and done.
     “And for you, Liege?” I asked, just wanting to get the night over with. The sooner he was out of my sight the better. I thought I felt a nasty headache coming on.
     “I haven’t decided,” he said as he casually sipped on his wine.
     “I would be ‘onored to suck off a feckin Liege,” Jasmine said with a thick accent and she made a crude tongue gesture to Malfoy. The blond’s arrogance was like a disease as he smirked and sat back in his chair. I shot Jasmine a look of warning but she blew me off as she continued to wink at the blond.
     “And what about you, do you want to suck me off as well?” Malfoy said to Honora. Honora was a victim of the war in the truest sense of the word. She lost her brother and her father in the battle of Hogwarts and she was none too keen on Death Eaters. I feared her response so I interjected.
     “She’s shy,” I lied.
     “She’s not my taste anyway,” he said and he gulped down the last of his drink and stood to leave. “I want you, Rose,” he said and he turned to me. I swallowed hard.
     “She doesn’t do that,” Ron piped in from the bar where he sat on a stool and drank a glass of warm butterbeer, watching all the while.
     “And you are?” Malfoy turned his attention on the redhead and I closed my eyes and prayed he wouldn’t figure him out. It would be the death of us both if he did. “I don’t ever recall asking you,” Malfoy said.
     “I’m nobody, just the caretaker here,” Ron said and he turned back to the barkeep.
     “Good. For a moment there I thought you were challenging your new Liege,” Malfoy said and then he made for the spiral stair case in the center of the room that led up to the bedrooms above. “Are you coming?”
     “Uh, I manage the place and the girls. I don’t generally—“
     “Yes, I get it. You don’t whore yourself out. You just whore others out,” he said and I wanted to smack him, hard across the face.
     “No, that isn’t what I meant. Our ladies are not toys, nor are they property. They choose whether or not they want to share a man’s bed,” I defended.
     “You’re boring me. Do you have a license to serve alcohol? I might have to check with the magistrate in the morning. Last I looked only Purebloods were granted liquor licenses.”
     “I’m a Pure—I mean halfblood,” Ron said and I could hear the anger in his voice. No, he and I were not a couple any longer. That flame had fizzled long ago, but he was still quite protective over me and I was thankful for it. However, I had finagled a deal with the former Liege and convinced him to grant me a license to serve alcohol and I didn’t want that agreement revoked. It made things much easier for the girls. Before we started serving wines and spirits the patrons often stiffed us on the bill, claiming the food wasn’t good and that they came too fast to warrant our prices. Alcohol made everything go smoother. Usually.
     “Papers?” Malfoy said and my heart stopped. Ron reached into his back pocket and passed the blond his papers. He perused them and without incident he handed Rob Winston his documents back.
     “Please, let me show you to your room,” I said reluctantly. Ron shot me a look of warning.
     “I could do it for you,” Ron said angrily.
     “Sorry, but I don’t fancy blokes,” Malfoy said snidely and then he gripped me by the arm and started up the stairs.
     “Lock up and don’t worry about me,” I said and I touched the pendant on the necklace I wore. I kept a vial in it, just in case a guest got out of hand I could mick them with a relaxing sleeping potion that kicked in almost immediately. Ron’s expression changed and he appeared more relaxed when I pointed to the locket around my neck.

__0__

     “How about a nightcap?” I offered when Malfoy closed and locked the door of the small, cozy room. With my back to the blond Liege, I began to pour wine from the carafe into a fresh glass. I carefully pried open the locket and uncapped the small vial of potion where I poured it into his drink. With a swish of the glass I mixed it and then I passed it Malfoy with a smile.
     “No thanks. I’ve had enough,” he said and my spirits sunk. “So what’s your story, English Rose?” he asked as he kicked off his shoes and then laid back on the bed, lazily.
     “Oh, you can call me Rose.”
     “I thought I just did?” he said cheekily and he smirked.
     “I—I don’t know what you mean,” I said and I stood awkwardly in the center of the room not knowing what to do with myself.
     “What did you do before the war?” he elaborated. He laced his hands behind his head and relaxed.
     “I was an assistant, at an Apothecary in Manchester,” I lied.
     “Potions, eh?” he asked and I nodded. “I love potions. It was my best subject at Hogwarts,” he said and I could tell that he was remembering the past by the way his eyes became distant as he took a trip down memory lane.
     “Oh, yeah I really didn’t care for potions, but my mother did and when she retired I filled in for her. The Potion Master was shorthanded. I wouldn’t really call it a career though, persay,” I said and I hoped my answer would suffice his curiosity.
     “Did you attend a wizard school?” he asked and I gulped. “You aren’t allowed to own businesses, especially Mudbloods, unless you’ve been schooled.”
     “Yes,” I admitted.
     “Where did you go and what year were you in when the war broke out?” he asked. I loathed answering his questions. I felt like everything was a trick to trap me and I would worry endlessly in the coming days on whether or not I answered his questions properly, meaning in such a way as to not throw any suspicion upon me. I had Ron and the lives of the girls who worked under me to think about and I didn’t need any bloody Death Eaters sniffing around the establishment. Damn him for being so inquisitive!
     “I attended Beauxbaton’s, until my mother took ill and I had to quit,” I said.
     “I see. So you never attended Hogwarts? Odd.”
     “Why odd?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer but talking to Malfoy was far better than being between the sheets with Malfoy, so I was content to talk all night if need be to keep that from happening.
     “There’s a certain familiarity there in regards to you. I thought perhaps I knew you from Hogwarts.”
     “No, I don’t think so. I dropped out near the end of my sixth year, just about the time the war started.”
     “Ah, so we are the same age then. Perhaps that’s where the familiarity begins and ends,” he quipped. I nodded in agreement. “Take off that negligee,” he ordered and I went rigid. “Bit shy are you Rose?”
     “No, well, perhaps a bit.”
     “Is it that, or is it that you just don’t like Death Eaters?” he asked and I began to panic.
     “No—er—I’m shy around men.”
     “I can’t believe that. After all, you operate a brothel. Unless…Do you prefer women?”
     “No! I mean, no.” I stood and dropped my negligee. I felt naked standing there in only my under garments. I typically dressed the part of a Madam which included the full works—corset,stockings,negligee cloak,heels and a lot of costume jewelry. It was my mask and it helped me get into the role, a role that I was never really comfortable with. When I put the outfits on I became Rose, Madam of The English Rose. Without the get up I was Hermione, homely and meek. I had to let Hermione go after the war ended.
     “Dance for me,” he purred and he shifted himself in his pants as his eyes roved over my half naked body.
     “I don’t do that. I could call Katydid, she’s a brilliant dancer…”
     “No, I want you.” I gulped. I told myself that it was just a random wizard and I got into the part. I turned my back to him as not to have to look at him. At first it was awkward, I was so tense as I turned the knob on the muggle, clock radio and turned the volume up. I began to sway to the song that was playing as my hips moved from side to side. I loved the song, it was an oldie but a goodie and I was a traditional girl at heart as I began to move my arms in time with the music. I got a bit carried away as I let down my hair and began to move my head from side to side as long curls fell down my back.
     “Such a sexy arse,” he said in a husky, affected tone as I continued to dance for the blond. “Turn around and face me,” he commanded and I closed my eyes and turned around. I couldn’t look at him as I shook my arse for Draco Malfoy. “Lovely. Lose the bra. You can leave the corset on, it’s hot, but I want to see your tits,” he said.
     “I—“ I wanted to protest but I couldn’t think of a single rebuttal to his request. Blast! I slowly removed the straps of my bra as I swayed on my stilettoes. With my eyes still closed I heard the sound of a zipper being undone and my mind was racing a mile a minute.
     “I’m watching you and stroking myself. I’m engaged to be married so this is as far as I’m willing to go…Rose,” he said my name as if it was butter and I began to relax upon hearing his declaration. Thank Merlin he’s engaged! I unhooked the back of the bra and then with two hands I cupped my breasts as I let the bra fall to the floor. “I want you to watch me, after all, I’m watching you,” the Liege said and I slowly opened my eyes. My mouth fell open when I saw the sight. His white button up shirt was unbuttoned all the way. The flap on Malfoy’s pants was open and his rigid cock was standing at attention. A trail of blond fell in a line down his toned stomach and ended at the base of his thick, long shaft. He was huge, and he took himself in hand with his long, pale fingers where he began to stroke himself. The music played faster and without really realizing it I found myself twerking, half-arsedly mind you, but I wasn’t a professional dancer by any means. I finally removed my hands from my chest and my breasts spilled into view.
     “Oh yeah,” he moaned. “Touch yourself,” he ordered and I complied. I smoothed my hands over my tits and pinched them. My nipples hardened immediately and then I slid my hand down my stomach where I slipped my hand inside my panties and gave myself a gentle rub. He was coming in nothing flat. I found myself morbidly interested as I watched the blond climax. His face contorted and he cried out in a husky moan that sent chills down my spine it went right through me. His come shot out in spurts like lava from Vesuvius and his face looked relaxed and peaceful, almost angelic as he released his load. His eyes were closed and he was breathing hard as he lay serenely on the bed.
     “If you allow me to use your wand I can perform a cleaning charm for you,” I murmured suddenly feeling embarrassed.
     “Thanks. It’s on the table,” he said and he pointed with his pale finger. Suddenly I was twelve again and Malfoy was calling me Mudblood, as I reached for his wand. I could have hexed him right there, with his own wand. Sadly, I didn’t. Instead I went to work cleaning the evidence of his sex.
     We dressed in silence after I performed the cleaning charm over Malfoy, removing the semen from his clothes and bedspread. “How much do I owe you?” he asked when he was totally dressed again.
     “Oh, I—I don’t really do this, so I don’t really know,” I said honestly.
     “How much do the other girls who do do this get?” he asked.
     “A hundred galleons for a night,” I answered.
     “Here,” he said and he reached into his overcoat and produced a velvet pouch. He laid it down on the dresser and then laid his hand on the door knob to leave. “That’s two thousand galleons. It should cover the drinks and the girls and…you.”
     “I can’t take that much.”
     “It’s an investment. We’re going to be seeing more of each other. I’m living here now. Astoria hates the country so until she joins me you will be my remedy for the lonely nights,” he said as a matter of fact.
     “I—uh, what I mean to say is—“ I stuttered.
     “Just say thanks,” he smiled. It wasn’t a smirk nor was it a sneer. It was a genuine smile and goose bumps erupted down my arms and legs when he did it.
     “Thanks,” I said and then I froze when he leaned in to kiss me goodbye.

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*So this idea came to me and I was anxious to start this story. I still plan to finish my other story, and I’m already half done with the chapter for that one. Let me know if I should continue this story.
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The English Rose