The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 5

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 5 ~ Moving Ahead


Madam Dominique DeChay stood behind the counter of her establishment counting the last shift’s earnings. Painted witches and a few well-oiled wizards stood in line waiting for their percentage of the day’s work. She dropped a few galleons in an outstretched palm.

“There you go, Michelle. Good work,” Madam DeChay said to a platinum blonde witch with a spelled mole next to her nose. She wore a clingy white dress that showed ample cleavage. She looked like a Muggle movie star. Michelle pursed her lips.

”Thank you, Madam,” she said breathily, pushing her breasts forward and winking at the witch, still in character.

“Oh, go on you. You’re off tomorrow. Rest up!” Madam DeChay said to the prostitute fondly as she minced off. She looked at the handsome young wizard that stepped up to the counter. He waggled his eyebrows at her, his hand out.

”Ready for my stud pay, Madam,” he said with a bow and a perfect smile.

Madam DeChay, who was gray-haired, heavy-set, heavy-rouged and just this side of one hundred, fluttered her lashes at him coquettishly.

“Want to take it out in trade, Arlowe?” she asked him suggestively.

”Too many bills this week, Madam,” he said, still smiling as she dropped several galleons into his hand, “Maybe next week, if you’re still willing.”

He snorted and made a whinnying sound. Dominique chuckled. This was a game they always played. She would no sooner sleep with the gigolo than she would her own son. One had to keep business separate from pleasure after all. As everyone from the streets knew, you didn’t use your own product and expect to make a profit.

”We’ll see, Arlowe. We’ll see. Now remember, you have an eleven o’clock with Mrs. Holstein tonight, so don’t wander too far between now and then. She likes to get started promptly,” the Madam chided him.

”Don’t I know it,” he replied, “I’ll be here in plenty of time.”

”Be sure you are,” Madam DeChay said, watching him walk off.

She paid off the rest of her employees, then looked down to see a little house elf looking up at her.

“The master wants a redhead tonight, Miss,” the elf said.

Dominique nodded, then turned and ran her finger down a schedule.

“Cherie is available. Bill to ‘Sparse Venues’ as usual?” Dominique asked the elf, who nodded.

“Yes, Miss. Under ‘Business Expense: Entertainment,” the elf directed.

”Of course,” she smiled at him, “Go and wait in my office, Eli and I will send her in.”

Eli had been coming here five or six times a year for almost two decades to retrieve the occasional woman for his master. They were hooded and winked to his domain, then returned none the worse for wear.

Who the client was, was a mystery to the women in Madam DeChay's employ. He never spoke and never removed their hoods completely. The women would only hear his heavy breathing as he indulged himself in a bit of fellatio first, then straight sex from behind. He was quite good and very generous, pressing several extra galleons into the whore’s hand before sending her back to Madam DeChay’s House of Good Times.

Those women who had been with him all compared notes and claimed whoever he was, they’d give him a few goes for free. Unlike most clients who groped and grasped their bodies as if they had no nerve endings, he had the most amazing, gentle touch, a touch like a lover’s touch.

Madam DeChay gave Cherie her final instructions. The redhead listened carefully. She’d heard about this mysterious client from other women.

“Now Cherie, this is a very good client of mine. He doesn’t speak and will let you know what he wants by guiding you. Don’t attempt to remove your hood. If you do, most likely you will be obliviated and I will lose his account, in which case you’ll be on your back from morning until night covering what that wizard pays for this service, do you understand me?” Dominique said to the witch.

”Yes, Madam,” Cherie replied.

”Good, now hold still,” the Madam said, pulling a pink velvet hood over her head, then looking at Eli.

”You can take her now, Eli,” Dominique said.

“Thanks you,” the elf said, taking the witch’s hand in his claw and winking out.

“Thank you, Eli,” Dominique said, walking around her desk and scrawling down the charge in her ledger with a smile.

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Hermione waited nervously as John Bartleby donned his cloak while giving her last minute instructions and information on how her first month was to be spent.

“We wish you to spend the next month brushing up on the latest developments in Charms and spell making techniques, Mrs. Weasley. You are to do no actual wand work. At the end of the month, you will be given a comprehensive exam to gauge what you’ve absorbed. If your marks are low, you will be given another two weeks to review and then be tested again. If you fail a second time, you will be dismissed,” the solicitor said to her.

”In addition, all correspondence to you will automatically be redirected to my office. I will forward it immediately,” the wizard said, picking up a folder off his desk and walking around it to Hermione’s side.

“Again, I must be sure you understand that during the week, you are only allowed outside of the building between the hours of noon and one o’clock pm. You must be sure to be back inside before the wards are reset. Do you understand that?” Bartleby asked her.

”Yes,” Hermione said shortly.

”And on the weekends you may come and go as you please until nine pm. You cannot bring anyone to the work site however. If anyone attempts to apparate with you, or follow you . . . there could be dire results because of the protections. We don’t want that, do we?” the wizard said to her.

”I understand, Mr. Bartleby,” Hermione said, feeling a little irritated now. She knew how to follow instructions.

“Good. Now, take my arm and we shall go, Mrs. Weasley,” the stout wizard said, offering her his arm.

Hermione took it and braced herself.

They disapparated.

Hermione felt solid ground under her feet and opened her eyes. They were standing in a wooded forest, facing a large, white rectangular building that glistened in the sunlight. A mountainside rose close behind it. The sounds of wind, trees rustling and birds singing filled the air. It was a very peaceful area.

”And here it is,” Bartleby said, walking forward. There was a single iron door in the smooth, featureless face of the building. There were no windows. Hermione followed the solicitor.

“It looks as if it will be a bit stuffy,” Hermione said, noting there didn’t appear to be any vents.

”I assure you it is well ventilated. No expense was spared in the creation of this site, Mrs. Weasley. It is climate controlled and you will be quite comfortable,” the wizard said.

As they approached the building, the door swung open.

”The building is set to your signature. When your children arrive, it will reset to allow them entrance as well. It hasn’t been yet decided how much freedom they will have on the grounds here, but by the time summer rolls around all should be in place. We realize children need space. I am sure it will be an acceptable arrangement,” Bartleby assured her.

They entered the building. They were in a small foyer with another single door in the wall. When the door behind them closed, someone spoke. Hermione felt magic wash over her.

”John Seymour Bartleby. Hermione Jane Weasley,” a female voice stated, “You have proper authorization. You may enter.”

“Recognition magic,” the solicitor said as the door in front of them opened on to a hallway with several doors. Bartleby walked down to the last door on the right and opened it.

It was an apartment. There was a large, spacious living room, comfortable sofas and armchairs, a fireplace . . .

“This fireplace is not connected to the floo network,” he told her, “the library is in here.”

Hermione let out a little gasp of surprise as she walked into a furnished study with leather chairs, a large mahogany desk and books from floor to ceiling. She looked at some of the titles, her amber eyes wide. Some of the books were recent editions, but there were quite a few rare ones all covering every aspect of spells, charms and the like. There was a glass enclosed section. Hermione walked up to it.

”Dark Magic books,” Bartleby said, frowning slightly, “Be cautious using these. Some can be quite nasty.”

He pointed to a set of file cabinets in the corner.

”Those cabinets hold a catalogue that tells you what to do to access each book. Be sure to use it. If you don’t, again . . . it could be quite nasty,” the wizard said soberly.

Hermione was familiar with the nature of those types of books. Many of them contained demons, evil spirits or captured souls on the alert for some innocent to exchange places with.

“I will be extremely careful, believe me,” she said.

”Good. Now, place your hand against the glass,” the solicitor instructed.

Hermione did so and felt powerful magic wash over her.

”Now that area of the library will only open for you as long as you are in the employ of Sparse Venues Development,” Bartleby said.

He walked over to the desk and set the folder he brought from his office on the top of it.

”This is a list of possible Charms that we would like examined for feasibility. While you are studying, you will also write a report on the feasibility of developing such spells, the possible dangers and benefits, and potential difficulties you might face in the creation of said spells. The reports will be collected from you at the end of the month and examined. Based on these reports, your projects will be assigned to you, provided you pass the exam,” the wizard said.

“Um . . . concerning this exam, Mr. Bartleby, will I be given any study materials or aids?” she asked the wizard.

Bartleby shook his head.

”I’m afraid not, Mrs. Weasley. All I can say is garner as much knowledge as you possibly can. As far as I know, the test will be a written one. There will be no multiple choice or hints of any type. Straight questions and answers with no partial credit. Either you will answer correctly or erroneously,” Bartleby said.

Hermione blinked at him.

“I had a teacher once who gave tests like that,” she said to the solicitor.

”Well, that’s a plus. You know what to expect then,” he replied with a small smile. “In the meantime, study hard, Mrs. Weasley.”

Bartleby turned to go.

”Wait, aren’t you going to show me around?” she asked the wizard.

He looked surprised.

”Well, no . . . you will be living here. I think it best you become acquainted with the premises yourself. After I leave, you will be sealed in until noon. I suggest you unpack and get acquainted with these premises first before you explore the work area. Good day, Mrs. Weasley,” the wizard said, giving her a slight bow and exiting the room.

Hermione stood there a moment, then suddenly a million unanswered questions filled her head, and she rushed out behind the solicitor . . . entering the hallway just in time to see the door leading to the foyer close. She ran up to it. There was no knob or handles. She pushed on it.

”Hermione Jane Weasley. No authorization to depart until twelve noon,” the female voice said evenly.

Hermione scowled at the door for a moment, then turned and walked back to her apartment, closing the door behind her. How was she supposed to get in contact with anyone if there were an emergency?

She walked through the living room and down a hallway. There was a bathroom and three doorways, each leading into a bedroom. One had a large four-poster bed and a private bathroom containing a sunken tub and separate glass-encased shower. This was her room. She pulled her miniaturized trunks out of her robe pocket and placed them on the floor. Then she took out her wand and pointed it at them.

”Engorgio,” she said, watching as the trunks enlarged.

She took off her traveling cloak and hung it on a stand in a corner of the room, then started to open the trunk.

”I will do that, Miss,” a squeaky voice said.

Hermione spun, her wand pointing at a little green house elf who looked back at her steadily.

“I am Eli. I is your help, Miss,” the elf said with a bow. “I works for Sparse Venues and do not keeps your secrets. But I will do what you needs done while you works here.”

”I am Hermione, Eli,” Hermione said to the elf.

It made no sense to even attempt to feel anyway about house elf servitude in this case. It worked for the company. There was nothing she could do. Eli approached the trunk.

”I will puts away your things, Miss. You may explores,” he said in a no-nonsense voice.

Hermione looked at the elf, who looked back at her as if to say, “Go finds something to do.”

”All right,” the witch said, feeling a little out of sorts but not wanting to interfere with the elf’s duties, “I’ll just take a look at the kitchen then.”

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Disillusioned and standing a distance away from the site, Severus Snape watched Bartleby leave the building. He had seen them arrive. Hermione was now safely interred in the building. No doubt Eli would make his appearance soon to help the witch. The dark wizard stood there for several minutes after his solicitor disapparated, then turned and disappeared into the forest.

He had work to do before twelve noon and wanted to be back in his lab when Hermione was allowed on the grounds. If she were anything like she was when she was a student, she’d be snooping all about.

Snape smirked darkly.

She’d better pay attention to the “Keep Out” signs.

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A/N Thanks for reading.

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