Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's note: This story involves polyamory (a relationship between three people), and there is no triangle. There is also smut - a lot of it, in fact - with two of the three people working in a brothel. If you don't feel comfortable reading this note, then do not read the story. Flames are not accepted.

...

Unbeknownst to the students of Hogwarts, Madam Puddifoot's was more than a simple tea shop during the week. It transformed into a humble tea shop when the student's weekend visits to Hogsmeade began, but between those two days, there were still five that required a business to be run. The oldest business in the world, in fact. Selling tea wasn't enough to pay the bills worthy of a store located in Hogsmeade, but selling sex definitely was. (Just ask any Muggle.)

The store itself never altered, pastel pink both inside and out; it was kept that way to deter some and to amuse others. The interior of the shop was not as cramped as it once was though, as extra tables were brought out for the Valentine's Day rush, and as such, the teashop could generally be walked through from front to back without bumping into anyone or anything. Not unless they were excessively drunk or trying especially hard, at least.

For those that wandered into the teashop during the week expecting tea were gently guided back out of the door with the help of a spelled bell, tinkling merrily on their entrance and dulled on their exit. The spell didn't do any lasting harm, really; it simply removed any memory of what they had seen in the shop and then gave the witch or wizard in question a sudden impulse to go to the Three Broomsticks instead. Rosmerta was glad for the extra business and happily supplied Madam Puddifoot with Firewhisky on request. More businesses in Hogsmeade also offered their goods in return for Madam Puddifoot's impulsive nudge, to which she readily agreed (in the spirit of promoting local business, of course).

After the Final Battle, and Voldemort's defeat, Madam Puddifoot saw no need to change her business. It simply needed to be handled more discreetly, as people that were once wealthy and feared were now as poor as beggars and ignored just as easily, too. Of course, for a select few (one family in particular), the opposite had happened; their poverty was replaced with riches unlike any of them had ever owned before, and they could not leave their homes for the crowd of people around them. It was for this reason that Madam Puddifoot decided to install a Floo system directly to her teashop, allowing for further discretion no matter the witch or wizard's financial status.

Today was her first day opening after the Christmas and New Year break (everyone deserved a holiday, and her staff were no less deserving than her clients to spend time with loved ones), and Madam Puddifoot had two new wizards on her staff that she simply knew would bring in even more business than usual. They had been former clients themselves, before the war, and knew exactly how these things worked. However, they had requested something of her before signing their contract: they would only work together, and they would be allowed to choose their own clients, not the other way around, as was usually the norm. Madam Puddifoot had known how fussy these two could be while they were clients, and she had expected nothing less of them now. She had agreed to their terms easily - they weren't the first, and she doubted they would be the last, to request something similar - and altered their contracts with a flick of her wand. Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had signed on the dotted line without hesitation.

Her first client entered the store half an hour after the door opened, and Madam Puddifoot simply nodded to the witch as she made her way through the tables, looking at the witches and wizards already seated at each table before moving on. The witch ended up sitting at Draco and Blaise's table, and Madam Puddifoot waited a few minutes to see if they would agree to her presence. When it seemed that she wouldn't be cast away, Madam Puddifoot prepared a tray of tea and scones, making her way over to the table to offer the tray to the witch for a certain price. It was three Sickles, a higher charge than her usual menu, and the witch probably would have refused had Draco not smiled at her charmingly and mentioned something about cream and the sweetness of jam, Blaise taking one of Draco's long fingers in his mouth. The witch could not seem to get her purse out fast enough, cheeks red as she thrust the coins at Madam Puddifoot. She set the tray down and left without being noticed, the witch purely focused on the show Draco and Blaise were putting on with their spoons and the small dish of cream. Madam Puddifoot reserved her laughter until she was in the safety of her Silenced kitchen. Those two wizards were going to make her a very rich witch.

...

"You haven't left the house in days, Gin. You're driving yourself insane being cooped up like this," Neville said certainly, pointing a dirt-covered finger at her.

Ginny made a non-committed noise in response, focusing on her task of repotting the Snapping Dragon sapling. She finished without the plant attacking her, though she had Stunned it before going near the damn thing; either way, Ginny considered it a success.

"I'm not going insane, Neville. Those bastards from The Daily Prophet have started stalking me via Floo now that Harry's announced his engagement, and I've set the wards around my house so that they can't get in again."

"But it's also restricting you from getting out. Have you reported the Floo to the Ministry? You're a Weasley; it should have been fixed already," Neville said, setting aside his pruning shears and cleaning his hands in the greenhouse basin.

"You know how much I hate using my name like that, Nev. I told them I was Susan Bones when I reported it last week when I realised what they'd been doing. So far, I've only been given a temporary patch. I can get one secure trip a week, and you were mine for this week," Ginny said, smiling and pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking over the sink to wash her own hands.

"You mean you could have gone grocery shopping, but instead you let me come over? Honestly, Gin, sometimes I wonder about your priorities," he muttered, shaking his head.

"The house elves get food for me, Nev. Besides, I'd much rather your company than being hounded out on Diagon Alley like I was last month."

"Oh? Which long-lost relative was it this time?" Neville asked.

"A witch claiming to be the long-lost daughter of Uncle Fabian. I swear they're getting less inventive as the years go by," Ginny muttered, drying her hands on her pants before leading Neville out of the greenhouse and up to her home.

"Hmm, I'll say. Remember that one bloke that tried to alter the Weasley family tree by adding his own on the end of some obscure branch?"

"Ugh, unfortunately. I'm sure my poor mother's still having a panic attack over the state of our tapestry. He didn't even stitch it on properly; it took her three days to undo his mess."

"I'm sure if she hadn't pitied the man so much, she would have sent him a Howler on his disgusting attempt at embroidery," Neville snickered.

"More likely that if he hadn't been taken straight to Azkaban, I'm sure she would've done it," Ginny said, shaking her head.

There was a bright flash of something purple behind them, making Neville start in surprise.

"What the hell was that?"

"One of the reporters outside of my house attempting to take a photo," Ginny replied with a brief shrug. "I may have altered my wards just to really fuck with them," she said, smiling wickedly. "Any time they try to take a photo, they get plastered with purple goo. Several lawyers have told me via owl that it completely ruins their clients cameras."

"Bloody hell, Gin. No wonder Seamus starts to cry if he hears your nam. What else are you putting my poor boyfriend through?" Neville asked, grinning as he opened the door for her.

"Nothing I'm not paying him for, thank you very much," she muttered, raising an eyebrow at Neville pointedly.

"Yeah, I know. He's been working on a case that's kept him late in the Ministry most nights, and they don't pay half as well as you do. You know Seamus would work for you for less, right?"

"Yes, but he's the best lawyer in the wizarding world, and the only one I'd trust to deal with all of this crap," Ginny said, giving a generic wave towards the group of reporters that were camped outside of her home.

"I'll tell him you said that," Neville said with a warm smile.

"Good. Now, how about lunch?"

"Excellent idea, Gin," he said, offering his arm.

She grinned and took it with a little curtsy, laughing as they headed down to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, they were both full of food and in the sitting room relaxing, when Neville looked over to Ginny and scrutinised her suddenly.

"What? Do I have crumbs on my face?" she asked, swiping at her mouth with a frown.

"No, nothing like that. It's just ... are you all right, being here alone? You haven't dated anyone since Harry, and I worry about you sometimes, Gin."

"Oh, Nev, don't. You sound just like my mother," Ginny groaned, batting a hand in his general direction in a half-arsed attempt to get him to shut up.

"It's true, though. Harry was three years ago, Gin."

"I'm aware of that, thank you, Neville," she muttered, a little coolly now.

"Don't be like that, Gin. I'm just worried about you. I could set you up with someone, if you like. I know Oliver's been looking for a date for a while; what about him?"

"Please, the sooner he gets locked in a room with Flint and Bell, the happier everyone will be," Ginny said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Really? Damn, looks like I owe Seamus a Galleon then. Okay, what about... uh... Justin?"

"No. Neville, we're not doing this. I'm fine, okay? So I haven't had sex in a while, so what?"

"I said date, not sex, Gin," Neville pointed out, grinning when she swore at him under her breath. "You could've called me and Seamus if you just wanted sex," he added.

"No, you two are happier without me, and have been for the last four years. Besides, it's nothing I can't handle. No more talk about setting me up with someone, okay?"

"All right, Gin," Neville said with a sigh. "But if you really just want sex, why not go to Madam Puddifoot's?"

She frowned at him. "I don't see how going to a teashop will help get me laid, Nev."

His eyes widened slightly. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know what?"

Neville took a moment to chuckle, and grinned at her broadly before answering. "During the week, Madam Puddifoot's is basically a high-class brothel. It's only the teashop on the weekend for the students. It's a nice establishment, and she makes sure that all of her staff are tested and clean, all of that... What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Neville asked suddenly, seeing Ginny's expression.

"How do you know that Madam Puddifoot's is a brothel, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville went bright red. "Uh, Seamus... we kind of... go there sometimes," he admitted. "It's a treat for us; we get to do what we like without anyone thinking less of us."

To say that Ginny's interest was piqued was an understatement. "And you have to go there to do it? What do you like?" she asked curiously, sitting forward and licking her lips slightly in anticipation.

"Well, I hate you right now," Neville groaned, his head lolling onto the back of his armchair. "You know that Seamus can be somewhat of an exhibitionist - " now that was another understatement, Ginny thought with a grin; she remembered how at Hogwarts, Seamus would often walk from the bathroom to the boy's dormitories in a scrap of a towel, just so he could drop said towel in front of whoever was in the Common Room at the time. " - and I... I like sucking him off in public. He likes to see if he can come without alerting anyone else to the fact that I'm under the table."

"That sounds like fun," Ginny said, grinning broadly. "Does Seamus reciprocate?"

"Hand job only," he said with enough conviction to make Ginny wonder what had happened to make Neville refuse a blow job in public.

"So, you said it was like a brothel? How do you get a table to do that, then?"

"Oh, we usually just pick one of the tables that has a lone witch or wizard; Seamus doesn't care who's sitting there, as long as I'm between his legs," Neville said, grinning.

"I'll bet. I've gotten him drunk before, and I know just how much he loves your mouth. Said there was a thing you did with your tongue that drove him insane?" Ginny snickered.

Neville did a complicated tongue movement, and Ginny's snickers stopped immediately.

"Y-yeah. I can see how that'd do it," she murmured, fanning herself briefly. "So... Are you going to Madam Puddifoot's anytime soon?" Ginny asked.

"Haven't planned it; but you could probably go there yourself. Madam Puddifoot's set up a secure grate in the Floo system - no one would even know you'd been there. Especially not that lot," he added, thumbing out towards the garden. "The grate's by invitation only, but I can let her know that you're interested, if you like?"

"No. It's all right, don't worry about it," Ginny said quickly.

She didn't really trust the Floo system anymore - secure grate or not - and didn't want to risk the reporters discovering that she'd gone to a brothel, high-class or not.

Neville seemed a little disappointed at her answer, but nodded anyway. The conversation turned to Quidditch and Herbology, but Ginny would be lying if she said that she wasn't still thinking about Madam Puddifoot's by the time Neville left an hour later.

Ginny's libido was usually predictable, so she blamed Neville entirely when she woke up in the middle of the night, her body aching and needing release. Her dream hadn't helped, the thought of sitting at a table while someone slipped between her legs, licking and touching her while she squirmed against their tongue and fingers, her hips jerking forward with each light touch. She palmed her breasts firmly, nipples beading under her hands, then slipped a hand down to press against her wet knickers. She rubbed slow circles against her clitoris with her thumb, sliding a finger past the useless fabric and to her wet folds. Rubbing them between her thumb and forefinger, Ginny's breath caught as she tugged at one nipple sharply.

She wished she had another set of hands so she could do everything she wanted all at once. Or someone who was very good at following commands, another set of hands, maybe firm and calloused as they ran up her thighs, thick and blunt fingers digging into her hips to pull her close, tongue licking into her as she spread her legs a little wider.

Ginny pressed and rubbed against her clit firmer, chasing the release instead of relishing the build up as she might've otherwise. She clenched her eyes tightly, trying to think of everything and anything to help her get there faster. A body pressed up against hers, a cock buried inside of her, hands stroking and tugging her breasts, her hair being pulled back so her neck could be licked and sucked and bit, a body pressed up behind her, another cock firm up against her arse, and another set of hands scratching down her ribs lightly.

Fuck,yes,more,more,fuck,fuck,fuck! The mantra spilled out of her in a low and heavy moan, and Ginny fell back against her sheets in a haze of sweat and sex, not even realising that she'd arched off the bed in the first place.

Pulling off her sopping wet knickers, Ginny scrunched them into a ball and then threw them in the direction of her laundry hamper. Her orgasm had been unexpected, but not unwelcome, and it made it all too easy to fall asleep with a blanket covering her cooling body.

When Ginny woke up the next morning, she sent a house elf with a note to Neville, asking him for the grate number to Madam Puddifoot's. She didn't dare risk sending an owl and having it caught. It hadn't happened yet, but Ginny was sure it was only a matter of time before one of the wily reporters managed the feat.

...

Madam Puddifoot was not particularly fond of surprises. She tried to keep herself as well-informed on every topic, person, and social event as possible in order to limit surprises. She knew all too well what the Weasley's were going through, and now that Harry Potter had proposed to his girlfriend, reporters were absolutely hounding the youngest Weasley in order to get a reaction from the witch. Of course, since they were hounding the youngest Weasley, the reporters were dealing with their own set of risks and consequences. On passing Seamus Finnigan's table (she made sure the floors were spotless for Neville's benefit), Madam Puddifoot had heard about the purple ooze that destroyed the reporter's cameras, chuckling to herself on the way to the kitchen.

Later, when Neville asked her to invite young Miss Ginevra Weasley to the teashop, Madam Puddifoot was far from surprised. She sent an invitation that evening, instructions and rules included in the envelope. Three days later, the witch in question stepped out of the fireplace and into the teashop. Madam Puddifoot smiled and led Miss Weasley through the shop, informing her that any table with a red light hovering above it was already occupied, and one with a green light was available to choose from. It was early in the day, and most witches and wizards were still at work, so a lot of the tables were lit green.

"Your privacy is of the utmost importance, Miss. I personally ensure that any client's details are kept secure, and away from this establishment, should anything unfortunate happen," Madam Puddifoot said smoothly.

Almost five years ago, something unfortunate had happened involving Aurors, taxes, and the Ministry. While she had had enough money to convince the correct Ministry officials to rush through her store's paperwork, her business had suffered for almost three straight months until she could convince her clientele that everything was sorted, and Aurors would not burst in during her opening hours ever again. That was a surprise that Madam Puddifoot was not willing to repeat.

"And I just sit wherever I like?" Ginny asked, glancing up at the green lights above the tables. "What if I don't end up liking the wizard or witch? Am I still required to pay?"

"I would hope that you would determine your liking of the witch or wizard before you needed to pay for anything. Talking is free, but that can be done outside of business hours; I'm sure you understand," Madam Puddifoot added.

The redhead nodded, and with a smile, Madam Puddifoot left her to her own devices. She went to the kitchen to get Miss Weasley a complimentary tray of tea and scones (the first was free, it often encouraged repeat visitors, and there were a few drops of a Calming Draught in the tea to help ease any nerves for the first timers; not that they needed to know that). By the time she had readied a tray, Miss Weasley was no longer in sight, and a table had a red candle floating above it. Madam Puddifoot frowned slightly, realising that it was Draco and Blaise's table today. She waited, expecting Miss Weasley to be rejected by the two wizards - or Miss Weasley to reject the two wizards, even - but minutes passed and the candle remained red.

Well, that was certainly a surprise.

...

Ginny wandered through the teashop, glancing to the witches and wizards at each table. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for - perhaps a wizard for her first time here, something familiar at least, before she sat at a witch's table - but as soon as she saw Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini sitting at a table, she stopped. Her fantasy from last week - two sets of hands on her body - came to mind immediately, and she barely stopped herself from visibly flushing or moaning outright. But this wasn't right, obviously. They were together, which had to mean they were clients, not staff, surely? Ginny looked up, and the candle was definitely green.

"Are you going to sit down, or are you going to stare at the candle all evening?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Is that the way you proposition all of your potential clients?" Ginny snarked back.

"Oh, sweetheart, we don't have to proposition anyone. They all just sit down as soon as they see us," Blaise said, licking his lips as he looked her over.

Ginny wanted a pleasant evening. She wanted to go to a different table as far away from them as possible, never mind her damn fantasy. However, instead of turning to leave, Ginny found herself taking off her robe and sitting down in the booth. The candle overhead turned red.

"Now, that's better, isn't it, sweetheart?" Blaise murmured, sliding a hand up Draco's arm in a provocative way.

"Don't call me sweetheart," Ginny said.

"What would you prefer to be called, then? Darling, perhaps? Lover? Cherie?" he suggested, the French rolling off his tongue easily.

"I'd prefer to be called by my name; pet names don't do a thing for me," she said firmly.

"Ginevra it is, then," Blaise said, and there was something about the way that he said her full name (which she usually hated more than pet names) that made her shiver.

Madam Puddifoot appeared a few moments later, placing a tray of scones, cream and jam on the table. She smiled at them briefly as she placed the teapot and teacups on the table.

Draco started sucking jam from one of Blaise's fingers, their eyes dark as they watched each other. Ginny watched them breathlessly.

"Enjoy," Madam Puddifoot said warmly, pushing the small trolley back to the kitchen.

"Oh, I will," she murmured.

Ginny sipped at her tea. She recognised the taste of the Calming Draught, though it was weak, and continued to drink anyway. It was either the tea or order a few shots of Firewhisky, and she had seen the drinks menu that came with the invitation. There was no way she was spending two Sickles on a shot of Firewhisky; just because she could afford it now didn't mean it was necessary to spend it.

"What would you like us to do, Ginevra?" Blaise asked, glancing over at her.

"Keep enjoying yourselves for the moment; I think I need to finish my tea before I make any demands," Ginny replied.

"Demands, hmm? So you'd like to order us around, would you?" Blaise asked, eyes fluttering shut as Draco nipped at his fingertips gently.

"Yes," she said, her eyes focused on the tip of Draco's tongue as he licked at Blaise's fingers.

"What would you have us do?"

"Touch each other," Ginny replied.

"How?" Draco asked, finally pulling away from Blaise to look over at her. "You have to be more specific than that, Ginevra."

She had the feeling that he was teasing her, testing her, daring her to continue. Ginny gave a brief smirk; now that was something she could do.

"Well, I'd get you to stop acting as if this was turning either of you on," she said, her voice firmer than either one obviously expected. "The light licks and finger biting is probably enough for your other clients, but that's not what turns you on, and I like my sexual partners to be as turned on as I am."

Draco took Blaise's fingers out of his mouth and they both sat there silently, watching her for a long moment. All at once, Ginny had seemed to lose the innocent and first time in a brothel façade, and sitting before them was a witch who knew exactly what and who she wanted.

"You've had sexual partners at the same time then?" Blaise asked curiously.

"Seamus and Neville, mostly. Katie Bell and Marcus Flint a few times; it was far too easy to catch them after a game," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I didn't go to the same extent with those two as I did with Seamus and Neville, of course; that's not what they needed, they just needed to realise that a third was necessary in their little arrangement."

Blaise snorted in amusement. "I presume you mean Oliver Wood?"

"Of course, and if my owls weren't being watched by reporters, I would have contacted him already with an anonymous note on how to get into the Harpies' change room after a game."

"We can do that for you, no one watches our owls anymore," Blaise said with a smirk.

"I hate to interrupt this matchmaking session, but as Madam Puddifoot always says: talking is free and can be done outside of business hours," Draco said pointedly.

"Never mind him, Ginevra. He's hard as a rock and gets irritable when he can't get off."

"Oh, in that case... Draco, put your hands on the table. Blaise, undo your trousers and start stroking your cock. I want Draco to watch you," Ginny said, elbows on the table as she rested her chin in her hands and watched them.

Draco made a small noise of annoyance, but did as she instructed, placing his hands on the table reluctantly. Blaise seemed much happier, and made a show of unbuttoning his trousers to free his half-hard cock. It didn't take long for him to stroke himself to full length, and while he could feel Draco's hungry gaze on him, Blaise didn't look away from Ginny. Her eyes seemed to shine eagerly as she watched them, and he could see her hard nipples through her shirt.

Ginny lowered her hands and scooted around the circular booth until she was sitting right next to Blaise. Draco was staring at Blaise's cock hungrily, and his own cock was tenting his trousers in what had to be a painful way.

"I'm going to suck you off now, Blaise. Draco, don't you dare look away," Ginny added firmly, looking at him to make sure he would understand and agree.

He gave a brief nod, biting his lip as he saw the pre-cum leaking out of Blaise's cock. Ginny slid under the table easily and took Blaise in her mouth without preamble.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips arching off the seat and driving him further into her warm, wet mouth.

Ginny seemed amused at his response, but held him down firmly, and continued to suck and lick Blaise's cock. Draco watched as her hair spilled over Blaise's thighs, the small peek he could see of Blaise's cock as she slid her lips up his length in a torturously slow manner. Draco wanted to take his own cock in hand, but she was torturing him even more than she was Blaise. His hands clenched into fists, refusing to give in and touch his cock, and Draco looked up at Blaise who was mouthing the word 'fuck' over and over quietly. Blaise looked out of it completely, but he must have noticed Draco watching, because he started to describe what Ginny was doing to him.

"She's sucking my cock so fucking hard, Draco. Feels like I'm inside your tight ass, but then she does this thing with her tongue that... oh, fuck me, she did it again. I'm going to try it on you tonight, show you what I mean, and you'll want to thank her with a dozen roses or something. Her tongue starts off flat against the vein of my cock, then she moves it do to this rubbing motion on the head, and every single time she moves up, her tongue does this swirl thing on the tip that just... fuck-fuck... Oh, fuck. I'm coming. Fuck."

Draco should have been surprised that Blaise hadn't lasted longer, considering he usually had the better stamina of the two of them. But with the rushed and lust-heavy way he described what Ginny was doing to him, Draco found that he was only surprised that Blaise hadn't lost control sooner. Ginny pulled off of Blaise's softening cock, licking her lips and catching the come that had seeped out of her mouth. She seemed excessively pleased with herself as she settled in between them, but the look of delight on her fact multiplied when she saw that Draco still had his hands on the table.

"I never thought you'd be the type to follow orders, Draco," Ginny admitted. "Especially not when your own pleasure was at stake."

"I've found that clients like it when I do what I'm told," Draco replied. "I'd prefer a repeat client rather than a few minutes for my own pleasure."

"Hmm, interesting. Well, now I hope you'll keep your hands on the table for just a little while longer. Blaise, would you be a dear and get your hands on my breasts, please?" Ginny asked, undoing the buttons on her shirt to reveal a teal bra with black lace decorating the cups.

"Of course, Ginevra," he replied warmly, cupping her breasts immediately, his thumbs brushing up against her hard nipples.

"Now, Draco, I want you to stay very still. Try to relax if you can," Ginny murmured, pressing a kiss to his neck.

Her lipstick, most of which had already smeared off on to Blaise's cock, left a pretty smudge on Draco's pale skin. She smiled as she slowly undid Draco's trousers, listening to his breath hitch in his throat. He, like Blaise, wasn't wearing underwear, and his cock jutted up proudly, red and already leaking against his stomach.

Blaise slid a hand underneath Ginny's bra, squeezing her breast before rubbing her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She moaned appreciatively, and started to stroke Draco in response. Draco was leaking profusely enough that she didn't even need the lubricant that was usually supplied, and Ginny slipped her other hand into Draco's open trousers to start caressing his balls. He jerked in his seat, breath stuttering as she started to squeeze and slide her hand against his cock faster still.

"Blaise? Take Draco's fingers in your mouth. Fuck them in time with my hand," Ginny added.

Blaise used one hand to take Draco's wrist, lifting his hand to his mouth. He glanced over Ginny's shoulder, watching her rhythm for a moment before he copied it, Draco's fingers slipping between his lips. They usually did it the other way around because Blaise was a better actor than Draco, and Draco couldn't make as many snarky comments to their clients when his mouth was full. But he didn't seem inclined to say anything today, or at least, not to her.

Ginny pressed up against Blaise's chest, reminding him that his hand was still cupped in her bra. He rubbed her nipple in time with Draco's fingers in his mouth, and Blaise watched as her hand moved faster against Draco's cock still. With four of Draco's fingers in his mouth, Blaise couldn't manage a smirk as well as usual, but he did manage an odd grin. As he moved against Ginny's breast firmer and faster, she stroked Draco's cock faster as well. Being the caring and sympathetic boyfriend that he was, Blaise started rubbing her nipple faster, her breath coming in short gasps as she pressed up against his thumb eagerly. Blaise hollowed his cheeks around Draco's fingers when he knew that he was close, and Draco came with a heavy groan, spurting over her hand and his shirt. Ginny let go of him when he was spent, calmly cleaning her hand with one of their napkins. Draco slumped onto the table, his head resting in the crook of his arm.

"Well, that was certainly more enjoyable than I expected," Ginny murmured, almost to herself.

"You haven't come yet," Draco said, breathing heavily.

"I know. I'd prefer not to test the silencing spells on the booth just yet," she said simply.

"Most people just like to watch us and get themselves off," Blaise said, belatedly realising that he was still caressing her breast. She didn't seem inclined to stop him though, so Blaise just continued, his hands warm on her flushed skin.

"Good for them. I prefer a more hands-on approach to my pleasure," Ginny said, smirking.

"I'll say," Draco mumbled.

"Mmm. Thank you, Blaise, that's enough for now," she added, taking his hand out of her bra.

They both watched as Ginny rebuttoned her shirt calmly, then made her way back over to her robe, taking out a small mirror to fix up her ruined lipstick.

"I'll be back in a fortnight, and every fortnight thereafter. If you please me and do exactly as I say, I'll let both of you fuck me on our sixth meeting."

"What if we want to meet you outside of business hours?" Blaise asked.

"Talking is free," Ginny quipped, putting her lipstick away and smirking over at them. "See you in a fortnight, gentlemen."

Five Galleons were left in front of each of them - two more than the required payment - but they didn't protest, and simply watched Ginny as she made her way over to the secure Floo system again. She left a Galleon tip for Madam Puddifoot in the jar hovering by the fireplace, then left without even glancing in their direction.

"This is going to be a long two weeks," Draco muttered.

Blaise just nodded in agreement.

...

Ginny ended up at Neville and Seamus' house that night, telling them about her experience at Madam Puddifoot's. Neither one seemed surprised at her choice, and when she questioned them, Seamus just shrugged.

"They're good at followin' orders, and good enough actors that they seem to convince nearly everyone that sits with 'em that they're in love with 'em. Swear they've 'ad witches and wizards actually propose to 'em before."

"Have you sat at their table before?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Nah; Nev got nervous when he saw 'em, and I wasn't 'bout to put him through that," Seamus said, pulling Neville across for a kiss.

"Please, you looked ready to hex one of them if they said something to us; I didn't want us getting kicked out of Madam Puddifoot's of all places," Neville snorted.

"Hmm. Do you know anything about them outside of Madam Puddifoot's?" Ginny asked.

"Just that their names were dragged through the mud after The Final Battle; Malfoy lost nearly all of his parents' wealth, and Zabini lost at least half of his, if not more. He probably wouldn't have to do this to the same extent that Malfoy does in order to live, but Zabini's loyal and, if the rumours are to be believed, very possessive about his relationship with Malfoy."

"So he doesn't like sharing?"

"Not many Slytherins are known as the sharin' 'n carin' type, Gin," Seamus pointed out.

"I thought we all agreed not to stereotype people because of their Hogwarts houses?" Ginny replied firmly.

"It's still true," Seamus muttered.

"So you'd be open to sharing Neville with any witch or wizard that had the money?"

"No, 'course not," he replied hotly, then went red when he realised he'd just helped Ginny make her point. "Right, shuttin' up now."

Neville chuckled and pressed a kiss to Seamus' neck. "Don't worry, Irish, I know that if I had to sell myself at Madam Puddifoot's for money, you'd be right there in the booth with me."

"I'd hex whoever tried sittin' at the table, more like," Seamus snorted. "Don't want your mouth or your anything near anyone else. 'cept maybe Gin, if she wanted."

"You're sweet, Seamus, but I'll stick with Draco and Blaise for now. I think I'll enjoy this game."

Neville rolled his eyes at her. "Do they know it's a game?"

"I set out the terms very plainly, but I may have forgone informing them of the game aspect. It makes it more fun for me that way."

"Don't have so much fun you get hurt in the process," Neville said.

"I never do, don't worry about that," Ginny said with a wicked smile. "Now, I'd best be getting home; the Floo's meant to be fixed by the end of the day, and I want to test it. I'm hoping the journalists have gotten bored enough to stop camping on my front lawn," she muttered.

"Feel free to Floo us if you need, Gin," Seamus offered, standing to offer her her robe.

"It's all right; I've got to do some grocery shopping at Diagon Alley," Ginny said as she slipped her robe on.

"You said you were getting your house elf to get groceries!" Neville exclaimed, Ginny laughing in response.

"Calm down, dearest Neville. I'm going with Beeves to help with the grocery shopping."

"You're going to drive me into an early grave, Ginny," Neville groaned, leaning against Seamus' shoulder.

"Never. Who else would I bitch to?" Ginny replied, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then Seamus' before Apparating to her home.

Thanks to her wards, it was a tighter squeeze than most, but on arriving home to find a wizard Splinched in her roof, Ginny was grateful for them. She contemplated leaving the poor bastard to his own fate, but the journalists outside had already called for St. Mungo's. Ginny firecalled Seamus immediately, wanting her lawyer present if anyone tried to accuse her of doing this, and went outside to meet him at her gate where the journalists were already waiting, cameras and Quick Note Quills at the ready.

...

"So, I read that you hexed a journalist so hard he Splinched himself in your roof," a voice said nearby, as Ginny was trying to decide between cantaloupes and watermelon.

She didn't even bother glancing over at Draco. "One of each, Beeves. A fruit salad would be nice after dinner. Remind me to get grapes."

"Yes, Miss," Beeves squeaked, taking the ripest of each fruit and placing them in his basket.

"Of course, believing everything you read leads to very conflicting information. According to The Quibbler, the man attempted to Apparate into your house while you were out, and managed to Splinch himself in your roof because of your wards," Draco said with a smirk, standing beside her and looking at the selection of bananas.

"Either way, someone got Splinched in my roof, cost me an arm and leg worth of repairs, and is threatening to sue me for medical bills. Did you ever have to deal with this?" Ginny muttered.

"Not at all; Mother dealt with all of that nasty stuff. The journalists were too scared of her to do something as blatantly stupid as try to Apparate into our house. More than once, at least," Draco added with a snicker.

"Mm-hmm. Where's your better half?" Ginny asked, moving along the aisle to the tomatoes.

"Miss, the grapes," Beeves reminded her as she passed the selection.

"Thank you, Beeves," she said, stopping short at the green grapes and picking out a bunch for him to put in the basket.

"Blaise thought it prudent that we both weren't seen around you after what happened; people still think we're hit wizards for hire, and if that bloke dies in the next year, we'll be blamed."

"If anyone saw you fight in the Final Battle, they'd know you weren't hit wizards," Ginny replied with a smirk.

Draco looked taken aback at her comment, then he snickered. "Yeah, my aim was pretty bad; a bit difficult to kill people when you know you're fighting on the wrong side."

"Doesn't make it any easier when you are on the right side," Ginny pointed out. "Now, is that enough small talk, or do we need to keep going before you tell me why you're here?"

"Why, Miss Weasley, what on earth would make you think I'm here for anything other than food?" Draco asked, popping a grape into his mouth with a grin.

Ginny just raised an eyebrow at him and turned back to the selection of tomatoes.

"Blaise and I would like to invite you over for supper and a chat. Tea, biscuits, talking about sex, that sort of thing. We'd like to know what we're getting in to."

"If you play your cards right, the only thing you'll be getting into is my robes," Ginny said with a smirk.

"If we're playing cards, then we'd like to know what kind of game we're playing first. Can't test the rules if we don't know them," Draco said.

"What makes you think it's a game?" Ginny asked curiously.

Draco moved up beside Ginny, slipping a scrap of parchment into her robe pocket. "It's always a game, Ginevra."

Beeves pointedly didn't say anything when he walked away, and Ginny shook her head.

"I think I'll skip the tomatoes this week, Beeves."

"Yes, Miss."

...

The scrap of parchment held an address, a date, and a time. She was curious about the place, seeing that it was in Wiltshire. It wasn't Malfoy Manor, she knew it had been sold after the war to help pay for the bail set by the Minister to free both Draco and his mother from Azkaban. Ginny thought that Harry might've been the one to buy it, honestly. It was such a whirlwind time that she couldn't remember many events in the aftermath of the war clearly. It certainly frustrated reporters and journalists who expected her to have a perfect recall memory. Never mind; those that had tried to force her to say certain things about the Final Battle, about Harry, had all met the sharp end of her wand, and her sharper tongue. Ginny did remember that Malfoy Manor was now set up as a children's orphanage, for those left without parents, guardians, or relatives after the war. Perhaps Hermione had bought it, to help erase the memories she'd experienced there? Ginny would have to ask at next month's Weasley dinner.

She decided to go on the date and time specified, three days from now and late at night. Ever since the Splinching incident, the reporters seemed to have backed down, and weren't even trying to take photos over her wall. Beeves even said that a few had packed up and left. Ginny just hoped that they were all gone by the end of the week so she could reset her bloody wards. She was especially glad that her boss at the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was a kind-hearted wizard who didn't mind letting her work from home. It wasn't difficult to convince him after she came home to find her home invaded and ransacked. The Ministry had started an inquiry into The Daily Prophet after that, with a large fine being issued to the imposing witch in question. Still, inquiries took a long time to be completed, and even longer for a result to come of it; Ginny didn't expect anything to be resolved for some time.

Ginny took a small comfort in the fact that she wasn't the only one being hounded like this. George hired Seamus' services every two weeks around the anniversary of the Final Battle so he could freely hex any witch or wizard that asked him about Fred (Rita Skeeter had been plagued with green and orange warts for two straight months). Charlie actually commissioned his work to hire a guard dragon on his property around the same time, and Bill and Fleur had paid some ridiculously expensive French wizard to be their Secret Keeper so no one outside of family and close friends could find or visit them. Percy usually bored the reporters silly, working his own angle and answering their invasive questions by answering with long and rolling statements about the work the Ministry was doing, and no one seemed to bother him anymore. Ginny honestly wished she'd thought of that tactic herself. Ron couldn't escape the reporters, being one third of the Golden Trio, and usually went about his business with the strongest Glamours the Ministry had to offer, face-altering charms that Hermione applied in the morning, or in extreme cases, his own Invisibility Cloak. (He was still petitioning the Ministry to let him use a Polyjuice Potion just to get his bloody groceries in peace, but they refused, even for Ron Weasley. Ginny's positive that Hermione's making the potion for Ron anyway.) Her parents had gone so far as to make the Burrow Unplottable just to have some peace in their retirement. Harry had the opportunity to hole himself away in Grimmauld Place out in Muggle London, and either Flooed or Apparated directly to a friend's home, often using his Invisibility Cloak while in the wizarding world.

His absence from the wizarding world was the main reason for the reporters and journalists' desperation to get a story from the Weasleys. His engagement was only known because Harry told Luna in an exclusive interview for The Quibbler, and the others were all trying to catch up and get the latest scoop, hoping someone would slip up and tell them the juicier details that Harry's interview left out. Ginny hadn't even met his fiancée, and doubted she would until the wedding. Fuck, Ginny still wasn't sure if she even wanted to go, but supposed she'd have to make an appearance just so she wouldn't see headlines like 'Harry's ex still sour over breakup' or something equally ridiculous.

The day of Draco and Blaise's invitation arrived, and Ginny went downstairs to find Beeves waiting by the dining table with the day's duties to be listed. When the list was completed, he announced that she had received an owl from Messrs. Longbottom and Finnigan, placing the letter by her plate before leaving Ginny to her breakfast. Neville and Seamus were inviting her to a private party on Saturday, adding a note at the bottom that they'd invited Katie Bell, Marcus Flint, and Oliver Wood as well. If the last private party she'd attended at their home was anything to go by, Ginny expected to completely sleep through Sunday, and possibly half of Monday. If the reporters caught wind of the party, she'd probably be on the front page of The Daily Prophet until Harry's damn wedding.

Ginny Apparated to the closest Apparation centre in Wiltshire, following the directions on her handheld map parchment (water-proof, George promised) to get to the address Draco had given her. The small one-storey house wasn't much, aged as it was, and some parts looked like they'd been recycled from scraps that even her mother would have avoided for the Burrow. Still, Ginny hadn't expected anything grand, and knocked on the door firmly. She was grateful for the warming charms sewn into her robes, especially at this time of the night. The door opened, light and warmth filtering out of the house, and Blaise grinned at her broadly, ushering her inside.

"Weren't sure if you were coming," Blaise admitted, taking her coat and hanging it by the door.

"I was curious about the address," Ginny replied honestly.

"Wanted to see what I've been reduced to?" Draco sneered from the lounge room doorway, obviously drunk.

"No, I just wanted to see where you live now."

"Please ignore Draco; we had a bad day at work," Blaise murmured, guiding Ginny through to the lounge room. "Just give me a minute to get him sober," he added, taking Draco's arm and pulling him away fiercely.

Ginny could hear low muttering, things like 'you sodding arse' and 'bloody drunk idiot', but dismissed it, simply moving to look look at the selection of books Draco and Blaise had instead. They returned a few minutes later, Draco looking more sober and slightly damp to boot.

"We ran out of sobering potions; had to do sober him up the Muggle way," Blaise said, smirking a bit.

"I was perfectly fine being drunk, you bastard," Draco muttered.

"I wasn't. You and I both know that it's a bad thing to do as a coping mechanism, especially with your predilection for addictive things," Blaise replied sternly.

"You're addictive, does that count?" Draco asked, battering his eyelashes up at Blaise.

"Don't try to charm your way out of this, you little ferret. Apologise to our guest. You'll be apologising to me later," Blaise added, mouth set in a firm line.

"I sincerely apologise for my behaviour, rude words, and drunken state when you arrived, Ginevra. I hope that it will not happen again, nor reflect your opinion of me," Draco said.

"Once more, with feeling," Ginny said, smirking a little as Blaise snorted.

"Ugh, fine. I hate that you can see past that, you know?" Draco muttered. "I am sorry for being an arse, and I'll try not to be drunk next time you see me," he said, a little sourly.

"Good. Now, I was promised tea, biscuits, and a conversation about sex. I don't see any reason to delay," Ginny said, looking between them.

"Fuck, Dray! You actually said that bit about the sex in public? What in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" Blaise asked with a groan.

"The sex? What are you, twelve? So what? I mentioned sex. The world's still spinning, no little old witches keeled over in shock. I also stole a grape from the store, if you want something else to be aghast about."

"Utterly insufferable. I don't know why I love you," Blaise muttered, getting up to put the kettle on and get a plate of biscuits.

"Because I'm irresistible, and no one else would put up with your grumpy arse," Draco called over his shoulder.

"You're both certainly more relaxed here than at work," Ginny said when Blaise returned, taking a chocolate biscuit when the plate was offered.

"Have you ever known anyone to be relaxed at work?" Blaise countered, smirking.

"I suppose not," Ginny replied with a brief nod.

The kettle whistled loudly as it finished boiling, Draco leaving to make up a pot of tea. He returned with a tray, teapot, and three mugs. They were all silent as the tea was poured, and Ginny waited until they'd both had a sip of their hot drinks before bringing up the conversation again.

"You certainly like to be in control, don't you?" Blaise murmured, biting into his biscuit.

"Yes. I like to have control so I can know what's going to happen; I'm not fond of surprises anymore," Ginny replied, shrugging.

"Dominatrix?" Draco asked curiously.

"I've never felt a need to label it. I tend to think of sex as a game."

"First to orgasm wins?" Draco asked with a grin.

"No, it's not about the orgasm, though that's certainly part of it. It's about the way I can elicit responses from my lover - or lovers, as the case may be. Neville and Seamus were my first, and were extremely generous with experimenting and playing my games. They would probably still be with me if we hadn't all realised that they were better off together," Ginny admitted. "It was a different story with Harry; he didn't like to be as adventurous as I wanted to be in the bedroom, and sad as it is to admit it, it was the beginning of the end of our relationship. I've been with a few others here and there, but nothing significant, and certainly nothing I've had to pay for before."

"It's a job, one that I'm actually good at, if I shut my mouth," Draco added, Blaise shaking his head with a snort, "And I don't give a fuck that I'm getting paid for it, no matter who says what."

"Of course not. Just who on earth sat at your table?" Ginny asked, curiosity piqued.

"Goyle; bastard thinks he's better than me because he still has his Manor or some such bull. We kicked him out of the shop, and Madam Puddifoot's ensured he won't be allowed back, but he's still a wanker for suggesting that I'm a lesser being because I can be paid for sex."

"Just wait until your mother hears about this; she'll make sure Goyle's grandchildren are feeling the repercussions of that statement," Blaise snickered.

"There's a reason I only ever threatened Potter with my father, you know. My father would make sure Potter suffered politically or financially; my mother would make sure that Potter suffered indefinitely for a slight against me. She can be somewhat protective, even more so now that I'm poor and don't have a house elf to look after me."

"Trust me, having a house elf doesn't lessen a mother's protectiveness," Ginny replied with a laugh.

"I'm surprised you have one, what with S.P.E.W. and your mother's self-sufficiency," Blaise commented.

"I adhere to all of the house-elf requirements set out by Hermione and modified by Beeves himself, and I am not my mother."

"I'll say," Draco said, smirking.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his lover and had another sip of his tea. "Now, as you like to be in control, we're happy to do things a certain way if you would prefer it. Underwear and makeup are negotiable, collars and tying us up can be discussed, blindfolds are fine for me but not Draco, and as you know, we're both very good at following instructions. We will not accept any potions or do any spells, fire is something we'd both like to avoid, and whipping is completely a no-go area for both of us."

"Not a problem; whipping's never held much interest to me after the Carrows' punishments at Hogwarts," Ginny replied with a nod of understanding. She sipped her tea, thinking of her own likes and dislikes. "I'd like you to both be open and prepared next time, use whatever you're comfortable with. If you don't have something, let me know, as I'm willing to buy it to enhance my own pleasure. If you will not accept it as a gift, then think of it as an extra payment for your services. Do you have any preferences for topping and bottoming?"

"We're personally versatile in that area, though most customers prefer to see Blaise top," Draco supplied.

"Good for them," Ginny said, smirking. "I'm more interested in both of your preferences than anyone else's," she added, a bit more gently, and Draco nodded.

"Any clothing preferences? I think we still have a suit each," Blaise said, grinning.

"Hmm, perhaps another time. Next time, just wear whatever you're most comfortable in; you won't be wearing it for long. Do you require extra payment for anything specific?"

"Depends on what you're asking," Draco said with a shrug; "Madam Puddifoot's list of services is fairly comprehensive, and we generally use that as a guide if we have to do anything extra."

"If I asked you attend a private party with me this weekend?" Ginny asked.

"As the entertainment?" Blaise asked, voice dull and eyes sharp.

"No, as my dates. Seamus and Neville are hosting the party, and I'd rather not be there on my own."

"How long do we have to think about it?" Draco asked.

"Until Thursday. If you'd prefer, I can pay a lump sum to ensure your presence, and you can add to it after you've attended the party. I will say that Seamus and Neville are generous hosts, and you'd be likely to be return home with more food and drink than you can consume," Ginny added with a laugh.

"You haven't seen Draco eat; he looks like a beanpole, but he can put food away like nobody's business," Blaise snickered.

"You can talk, Mr. Sweet Tooth. He's eaten the dessert off my plate before," Draco muttered.

"You kept saying how full you were!" Blaise exclaimed.

"There's always room for dessert!" Draco retorted hotly.

Ginny laughed until her stomach hurt, but didn't dare tell the two wizards that she'd heard a very similar conversation between Ron and Hermione before.

She left an hour later, the rest of their preferences discussed and set out for their next meeting, with Draco and Blaise promising to contact her by Thursday with their response about the party.

On Wednesday night Beeves handed Ginny a letter that simply said 'We'll be there'. She grinned and firecalled Neville and Seamus to let them know to expect another two guests. Neither Neville nor Seamus seemed surprised, and just reassured Ginny that they were redoing their wards on Friday to make sure there would be no surprise visitors.

...

End of Part 1.