The gorgeous brunette stretched her legs out, elegantly crossing one over the other. She looked around curiously at the luxurious parlor she was currently seated in. Her gaze wandered over the tapestries, plush rugs, carved marble fire place, then suddenly snapped to the door, anticipating whom she would see as the door handle slowly turned. In God's all honest truth Hermione had no idea who could have called on her this late on a Friday night. She was constantly on call, but with the horrible fog sweeping over London and the discreet manner of her occupation she had absolutely no idea who could have found her. The voice on the other line had been urgent, laced with panic and desperation. Hermione could have easily rejected the restricted call on her muggle cell phone, but a part of her could not wipe away the sound of the other woman's voice, pleading. The door to the parlor opened slowly and a figure, covered by the shadows, rushed hurriedly into the room. Hermione's honey colored eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion, but as the woman's body slowly emerged itself with the firelight, the eyes that were just before slightly cautious became wide with complete astonishment. Her perfect lips shaped into a slight "o" before she whispered the question.

"Pansy?"

There, right in front of her, stood the ice queen herself. Tears streaming down her checks causing her thick makeup to run as a result, she lifted her perfectly manicured black nails to her sleek black hair brushing it away from her face. Her body was slightly trembling, Hermione noted; although she wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or for some unknown reason. Pansy still hadn't spoken a word, but instead looked as if she was fighting a sort of mental battle with herself. Her frame was slightly heavy although covered easily with her thick dark green robe, while her face still remained youthful although marred with black makeup and excessive rouge. Hermione's eyes never left her as she searched her brain for a possible reason for Pansy calling her here tonight. Here she was, in this ridiculously large mansion, in the middle of nowhere, staring at a demented looking Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's eyes traveled down Hermione's body, taking in her exquisitely defined facial features, long perfect deep brown curls, eyes that could melt any man, and a fit body with just the right curves in every flattering place. Hermione didn't miss the look of jealously or the subtle sneer that she received, and with that she took a loop hole out of the situation.

" Look Parkinson, I don't know what you're getting at or how you even got a hold of my number, but if this is some fucked up joke, I'm telling you that I am in no mood for it, if you even think about-"

"Hermione, shut up, and sit back down." Hermione looked ready to object, but the second Pansy heaved herself onto Hermione's shoulder and began to ball hysterically, Hermione was forced to fall back onto the sofa taking most of Pansy's weight with her. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to call you," she sobbed. "I am so ashamed, I can't believe that it has come to this but look at me Hermione, look at me!" She demanded. "I have lost my shape, I'm a used woman, and my husband doesn't even want me anymore. I can't tell you the last time that he has come to my bed," she choked on a sob. "He leaves almost every night after dinner without so much as a peck on the cheek and comes back smelling of cheap whores and fire whiskey. Every time I ask him about it, we fight, and he leaves again!" She broke down burying her face into the cushions trying to muffle the heart wrenching sounds. Hermione dragged her weight out from under Pansy's thick arm and tried to compose herself, she had just experienced quite the shock in the past ten minutes.

"Pansy, please calm down, please. I will do what I can to help you, just calm down so we can discuss the matter that is making you so ill." Pansy slowly pulled herself back together sniffing disdainfully and wiping the smeared lipstick from the corner of her mouth. "Now, what exactly would you like my help with?" Hermione asked kindly.

"Hermione, you are my last hope. It was quite that coincidence that I came across your name in my searches. My husband, I believe, was somewhat enamored with you after the war those ten long years ago. I know that you two lived together our 7th year as head boy and girl, and I always felt that after the war he changed; not so much changed, but was able to break free from the chains that held his heart in such a biased way." She stopped here and sighed. He always talks about you, and how he wished that all those years we were all together could have been different. So naturally," pausing for a second Pansy had the decency to blush "I though you must have been the one he was shacking up with almost every night of the week." Hermione let out a sharp gasp. Pansy continued ignoring her "So I looked into you, and found out every little piece of information that I possibly could about you, and thanks to my sources, it's not you that has been seeing my husband." Hermione held her breath. "But I did find something very interesting indeed. I had no idea that your occupation was one of such," Pansy waved her hand around looking for the right choice of words, "discretion. And I felt as though you could be of certain use to me. I will pay you whatever you want in order to prove that my husband is capable of such adultery. As a private investigator, please explain to me what it is exactly that you do?" Hermione released the air she had been holding, trying to grasp onto what exactly she should do in this situation. "Well," she began slowly "I specialize in catching husbands or boyfriends in the act of cheating on their wives or girlfriends. Not in the sense of following them and taking pictures, but instead I become the girl of their dreams, whatever hair color they like, eye color, personality, interests, ect. I dress up in whatever they find attractive and I conveniently show up at the bar, or restaurant they frequently visit either after work or on the weekends. I make myself readily available and if they take the bait I reel them in. If they glance politely but stay away then I wait it out for awhile. I report back every night to the wife or girlfriend and let them know every detail of what has happened. Depending on what has occurred I will be asked to either go out on a date with the man if he happens to ask, in order to see if he was just harmlessly flirting or if he really wanted to make something more "physical" of it. I never sleep with the man, only dates." She paused, thinking of what to say when she saw the look in Pansy's eyes, "you cannot pay me enough to sleep with any man. I demand payment for every date and the more personal it becomes the more money. You can back out at anytime when you have either heard enough or have decided that your husband is guilty or innocent." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "So what do you say?" Pansy sat there absorbing all of the information battling her conscience, deciding if she wanted to know, or just continue to live her life wallowing in misery. She stood up suddenly, and Hermione followed suit, sticking out her hand; waiting. Pansy hesitated then extending her hand, black nails, diamond rings and all, grabbed Hermione's delicate fingers and squeezed. Her voice trembled as words slowly escaped her blood red lips, "Draco Malfoy, you better pray to God that you're innocent."