Chapter Text
The grinding of the espresso machine went off every few moments, filling the small cafe with a delicious aroma of coffee beans from all over the world. On any given day, Madam Puddifoot’s Cafe was typically busy, but there was something about this particular Saturday that felt different. It was as if everyone in the greater London area just had to come purchase their morning beverage of choice from this shop and this shop alone.
As soon as the doors unlocked at four o’clock that morning, the stream of patrons had been steady and constant. Which meant that Hermione hadn’t had a single moment to herself to breathe, let alone take any of the breaks she was supposed to.
“Well, don’t you look a bit frazzled.”
Snapping her gaze up from the espresso machine, Hermione locked eyes with a pair of familiar fawn-coloured irises. Freckles danced across pale skin as her best friend grinned at her from the other side of the counter.
“We’re short-staffed, and of course, everyone and their mother decided they couldn’t brew their own coffee at home today.”
Escaped curls from Hermione’s messy bun brushed against her shoulders as she reached to steam the milk for the next drink.
“When do you think you’ll be able to leave?” Ginny inquired, lifting her arm to check the time on her AppleWatch. “Your shift ended ten minutes ago.”
Hermione barely contained the groan that bubbled in her throat. She and Ginny had plans to enjoy brunch, but with the number of call-outs they had today, Hermione would be lucky to leave within the next couple of hours.
“I don’t know, Gin. Probably not for—”
But before she could finish speaking, her boss, Rosmerta, cut her off by yelling out from the other end of the counter by the register.
“Go ahead and clock out now, Hermione. I was able to get a hold of Katie and Cho, and they’re coming in to help cover. Ahh! There they are now.”
Melodic chiming from the little bells above the cafe’s door sounded as the two women rushed inside. Flashing them a grateful smile, Hermione called out the name on the cup and set the beverage on the pick-up counter.
Once in the back office, she untied the pink apron and hung it on the designated coat rack. Hermione undid the tie in her hair, allowing her mane of dark curls to cascade down around her shoulders. Briefly running her fingers through the locks, she fluffed the curls at the roots in an attempt to appear as if she hadn’t just worked an eight-hour shift that began at 3:30 in the morning.
Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get, Hermione thought to herself as she peered into the small mirror affixed to the wall above the little desk.
Heading out to the front of the shop, Hermione waved and called out a goodbye to her fellow baristas. Ginny grinned at her as the brunette approached. Before Hermione could say a word, her friend slipped an arm into the crook of her own and led her straight out of Madam Puddifoot’s Cafe.
“You work too much, Mione,” Ginny stated as they strolled down the street.
Hermione rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore the comment. It was futile to argue the point, especially considering the fact this very conversation was a weekly occurrence. Besides, Hermione already knew that she did spend too much time working. Unfortunately, there was no other option for her.
***
“I will have a water with lemon to drink, and for my meal, I’ll just have two fried eggs and a crumpet, please.”
Hermione closed her menu as she placed her order with the waiter of the extravagantly expensive restaurant – certainly an establishment she would never have chosen of her own volition. Just as she was about to hand it to him, Ginny waved her hand dismissively in Hermione’s direction.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she admonished, her eyes scanning the menu in her own hand. “Brunch is on me. Or rather, brunch is on Blaise.”
The redhead immediately began listing off a myriad of breakfast items, ignoring the looks of exasperation on Hermione’s face and the kicks she gave her beneath the table. As much as she tried to stop it, Hermione couldn’t help the rosy blush that bloomed on her cheeks.
Once the waiter left with their order, Ginny clasped her hands together and leaned her elbows atop the table. One perfectly manicured auburn brow rose high onto her forehead, and the heat on her skin flared into even hotter flames.
She knew what Ginny’s following words were going to be before she even spoke.
“I don’t understand why you are so adamant against even looking at the site.”
Hermione worried her lip between her teeth as the familiar flutter of butterfly wings took flight in her stomach – just as it always did whenever Ginny brought up this particular conversation.
“I don’t know how you’re even staying afloat in life right now, Hermione.”
Refusing to meet her best friend’s gaze, Hermione dropped her eyes to the napkin lying across her lap. Her fingers toyed with the hem as she gripped the fabric that was undoubtedly more expensive than most of what Hermione owned.
“I make do, Gin…”
Yet even as Hermione whispered the words, there was no denying the hollowness of them. No denying that even she didn’t believe what she was saying.
“You work a ridiculous amount of hours at that cafe for minimum wage, and that’s on top of all the hours you put into that internship, which pays you next to nothing. And that doesn’t include the hours you put into your studies. Do you ever sleep?”
A few mirthless chuckles slipped past Hermione’s lips as she reached for the glass of champagne the waiter just brought to their table. Because the answer was no, she didn’t sleep. At least, it never felt like she truly did when she was only getting between three and four hours each night.
She savoured the nutty citrus flavour that effervesced on her tongue as she sipped on the bubbly beverage. Champagne was a novelty Hermione rarely – if ever – indulged in. She couldn’t when she had an insurmountable amount of debt.
Her parents had always made despicable decisions when it came to finances, always starting a new business when their last one fell into bankruptcy. But each new venture required new small business loans – loans that the Grangers were never able to pay back. It wasn’t until her parents tragically died in a drunk-driving incident that Hermione truly understood just how abhorrent their behaviour had actually been. She began receiving letters from debt collectors, and Hermione realised that the only reason her parents could take the loans out in the first place was because they used her credit score and forged her as a co-signer. Their debt alone would have been enough to bring about unending stress on the twenty-one-year-old but piled with the thousands of pounds in student loans, well, Hermione was simply drowning.
Hence, the reason for all of the hours at the cafe.
“Have you applied to that pre-law program yet?”
Setting the flute on the tabletop, Hermione finally returned her gaze to Ginny’s. Her friend looked at her expectantly, knowing how deeply Hermione’s excitement about the prospect of a rigorous program that would more than prepare her for the LSATs and law school ran. Her stomach clenched, forming a pit of despair.
“No,” she said quietly, preparing herself for Ginny’s reaction. “And I’m not going to.”
Ginny choked on the champagne she had just swallowed, her eyes bugging out of her head at Hermione’s admission.
“And why not?!”
Once again, Hermione’s bottom lip found its way between her teeth. She lightly gnawed on the pink flesh, not wanting to admit the reason but knowing that Ginny would become a mad woman until she received an answer.
“It’s too much… I can’t afford another loan. I don’t think I could even get approved for another one.”
Shame rolled through Hermione like violent waves in a stormy ocean. Though she truly had no reason to feel that way. It wasn’t her fault that her parents were terrible with their money. It wasn’t her fault that they were unable to repay their loans before their untimely deaths. But just because she knew that logically didn’t mean that Hermione always believed it.
In fact, most days, she believed quite the opposite.
“That’s it,” Ginny said definitively, pulling her mobile out and furiously typing against the screen. “I’m sending you the referral code. Promise me that you will just look at it, alright?”
Hermione’s cell chimed with the text message containing the code.
“I don’t know…”
Flipping her fiery hair over her shoulder, Ginny rolled her eyes so hard it looked as if they had gone straight to the back of her head. In any other circumstance, Hermione would have laughed at her friend’s dramatics, but she was too conflicted to find any comedic relief in the situation.
“Didn’t you say that getting this degree would help you get the job at the firm once your internship is over?”
Ginny’s eyes held an impenetrable gaze as she stared at Hermione, almost daring her to deny what they both knew was the truth. With unblinking eyes, all Hermione could manage was one sharp nod of her head in affirmation.
This was her last year at university for her undergraduate degree, and Hermione had started her internship at Malfoy, Nott, & Zabini Associates at the beginning of the first term. Ever since she was a little girl, watching way too many court-based dramas on television, Hermione dreamed of becoming a solicitor. So when the internship position at the most prestigious law firm in London came across her radar, Hermione wasted no time in applying. Even while submitting it, she knew the chances of being accepted were slim to none.
It was positively a fantastical dream come true when she opened the acceptance letter. Now that she has her foot in the door, Hermione wanted nothing more than to be hired on as a full-time employee at the end of the internship period.
“Then it’s settled.” Ginny grabbed the crystal flute and took another sip of champagne. Needing something to ease her budding anxiety, Hermione followed suit. “You’re going to make an account tonight and look through the site. And if you don’t, I will tit-punch you until you do.”
At this, Hermione couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled in her throat. Unfortunately, she had been on the receiving end of Ginny’s infamous blows, and lord, did that woman pack a mean fucking punch.
“Okay,” Hermione agreed, finally reaching a point of exasperation by Ginny’s constant badgering. She paused, draining the rest of her champagne with one gulp before fully giving in. “I’ll look tonight.”
Ginny visibly bounced in her seat, her soft brown eyes sparkling wildly as she clapped her hands together. Hermione returned the smile, trying her best to ignore the anxiety swirling in her gut.
“Just wait till you have one of these for yourself.”
Pulling a black card out of her wallet, Ginny winked conspiratorially at her.
Oh, god… What am I getting myself into?
***
Later that night, Hermione sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed. She stared at the wine glass in her hand, watching as the deep crimson liquid filled almost to the brim – effectively emptying the bottle. Hermione would just pretend that she didn’t drink the entire bottle as a way to hype herself for the journey she was about to embark on.
Months ago, when Ginny first told Hermione that she had found herself a Sugar Daddy, Hermione had been appalled.
She had been raised with the belief that a woman should never rely on the help of a man. That she should always be capable of taking care of herself. Her independence was something that Hermione had always been quite proud of, but as she grew older and noticed how her parents couldn’t even be responsible for themselves, her views began to change.
Where once she was determined to do it all alone, now Hermione wondered what it would be like not to have to worry about paying her bills on time. She imagined how it would feel to have someone shower her with not only love and affection but with trinkets and extravagance as well.
A life of luxury had never been attainable for Hermione. Despite deeply longing for it, she locked those thoughts into iron cages and buried them deeply in her mind. So deeply, in fact, that she convinced herself she would abhor a lifestyle filled with riches.
It wasn’t until Ginny started sharing aspects of her relationship with Blaise that Hermione’s true feelings finally edged their way closer to the surface, threatening to break through the calm waters and disrupt everything she thought to be genuine.
Blaise.
That was another hesitation Hermione had held whenever Ginny broached the subject. Blaise Zabini – partner at the firm where she was employed. Despite the fact that he was entirely unaware that Hermione knew what he did in his personal time – or who he did – it didn’t stop the blush from rising to her freckled cheeks whenever she crossed paths with him at the firm.
Taking a rather large gulp of pinot noir, nearly downing half the glass, Hermione finally grabbed her laptop from where it sat on her bedside table and set it on her lap. With one hand still grasping the wine glass, she used the other to open the device and typed the web address into the search bar. Perhaps it was the wine, but a giggle formed in her throat when she saw the website’s landing page.
Saccharine Silencio. Clever.
Her heart pounded incessantly against her chest, throwing itself at the skeletal prison which caged it. Before she could entirely lose her nerve, Hermione grabbed her phone, went to the text thread with Ginny, and typed the referral code into the site.
She quickly created a profile, thankful for the fact that it didn’t ask for her to provide too many details. At this moment, gratitude flowed through Hermione for Ginny’s insistence on taking photographs of her to use for the site when she ‘finally got her head out of her arse’ and decided to take control of her own life.
Once she completed her profile, Hermione took another long pull of her wine and began scrolling through the myriad of different Sugar Daddies available. There wasn’t much to go off of, considering she could only see their username, age, and one picture. Most of the photos didn’t include faces, which, of course, they wouldn’t. Logically, Hermione knew why these men would hide any distinguishing features, but it didn’t help her feel any better about the situation.
Just as she was about to give up, mentally berating herself for giving in to Ginny’s awful idea, Hermione stumbled across an account that caused her already anxious heart to beat just a bit faster. A wave of heat washed over her as every inch of her skin flushed deep scarlet. Never before had a man elicited such a reaction from her, let alone just an image of a man’s hands.
A pang of arousal shot through Hermione as she fixated on the veins that bulged beneath his flesh and the rings around his fingers. For just a moment, she imagined what it would feel like to have those fingers trailing around the expanse of her throat rather than the rim of his whiskey glass.
Her cursor hovered over the ‘request to connect’ button, and Hermione hesitated to commit to it. But no more than a fleeting second passed before she heard Ginny’s voice in her head, threatening Hermione with bodily harm if she chickened out now.
Before she realised what she had done, the request was made. While that action alone may have shocked Hermione, disbelief colouring her over the fact that she actually did it, that was nothing compared to the surprise that prickled at her nerve endings when the request was practically immediately approved. The site prompted her to download the app onto her phone for ease of messaging.
As it downloaded to her mobile, Hermione took a deep breath to clear her mind before downing the rest of her wine, needing this last little bit of liquid courage.
With her empty glass now on the bedside table, Hermione powered down her phone and threw it across her room. Flinging herself back onto her bed, she pulled the comforter up and over her head. Hermione buried her face into her pillow and willed for sleep to take her and ease the nerves wracking her entire being.
There’s no going back now.