Although I spent most of my Valentine's Day among the girls of the fiefdom —at Hogwarts and Castelobruxo— there were certain notable events that deserve to be mentioned.
…
From the moment Valentine's Day began, there was one woman who did not take it particularly well: Minerva McGonagall.It wasn't that she felt lonely seeing the couples of Hogwarts —though she couldn't deny that part of her did. For years she had watched love blossom in the corridors, and had always taken it with grace; she was even known to smile at the sight of students growing up, finding each other, falling in love… more than once she had offered advice to those who needed it.But this year was different.
Recent events, and those lingering feelings that tormented her, forced her to dwell on what she lacked. Old loves, the memory of her late husband, the guilt over what had happened with that student… all tangled together in her mind, silently eating away at her.
Her morning had been especially difficult. Seeing so many happy couples while her own body —still under the residual effects of that potion— reacted with misplaced excitement was a form of torture. It was as if her very body was mocking her, reminding her that she too longed for affection.
By midday, Minerva decided to clear her head in Hogsmeade. Yet the true source of her turmoil was what she clutched tightly in her hand: a card. That small piece of paper had become the catalyst for her inner struggle. She would never set foot in a brothel… and yet, the mere fact that she could seemed to awaken in her a latent, almost unbearable desire.
She had thought many times about returning the card to Pomona, but always found an excuse not to. Until that day arrived: the date to claim the "reward."
For hours she debated with herself, until somehow her steps took her all the way to London, guided by that card. She kept denying to herself the idea of using the services of such a degrading place, but her body burned with unfulfilled desire. She then remembered what Pomona had told her: that they also sold libido inhibitors there.Perhaps that was the solution —to buy what she needed, leave immediately, and later even report the place to the Ministry.
With that logic she convinced herself she wasn't betraying her principles. She regretted wasting her friend's gift, but at least Pomona had offered it willingly —and she truly didn't need it.
The streets were old and deserted when she reached a row of brick buildings. The card, which until then had only pointed to a vague location, began to vibrate, pulling her forward as if with a magnetic force. Minerva stopped before an alley that shouldn't have existed; a shimmer passed over the card, and in place of the narrow passage there appeared a solid, discreet building —barely different from the others.
She hesitated one last time. The desire within her had become unbearable, threatening to break the discipline she had always upheld. She couldn't let that weakness affect her as a professor. With the firm intent of going in, buying what she needed, and leaving immediately, she stepped forward and knocked on the door.No answer. But when she looked closer at the handle, she noticed a small slot —the perfect size for the card. She hesitated, then, almost automatically, slid it in. A click sounded clearly.
She turned the knob. The door opened.
Inside was an old-fashioned house, windowless, dimly lit by warm lamps. In the center was a sitting area with sofas, a tea table, and modest decorations. To one side stood a counter attended by a young woman.
"Welcome to The Succubus' Den," said the receptionist without lifting her eyes from what looked like an oddly modern device —something between an old telephone and a magical communicator.
McGonagall blinked in disbelief. This didn't look like a brothel at all —more like an old noble's house, small but well-kept, though suffused with an odd, ambiguous air. There were no voices, no laughter, no footsteps. Even the receptionist seemed uninterested in her presence. Minerva had heard the place was famous, and had at least expected a certain decorum befitting such reputation. Instead, the dullness of the place only deepened her distaste: a decadent site, lifeless and undignified. And once again, she wondered why she had come.
The young woman at the counter frowned, puzzled. The client wasn't moving or following the usual process. Assuming she was new, she prepared to explain how everything worked—but when she finally looked up, her face froze in shock.
"Professor McGonagall!" she cried out, utterly stunned.
"Miss Sullivan?" Minerva replied, just as surprised, recognizing the young woman. She had been her student a few years prior.
Silence fell between them as they stared at each other. McGonagall had considered covering her face to avoid being recognized; the idea of anyone seeing her enter a brothel was unbearable. But she had dismissed the notion —she wasn't here to do anything improper. In fact, her purpose was to buy what she needed and, if possible, see the place dismantled.To sneak about would have made her look guilty —and she would not lower herself to that.
The girl quickly hurried out from behind the counter, bowing repeatedly in a flurry of panicked apologies.
"I'm so sorry, Professor! I didn't realize it was you. I didn't mean to be rude!"
"What are you doing here, Miss Sullivan?" McGonagall asked, feeling strangely uneasy. She remembered the girl well —a muggle-born Ravenclaw, gifted at charms but lacking in other subjects. A good girl, overall. Never in her life would Minerva have imagined finding her in a place like this.
The young woman blushed to the tips of her ears and lowered her gaze, ashamed."I… I'm working here, Professor," she murmured barely above a whisper.
"Miss Sullivan, you were a bright, responsible student… how could you end up in a place like this?" McGonagall's voice carried the same stern tone she used in class, though inside she felt nothing but sadness. To see one of her own students in a brothel was… heartbreaking.
The girl pressed her lips together, unable to meet her eyes. Silence stretched before she finally sighed and lifted her head, her expression filled with weary resignation.
"The truth is… this was the only decent job I could find, Professor. I know you're not proud of me, but it's my livelihood."
"Of all paths you could have taken… you chose this?" Minerva pressed, sounding as though she were scolding a student for a poor decision.
"It wasn't a choice," Sullivan replied with a broken smile. "I didn't have many options. I'm muggle-born, I barely had friends at Hogwarts, and even though I'm good with charms… my skill was never enough to open doors for me. I searched and searched, but couldn't find any job that paid enough to survive." She paused, lowering her eyes again. "My parents died soon after I graduated. In the muggle world I was lost —no degrees, years out of school, nothing to show. The savings ran out. The jobs I could get were exhausting, underpaid, with no rest, no future. Some families even offered contracts that were little better than slavery. I was about to lose my home, with nowhere to go… until this opportunity appeared." Her eyes shone with the bitter glint of restrained tears. "I know it's not the most dignified or honorable job… but it saved me from homelessness, from becoming a criminal."
McGonagall's stern expression crumbled at once. Hearing her former student's pain filled her with helpless sorrow —a sadness so deep it nearly brought tears to her own eyes.
"My dear girl…" Minerva whispered, embracing her tightly in an effort to comfort her. "Why didn't you ask for help? You didn't have to fall into this…"
The girl accepted the hug, allowing herself a brief moment of comfort before pulling away. She wiped away a tear with her sleeve and forced a smile, suddenly regaining her usual cheerfulness —as if the confession had been nothing but a passing moment of weakness.
"It's fine, Professor. This place isn't so bad, really. And it's not like I'm one of the girls," she said with an embarrassed blush. "Turns out I'm not very talented in that area."
She couldn't help but recall when the madam herself had tested her "skills." That was when she learned what real sex was —and how complicated it could be. She'd realized she lacked coordination, made too many mistakes, and her moans were awkward at best, irritating at worst. Her ex-boyfriend had never complained, but looking back, she understood he'd just been too eager for the chance to sleep with her. Young people and their hormones —adolescent sex was nothing like what she'd seen here. In the end, Andra had told her that, to be any good, she'd need years of training, which wasn't profitable for the business. Her only possible role would have been as a low-tier prostitute, one of the cheapest.
Fortunately, it never came to that.
"When they saw I wasn't fit to be a courtesan, they offered me the receptionist job instead," she explained with a spark of pride. "Since I've always been good at memorizing and using my head, it turns out I'm excellent at it. I'm doing really well now."
Her smile brightened."The pay is amazing, I have full medical coverage, benefits I never imagined… and I meet so many important people who come here. They treat me with respect —and those who don't get thrown out or even roughed up by security. Then they come crawling back, begging to be let in again." She laughed nervously, though with genuine excitement. "Pure-bloods! Treating me with respect —me, a muggle-born!"
The joy in her voice clashed with McGonagall's deepening frown. She understood it —in a world where muggle-borns still faced discrimination, that intoxicating sense of being valued must have felt powerful.Still, Minerva couldn't fully accept it.
"Miss Sullivan… it's still a brothel. Even if you're only a receptionist now, sooner or later the law will intervene. I don't want to see you end up in Azkaban. Leave this place while you can. I'll help you find an honorable job myself."
"Thank you, Professor, but no… this is my place," Sullivan replied gently, but with conviction. Her eyes showed she understood the concern, but didn't share it. "Besides, the Ministry can't shut this place down. They've tried before —they failed. And now, even less so. We have protocols for everything: what to do if we're arrested, how they'll get us out, even how to start over in another country with a new identity if needed. Everything here is well organized. And… I want to stay."
She leaned closer to Minerva, lowering her voice."Besides, so many people from the Ministry come here. They'd never dare touch this place… not while they fear their own perversions being exposed." She froze mid-sentence, realizing what she'd just said. "Oh—but not you, Professor! I don't mean you! You're noble, honorable. I'm sure you just come here occasionally to… well, satisfy some need like any decent person—"
"It's my first time here. And that's not why I came," McGonagall replied with a twitch in her eyebrow, caught between irritation and amusement at her former student's loose tongue —so reminiscent of her school days.
"Oh…" Sullivan turned red as a tomato, nearly fainting from embarrassment. Desperate to change the subject, she stammered:"Would you… like to hear some gossip about our regulars?"
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Hello everyone.
I want to let you know that I am about to submit my thesis. For this reason, I won't be very active for the next two to three weeks. At most, I'll try to publish one chapter, but I can't promise anything. I'm giving this notice in case you wish to withdraw your donations for this month.
I will be back as soon as possible. Thank you for your understanding.