Draco sat at the bar nursing a drink, staring at himself in the smoky antique mirror behind the shelves of various bottles and glasses glittering in the low candlelight of the room. It was a Wednesday and fairly early in the evening so things were quiet.
"If it isn't Master Malfoy, Lord of the Manor," Theo bellowed, shattering the silence and clapping him hard on the back.
Draco closed his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath to gather himself, preparing to deal with Nott, one of the last people he wanted to see.
"Good to see you again Draco," and Trevor Archlight, the other one, who seemed to be continuously at Theo's side.
After a few visits to the Dragon, Theo had nominated Trevor for membership, assuring Draco that landing the future owner of Archlight Printers was an incredible win for the club...he had money and influence and could bring in more members...pureblood members. But Draco had not forgotten Theo's treatment of Hermione...the names he'd called her, slipping her the lust potion.
"I'm not interested in catering my business to please the purebloods," Draco had said. "I'm not letting a bunch of bigoted assholes march in here and torture the girls I swore to protect because it gets their dicks hard, Nott."
"Of course not mate...Trevor's not like that. He's just looking to have a little fun outside of work. You know what it's like out there. We need a place to let our hair down. It's all up to you of course, mate. Private club."
And yet there they were, with Trevor Archlight now a member in good standing. He'd taken quite a liking to Sarah, having visited her four times in the past month, something she seemed to be all too happy with. Draco had watched her memories carefully, looking for any reason to bar him from returning, but he was respectful and kind, a gentle lover, if not a bit boring.
"Not your usual type, eh Lark?" Draco had said, pulling the memory from her temple and slipping it into a vial for safekeeping. "Perhaps you need to show him a few tricks so you can stay awake."
"He's perfectly fine, Mr. Malfoy. You won't catch me complaining about a man who treats me like a queen. Don't you worry about me."
The men sat themselves on either side of Draco, signaling to the bartender for drinks.
"I don't have you boys in the books for tonight. To what do I owe this...pleasure?" Draco asked, his jaw tight with tension.
"Can't a man escape the hustle bustle of the city and come enjoy a drink with his mates? Play a few hands of Durak?" Theo asked, throwing back half of his gin and tonic in one gulp. Draco could tell that he'd already had a few cocktails, making him even more boisterous and erratic...unpredictable.
"Of course he can, I was only curious, making conversation." Draco signaled for another drink and caught a reflection in the mirror.
It was Hermione standing just outside the entrance to the bar, framed perfectly by the open doors. She was dressed in a midnight blue satin gown and robe, her hair pulled back in a long braid that hung over her left shoulder. Even in the low light he could see the scattering of freckles across her nose, the caramel bronze color of her eyes. Locking on to his gaze in the mirror she smiled and nodded. He flicked his eyes to the left, tipping his head, indicating she should leave, go upstairs, to the kitchens, anywhere but where she was standing. But it was too late.
"Little Sparrow!" Theo called out.
He stood and sauntered towards Hermione, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a loose, familial hug, kissing the crown of her head. She held her breath, looking to Draco for help, but he only stared, looking both helpless and angry. It was clear she was on her own. Of course, it wasn't Theo she was worried about.
"Come in, come in. Let me get you a glass of champagne, my treat," Theo said, pulling her along by the elbow.
One of the first rules Draco had ever given her was that the guests were in control. He prided himself on his little stable of sexy yet demure women, quiet and delicate, appealing to the fragile male egos of his membership. So although she had no interest in sharing a drink with the three of them she stumbled obediently into the bar, lingering near the doorway while Theo went to pour her a glass from the bottle Trevor had ordered. Archlight turned slowly in his seat and looked at Hermione with an arched brow and hungry, mischievous eyes. They were the color of damp moss, lids heavy with what looked either exhaustion or pretentious boredom. Still, she could see why Sarah was infatuated with him, although it surprised Hermione to hear that he treated her well, respectfully even.
"Nice to see you again little mudblood," Trevor purred, getting up from his seat and bowing. "Won't you join..."
"Don't call her that again," Draco said, cutting him off. "Or you'll not be welcome here, I don't care how much money you have."
"Oh, of course," Archlight said. "So sorry. I meant nothing malicious," he added, his eyes narrowed and glittering as he stared her down. "I thought it was a little pet name between you and Theo."
"It's isn't. I don't have pet names," Hermione said, finally speaking up for herself.
The three men looked at her, Draco biting back a smile, both Theo and Trevor aghast at her impudence.
"Then perhaps we should give you one," Trevor said, his voice a bit colder as he ran a finger up her arm and across her exposed collarbone. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice quiet enough that Draco couldn't hear him. "I hear you're an excellent cocksucker, would that a good pet name for you?" She said nothing, unwilling to take his bait and he pulled back, amused at his own joke. "How much for the night?" He called out to Draco, not taking his eyes off of her, his hand on her arm as if she might run were he to let her go.
She held her chin up, looking him in the eye, doing her best to hide the fear that ran through her blood like ice. Somehow, she prayed that Draco could hear her thoughts, could hear her begging him to save her. There was something about Archlight she didn't like, the way he looked at her as if she were a rare animal, a trophy to gather. Prey. She knew that Draco was possessive, that he wanted her all to himself; but she'd also seen the ledger in Draco's room and knew that her purpose here was to pay Lucius back. In the past few months she hadn't been earning her keep. No matter what Draco had told her, she knew that her body was for sale to the highest bidder...or at this point any bidder, she supposed.
"She's not available," Draco said, draining his second whiskey and slamming the heavy crystal glass onto the table a bit harder than he'd intended. "Let go of her. Sparrow, you're not supposed to be in the bar if you aren't working."
"Which is it mate," Theo said, laughing. "Is she not available or not working?"
"My guest isn't coming until eleven," Hermione blurted out, her eyes darting between the three men who stood around her, slowly moving closer like an encroaching virus. "I was...I just wanted to ask Mr. Malfoy for the room number. I'd forgotten."
Draco nodded almost imperceptibly and looked up towards the ceiling as if trying to remember.
"Yes. Mr. Renfield. He'll be in room nine at eleven thirty. But you're to be there at eleven, remember? And I believe he wanted you shaved entirely."
"Yes sir," Hermione said, her cheeks hot as she looked into Draco's sparkling grey eyes. She could tell by the tension in his posture that he would most certainly need her...services this evening. "I'll be going...I need to..."
"No no, I said you should have a glass of champagne and you will," Theo said, pushing her down into a chair. "I insist."
A few more of the evening's guests arrived and so the four of them sat at a small table off to the side of the bar making small talk about the approaching spring, plans for summer holidays and the like. Trevor pulled a cigarette from a silver case and offered her one as well, which she declined politely, unwilling to be beholden to him for even the slightest kindness. As the men chatted Hermione sipped her drink slowly, doing her best not to smile when she felt Draco's finger tracing circles up the outside of her thigh. It was innocent and meaningless, but still she found it reassuring as she sat alone in the den of wolves, a small sign to let her know he was there for her.
"Draco, I nearly forgot," Trevor said, pouring another drink for all of them. "We'd love to have you at the Archlight Spring Gala this year. It's the biggest social event in wizard London if I do say so myself."
"It really is," Theo added. "Food, dancing, an open bar until well after midnight and the most beautiful witches in England wearing the best, most revealing gowns. It's quite difficult to get an invite."
"Unless you cry and beg like a baby; which is Nott's usual tactic," Trevor said, leaning back in his seat with a smug smile.
The three men laughed and Hermione smiled politely although the conversation was making her sick. She'd heard of Archlight's annual gala, as well as the other lavish, wasteful events around Wizard England...purebloods wearing their finest robes, spending tens of thousands of galleons and gowns and jewelry, drowning themselves in excess while halfblood and muggleborn children died starving outside their doors. Every January Voldemort himself held an ostentatious and completely unnecessary rally in his own honor, reminding everyone of the peace and prosperity he'd brought to their country, while in the crowd everyone knew that England had become the laughingstock of the wizarding world, overrun by bigotry and paranoia, greed and sadism. She glanced at Draco who was smiling, but his eyes seemed dead. Beneath the table he dug his fingers into her knee in silent disgust and she took his hand in hers and squeezed.
"I'm not much for dance parties, you know that Nott. I sprained Parkinson's ankle fourth year trying to waltz. You can give my precious invite to one of the beautiful witches that wants to attend."
"No, no...Draco, I'm afraid I have to insist," Trevor sighed, shaking his head. Then, leaning in conspiratorially he added, "I may have promised my little sister that you would be her date. She's had a crush on you for some time. And now that you're something of a rakish outlaw in pureblood circles her panties are all a flutter. You'll love Melody. She's the epitome of pureblood beauty...blonde hair, blue eyes...the two of you would make beautiful children."
"Perhaps I should meet her before we start naming them?" Draco asked drily, and Hermione could see the pulse pounding in the hinge of his jaw, his eyes darting around the room. She'd seen that look before, the walls closing in on him. Panic.
"Look, I can see you're uncomfortable. And I think I know why," Theo said, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "This is strictly First Generation. Lucius won't be there."
"What a shame," Draco said, fiddling with the cuff links on his shirt. "He really knows that Veela Quadrille like the back of his hand."
First Generation was the name Voldemort had given to the youth who had fought in the Potter War. They were the "first generation to live in a world of pure wizardry, a world unsullied by mudblood thievery and halfblood deception." It was a badge of honor they were meant to wear with pride, but all it did was remind them of all of the friends and family they'd lost. A whole generation of children, students conscripted as soldiers as young as eleven dead on the grounds of their own school.
"It will be good for the club's reputation, mate," Trevor said. "And it will be good for you to get out, see some friends. We haven't seen you around London since the Travers' Christmas Party. It's just one night and it'll make my sister's year. She's had a crush on you since her first year at Hogwarts. I'll be forever indebted, honestly."
If there was one thing Draco couldn't resist, it was having someone in his debt. He squeezed Hermione's hand beneath the table once more and let out a heavy sigh.
"When is it?" He asked.
"Saturday next, the night of the Spring Equinox," Trevor said, his smile wide in victory. "We'll all meet here first? Have a drink and arrive at the gala together, what do you say?"
Draco drained his third glass of firewhiskey and forced a smile.
"I can't wait."
Later, she and Draco lay quietly in the rumpled bed in room nine. Her wrists were bruised and sore from being bound above her head; her entire body aching deliciously, each movement bringing up a memory of how he'd spanked and pinched and licked her, bit and stroked her before finally flipping her onto her stomach and fucking her relentlessly, reminding her over and over that she was his and only his. It was clear that Theo and Trevor had gotten under his skin. She sighed audibly and turned on her side to face him, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. His eyes were closed but she knew he was awake. He'd told her long ago he didn't trust himself to sleep around her.
"Have you turned down others who have asked for me?" She asked, reaching out to run her fingertip over his eyebrow, down the length of his nose to the delicate arch of his cupid's bow.
"What?"
"Trevor and Theo. You lied to them. You and I weren't meant to meet tonight but you told them..."
"I don't like how Theo treated you," he said, cutting her off, but not opening his eyes. Her touch was soothing and he didn't want it to stop. It wasn't sexual or arousing...it just felt peaceful, sending a tingling sensation down his spine. "I don't care that you ended up OK, he drugged you and called you a...I don't like it. And Trevor, well Trevor I just don't like. He doesn't deserve...He has Finch to entertain him."
"It's silly for me to be here if I'm not doing my job, not making money for you."
"I have money enough, darling. What is this really about, are you saying you want to fuck someone else?" He asked, finally looking at her as he sat up against the headboard.
His stomach was tightening with an acidic combination of fear and anger. Surely he'd misunderstood what she was saying. Or was it possible she'd grown tired of him so soon? He reached out to the nightstand before he remembered that he hadn't brought his cigarettes, then moved to get out of bed. Hermione stopped him by rolling over and sitting astride his hips, her hands on his chest.
"No Draco, I don't," she said, her voice calm and even. "My God, no wonder you're so exhausted. It must be tiring flying off the handle like this all the time."
He sighed and looked away from her crooked grin, his mouth a tight line. She touched his jaw, gently turning his face to look her in the eye.
"I know why you brought me here. I know you want me to pay your father back," she said. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to speak but she shook her head, touching his lips with two fingers. "I don't want to fuck anyone else. I don't want anyone but you. But a hundred thousand galleons is a lot and I'm not going to earn..."
He grabbed her wrists and pushed her off onto her back, looking down at her, his eyes burning silver.
"I don't know what made you think you're here at my father's request, but you aren't. In fact my father would much prefer you were rotting in prison and he's ready to tear down The Dragon because of it. I don't care," he growled, his grip tight on her forearms, his breath hot over her cheek. "He's nothing to me. You're here only because of me, only for me. I told you you're mine and only mine. Yes, my father will get his precious galleons back, but that's not for you to worry about. There isn't a man alive that you have to be worried about hurting you. I don't care if Voldemort himself walks in the front door, no one in this world will have you but me and I'll tear apart any man who tries. Do you understand?"
She had no words, only nodding in response, her heart nearly bursting from her ribs as he made his declarations. It was possible she'd misread the ledger, that she misunderstood his notes; whatever it was, she was relieved, a weight lifting from her chest that she hadn't realized was holding her down. He let go of her wrists and bent down to kiss her lips, quickly moving to her jaw, her throat...sliding down her body to settle between her thighs.
"Thank you sir," she said, sinking her fingers into his cornsilk hair. "That's all I wanted to hear." She closed her eyes and let herself go, let her mind empty of everything but the feeling of him licking between her legs. It was good. It was luxurious and decadent. And suddenly she felt happier, more content than she had in years. As Draco Malfoy tongued her pussy, focusing on nothing but bringing her pleasure, for the first time in nearly a decade Hermione Granger felt safe.