Draco had made himself reasonably comfortable on a red velvet lounge. His first drink already sat in front of him (Blaise insisted on paying for that one too), although Draco wasn't sure if he really should have another one.
In the pub they had drained the Firewhisky bottle down to the last drop and in the warm salon the alcohol had gone considerably to Draco's head. It felt like he was about to either fall asleep soon or say something inappropriate. Both seemed equally embarrassing to him and he lazily tried to focus on Blaise's words. His friend talked non-stop and, unlike Draco, didn't seem to feel the whisky at all.
"Oh, here we go," Blaise said happily at that moment, reaching for his glass as the room darkened a bit and the spotlights were now mostly illuminating the stage. Draco sat up heavily and craned his neck a little. Now that he was here, he at least wanted to see what was happening up there. He had to admit that Blaise had intrigued him. And the whole club itself promised a good show if the extravagant getup could be relied upon.
Two long-legged beauties strutted onto the stage, clutching the iron poles in its midst. There were many things that Draco hadn't expected about this. For example, the ladies were neither naked nor incredibly scantily clad, but dressed in sparkling costumes adorned with feathers, more reminiscent of a burlesque show or a circus. Also, Draco's image of a prostitute was limited to drug-addicted, worn-out girls, whom he probably wouldn't even have touched with a barge pole. But the two women on stage were actually very attractive. He might even have turned to look at them if he met them on the street.
"You know what irritates you about that?" Blaise asked mischievously. He had apparently noticed Draco's facial expression change. "Most of them would probably never be here if the Dark Lord wasn't in power. I heard two co-workers talk about it recently - now it's mostly muggleborns or halfbloods who have to do something like this because they just don't have a choice. Most of them have exactly the same education as you and me. They weren't born in the gutter. That's why you're so surprised."
Blaise grinned smugly, knowing he had hit the mark. Draco gave him a thoughtful look. Partly because he hadn't really been aware of these facts, and partly because he was shocked that Blaise seemed to know the milieu very well, even if he supposedly got his information from overheard conversations of some acquaintances and friends. Draco didn't know if he wanted to believe that - or even could.
For a few minutes they just stared at the stage and took in the spectacle. The girls danced well and one of them also started to undress, but Draco had to admit that the mood in the salon was relaxed and actually even pleasant. Most of the men were chatting or eating. There were no dirty heckles, and Draco felt unexpectedly at ease. He had finished his drink, but he felt a little better because Blaise had also ordered some snacks, which Draco was now constantly scoffing into himself.
"I'll get another whisky," Blaise said, preparing to stand up. Draco protested and took the empty glasses from him.
"No way. Next round is on me. You funded the whole evening," he said firmly, standing before Blaise could even open his mouth. "I'll be right back." He grinned and tried to get to the large bar, where several other people were already seated, without a telltale sway.
He was relieved when he reached the bar unharmed, and pushed the empty glasses across the scratched wood with one hand, waiting for the bartender to face him.
"Two more of those," he said, trying to drown out the music and pointing to the empty glasses. The barman nodded to show his order had been taken and went on with his business.
While Draco waited, he braced himself on the bar with his elbows and occasionally glanced at the stage. His gaze grazed a curly shock of light brown hair. It was apparently one of the dancers who was sitting at the bar trying to get a job for the night. For advertising purposes, so to speak. Draco had to grin as this thought raced through his mind. Apparently the alcohol had gotten to him more than he had previously thought. He felt somehow intoxicated and carefree.
When the petite figure at the bar turned her head and he could finally see her profile, those feelings vanished in an instant.
He knew that face; would have recognized it anywhere. He simply could never have identified her from her current hairstyle.
Her hair was much longer and not as wildly curled as he remembered. She had also thinned, which was starkly evident in the tight dress she was wearing. A hard line he had never noticed before, not even on the day he had actually seen her for the last time, which was now more than four years ago, played around her lips. Her face looked cold and numb and Draco swallowed involuntarily.
It was like a slap in the face when he realized what it meant that she was sitting here today - in a room full of men; in a wizarding brothel; wearing an extremely revealing dress.
Hermione Granger was a prostitute.
It took a few minutes for Draco to regain his composure. He winced when he realized that the bartender had already adressed him several times and was now impatiently asking for money. He apologized half-heartedly and threw a few Sickles on the bar before picking up the two glasses and turning back to Granger. She hadn't noticed him yet and was absently sucking on her straw while playing with one of her curls.
"Granger?" he finally asked, stunned, and the witch flinched so violently that she slipped off her bar stool and knocked over her glass, which, thank Merlin, was almost empty. She stared at him in wide-eyed horror and apparently had some thoughts running through her head that were very similar to Draco's.
"Malfoy?" She sounded incredulous and eyed him quickly. "What are you doing here?"
Draco felt caught; like he was doing something forbidden. He feverishly searched for a good excuse, until he finally realized that it wasn't necessary at all. Why should he even justify himself to her? Defending his intentions was utter rubbish too. Besides, she wouldn't believe him anyway. He immediately put back on his mask and a smug grin curled his lips.
"Having fun."
Granger nodded in a trance and pushed her empty glass across the bar. Meanwhile, Draco glanced at Blaise, who was staring at the stage spellbound and apparently not caring where Draco was staying for so long.
"Here," he said, pushing the drink meant for Blaise towards Granger. "It's my treat." He winked, but to his surprise, it caused her to break her rigidity, roll her eyes, and look at him appraisingly.
"I don't need your pity, Malfoy. I can pay for my drinks myself," she said, pushing back the full glass. That was a lie and they both knew, so Draco chose a different tactic.
"Oh, that wasn't a display of pity Granger. I just thought you could use one more before taking me to your room."
Bingo! The young witch flinched, looking even more shocked than when she first recognized him. That was exactly what she had feared most, but Draco couldn't know.
+.+.+
Hermione glared at the tall blond wizard who now again offered her the drink she had just refused. As if meeting her personal nemesis, who was after her best friend, wasn't bad enough - he wanted to humiliate her on top. Getting paid to fuck Draco Malfoy. If she had been told something like that four years ago, she probably would have just laughed out loud. Even now, the thought struck her as so absurd that she was actually speechless.
"Is it your decision who goes to your room with you?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow and Hermione slowly shook her head.
Melody had made herself clear. The club rules were a bit different from the ones in the usual and small brothels, which included her former employer in Knockturn Alley. The guest got the girl he wanted, and said girl had no say in that. The visitors of the Baton Rouge were too high-profile and influential. But Hermione would certainly not explain that in detail to her nightmare in blond. Instead, she just continued to stare at him aversely.
"It's amusing," he continued undeterred, taking a nonchalant sip from his glass. She noticed that he must have been drinking a lot - too much, really - and felt even more uncomfortable about it. But she was petrified and endured his next sentences unaffected.
"Once, you were the smartest student at Hogwarts and beat everyone in every damn exam, including me." He snorted, as if still feeling personally offended. "And now you're here. In a brothel. You're a whore." He laughed and set his glass down on the bar. "That's priceless. Really. Did they take your wand too? Are you finally feeling like a real Mudblood?"
His words rolled off Hermione like raindrops on creamed skin. She had heard worse in the past few years. It no longer made her angry, nor did it make her sad. And even when they had gone to school together, nothing relevant had ever come out of Draco Malfoy's nasty mouth.
"It is what it is, Malfoy," she said lightly. She had found her tongue again. "But do you just want to keep talking, or do you want to fuck?" She felt better when Malfoy flinched at her harsh language. "And what about your friend? Do you want him to join?"
She glanced at Blaise Zabini, who she had recognized after one of Malfoy's looks in his direction. She was surprised that the two of them were still seeing each other. She hadn't thought that Slytherins were made for long term friendships at all. And certainly not Malfoy. Basically, she begrudged him that too. In fact, it would have made her happier to know that he was all alone and had no one to spend his time with.
"Come to think of it," he hesitated, looking her up and down again in disgust, "for something like you I wouldn't even pay." With that, he reached for the glass she still hadn't touched, turned around and walked back to Zabini, head held high.
Hermione eyes followed him, then she finally shrugged slightly. She was glad she was spared that. After that, she probably wouldn't have been able to look in the mirror ever again. Sex with Draco Malfoy was definitely not on the list of things she wanted to experience in this lifetime.
She had been right. Despite its nice rooms, good pay and free drinks, this club brought her nothing but misery. She had expected to meet people here that she mabye had known, or at least seen before. But Malfoy's appearance was way beyond her worst expectations. From a different perspective, however, she had already seen the worst now, because it couldn't get much more embarrassing and uncomfortable for her, and she couldn't think of anyone she wanted to see even less than the blond former Slytherin.
Hermione looked over at the two again and then shook herself slightly. She just hoped they didn't come here regularly. A few seconds too late, she noticed that Malfoy raised his head as well. He had turned his head and looked her straight in the face. Hermione abruptly lowered her head and slid off her chair. When she was about to flee to her room, an older but well-groomed wizard closed his hand around her upper arm and held her tight. She stopped and tried to put on a calm face.
"Where are you going?" he asked and Hermione eyed him quickly before deciding that he wasn't the night's worst catch - quite the opposite; she hadseen worse. So she struck a pose and smiled flirtatious.
"Upstairs?" Half a question, half a statement. She put a hand on his shoulder and batted her eyelashes. "Would you like to come with me?"
The wizard laughed and Hermione knew she had him hooked. He looked like he would pay well, and she was pleased that her first night at the Baton Rouge was going well.
"Wouldn't you like a drink first?" he offered and pulled out his wallet, but Hermione shook her head and smiled again.
"I'd prefer to go right now," she said with an unmistakable look, and the man's face told her that he didn't dislike that at all.
"I wouldn't say no to that," he confirmed, standing up as well. She took his hand and led him out of the room into the hallway and up the stairs - as if this wasn't her first time in a new etablissement.
She was oblivious to the icy grey eyes that followed her until she was out of sight.