Chapter Text
Voldemort Defeated!
Golden Trio Defeat The Dark Lord in Unprecedented Upset, Aided by Defector Death Eater and Family!
Inside Story of Golden Trios 9 months on the run!
Death Eater Trials to Start!
Witch Weekly: Shaggy Haired Savior vs. Red Haired Strategist for Hottest Wizard of the Year.
Death Eater Strongholds, the Ins and Outs of life in the Inner Circle.
Inside Story: Golden Girl and Youngest Weasley separate in Public Display of Dissatisfaction.
Draco Malfoy Cleared of All Charges after Heart Felt Testimony By Golden Girl Herself.
Lucius Malfoy sentences to 20 Years in Azkaban.
Harry Potter set to Join Aurors This Spring!
Minister Shacklebolt and the Lies of a Slytherin Turncoat!
The papers were rife with talks of the War. It had been nearly nine months since Voldemort had been dispatched and every article Hermione read was filled with news of her, or Harry or Ron or some Death Eater or Another. She understood why, truthfully, she did. Good news was necessary after being under the thumb of a sycophant for so long.
For the first few weeks Hermione enjoyed it. After being on the run for so long, much of it just her and Harry, it was a breath of fresh air to see them celebrated.
They had survived!
Most of them anyways.
Harry and Ron were set to begin training at the Autor academe in two months. Ginnie had begun her last year at Hogwarts and was already in talks with the hollyhead harpies to begin at the end of her year. Neville had begun an internship under professor sprout and George had finally begun to create again.
Things were slowing down, people were breathing, everyone had their plans in place and things to be done.
All except for Hermione.
After months months of meetings with Shacklebolt, priming her to follow in his footsteps as the next minister, she found she had no interest in running a world that had been so unkind to those of her background. Though she had stood next to Harry the entire time, watched him die, had been carved into by a madwoman for the cause and they still treated her like the mudblooded side kick.
One of the good ones.
She had been offered a healing internship at St. Mungos along with Padma but had ultimately declined as well. She read and kept up to date on new healing practices and the work they had begun helping all the newly turned werewolves, but Hermione found she would rather never have to use a healing spell ever again. She was burnt out on saving lives.
All Hermione wanted was peace.
To allow her mind reprieve.
A break.
Perhaps afterwords she could get back to herself and figure out what she truly wanted to do with her life. But for now, all she wanted to do was turn her mind off.
Some nights she stayed awake and considered obviating herself. Sending herself to Australia and living a very pleasant muggle existence with her parents. But she couldn’t. She loved magic too much.
This world was cruel and backwards sometimes, but it was also filled to the brim with such beautiful things that Hermione would forget to breath at times. She supposed she could make herself forget, but she knew she would always feel a hole in the bottom of her soul. A piece of her that magic filled just right would always be missing.
One night, mid-February, Hermione found herself aimlessly meandering through Diagon Alley. She had disillusioned herself to remain out of the papers, but not many people were out anyways. This was how she spent her nights the last few weeks.
She had started to become a shut in, breathing in the stale scent of parchment and ink. Yet every second she stepped out of her home, a modest cottage on the outskirts of a small muggle town, she was bombarded with people.
Witches and Wizards asking her question after question. Why did she leave Ron? Was she dating Harry? What happened in that tent? Did she really see Voldemort die? The bright bulbed flashing of cameras and quick write quills stuttering out every syllable she spoke until she fled.
It was more peaceful this way. Sure she could sequester herself in her home. Send Owls for purchases, but Hermione found she still wanted to be amongst people.
Her people.
The Wizarding world.
If she couldn’t be around them then what was the point of staying?
After a few hours of walking she turned down the creaking steps towards Knockturn Alley. There were more people bustling around this part of Wizarding London, especially this late at night. A few of the more unsavory stores had been closed down after Voldemort’s death. Anything dealing with Dark artifacts was heavily monitored and had to be confirmed by the Aurors before a store could sell the items.
This resulted in more of the legitimate businesses going under or being forced to work in the shadows. Unsavory businesses still existed, but they were learning to exist in a world that was less apt to allow them leniency.
Hermione blinked as a bright purple sign, something spelled to look neon, flashed in the corner of her eye.
‘How odd.’ Hermione thought. Jetting out from one of the buildings was a large broom, spelled to glimmer bright purple at the wood, it spun slowly, beckoning her forward. A twisted arrow pointed down a narrow-crooked alleyway, lit by small dancing purple orbs and glowing shoe prints on the stone.
She shouldn’t, it was…odd.
Hermione hesitated. She could continue her way around Knockturn. Perhaps stop at one of the new Bars that had opened, one of the underground speakeasies that Longbottom had told her about. He had begun to date Pansy Parkinson a few months ago after meeting at some function for Hogwarts donors. Neville being a potential future professor and Parkinson being a Donor, now that she had control of her family’s money.
Neville had given her the universal password that would get her into any of these clubs.
Hermione wasn’t one to go out of her way for trouble, never had been…But if it happened upon her. Who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Hermione took a tentative step into the alley. It was much larger than it looked, and though the stone walls seemed to close behind her as she moved, she never seemed to touch the cold gritty walls. The alley took a sharp turn before ending, a shimmering purple archway held a old curved wooden door. Hermione pushed on it, fingers splayed against the speckled wood, but nothing happened. She pushed once more before thinking.
She closed her fist and rapped upon the door three times.
A piece of the door slid to the side revealing a gleaming set of bright blue eyes.
“Password.” A gruff, masculine voice said.
“What?”
“Password.” He said again, impatience in his tone. He huffed after a moment before the wood began to slide back into place.
“Oh! Miseria et Dolor Tecum.” The wood slid shut with a snap, and for a moment Hermione thought she had pronounced it wrong… For only a moment, she knew herself better than that. She had studied Latin since the moment she found it was the basis for all spells. She had once hoped to create her own and had in fact reworked easy spells during the war to help their specific needs.
That seemed so far away, now.
The door opened with a creak, a loud rusted hinge that held the heft of the door. A man in tight dragon leather trousers stood at the entrance. He wore no shirt, exposing his barrel chest which was smattered with black roaming tattoos. His mustache was long and curled out wide from his head. It twitched when he looked Hermione up and down before turning to the side and in a flourish, normally given by someone in the ring of a circus, guided her into the building.
“Welcome to Purgatory.”
The moment Hermione stepped through the doorway, the shimmer of wards allowing her entrance, the loud thrum of music assaulted her senses. Heavy trance beats thrummed over her skin jolting her heart until she was unsure if what she heard was her own blood pumping or the music.
It was a club, a Wizarding Club.
How fascinating, Hermione thought. She had never seen one of these before. Such a muggle concept, tweaked and twisted for the appropriate magical use.
It was large but dark and comfortable. The floor was made of stones that lit when you walked over them, a dull sort of light that didn’t infringe the atmosphere but ultimately allowed you to see where you were going. Deep reds and Forest Greens led her feet around the smattering of round set back tables, covered for privacy and round the large dance floor which held more lit stones that flashed a bit brighter like white and black strobe lights.
She wandered around, completely enraptured by the atmosphere until she found a small slice of metal in the corner that looked, Hermione hoped, like a bar.
The Bartender looked Hermione up and down, just as the door man had when she entered. She wore a bastardized version of the Slytherin Uniform, complete with tie and fish net stockings. Her hair was high and spiked, very muggle Punk. She chewed open mouthed with a sneer on her face before tilting her head towards the bottles that sat behind her.
Hermione went to speak but found her voice made no noise around the thumping base. She just nodded and pulled out two galleons from her pocket and slid them onto the bar.
The woman’s mouth turned from a sneer to a smirk before she gripped the coins with her long fingernails and poured Hermione a tall glass of something clear and shimmery. She took it with a nod and turned back towards the room. There was something magical here, and not in that ‘this is a Wizarding world’ kind of magic. It was more than that. A feeling, an ache that she had finally found the remedy for.
Hermione took a sip of her drink as she walked around the outskirts of the dance floor, the surrounding area was mostly seating, recessed and dark, very private. Her eyes were drawn to the dance floor. There were dozens of people crammed onto the flashing tiles. Some moved in time with the beat, some thrashed wildly, hair and sweat tossed through the air.
A giggle bubbled up through Hermione’s throat. A lovely sensation that fluttered through her chest and down her extremities until she found she wanted to dance as well. Throw herself into the throngs of people. She took another sip, the euphoria hit her in spades until she felt herself rocking back and forth, tapping her toes, then swinging her shoulders as her eyes slut.
Hermione continued drinking slowly, allowing each swallow to drag her further into the music until she felt a hand on her elbow. Looking up she found she was on the outskirts of the dance floor. A man, tall and young like her, with some kind of drippy purple paint spread across his face like a handprint, smiled at her. Nerves fluttered her stomach while he nodded, she nodded back.
He took his wand out and flicked it until her, near empty, drink flew across the club and landed at the bar. He gently tugged on her arm again. She swallowed hard… She shouldn’t, she hadn’t even meant to come here.
He tugged again, welcoming her into the colorless place. She took a tentative step, then another, She was overdressed, a nice jumper and brown slacks with trainers.
But as one person pressed against her side, and another hand ran down her arm. The thumping beat rattling her brain until she closed her eyes and let the bodies move her from side to side. She wasn’t sure how time worked, the music sounded the same, one endless stream of energy flowing through the room.
The man pulled her flush against his cheat, sweat sticking to the back of her arms and she let him and the music lead her. A woman came before her, she wore no shirt but had full flowers spread over her breasts. She lifted the bottom of Hermione’s jumper over her head, her hair popping through the hole and sticking to her now slick back. She wasn’t sure where her shirt went but she couldn’t seem to care. Her bra was nothing fancy, tan, it covered her privately but allowed the pulse in the air to stream across her skin like sparks from a fire.
Hermione lost herself in the crowd, moving from person to person they all ran their fingers down her arm, over her stomach before she would grip their shoulders and swing on to the next. She felt full, free, there was nothing she could do wrong right now.
In the center of the dance floor, high on a platform, sat a cage.
It shocked Hermione for a moment, bringing her back to reality. The club lost its glow in exchange for a glimpse back into the past. To the basement on Malfoy Manor, to the slur carved into her arm. Her breath came in pants, hand clutched to her near bare chest.
Why was she here? It was stupid. She wasn’t this sort of person.
Who was she?
A gentle hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her into their chest. She felt herself melt against them, slightly, her shoulders were still tense with anxiety. They turned her until they stood face to face. They were beautiful, long blond hair set wild and tangled around their ears with sweat. They nodded to the platform, to the cage, and smiled light.
She shook her head, no. No way.
They pulled a wand from their pocked and flicked till the platform lowered and the door popped open. They smiled at her, the thrumming beat creating cold static across her skin.
She stepped in, it was larger than her, taller. Coming more than a foot over her height and she was able to touch each side simultaneously. The cage closed with a thump that was felt but not heard. They flicked their wand again and the cage rose, just enough that she stood above everyone else.
The lights flashed, an old time muggle movie of black and white and swinging hair and thrashing bodies. Hermione closed her eyes, felt the beat push her around the metal box. It was cold against her flushed skin. She leaned forward, pressed her cheek against the bar before pushing off and thrashing her head back and forth. Her hair was swollen with humidity and static and lifted from her body, doubled in size.
She gripped the metal as she swayed, moving her hands along until she slipped her shoes off and slid her trousers to the floor. A pile of cloth sat at the base of the cage as Hermione lost herself in the trance of music.
For hours she danced, arms spread wide she twirled and twisted, gripping the bars she flipped herself over and climbed until she swung from the bars on top.
She was free, caged but freer than she had ever been before.
Every so often a disembodied hand would slide into the bars holding a cold drink. She would sip lightly before downing the liquid then simply swayed until her stomach settled and allowed her to writhe behind the bars again.
It was thrilling, entrancing, no one cared that she was in there, no one would care if she left. Hermione was able to exist in her knickers and nothing else in the center of a club.
So she did.
Her mind blank and her skin flushed, she danced and swayed until the flashing lights dimmed and slow floating white orbs lit the room urging patrons home for the night.
Hermione felt drunk, though she was sure she only had the one drink. Her head swam, a light buzzing in her veins as she slowly slid to the floor of the cage. Leaning against the cool metal her bare feet curled around the bars until she felt herself lower, slowly coming down from the pedestal and the door hissed open.
The music was slowly turned down until it was a low hum in the background. The man from the entrance stood at the door, hand outstretched beckoning her forward.
“I must say, I was not expecting Hermione Granger to grace my club tonight. Certainly not to imagine her willingly climbing into a Gogo cage.” He laughed warm-heartedly, his mustache twitching and his eyes crinkled. “My name is Harold Caddel, I own Purgatory. How about we get you down from there.”
Hermione cringed at his recognition of her but took his hand all the same. The club looked different in the dim lights of magic, wider and more like one of the basement rooms at Hogwarts she took Potions lessons in.
“Any chance we could keep this between us?” Her face felt flushed and her hair must have been a mess. She reached carefully behind her to grab his discarded shoes and slacks but had no clue as to where her shirt had gotten to. She instead, held the fabric to her skin in hopes he wouldn’t pull out a camera and sell this wonderful moment to the papers.
“My dear.” He smiled, one of his front teeth was missing but it made no difference in his charm. “Everything that goes on here is secret. The path past the Broom is warded and must have my permission to enter. No reporters, no tattling.” He placed his arms behind his back and walked with her towards a back room. “There should be some spare clothing in there, take what you need and leave your Floo address on the roll of parchment hanging next to the hearth, ours is written at the top please take note. No apparition within these walls, you’ll have to leave the back alley to get home.”
She nodded and slowly walked to the room, she stuck her head inside and saw a trunk full of what must have been discarded clothing. Like her shirt that was no where to be found.
She entered the room and closed the door, locking it with the wand she had somehow hidden in the strap of her pants. She tugged her corduroy slacks on and fished out a much too large graphic t shirt, very muggle and smelling of sweat and vodka, but after a quick scourgify she pulled it over her head and slipped her trainers on.
The door opened and she slowly walked through the club, she had no idea what time it was and felt a small hint of shame at losing herself so thoroughly.
“Miss Granger?” Harold spoke as she reached the front door, he was waving his wand about cleaning the floor and walls of evidence of the night.
“Yes?” Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. “Harold.”
“I find myself in need of a Gogo dancer. It doesn’t pay much, mind you. But you receive free drinks all night and use of a shared nap room in the back if you so desire.” Hermione turned her head to the side.
“Gogo dancing?” He laughed at her confusion.
“Being in the cage. It’s a muggle thing, not very well known in these parts. After the war ended I thought, why not combine some of the wonderful things I’ve come to enjoy in the night over there.”
“And what does it entail? This Gogo dancing?” She looked unsure, she wasn’t an exotic dancer, she wouldn’t strip her clothing off for money.
“You wear whatever you please, you dance however you please. People may watch you but no one may touch you without your explicit consent.”
“That’s it?” She sounded surprised, it was almost…too easy.
“That’s it.” He nodded. “Let me know next time you come.”
“Oh, I won’t be coming again, this was a very random one time thing.” She shook her head and waved her hands before her face as if batting the thoughts away.
“Whatever you say, Miss Granger.” He turned back and continued his casting.
Hermione left Purgatory, walked slowly down the winding back alley and once stepped foot over the barrier and back into Knockturn, the sky dark and silent, she apparated quickly into the safety of her cottage.
She showered, dressed for bed, and for the first time in years, slept soundly.
Hermione didn’t return to Purgatory.
For nearly a week.
Every night when the sun ran low and her brain began to race she found herself itching and looking at her Floo. She had connected hers to the clubs, she wasn’t sure why. Every night that passed felt like a test.
She sat with a book, draped over her couch like a sick Victorian child until the tome fell from her hands and slammed to the floor. Crookshanks looked at her like she had completely lost it and by the end of the week had taken to scratching at her couch the moment she began to longingly stare at the hearth.
“Just go!” She swore she heard him meow at her. She was officially going crazy.
Hermione fled to her room and pulled apart every outfit she could find, something similar to the ones the other Witches and Wizards wore at the club.
After nearly an hour of searching she settled, begrudgingly, for her Hogwarts Uniform. She had take influence from the Bartender at Purgatory and hemmed the length until it sat flush beneath the cheeks of her ass and pulled the white button up forward until it tied in a knot beneath her breasts leaving her stomach exposed.
She had scars from the war, and the sight of them made her flinch. She placed her heaviest glamour on the white slashed across her stomach and thighs and the slur on her arm before twisting her hair up and sliding her wand in, locking the curls into place.
She walked to the Hearth, and before Crookshanks could complain, grabbed a handful of Powder and tossed it into the Floo.
“Purgatory.” She spoke as Green flashed around her.
The club was just beginning to open when she arrived, stumbling out of the bustling Floo and into a room packed with Wizards and Witches all in different states of Undress. They barely looked at her, some with an appreciative eye, before she pushed past and ran out into the club.
The music hadn’t quite picked up, and Harold caught her eye, Smile wide.
“I knew you’d be back.” He gripped her hand in a shake.
“About that job?” She looked shy, but he laughed, his chest shaking with the force.
“We sign paperwork after the night ends. Grab a drink and get into the Cage, patrons will arrive soon.” She nodded and waved as he made his way to the entrance.
The bar tender was more pleasant than the night before, very Slytherin and sharp, but her eyes were more teasing than vicious. She reminded Hermione of a Certain blonde haired former death eater that she had the largest crush on during school. Though he treated her badly, until the end when she was proven right, she had always thought his words and actions held more fear than hatred.
Hermione grabbed her drink, the fluttering fairy wine that gave the most wonderful euphoria, and as the music cranked up, danced over to her platform.
Night after Night Hermione returned to Purgatory. Her paycheck was deposited into her account at Gringotts and though she had no idea what she made, it would never make a dent in the reparations she had been given post war. She would never have to work again if she so pleased, but that wasn’t Hermione. That wasn’t the life she wanted.
She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, for tonight, she was going to dance.
After a month it was no longer an active decision to leave for Purgatory, once the sun began to run low she would decide on what outfit she wanted and Floo over. She had accrued a vast selection of beautifully risqué clothing. Her favorite, beyond her hemmed Gryffindor uniform, was a long-modified cloak made of thin satin material. It flowed around her while she danced in nothing but black lace knickers.
She went seven days a week, danced until the lights came on and the people flowed out into the streets or took Floos home. She slept in until far after the sun had risen and Crookshanks was batting at her disheveled hair begging for breakfast.
It was two months in that she began to visit Harry and even Ron again. She had been afraid of their reaction to her loafing and now her dancing. She had yet to tell them, but the confidence the club had given her was unlike anything she had experienced before. She was smart, incredibly so, Smartest Witch of her Age and whatnot, but in Purgatory it didn’t matter. She was looked upon with lustful glances and the pedestal she stood upon was erected by her and not the sacrifices she had made.
Ron had begun to date Susan Bones and was beginning to train for the Aurors, it would be another month before he and Harry were able to fully go through their specialized training and were doing odd jobs to help locate Death Eater Strongholds in the meantime. For all intents and purposes, they were Aurors, set forth through Minister Shacklebolt, they only had to pass the required tests to make It official.
Harry was doing well though him and Ginny had begun to lose steam, be it her still at Hogwarts or something else entirely but Hermione would be surprised if they stayed together after her Graduation in the beginning of summer.
She was nearing the end of her third month at Purgatory and the first anniversary of the battle at Hogwarts was rapidly approaching. In the beginning she had no other thought than to attend. Stand in between Ron and Harry as she always had and lead the lot of them in a soulful speech of remembrance, of loss and life and greatness.
Each day that neared closer to the actual event had Hermione closing in further on herself. She had no wish to see anyone again, she had only just been able to sleep through the night without the aid of potions, most of those nights she had been so intoxicated or so tired from dancing that she barely made it through the Floo.
Former classmates had begun to travel in from wherever they had escaped to once their lives were no longer at stake.
One by one they had contacted her, with the misguided help of Neville, and encouraged her to help make all the preparation. They had all assumed she would be the one to take over, to be the driving force in the remembrance, but Hermione could not think of anything she wanted to do less.
Every night leading up to the memorial was drowned in Fairy Wine and dancing until she was ready to pass out. Exhaustion taking her though the night, nightmares seeping through the edges of her mind.
April 30th could have been any other day.
Hermione awoke at the crack of dawn to the frantic pecking of owl beaks at her kitchen window. She rolled out of bed, grabbed a sobering potion and pepper up and stumbled through her home. She had been asleep for less than three hours, though the exhaustion of her nightly activities should have lulled her into a dreamless sleep, she couldn’t find reprieve from the memories.
Not this close to the Memorial, anyways.
One large Owl was directly from Neville, wanting to get together in Hogsmead to finalize plans.
She sent the owl back with an agreement to meet at 10am, that would give her enough time to sift through the rest of the messages.
It did take that long, in fact. Hermione sent owl after owl and took two Floo calls before she was able to dress and Floo to Hogsmeade for her meeting with Longbottom. He was already there, hand in hand with Pansy and though Hermione couldn’t understand why he was so keen on the nasty witch, she did have to admit they worked well together. She gave him the courage to stand up for himself and he calmed her down apparently.
They talked and walked, planned and made notations of what to spell or charm.
There would be a gathering at the, to be revealed, statue in the corner of Hogsmeade, and get together afterwords on the grounds of Hogwarts, to be catered by the elves in the great Hall itself.
Pansy had taken it upon herself to decorate everything, and hermione was pleasantly surprised with the lack of green in the décor.
By the time Hermione had Flooed home, taken a shower and eaten the meager contents of leftover takeaway in her refrigerator it was time to leave again.
Hermione sighed, she had dressed in her Hogwarts outfit, staring at the Floo but couldn’t bring herself to go through it. Two days until the event and she finally found herself unable to breath. She looked down at herself, the hemmed skirt, the white button up, red bra, panties, tie and fishnets and felt…sort of ridiculous.
In two days she would be the Golden Girl again. Forced to mingle and shake hands and accept more than one slobbering sobbing thank you from a wizard older than her who had instead ran away.
Tonight she needed to be something else. Someone else.
With the flick of her wand, she banished her glamours.
The thick scars wrapped their way around her stomach, down her legs and across her chest. The slur on her arm was pulling at the edges and sometimes Hermione swore it was growing.
She flicked and swished again, changing the roaring Gryffindor red so a soothing Slytherin green. She tugged her hair into a tall bun atop her head and spelled a few tendrils to curl down at the temple before sliding her wand into the mess and taking a deep breath.
The mirror glared back at her. Black laced up combat boots nestled green fishnet tights and deep red scars that trailed across her skin. The cheeky peak of her green panties and bra were visible beneath the tiny uniform and the small Slytherin tie, white and green striped with the snake emblem flush at the bottom.
Today Hermione wasn’t the Golden Girl.
She wasn’t the Swotty know it all, best friend of the Savior.
For today and today only, Hermione Granger was the Slytherin Whore.
The thought made her burst out laughing until her stomach cramped and Crookshanks skittered away in anguish.
She imagined herself passed around the Slytherin common room, pulled into dark classrooms and giggling breaths in the astronomy tower.
She imagined herself passed between two particularly beautiful Slytherin men who haunted her lustful thoughts and left her reaching for her bedside table in the middle of the night.
The wavy brown hair and brooding conniving eyes of Theadore Nott would watch as the Pureblooded white hair and Silver cruel eyes of Draco Malfoy devoured her whole.
That was enough to get her through the night.
This was exactly who she needed to be tonight.
Hermione took a small handful of powder and splashed it into the hearth shouting out for Purgatory.
She arrived ahead of opening, as she had come to do. Greeting everyone she passed and loving the eyes that lingered as she walked by. Harold had an extra tight hug, and made mention that some of his friends would stop by at some point tonight. The Anniversary had drawn a large crowd, and though it may have been a bit crude to wear Slytherin colors two days before the Memorial, the look on Eros face as she sauntered up to the bar made it all worth it.
“Hermes, you should have told me!” The punky bartender chided her, she wore a tight black corset tonight, panties and thigh high Dom heels. “We could have been matching Slytherin Sluts!”
“Oh, that would have been a sight.” Hermione laughed as Eros poured her a tall sparking Fairy Wine. Those who worked at Purgatory had comet to call each other by the name of Gods. Hermione wasn’t sure what the woman’s birth name was but Eros fit her better than anything she could think of. “If I get as much attention as I plan to with this outfit, maybe ill wear it again.”
“Did Harold tell you of the VIWs coming tonight.” Eros waggled her eyebrows before sliding her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Yeah, said some of his friends were coming.”
“You know that means old Slytherin Oalfs.” Eros cringed. “Maybe one or two of their handsome sons will come.”
“We can only hope.” Hermione lifted her drink, Eros raised hers as well and cleared her throat.
“To Sluts and Slytherins!” She boasted her chest, shouting out. From the corner of the room their other coworker, Hypnos shouted out his cheers as did Harold from the front.
Hermione Granger in a den of snakes. Who would have thought it would be the place she felt most comfortable in the world?
“Here, Here!” She tapped their glasses together, sloshing some of her glittery concoction out with Eros blood red drink.
“Keep the cage low tonight, who knows what kind of eye candy will slither into Purgatory.” Eros grinned a wicked smile and turned back to the bar to set up for the night. It was nearly time, and Hermione felt a flush of giggly energy fill her from thick booted toe right up to her curly hair.
The night continued as usual, the lights lowered and the music began to thump. Hermione took liberty with libations and twirled around the dance floor for the first hour as new and old patrons filtered in and complimented her outfit.
Within the next hour Hermione found herself slipping through the sea of bodies and climbing into her cage. She shut it with a snap that was felt through her bones and the thundering beat and left it just off the floor. She normally raised it up so she could only see the patrons’ eyes as they watched her, it was a sick thrill that caused her to writhe in the center of the cage.
Today, per Eros advice, she raised it up to chest height. She could still look down at her adoring audience, but she would also be able to get up close and uncomfortable with them if she so desired.
The beat continued as Hermione wrapped her fingers around one of the bars and lifted herself off the ground. She didn’t come equipped with the core strength of a Quidditch player, or someone who often rode brooms, but in the last few months she had strengthened her arms enough to make up the difference. She lifted her feet from the floor and slammed the boots in the opposite wall and for a moment felt weightless before crashing back to the ground and twisting on the metal floor.
Eyes burned a hold in Hermione’s skin, she could always feel it when someone locked onto her. She twisted back, leaning on hands and knees, her back facing where the gaze originated from and gave them a little show.
Look and don’t touch, that was the only rule.
She straightened her legs popping her ass into the air before walking her upper body forward and pressing her breasts against the metal bars. She knew they could see everything from behind, the slashes in her skin the green fish nets covered, the lace panties that were barely holding on as she writhed.
Against the bars, Hermione felt a clink. The sound of metal on metal, reverberated against her cheek. Slowly she walked her hands back, pulled her body from the bars and looked between her legs as the patron who had locked onto her.
She saw two hands gripping the bars, and while normally she would tisk them and tap her wand against the bars leaving a shock to settle across their skin, something caught her eye.
A bright silver ring sat on top of one of the hands, clutching white knuckle tight. The lights flashed black and white, the crowd around her pulsing, while one person stared at her, hair strewn across their eyes but she could see the intensity of their gaze.
Hermione dropped to her knees and slid herself back against the bars, gripping the metal behind her she lifted onto her feet, bending knees and thrusting forward along with the beat. Faster and slower she moved, the ring grinding against the bar as he gripped tighter and wound his hand until she thought he would break through the bar itself.
Thrilling.
That was what times like this were.
Hermione let her head fall back against the bars before letting her body fall forward in slow motion, her legs spread to the sides heels locked in the empty space between two bars. She slowly leaned forward and walked her hands towards those disembodied hands. Those glowing gleaming hands that were too perfect to look so aggravated.
Her body was pulled forward, hips rotating in as she flipped flat onto her pelvis and further slid her body until she was beneath those hands. She reached up, running her finger, which by now was covered in a slick sheen of sweat, over those knuckles one by one. She twisted her body, flipping onto her back before tossing her feet back onto the side of the bars and pushing her closer to the man.
She reached out again and slid her fingers over his until his trembling hand was fit within hers. She pulled, allowing him inside as she traced the veins that flashed after every strobe. She turned his hand over and pulled the ring into sight before her breath caught, stuttered in her chest and she felt her body begin to vibrate on its own.
The insignia on the ring was familiar, too familiar.
A snake.
Hermione felt the hand slip from her grip and slowly slide across the top of her chest, sliding against the peak of lingerie before gripping each finger around her throat.
Hermione gasped and gripped both hands onto his wrist as the haunting face of Draco Malfoy pushed closer to the bars.
His eyes dug into her, silver flashing in the black beams of light and a smile across his face she had never seen before.
Predatory.
Golden Girl Hermione Granger would be horrified, she would rip the wand from her hair hex him to oblivion and send Harold after him.
But Hermes the Slytherin whore?
Hermione released his wrist and gripped both hands onto the bars behind her. She curved her back and pushed off the ground until she could see straight into his eyes. He squeezed tighter, testing the boundaries that had not been spoken. Hermione found her eyes flit to the back of her head as she groaned, loud and wanton.
His hand released, pulling back quickly like she had shocked him or slid a knife across his skin.
She had not, but she was sure that Draco Malfoy, though he could not hear the sounds she made, felt the tremble against his hand.
She flipped over as his hand disappeared back through the bars, his eyes flashing in the strobe light as he slowly slid through the bodies, disappearing back into Purgatory.
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Eros had shot her a water and another Fairy Wine through the bars which kept her going until the end. The urge to follow Malfoy had been great, but Hermione Granger chased after men, Hermes did not.
As Hermione slid into the corner of the cage and tapped her wand lowering the platform to the ground, the music began to fade and the lights brighten. She watched as the Patrons filtered out, like every night through the back door floo, which was reserved for trusted regulars or the front door where the horde would be set loose upon Knockturn Alley.
Hermione slid out of her box and picked up the discarded boots the had taken off sometime in the last hour. Her fishnets were ripped to shreds, her toes poking out the bottom and the lace in her bra had begun to fray.
“Going home Hermes?” Eros asked as Hermione reached the bar. “Having a bit of a continuance tonight if you’d be interested.”
“I don’t know, in tired and my arse is chafing.” She wiggled her bum around eliciting a squealing laugh from Eros.
“Change in the back or just take them off and hem the skirt. Who but you and me will know your starkers’ under there.” She rose her eyebrows, a dare for Hermione Granger.
“Yeah, why not.” Hermes laughed, that’s who she was tonight, after all. She ripped the tights and panties from her body before slipping the wand from her hair and lengthening the skirt until it reached her knees.
“Much more modest, Miss Swot.” Eros bowed before twisting and reaching for a dark amber liquid and pouring it into the four tumblers waiting on the table. She grabbed one more and filled it up to before leviosing all five glasses and nodded for Hermione to follow. “Come on now, lets go meet the investors.”
“Investors?” Hermione asked, following close behind. They weaved through the tables, curled horseshoe style booths with bright purple hoods that umbrellaed over the back of the couch and table leaving a small opening at the front. It looked like the room was filled with large spherical balls, which looked fine in the dark, much more mysterious, but in the light it was a bit silly.
“Yeah, Harold couldn’t afford to open this place himself. He approached a few fellow Slytherin Alum and crowd funded until he found someone willing to fund this whole operation. Who would have thought a muggle themed club run by Slytherin.” She looked back at Hermione, an incredulous look on her face which made the witch laugh all the louder.
“Well, when you put it that way.” Hermione leapt up and snagged one of the flying drinks and brought it to her lips before Eros could say anything.
“That one was yours anyway.” She sneered in the most loving way. Hermione took a long sip of what turned out to be firewhisky. Not her favorite but it would do to talk with old men.
“Harold, love! I come baring libations!” Eros walked to a large table in the back, where most of the capped tables sat two or three this was more open at the top and could easily sit eight. She leviosed the drinks into the opening and filtered in after. The loud laughing voice of Harold sounded through the now empty building. Hermione took another sip before entering herself.
“My dearest, you spoil me!” Harold gleamed as he picked up the glass taking a deep sip. “And my lovely Hermes has decided to join us as well, come meet to investors dear! Hermes has been with us a few months now, livens up the club in a way I never thought possible.”
“I would have to agree Harold.” A voice shot out from the dark curved corner before leaning forward and into the light. Draco Malfoy sat forward, sharks grin on his face as his fingers closed around the tumbler. She hadn’t been able to see his face as well when she was in the cage, but now that she could see him. He had matured, both in shoulder and in jaw. The severity of his features had become less pointy and more masculine. “This club is more amazing that you promised. We find ourselves utterly in awe.”
“We?” Hermione found herself saying as Harold stood allowing Hermione to slid into the seating.
“Me and my partner of course.” Draco spoke in that haughty aristocratic way that befell him at Hogwarts. He lifted his wand and sent a scattering of low light Lumos bulbs above them to reveal that at his side, arm around his waist, sat Theodore Nott.
While Malfoy gave the impression of wealth and immortal life, Theo was rugged and dangerous. He had never given her more problems than the others in school, but the way he looked at her, at everyone around him, was something she had always paid attention to. Theo was quiet in school, a sarcastic comment here or there but nothing outright cruel. He was a quick study and nearly passed her in ancient ruins. Hermione found herself, more than once, watching him slowly flip the pages of a book while in the library near curfew. Watching as his fingers slid along the spines of each page before he flipped it, never creasing, never bending the spine.
“Nott?” Hermione asked, watching the smile spread across the mans face. He released Malfoys waist and sat up straighter. He was shorter but not by much, wider in the chest and almost brawny looking. Stubble visible on his face but Hermione found it made him look distinguished instead of sloppy.
“Why Hermione Granger, how pleasant to see you here in such little clothes. Might I say Draco, that the golden girl looks surprisingly superior in green.” Nott spoke with elegance and a hint of fire. His nose flaring as Malfoys hand reached below the table.
“I would have to agree, Theo dear. I don’t believe I’ve seen Granger in something that fits so well against her neck.” He grinned, his teeth like fangs as he looked ready to devour her. “The tie I mean, of course. I always did love Slytherin green.”
“You know our Hermes?” Harold asked taking another sip of his whisky, unaware of the static tension on the air, or just so used to it he didn’t mind anymore.
“Harold, they attended Hogwarts together.” Eros nearly hissed at him, the man only chortled and sat back into his seat.
“It has been some time thought.” Malfoy said leaning back against Nott. They looked close, too close for friends.
“Seems like a lot of things have changed, haven’t they Malfoy?” Hermione rose her eyebrows and smirked as she took another sip. Nott laughed and pressed his lips flush against the expanse of Malfoys neck. The man shivered but seemed to melt when, eyes flashing to Hermione, his tongue shot out and slid down his pale skin.
“You could say that, Granger.” Malfoy shifted in his seat but made no move to push Nott away. “Though me and Theo being partners is not new, I suppose us being public is.”
“You’re dating?” She asked, a bit to quickly.
“I find myself surprised the bright witch of our age is uncomfortable with men showing each other affection.” Nott whined out, his head sliding against Malfoys chest and his mouth was wide in a teasing smile.
“Excuse me, I have no problem with homosexuality. What happens with two wizards in their own bedroom is up to them.” A bit of the swot slipped out.
“Who said it happens in the bedroom.” Nott purred causing a flush to creep across Hermione’s cheeks and a warmth to spread between her thighs.
“We also are not, homosexual.” Draco said off handedly, his hand wafting through the air with a sense of entitlement, that damn signet sing glistening.
“Bisexuality also exists, Hermes. I happen to be bisexual as well. Though many Slytherin are Pureblooded and live strict loyal lives after marriage, we do enjoy our fun before hand.” Eros tapped at Hermione’s leg below the table causing her to flush all the more.
A round of laughter filled the table at her expense, if this was Hogwarts she would have fled in embarrassment. Now, having spent so much time with the snakes den, she understood teasing was their love language, and she had been doing her research on how to play.
“You find no surprise from me that Draco Malfoy requires as many eyes upon him as possible.” Hermione leaned back in her seat, leg crossing the other until her lengthened skirt slid enough to reveal her knee and a bit of her scarred thigh.
A cacophony of sounds filled the table in an instant. A laugh shot out of Nott mouth as he sat upright for the first time, Malfoy spit out his entire mouthful of firewhisky, soaking the table in a fine mist of amber spice.
Harold chuckled, his mustache twitching in a fond way that said he was thoroughly enjoying his night and Eros.
“Hermes! That mouth on you tonight, what has gotten into you?” She gave Hermione a chastising look but couldn’t keep the wicked smile from her face. She could see the situation for what it was, what it was becoming, and the Slytherin in her was living for it.
“Granger, how interesting.” Nott sat forward his body leaning over the table. “We weren’t able to speak much in school, the whole blood purity nonsense and Dark Lord looming over out heads thing, of course. But I find, and I do believe I speak for Draco as well, that we would be ever so interested In getting to know you better.”
Malfoy just looked away, his mouth a thin line, and had Hermione not been paying especially close attention to body language, she would have missed the pink that crawled across the top of his cheeks and down the back of his neck.
“What a fantastic idea Theodore!” Eros pepped up her hand slamming onto the table. “With your permission Harold, I think it would be right fun to bring back an Old Slytherin Common room game. I believe you know the one.”
“Oh yes!” Harold chuffed before reaching into his the front pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a small clear jar. He sat it on the table with a smile as Nott laughed outright.
“Oh, what a night this will be, Draco Dear.” Malfoy huffed and rolled his eyes but seemed to grip onto Notts arm just a little tighter.
“What is that?” Hermione asked, looking around the people at the table, they all chuckled until Eros waved her arm and pulled all of the tumblers out of hands and towards the center of the table. She reached out and grabbed the small vial and placed a small drop into each cup before swirling them and sending them back to their owners.
“My dear Hermes.” Eros lifted her glass in a cheers, everyone lifted theirs as well into a cheers. “To Sluts and Slytherin!”
There was a round of Here Here’s before each wizard tossed back the remainder of their drink in one solid swallow. It couldn’t be dangerous, after all they were taking it themselves. Hermione tipped her drink back and swallowed deep.
“Granger, what a rebel!” Nott called out when she had finished and slammed her empty tumbler on the table.
“Now, onto the fun.” Eros clapped her hands together. “Hermes dear, I always considered sleeping with you. Why is it you have never accompanied me home?”
“Oh!” Hermione was taken back, she had never realized her coworker flirted with her. “I never considered you were serious. Though thinking back If you had been a bit more forceful there is no doubt I would have invited you into the cage with me. How interesting that would be. I’ve never been with a woman of course, but I have read romance novels on the topic and they do seem to be better lovers, given the similar genitals. I do believe I could eat muff fairly well.”
Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth as a roaring laughter erupted out of the mouth of Eros.
“You wench, you poisoned me with Veritaserum!” She spoke through her teeth carefully, feeling the pull to say more.
“Not quite veritaserum, but something similar. Less potent and only lasts the hour. It was combined with a babble to tell the truth in a more natural manor. Combined with liquor the recipient of this nifty little potion is never the wiser.” She smiled, having spoken too much as well under the potion.
“Who…?” She turned to Harold. “Harold, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Hermes love.” He smiled.
“Why do you have a vial of this Veritaserium on your person.” She saw a smirk from Malfoy across the table.
“Oh, smart girl.” He laughed. “Quite often, we have individuals visit the club that, lets say, I would like certain information from. Eros is told to slip a small drop into their drinks and then they are welcomed into the VIW seating for a personal drink with me. A well placed question and they babble on for the entire hour.”
“What tricky business.” Hermione noted to herself.
“It’s only business.” Harold nodded.
They went back and forth for nearly half the hour trading small nothings of babbling information. Nott admitted to cheating on tests in school, Malfoy admitted to quite enjoy cuddling, which was obviously not news to Nott but left Eros in riotous laughter. Harold was involved in a bit of black market dealings and had a husband and girlfriend who no one had ever met, but apparently they were happy and reveling in their own business ventures. Eros admitted to wanting to sleep with everyone, including Harold who was right chuffed at the offer, but ultimately refused.
Hermione’s cheeks were sore with laughter. Nott and Malfoy seemed more comfortable with the game in place.
“I have one for you, Hermes.” Eros said while swishing her wand in the air and quietly saying a spell which sent the large bottle of Ogdens from the bar towards them. It landed roughly in her hands before she refilled each glass and sent them slowly sliding back to each person. “When was the last time you were turned on so hard you couldn’t control yourself.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Hermione remembered a few months ago when she had a one-night stand with the lovely Viktor Krum, who had found himself back in Wizarding London due to a Quiddich match. Surprisingly gently for such a large man. “Only a few hours ago when I was dancing. I laid myself on my back and Malfoy reached those delectable fingers through the bars and wrapped them around my throat. I nearly wet my knickers right there.”
Silence filled the club.
Thats not what she had planned to say.
“Oh, how interesting. Do tell us more.” Eros grin widened like the Cheshire Cat.
Malfoy looked near mortified and Nott…Nott had an odd look on his face.
“Yes, Draco Dear. Please tell us more.” Nott leaned back in his seat, prompting Malfoy to speak. He cleared his throat and straightened his shirt, which Hermione noticed was a black oxford with the top two buttons undone, causing Hermione to nearly swallow her tongue in desire.
“Yes, it was clearly a misunderstanding.” Malfoy started but it seemed the more he spoke the more the veritaserum took hold. “I simply saw her dancing there in the center of the club in Slytherin green, that small skirt and that curly hair I’d always imagined gripping into the base of and I thought. I’ll never have her, I may as well scare her a bit, touch her and see the fear in her eyes so I can ignore every slice of desire that woman sends me. But the closer I got, the more lovely she looked, If I didn’t know her lineage I would have sworn she was part veela with how deeply she entranced me. She flipped herself over and I gripped her neck, hoping she would look scared, or frightened but she moaned. I felt it through my palm and though I didn’t hear the sound I find myself hard with thoughts of how exactly it sounded.”
A flush that rivaled Gryffindor red came over Malfoys cheeks as he realized what he had slipped out.
“I saw you as well, Granger. Dare I say, green is your color.” Was all Nott said. Hermione though he would have hit Malfoy, yelled at him at the very least for not only lusting after someone else, but outright touching them. He didn’t, he laced his fingers into Malfoys and brought the back of his hand up to his own mouth, placing a smoldering kiss to his knuckles.
“I think our work here is done.” Eros stood and brushed herself off. “Harold, would you escort me to the Floo.”
“Of course, Darling. Hermes, it you would set the wards when you leave.” He stood and slid his arm into Eros’ elbow. As they walked around the corner and out of sight Hermione could make out the tail end of their conversation. “Now, if you think you’re getting in my knickers just because I’m walking you home, you’ll be sorely mistaken.”