Chapter 1: Club Rouge

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, I wouldn't be living where I'm living rite now, lolz. The characters are Ms. Rowlings, the title's a song from the band the Verve; it's that song at the end of Cruel Intentions, the clothes are branded, and the plot's mine. This is the revised version of the first chapter, but there aren't many differences. Just some details added here and there. Enjoy.

The pretty brunette took one last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out with her 4-inch manolos. She smiled at the red headed girl walking towards her, and tossed her silky brown hair back, managing to wink at the guy behind her who had been staring at her for the past half hour.

"Ginny! You look sooo gorgeous!"

The red head laughed. It was true. She was no longer the just Ron's cute little sister. She had grown up, and filled out quite nicely. Tall and skinny, with boobs that almost looked fake and an ass to die for, she was hot enough to be a model. In fact, she had posed for some muggle magazines over the summer to earn some spending money.

"You're pretty hot yourself Hermione!" Ginny said to the brunette.

Hermione's hair had grown out to be less rebellious, and all the chemicals that she didn't put in her hair paid off. It was now soft and wavy, and very shiny. That's not the only thing that changed about her however. Like Ginny, she had curves to die for, and with her full lips and straight teeth, she was what every guy wanted but couldn't have.

"ya ready?" Hermione asked.

"Yup, you have all the juice?"

"Yeah huh."

Ginny smiled her now famous smile, "lets go then."

They hopped in to Hermione's light blue jaguar and drove off.

Ginny and Hermione arrived at the Hilton hotel in London at 7 o'clock in the evening. They proceeded up to their room to change for going out. However, they took an hour to relax. Room service was ordered, and piles of food was sent up. They also had their own stash of alcohol.

"Hermione! Stop smoking! I don't think they even let you smoke in here." Ginny said before taking a sip of her Skyy and took a bite of her cheery cheesecake.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "They let you do anything here if you have the money, now pass the burrito. And what do you want to watch, Honey or the classic, Bring It On?"

"Haha, Bring it On"

They passed the next three hours by laughing at the movie, eating, and getting ready. By 10pm, they were ready.

Ginny changed out of her chiffon top and white capris into a Gucci black silk macramé drape dress (A/N. Gucci women's spring summer collection #33, page 6) with strappy gold sandals. Since her dad became the mister of magic, the Weasley family didn't have to worry about money anymore, and Ginny's modeling jobs paid good enough to keep her in designer clothes. And with Voldmort and his supporters dead, she could go out and party to her hearts content.

Hermione took off her jean skirt and black tank to wear an YSL Gold silk Taffeta Bustier dress (A/N. for anyone interested, google ysl, it's #28 in the woman s/s 05 collection) with matching shoes. Her money was the fortune left to her by her parents, who were killed by Voldmort's supporters before they were wiped out. The money left by her parent's made sure the in the event of their death, she would want for nothing, except them. Their death, as well as the war matured and hardened Hermione, and unlike the trusting, eager to please girl she once was, she became cynical, disbelieving, and didn't open up to strangers. In fact, she rarely opened up to her friends. Her once liquid brown eyes became hardened from all that she saw during the war, and all the people she lost.

The two girls set off for the trendy Club Rouge.

Draco Malfoy was pissed. He always got pissed these days, it was better then relieving his involvement in his father's death. True, he hated the man with a passion. Lucious was the reason he didn't have a childhood, but he was still his father, and it's kind of hard to live with yourself when you dad was killed based on the information you gave to the Order. It didn't matter that it was done for the greater good of the magic community. He helped kill his own father. What kind of person does that make him?

"Yyyoo..youu.. your shirt sir!" the Malfoy house elf stuttered, hiding behind the silk shirt.

Draco looked over, took a minute to understand what he was looking at, and grumbled a thank and a dismissal. The house elf quickly ran away, glad of his good fortune of not getting yelled at.

Draco sighned, and sat up on the couch. He pulled on a pair of creased black pants, and put the black silk shirt the house elf bought on. He looked in the mirror at his reflection.

"Man I look like shit." He rubbed his blood shot eyes, then took his wand and muttered a spell to get rid of it. Then he smirked the trademark Malfoy smirk. "yupp.. I've still got it,"

His gaze then fell on the silver gothic sun necklace around his neck, and he rubbed it. It was given to him by Pansy his last birthday. Contrary to popular belief, Pansy was not a bitch, and they weren't going out. She was on of his best friends, who's been with him through it all, and he frowned wondering how she was. He hasn't heard from her for a while.

Draco grabbed a quill, a piece of parchment, and wrote,

Pansy,

Haven't heard from you in a while, just wondering how you

are. You wanna get together later?

Miss you,

Love, Draco

Satisfied with what he wrote, he rolled the parchment up and gave it to his owl, along with a treat. His own, Prince, nibbled his finger lightly and flew off into the darkness. With one last look in the mirror, Draco finished his fire whisky and left for Blaise Zambini's house.

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"Hey mate! Just give me a sec okay?" Blaise screamed from his bathroom.

Draco sat down on the chair and looked around the room where he spend more time then his own room. It was the first place where he tried drinking, the first place he ever saw porn. He smiled at that memory. Man, were they fascinated by it.

"you man, what you smiling at?" Blaise jokingly punched Draco's arm, "woww… how many drinks have you had today? You smell worse then a seedy bar! Put on some clone man," he said, throwing the colone bottle at Draco.

Draco caught it effortlessly, and sprayed himself halfheartedly. For a brief moment, he wondered if drinking it would make him drunk. He shook himself, set the bottle of Armani Black Code down on the French end table, and stood up.

"Let's go man."

A/N: Please R&R guys, it'd mean a lot to me . This is my first story; so let me know if I'm doing okay. In case of any confusion, Skyy is a vodka, juice is slang for alcohol, and Club Rouge is a real club in London, England. Thanks for reading guys. Muahz! D