AN: This is just a quick drabble, to see if anyone likes where the story is going. I had this idea when I was thinking of Eyes Wide Shut, and thought this would be an interesting situation to throw Hermione and Lucius into. It may be too fast paced, too out of character, and just too easy, but I really just wanted to start off with a bang. It may or may not be a slow burn fic, but I'll leave that up to the reviews I get. Think of this as an exploratory chapter, and let me know what you think, and I'll decide if I want to run with it.
The black parchment clutched in her hands had been there for almost five minutes. Her slender fingers shook as she ran them over the back of the envelope, over the wax seal that stood out against the stark color of the parchment. Inlaid in gold was a naked, winged man, Greek in style, who Hermione recognized as one of the Erotes, the gods of love and sexual desire. Had she really gotten this far? Was this really happening?
She knew she should throw the envelope into the fireplace of her vast Diagon Alley flat, but something stayed her hand. After all, she'd felt the urge to get herself this far, why stop now?
Holding her breath, the cracked the seal, and opened the letter. On the black parchment, written in gold, were a very few choicely scrawled words:
9 PM
Tonight
Cameron House, Loch Lomond
Scotland
Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. She had an hour to change her mind. And maybe that was why the group sent the location out so late—so people had less time to back out. But maybe she was projecting her own fears.
And what had brought her to this point? Had life with Ron not been satisfying? She had lied to herself for years and said that yes, Ron was enough. Ron and she had been through hell together, and they were going to grow old together. But all of that had changed when he drunkenly slept with Romilda Vane. And Padme Patil. And even Pansy Parkinson.
The last one had been enough for Hermione to boot him out of her flat for good. She had been naïve enough to forgive him for Romilda and Padme. At least they weren't the fanatical Slytherin type who thought people like Hermione were filthy. (Moodblood, her mind projected, and quickly she stuffed the thought back down in her mind, chastising herself for allowing the word to surface.)
Ron begged and pleaded, but with the support of Ginny, Luna, and even Harry (though he still remained friends with Ron), Hermione bucked up the courage and set out on her own.
And there she was, at age twenty-one, most of her friends already married with children on the way, and she was on a list of people who met regularly for clandestine sexual encounters.
Orgies, if she was being brutally honest with herself. The word made her scrunch her face up in mortification. Why had she let Parvati talk her into this? Her fellow Gryffindor classmate had been on the list for six months. Parvati joyfully rejected the standard in the Wizarding community of the United Kingdom that by the time you were twenty-one, you should be at least engaged to someone. Merlin forbid you be single, and daresay open to more than one sexual partner.
So, with the stigma of monogamy, chastity and prudence permeating Wizarding society, the Erotes Society had been meeting for years. How long, Hermione had no idea. This wasn't exactly in her line of studies. She suspected there were a tome or two out there in someone's private library that gave a definitive history on the community. But as an upwardly mobile employee in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, everything in Hermione's body screamed at her. This could not be legal. Could it? She certainly had never encountered any laws saying otherwise.
But her career could be seriously jeopardized by being found out, being seen in this society. That was enough for Hermione. She shook her head, and began tearing up the letter into smaller pieces, and as she cocked her hand back to chuck them into the fire, it blazed green with Floo fire, and Hermione stepped back in shock, clutching the wand that rested in her robes.
Out of her fireplace stepped a robed, dark haired girl with a wry expression on her face. She too held an opened, black envelope. She tutted her disapproval when she saw the torn pieces of parchment in Hermione's hand.
"I knew it," Parvati said, snatching the pieces from Hermione's hand, and tossing them into the fire for her. "I told you I'm making you go," she said, holding her own, un-torn letter in the air.
"Parvati, this is stupid," Hermione said, turning away, and sitting on her plush, flax colored couch that stood out against the dark, hard wood floors. "This is desperate, it's…"
"It's not desperate," Parvati said, walking to stand in front of her friend. "It's fun. It's sex. That's it."
Hermione's face was impassive. Parvati sat next to Hermione, her black robes still drawn tightly around her. She reached out, and placed a hand on Hermione's knee, allowing Hermione a small peek below—Parvati leg was completely bare under the cloak.
"Muggles don't live like we do. They're more… free about this kind of stuff," she said, shaking her head, and took her hand back to readjust her robe. "This group, Hermione, it's been meeting for years. And if it were so bad, do you think it wouldn't have been exposed years ago? It's just… you're young, you're free of Ron—"
Hermione shot Parvati an incredulous look.
"Ok, ok," Parvati conceded. "Not free from him, but… free to explore yourself, your life. Your sexuality. Hermione, seeing you that way after Ron left, it was heartbreaking."
"I just don't think this is the answer," Hermione said, her face flushing with the thought of a stranger's hands on her, while at the same time bristling at the thought of someone else's hands on Ron.
"It may not be the answer to your problem in the long run. But I think you should try it once. Then make up your mind." Parvati considered Hermione a moment. "Do you have a problem with this? I mean, from a personal standpoint? Or is it just the fear of what others expect of you?"
Hermione chewed her lip a moment, and admitted in defeat, "the latter."
Parvati's face lit up. "There! Then let's get you dressed."
"Dressed?" Hermione asked, her voice filling with concern.
"Yes, dummy, dressed." Parvati stood, and opened her robe to reveal black lingerie sumptuously wrapped around her brown skin. "You can't go there in your Muggle clothes. Or pretty much any clothes at all," she added with a wicked grin.
"Parvati, I don't…" Hermione said, her face now completely hot. "I don't have that kind of stuff."
Parvati began rifling through the interior pockets of her own black robe. "I know. That's why I got you this." Parvati pulled out a mess of straps and lace, and Hermione had no idea what it even was. Certainly not enough to cover her.
"That!?" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the dusty, almost white-pink bits of lace Parvati held.
"It will fit you, I promise. I bewitched it to," Parvati said, eyeing her handiwork. "But I think I do a fairly good job of picking out size, so it may not need it."
Without a word, Parvati shuffled Hermione off the couch, and into her bedroom, where she started to tug at the hemline of her shirt.
"I can dress myself, Parvati," Hermione said, defeatedly.
"Not in this, you can't," Parvati said, holding up the nearly nude-colored undergarments. "Hermione. I lived with you for six years in the dormitories. There's nothing of yours I haven't seen, and I know there's nothing of mine you haven't seen."
With reluctance, Hermione began shucking off pieces of clothing, and rifling through the small pile of lace on her bed. Parvati handed her one piece at a time, and helped her get into the pieces. They all fit her perfectly, not a pinch or pull anywhere, and felt like silk against her skin.
When it was all said and done, and Parvati stepped back to look at her handiwork, she nodded her approval. Hermione's pale skin glowed against the blush lingerie, the bra, the garter, the panties, the nude stockings with the seam up the back.
"This is a bit much, Parvati," Hermione said. "I look ridiculous." She wrapped her arms around her midsection.
"No you don't," Parvati said dismissively, still looking Hermione over. "Now we have to do something about that hair. It's too recognizable if we don't do something about it. We only have about forty-five minutes before we have to Apparate onto the grounds."
Hermione shook her head. "No, I think I'm just going to stay."
Parvati set her mouth in a thin line, and grabbed Hermione's arms firmly. "Hermione, just try it once. I swear… this has been so liberating for me. Once a week, I do this, I get it out of my system, and I come home happy, content. My confidence at work is just through the roof. I won't say this is the only reason, but it helps."
Hermione was still quiet.
"Ok, I know you don't need anonymous sex to give you a confidence boost at work, but think of it this way. You can move on from Ron. In a safe, controlled environment. Everyone's very respectful of boundaries. The second you say no, they back off. It's really just… I don't know, Hermione, it's a very respectful, encouraging environment to be in. It's not as tawdry as I'm sure you think."
Hermione's face softened a bit. Parvati continued, and decided to divulge one secret she kenw. "Neville goes." Hermione's eyes widened. "And you've seen how he's doing in Herbology. The Ministry is about to promote him to the head of the Herbology Research Department. You've seen the change in him. Haven't you ever wondered why he's doing so well?"
Hermione blinked. "Parvati, I don't think I could ever have sex with Neville," she said flatly.
Parvati laughed. "Don't think of it as the person you're having sex with. This is all about pleasure, sex… not about feeling or emotion. I think you'd know Neville if he came up to you, but you can always say no. It's your first time, anyway, someone else is bound to… speak up."
Hermione shook her head. "Fine," she said, and Parvati jumped a little with happiness.
Within the next half hour, Parvati had smoothed Hermione's hair straight so it laid flat across her back in brown cascades, with the help of a half a tub of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Without letting Hermione change her mind, Parvati quickly threw Hermione's cloak on over her, helped her into a pair of nude pumps, and affixed a partial mask to her face before putting the hood over her head.
Parvati extended her hand, and Hermione took it. "Side-along Apparition. So we both show up at the same place, and same time." Parvati nodded assuringly.
With the tell-tale pressing sensation over her entire body, Hermione soon landed steadily on thick, lush grass that was bathed deep emerald in the moonlight. She was back in Scotland, overlooking a lake, and a vast estate that cast its reflection in the pitch-black water.
Other hooded figures were Apparating as well, and paid no mind to Parvati and Hermione. Nothing set them apart. Each of them were clad in dark robes, with partial masks over their eyes. Some talked casually to each other. Clearly, they weren't completely anonymous to each other. Hermione's stomach filled with ice at this thought, but knew that the cult of silence surrounding the Erotes Society was sacred to them. The reason they were able to conduct themselves clandestinely for so long was because they prided themselves on their secrecy.
As if walking in a dream, Hermione barely noticed that her feet had taken her up to the front steps of the castle, and she and Parvati fell in line with the others. They walked down corridors lit with enchanted torches and enchanted chandeliers. The paintings on the wall struck Hermione a moment—they weren't charmed to move like wizarding paintings. They were Muggle paintings.
"Whose house is this?" Hermione asked, Parvati at her side. "These are Muggle paintings."
Parvati smiled. "They choose a different location every time. Sometimes it's the home of a wizard, sometimes it's a vacant Muggle mansion, sometimes it's even a historical site for tourists." Parvati seemed to enjoy this knowledge.
"Every time is a little different. You'll see. But remember—no names tonight, ok?"
And soon she did take notice of what Parvati meant by "you'll see", Hermione's expectations did not match what she saw in the great hall. Witches and wizards, with their hoods drawn, took canapés and drinks served on platters by men in white tuxedos. They talked like they would at any gala, or party, or ball. No one was stripping down, no one was engaging in sex on a floor of wall-to-wall pillows. This wasn't a scene from Caligula's court.
Parvati promptly grabbed two glasses of champagne off a silver platter that was passing by, and handed one to Hermione.
"Drink this one fast, and the rest of them slowly. We've got to get you to a baseline of calm," she said, taking a sip of her own.
Hermione didn't need telling twice. She took two generous gulps in one go. She was about to ask about the wait staff when a man in a robe approached Parvati. His skin was even darker than Parvati's, nearly chocolate, and his pouty lips gave him away immediately.
He sauntered up to Parvati, and wrapped his hands around her robed waist, kissing her neck possessively. Parvati smiled at this gesture, and pulled back to look at who Hermione knew to be Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin classmate who had chummed up with Draco Malfoy all those years.
Hermione's stomach turned. How could Parvati allow herself to be touched by him?
"My nymph," he said, pulling back, and looking her over. "Might I be so lucky as to have you tonight?"
Parvati gave a smile that played only at the corners of her mouth. "Apollo, dear, you know that it's far too early for me to say yes or no." She sighed. "That would make it, what, three in a row? Where is the fairness in that?"
Blaise, or rather Apollo, chuckled, and drew himself down to kiss Parvati lightly on the lips. "One way or another, little nymph." He turned his attention to Hermione. Her heart rate quickened, and she hoped she would not be immediately recognized with her sleek hair under her hood, and her partial mask covering her eyes.
"I was wondering when you'd bring someone in," he said. His eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at what he could see of Hermione. "Does she have a name yet?"
Parvati shook her head. "She will tonight. Have you seen him?"
Hermione's mind raced. Him who?
Blaise shook his head. "I'll find him and tell him we have a Naming tonight."
Parvati nodded in understanding, and Blaise left quickly, weaving through the crowd and disappearing.
"Par—What haven't you told me about this? Naming? I thought there weren't supposed to be any names." Hermione thought seriously of breaking for the door.
"Hermione, no one uses a real name, but we have pseudonyms. Blaise," she lowered her voice, so none would hear, "is Apollo. I'm Nymph. You'll get a name too, tonight, and one of the council will offer himself to you. You can decline, but they're meant to welcome the newcomers. They can guide you through the first time."
"I don't need guiding, I've had a first time," Hermione hissed.
"Not like this," Parvati said seriously. "They need to teach you rules, boundaries, and they need to help you integrate into the group. But like I said—consent is huge here. Nothing happens that you don't want to."
Hermione swallowed the lump that had been growing in her throat. She'd come this far. She plotted the exits, but knew there were too many wizards and witches to make her way around without making too much of a scene.
"What's a Naming… like?" Hermione asked.
Parvati sighed and smiled. "They'll ask you some questions. The leader will choose your name. And one of the council will make an offer, and you'll accept, or if you deny, then another will offer, and so on and so forth. It was amazing, really." Parvati's wistful look on her face reassured Hermione.
"Do you know who your… first… was?"
Parvati drank the rest of her champagne, and lifted Hermione's up to her mouth so she would finish. As Hermione drank, Parvati spoke. "I'm really not supposed to say." She was silent a moment. "Lupin," she said, so low Hermione thought she'd imagined it.
"Wh—" Hermione sputtered. "Rem—He's in Erotes? But Nym…" Hermione struggled not to use their names. "He's married! How could he?"
Parvati smiled and shrugged. "His wife's in the council too," she said. "They're that type of couple."
"Are there any other couples who do this?"
Parvati nodded. "Or who did. The leader's divorce caused a little… static in the group. His wife wanted to keep coming, staying on as a council member, but a unanimous vote ousted her from the upper ranks, and she's been absent ever since."
"That hardly seems fair," Hermione said, grabbing another glass of champagne as a tuxedoed waiter passed her.
Parvati grabbed her own, and looked around the crowd to see if anyone was listening in. All of them were too engrossed in their own conversations to take notice.
"It is when you compromise the secrecy of the Society, and when your extra-marital activities go beyond Saturday nights," her words hung in the air, weighted with meaning. "Lots of taboos in the Wizarding community don't exist here, but this Society isn't supposed to affect your normal life. It's not supposed to change how you interact in the Wizarding world."
Hermione mulled this over a moment. She was starting to understand that though the Society had liberal views on sexuality, they seemed to adhere to a sort of code of conduct, which Hermione could understand in a way.
"Do you know who the Leader is?" Hermione asked, and before Parvati had a chance to answer, a loud knocking noise interrupted her, causing the murmur of conversation to die down, and all grew silent. The gilded double door opposite the hall, nearly eighteen feet tall, opened, and in walked a cadre of hooded figures, their white half-masks intricately detailed, reminding Hermione of the masks of the eighteenth century French court.
Hermione's stomach hitched when she saw who she assumed was the Leader, dressed in his matching black robe, but his mask was black, in contrast to the white masks the council wore.
They came to the center of the room, where a mosaic, red and gold marble tile circle stood out against the white marble floor of the rest of the hall. The members of the society all took their cue, and backed off of the circle, giving enough room for the council to form a half-circle behind the Leader.
"There is a newcomer amongst us tonight," his voice rang out, clear and cold. That voice was like a cold hand gripping her heart. She knew that voice, but she didn't want to believe it was who she thought it was. "Come forward."
Parvati straightened up, and put her hand on Hermione's back, leading her forward. When they got to the edge of the circle, one of the society members grabbed the glasses of champagne that both the girls were holding. Parvati stopped at the border, and pushed Hermione forward. She nearly stumbled, her legs turning to jelly, and her heels hindering her walking. The leader held his and out, and beckoned her forward.
Hermione's heart pounded in her ears, and she came to stand at arm's length from the Leader. He began circling her like a predator. All were silent.
"Who speaks for you here?" he asked.
Hermione heard Parvati's voice. "I do," she said, drawing the Leader's attention a moment.
"Nymph has brought us a new member. Tell us," he stopped in front of Hermione and looked down at her, a full head shorter than he was, "Why are you here, girl?"
"I…" Hermione stammered. She had no idea. Why was she here? For a moment, Ron's infidelity fled her mind, and she thought about Disapparating right then and there, but something inside her stayed her hand. The sight of Ron between Padme's legs, the sight of Ron pressing Romilda against a wall, and the sight of Pansy kneeling before a seated Ron made her blood boil.
"I'm tired of feeling the way I do," Hermione said.
The Leader stopped his circling a moment, and paused at Hermione's back. "Go on," he purred.
"I'm tired of feeling unwanted. I'm tired of infidelity. I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough." Hermione's composure nearly failed, but she refused to break down in front of all of these masked witches and wizards, some of whom she knew she may be sleeping with soon enough.
"You're tired of not feeling like you have any power over your own life. Your own body," the Leader stated, rounding on Hermione, stopping in front of her, barely inches from her. He said this so low that only the two of them heard it.
Hermione's heart rate picked up. She was sure now she knew who he was. Why wasn't she running? She felt so stupid—Blaise was here, of course there were other Slytherins. But she hadn't expected a former Death Eater. Still, her truth laid bare in front of all the others stayed her hand.
"Yes," she said. He smiled wickedly, and drew his hands up to the fasten of her cloak. Hermione flinched away from his touch. His steel blue eyes shone through his mask, challenging her.
"This is how it's done, love," he said, too familiar in Hermione's opinion. "We've all done it."
When he found no more protest, he unclasped her cloak, which fell to the floor, exposing her slender frame in her nude lace lingerie.
He backed up from Hermione, and continued his circle around her, looking at every inch of her exposed flesh. Hermione expected jeers or some kind of reaction from the crowd, but they stayed respectfully quiet.
He backed up, and addressed the crowd. "Should we accept this new pledge?"
A murmur of assent from the crowd broke the silence.
"Very well," he said, and stood behind her, his hand making contact with her waist. "I name this pledge Persephone."
Yet another murmur came from the crowd, and Hermione looked around her to see hooded figures talking quietly to themselves. Some of them smiled, some of them gaped. What would her name matter?
The Leader spoke over the crowd. "Persephone needs a tutor in our ways. Who will volunteer?"
Hermione listened a moment for someone to speak up. But none did. Her heart hammered—why were they silent? What would happen if no one would speak for her? Did that mean she would have to leave?
"None shall take this pledge?" His voice sounded playful, taunting almost. Hermione was missing something, she knew in her core.
"Then I shall take this pledge, unless there are any objections," he said, pausing so briefly, Hermione was sure he already knew there would be none.
With her mouth agape, the Leader took Hermione's hand, and addressed the crowd. "The night is yours," he said, and they all began to mingle, finding partners for the evening. Hermione watched as pairs of two, three, and even a few pairs of four, walked off in different directions, and began disappearing through hallways and doors to the many private quarters that peppered the great estate.
Hermione looked around for Parvati, but could not pick her out from the crowd of black robes. She felt a sense of panic as the Leader's broad hand gripped hers firmly but gently, and began to tug her back to his attention.
"Now, Persephone, let's get you to someplace more comfortable than this cold hall," he said, and without waiting for her reply, he pulled her along with him, up a winding flight of stairs and down a long corridor.
When her senses came back to her, Hermione yanked her hand from the enigmatic Leader's, and she shot him a dangerous look. "I'll go nowhere with you."
"But my dear Persephone, you don't even know me, how can you object already," he said, tauntingly.
"I know who you are under that mask," she said, drawing her arms around her bare waist. "I would rather sleep with a chimera."
He closed the distance between them, his footsteps echoing on the stone floor of the hall, and placed his hands on her upper arms, and held her firmly.
"Who I am under this mask means nothing. None has spoken for you, so you are mine for the night. You've been given a name, and now you're one of us."
Hermione stayed put. She shook so much, she was sure her anger was coming off her in waves.
"I am not yours, Malfoy," she said, spitting his name at him, knowing she was breaking a rule. This seemed to enliven him, and he pulled her to him quickly, cutting her off with his lips pressed against her. With her arms crossed around her waist, Hermione had difficulty resisting him, but resist she did. But in her resistance, she still was struck by how warm, soft and exploratory his kiss was.
A spark within her enjoyed it, and it disgusted her.
"No names, dear, or I am afraid I'll have to start your education with a hard lesson."
"I thought consent was big here," Hermione spat.
Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "Oh it is, dear. This is an education you'll be begging for."
The two were at an impasse.
Malfoy leaned down and crooned into her ear. "Forget who I am under this mask. Forget the horrible things I've done—I assure you, I know they are horrible—and let me show you how to appreciate your body. That's what you're here for, isn't it? No one is going to force you." Lucius backed up from Hermione, lowered his hood so his mane of white hair showed, and walked backwards towards the room at the end of the hall.
Hermione looked at the self-assured former Death Eater, and a sickness in the pit of her stomach grew. It felt almost as if she were looking in on herself from the outside and couldn't recognize who she was, standing there nearly naked in lingerie that probably cost a thousand pounds in total, if she converted galleons to Muggle money.
It was enough to snap Hermione back to her senses. She wanted freedom from her pain at losing Ron, but not like this. Not by crawling into bed with a snake.
"I want nothing to do with you people," she said, and started walking down the hallway, ready to Disapparate when she reached the grounds.
Hermione could practically see his smile in his voice as he called out to her back, "You're one of us now," he called. "It's not that easy. When you're ready, though, Persephone, I'll be waiting."
Hermione kicked off her nude pumps, and snapped them up under her arm. She ran through the great hall, and snatched her cloak as she ran, Disapparating the second her feet touched the grass. After she reached her flat, she threw her shoes and cloak to the ground and stormed off to her bedroom, where she stood shaking and clenching her fists for thirty straight minutes.
She wasn't sure what she was angry at. Lucius Malfoy, for offering to be her first within the Society, or herself, and for wanting it just a little bit.