Another day, another dollar quite literally. Hermione was sitting before a mirror backstage feeling the low thud of bass blasting in the club. Rouge coloured lips and black lined eyes reflected back at her as she attempted to settle her thoughts. She was barely twenty-two and had experienced enough tragedy for someone more than twice her age. After the Second Wizarding War, Hermione had lost too much to remain a part of magical Britain. Everyone from Daily Prophet reporters to old Hogwarts friends to complete strangers were desperate for every detail that dredged up all the memories she wished so desperately to forget. She empathized with Harry more completely than she ever had previously; never had she experienced something so emotionally draining. Several months following Voldemort's downfall, she retreated to muggle London in an attempt to forget everything, forfeiting the relationships with every witch and wizard she had ever known. She always planned to return one day, but she never really considered how much time away she would need.
Less than a year after her disappearance from the wizarding world, both of her parents were killed when another car hit theirs head on. The once cautious witch quickly burned through her parents' savings trying to drown her grief in alcohol and Norco. When she tried to return to the real world, she was met with the harsh reality of no muggle education or marketable skills, though her aversion to the wizarding world remained poignant. Her need to make ends meet and assuage her new found addiction led her to her current occupation of the past year. She had considered using magic to forge the necessary documents for a reputable job, but the legal repercussions were harsh if the Ministry of Magic ever got wind of it.
She sighed at her reflection, deciding to add a bit more eyeshadow around her false eyelashes. She adjusted her red bikini-like top and stood on black platform heels that added five inches to her height. On her way to the stage, she took a few calming breaths. No matter how many times she danced, she never quite got used to being topless in front of strangers, but the money was better than anything else she was likely to get.
It was just after midnight by the time she took the stage. Saturday nights were their busiest of the week and this night was no exception. She flawlessly went through rehearsed movements, her mind barely registering the 80s metal playing in the background, something about pouring sugar on someone.
Then something caught her eye. She did a double take, refusing to believe what she thought she had seen. When she looked back, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual rowdy boys from the university out for a good time. She sensually rolled her hips in front of them, slowing down to allow them to deposit bills in her garter and the strings tied at her hips.
Following her set on stage, she resumed flirting with the patrons on the floor, offering lap dances and fetching the occasional drink.
"Mia!" Hermione turned round to the bartender who had called for her. Though not terribly creative or especially exotic, Mia was the name Hermione donned while at her job and most of the patrons seemed to believe it was her real name, which was important in her line of work. She approached the bar and offered a small smile to the petite raven-haired girl.
"Hey Rhea, what's up?"
"The gentleman over at table eight ordered a bourbon, neat, and was very adamant that you bring it. Looks like a big spender." Rhea winked and passed Hermione a drink tray. Balancing the circular tray upon her shoulder, Hermione walked over to a small table where one man sat alone. He was certainly not one of the typical college clientèle - he had a quiet regality that permeated the air around him as she approached. When one of the lights moved to land on his features, she damn near dropped his drink.
"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Granger," The blond man before her drawled. "I presume that's my bourbon you're carelessly about to spill?"
"What are you doing here?" Hermione breathed just loud enough to be heard, setting both his drink and the tray upon the table and taking a cautionary step back.
"I was enjoying a stiff drink and scantily clad women, though I thought that rather obvious, Miss Granger. Imagine my surprise to find you...working, if that's what you call it."
"This is muggle London," She whispered back with increased urgency. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"Watching you, but you would be much more intriguing if you were still dancing instead of barraging me with mundane questions." Hermione suddenly caught the eye of her boss staring at her from the bar. She had recently been reprimanded for her lack of "friendliness" towards the guests and knew he was studying her interactions now. She let out a deep breath before replying.
"Nothing's free, not even me, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius withdrew his wallet from the breast pocket of an especially expensive looking muggle blazer and extracted two fifty pound notes. He placed them on the table, eyeing the muggleborn with a barely there smirk. "I assume you have private rooms in this establishment?"
Hermione said nothing, but begrudgingly took the bills and strode toward the back of the club. Lucius grabbed his tumbler of amber liquid and followed close behind. He studied the witch as he trailed her; she was a bit slimmer than he recalled and had a hardness in her eyes and the set of her jaw that wasn't there years before. Down a hallway perpendicular to the bar, Lucius found himself in a darkly lit room with scarlet walls and black furniture. The same music played, but seemed to dull into a lulling rhythm once Hermione shut the door. When she faced him, a scowl was pasted on her features.
"Why are you here?" She demanded. "I haven't spoken to a wizard in over three years."
"Well, I've paid for your time, I'd like to see you work," Lucius drawled then took a sip of his liquor. He remained standing, staring down at the witch who was still shorter than him despite her stripper shoes. "Before you refuse, consider that I can be a very persuasive man, even in muggle London, which may not be in your best interest should I have to discuss your work performance with your superior." Lucius then cast a wandless cleansing charm on the furniture before taking a seat and depositing his drink on the small table next to the sofa. He eyed her expectantly.
Hermione said nothing and approached the older man. Slowly, her hips began to sway to the tacky pop anthem now playing, her hands lightly grazing over her body. He finished off his bourbon before offering commentary.
"I feel rather certain this kind of service doesn't garner much in the way of tips." He again withdrew a fifty pound note, this time leaning forward to place it in the string tied along her hips. "A real performance now if you feel so inclined, I don't care to be any more lenient with my money at the moment."
Hermione stayed mute, but came closer to the Malfoy. Her palms brushed from his chest down to his thighs, all the while her hips maintaining a mesmerising rhythm. She then turned from him, running a hand through her wavy hair as she crouched before him, then rose slowly to display her assets. Once she rose and turned back around, she slowly untied her top, letting it flutter to the floor, never stopping her body's sway to the beat. She sensually made her way onto the man's lap, bringing his hands up to cup her breasts, the coldness never leaving her brown eyes. Lucius could feel his body stirring in response, but merely let his fingers linger where the witch guided them. Eventually, they found themselves resting on the witch's firm arse as she straddled him, her own hands running along her chest.
"What will it take to get you in my bed this evening?" Lucius inquired with a detached quality. He felt a slight recoil before her reply.
"I'm a stripper, not a hooker, Malfoy," Hermione said sharply.
"Nothing comes cheap, but everything has a price, Miss Granger," He said with hands now resting on her hips. "I'm simply asking you to name yours."
"I do believe you're a married man, that makes your proposition particularly inappropriate."
"If you still resided in the wizarding world, you'd be well aware of my very public divorce and all it entailed."
"I'm sure you won't be on the market long then, Malfoy. There are plenty of gold-digging sycophants waiting to assuage your ego."
"And yet I've gone through the difficulty that was locating you. That must inspire some curiosity."
"Yes, because in my experience nothing good follows a Malfoy making an appearance."
"It seems puzzling that you would let my hands rest where they are if you weren't interested." As if to accentuate his point, the blond ran his hands from her hips over her thighs.
"I simply believe in giving a customer what he's paid for." Hermione abruptly rose from Lucius' lap. "Time's up," she added.
"I seriously doubt that," He replied. "But it's just as well; however, you should consider my offer. I'm sure there are accommodations that you'd find rather pleasing in my manor should you agree."
"Oh, less of a prostitute and more of a concubine. Well, isn't that lovely?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, but did not voice his thoughts. "Tell me, why me? Why go through the bother?"
"Half the intrigue was actually locating you, you are rather difficult to find, but to return the leading lady of the golden trio back to magical Britain and have her be on my arm...well, that's a goal worthy of accomplishment."
"But I'm a mudblood, why would you even wish that?"
"True though it may be, your status in the wizarding world nearly negates such poor provenance. Let's just say that I'm diversifying."
"Never before have I met a man with such an articulate way of being an arse."
"I would not refute that," He replied, a sardonic smile playing at his lips. "Good evening, Miss Granger."
Lucius Malfoy had gone by the time the witch returned to her senses. She was overwhelmed by the presence of a wizard, particularly that wizard. Slowly she made her way out of the room back to the main club where she found Rhea tending the bar alone.
"Chris was watching you with that client," She began as she opened two beers for a twenty-something waiting at the bar. "I reckon he's got it out for you." Hermione sighed in reply.
"Tell me something I don't know, yeah?" Rhea did not respond, instead shouting last call while Hermione cleared the bar of empty glasses and rubbish cocktail napkins.
Ten to three the pair were heading towards the brunette's car. Hermione had moved in with Rhea shortly after getting her job, saving her from purchasing her own vehicle. They were halfway home before Rhea broached the topic Hermione was expecting.
"So who is he?" She asked without taking her eyes off the road. "And don't act like you don't know."
"I..." Hermione was unsure what to say to her flatmate. The minion of a dark lord who witnessed her torture at the hands of his sister-in-law didn't seem proper, so instead she replied, "We share a bit of history." Rhea's eyes briefly flashed to her.
"What kind of history? I'll be honest, he doesn't seem like boyfriend material."
"He wasn't...he's not. He's the father of a boy from my year back in school. To put it lightly, we didn't get on very well." Rhea again eyed her from the steering wheel.
"I see. A private dance from your son's schoolmate. Interesting taste."
"That's certainly putting it lightly."
Rhea seemed satisfied with her answers, leaving her to her thoughts once they arrived at the flat. Back in her room, Hermione quickly reached for her narcotics, sighing upon the realization she only had three left. She took them all and any residual emotions dug up by Malfoy were quickly dissipated. As she fell into bed, she felt certain the only redeeming quality of the wizard was he had paid her both generously and in muggle currency.
Hermione's life returned very much back to normal the next day, or at least what was normal for her these days. She breezed through her week in a numbed trance between her pills and wine and haze of her clients at the club, behaving in what her boss considered an appropriate manner. Her work was rudely interrupted again the following Saturday, though, when Lucius returned to watch her dance a second time. And the week after that. And several more following that, each time propositioning her following a private dance.
Hermione considered telling her boss Malfoy was manhandling her in order to have him banned, but he always tipped better than any other patron and she doubted her boss cared much for her safety anyway if it interfered with profits. Each visit she felt her resolve weakening, though. Maybe it was his eyes, so intense and so determined to get what they wanted or the entrancing way he would run his hands over her in the private rooms. Perhaps it was the low timbre of his voice, always daring her to concede to his wishes.
Whatever it was, after two months she agreed. Her body was decorated in a little green number that Lucius found particularly alluring, especially with the addition of her black stilettos accented by silver heels.
"Just say yes, Miss Granger. My patience is enduring, however I'd prefer not drawing out the inevitable."
She was straddling his hips as the words left his lips, his fingertips resting dangerously high on her thighs. She hadn't been with a man in months and here was an admittedly gorgeous one courting her in his own twisted way, but the implications held her to reality.
"Do you actually realize who I am?" She asked, removing herself from Malfoy's lap as her annoyance bubbled to the surface. "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm the mudblood rival of your son. I'm the little muggleborn who helped eradicate the darkest wizard of our time. I'm a witch who gave up everything and now all I've got is a job at a strip club and an escalating pill problem. What can you possibly want with me?"
Lucius made no verbal reply, but rose to his feet to stand before the witch. Her emotions had left her skin flushed and eyes narrowed, but in one swift motion, his lips were on hers. They were strong on her, but not forceful and she found herself responding despite all logical reasoning. As he pulled away from her, she felt suspended in time.
"Just say yes," He breathed into her ear, inches away from her. She inhaled him, a pervasive scent of patchouli and bergamot that seemed to envelope her entire being. Leaning into him she felt the firmness of his chest and simply breathed.
Then she said yes.
So that's the first chapter. Brownie points if you catch the lyrics thinly disguised in it. Also, for anyone who's reading Beer & Chocolate, I did mention this may be released before the next chapter, but hopefully I'll have something up soon for that as well. Also, reviews would be lovely, I'm really unsure about this piece. Cheers.