Stag Party-Dramonine
Hermione does burlesque dancing on the weekends in the muggle world and muggle stag parties have come to be quite in fashion for wizards.
A/N: I don't own anything in the HP Universe.
Four years ago, Hermione was chasing around rumors of horcruxes and fighting for her life. Three years ago she was finishing her last, albeit unnecessary seventh year of Hogwarts. Two years ago, she ended the brief, strained, and awkward relationship with one of her best friends. Between his auror training and her seventh year, Ron and Hermione had been unable to pull it together and they fizzled away from each other. The parting was amiable enough for the hot tempered pair—aside for choice words Hermione took to heart.
Prude. Prime, proper, pretentious—all P-words she was well familiar with—but prude? Surely it was said behind her back; it seemed to fit well with her studious nature. She was however, not a prude…she was just disenchanted with the poor chemistry Ron and her had shared. She had initially attributed the awkwardness to the stages of getting to know each other's preferences but they did not get better—it almost seemed like they got worse.
Ron was never very interested in her satisfaction and that annoyed Hermione. It made her feel distinctly unsexy and in fact, a little prudish. If he wasn't invested in her enjoyment, why should she be invested in his? As was their pattern, their stubborn and obstinate (and admittedly childish) behavior led them astray. So they ended the relationship with muted bitterness.
Two years ago, Hermione and her lackluster sexual experience made her feel distinctly unsexy and played on her insecurities of attractiveness. Conveniently, Viktor Krum was playing in England shortly after Hermione's breakup and it was the first time she had seen him since the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Older and no longer a virgin, there was a much greater attraction than there had been at the Yule ball.
Perhaps it was the voice in the back of her head calling her a prude—the same one that criticized her for studying and behaving too much—that caused Hermione to throw caution to the wind and tumble in the seeker's bed. It was empowering.
Between her job at the ministry and the lack of mental attraction to Krum, Hermione met up with him only for the dalliances of the body. It was a strange balance of friendship and lover but not beloved. He was a good lover—interested in her pleasure—and she took from him as much as she gave back. He taught her sex could be great and she would never forget that. But he was no life partner and she tired of their string of casual sex after three months. They ended it amiably.
No longer seeing Krum and relieving her sexual tension, Hermione yearned for an expression of her new found sexual freedom. She was neither a prude nor a slut. But screaming "I just had sex" at the Ministry seemed entirely inappropriate—she had an image to maintain. Yet that image went out the window when she first walked into the dimly lit dance room with wall length mirrors.
Hermione often dwelled in the Muggle world when she wasn't working or visiting friends. Her apartment was in Muggle London and besides a few specific spells to protect the place (and a few to hide some of her prized possessions), it was more Muggle than Witch. She had reconnected with a few Muggle friends who had introduced her to the workshop.
Burlesque dancing. Erotic dancing. Pole spinning. She loved it all; it was her way of expressing her sensuality. She could be alluring, she could be attractive, she could be enchanting—all in the Muggle world where no one would recognize her as the one of the golden trio. There was also a certain pride at the physical nature of dancing. Hermione was never an athlete but she did enjoy the way her body became lean and toned as she trained and practiced. No one at worked had noticed; the changes were hidden behind her robes and work clothes. Her friends had noticed but she had played it off as a decision to work out at a Muggle gym. Harry understood the concept but Ginny and Ron had scoffed at the idea—it was something wizards simply did not do.
Like everything Hermione liked or made up her mind to learn, she was a quick study. With her new found obsession, she practiced every day after work. Eventually, she was ready to perform. It was just a performance that the class hosted for other students to see. She was initially nervous about performing—it wasn't reciting books or spells—it was so very personal. Fear swallowed in true Gryffindor style she performed…and she loved it. Half a year, several performances later and Hermione was still in love with the hobby. Her love life was still quiet but her work life was just taking off.
Hermione worked tirelessly throughout the day. She had tendencies to skip lunch (so Ron or Harry had taken to eating lunch with her). She created a series of legislations that were used to process, try, and rehabilitate Death Eaters and their supporters. Hermione did a variety of the initial research before Kingsley introduced her new colleague to help with the Pure Blood side of both politics and creating legislation that worked. Her new colleague was Blaise Zabini.
After their initial disagreements and a series of overtimes and fights (when she found that spinning pole and dancing had become ESPECIALLY important in relaxing her stressed nerves) they passed their legislation and began their rehabilitation. With their first successful collaboration they became actual friends. They even ventured out to Muggle London for lunch on occasion-which was how Blaise met one of Hermione's friends.
Claire was tall and beautiful with tan skin and black hair. She had beautiful blue eyes and a wonderful smile. She was also a waitress at the café they days she wasn't attending university. Blaise fell immediately in love. Hermione learned that Zabini men were exceptionally passionate and Slytherins were capable of great love (although Hermione had already come to learn that from Snape). Blaise and Claire were engaged within the year.
All of this led to Hermione's current dilemma. Since the passing of the various measures Blaise and Hermione had pushed to enact, plus the publicity and marketing—and honestly, propaganda—various Muggle things were bleeding over into the Wizarding world. The most recent craze was the introduction of Stag Parties.
Wizards often had something akin to Stag Parties for the bachelor and his mates before the wedding—but it was usually a little more…gentlemanly than the Muggle version. Now wizards would dress up (much more inconspicuous since Hermione's update of Muggle information on culture, thank you very much) and they would go to strip clubs and Muggle bars—and burlesque clubs for the especially wealthy. Which was why Hermione was staring at the group with abject horror.
In the fairly classy Burlesque club,Le Chat Noir, Blaise Zabini and his stag party were sitting front and center in the VIP section waiting for the show to begin. Hermione Granger was standing behind the curtains waiting for the show to begin as well—so she could perform.
Three months ago she had been inspired to try out for a dancer's position on the weekends at the club. She loved performing and the Burlesque club did not show anyone completely naked (although some of the other girls wore less than others). It had added a sense of danger and excitement that Hermione had lacked in her life. But this was too dangerous. On the right side of Blaise was Draco Malfoy of all people! Various other wizards she recognized and what looked to be Claire's brother were also in attendance.
Blaise was most likely to recognize her—they did spend a lot of time together. Hermione had never met Claire's brother in person and Draco…well…Hermione blushed as the adrenaline sprung up in her veins. This excitement! Getting away with being overtly sexual and sensuous before Draco Malfoy, of all people, was a new kind of thrill.
Draco had interrupted Blaise and Hermione several times to pull Blaise away for lunch or a pint—it was amazing that Harry or Ron had never happened upon them at the same time. While Draco did not stay long to chat, he was always strangely reticent since his court mandated rehabilitation and Hermione was curious to see how he had adjusted. Apparently he was doing quite well to be attending a performance at a muggle establishment.
With another look at the blond who sipped at his drink languidly, Hermione's mind was made up. The club was relying on her, after all, and she had developed a certain spell she had wanted to try. Hermione subtlety pulled out her wand from her bag in the dressing room. A quick wave and mutter and she cast her spell—a variant of the notice-me-not and confundus spell. She called it the "Je ne sais quoi" spell and activated when someone recognized her as Hermione Granger. Instead of making the actual connection, however, it just left the person feeling that there was something about that person that they couldn't put their finger on—a certain je ne sais quoi about them. Hermione theorized that it could be overpowered by willpower if you knew what to look for but Hermione had a feeling no one would look at her and see Hermione Granger.
Hermione took one peek at the mirror before rushing to her spot behind the curtains. Hermione had long black hair with bangs and dark eye shadow that was smudged and thick and made her feel dangerous. They'd never recognize her under the make-up and without her curls.
The music began and Hermione closed her eyes, exhaling. This was her stage. Here, she was no longer Hermione Granger—ministry worker, golden girl, prude. Here, she was Rose Noir and nobody had any clue what she could do.
Draco pouted at the table as he sipped slowly on his muggle drink. It seemed dull compared to fire whiskey, but Draco had not come to get pissed drunk anyway. He wasn't there because he wanted to be either. He scowled at Blaise who was chatting with his future brother-in-law, the muggle.
Blaise had always been on the cusp of the dark lord's movements and his family was not of English lineage. While Voldemort had sought pure bloods of every type, he preferred the traditional nobility and Blaise had been spared the inner circle. Being removed let Kingsley offer Blaise a position as a pseudo-diplomat/point of contact for the transitioning pure bloods and Voldemort sympathizers. Blaise accepted readily—even though it meant working with Granger.
Draco had laughed for ages the first time Blaise floo'd to his apartment to lament his fate—they had had their first major disagreement with the legislation they had passed and it apparently had become quite the verbal disagreement. Eventually however, Blaise's comments about Granger become less heated and more, dare he say, friendly. When they had finished the D.E.R.P. (Death Eater Rehabilitation and Persecution) bill and it passed successful, Granger and Blaise had officially become friends.
Draco saw her occasionally. He had various "meetings" with Blaise for his own rehabilitation, but they were really just lunches to make sure Draco was doing well. Draco's mother had received leniency from Potter's rousing speech and shortly after Granger vouched for his mother and Draco himself. She argued that they were under threat and yet the still attempted to deflect the inquiries of their identity. No one dared to contradict the two and the Malfoys entered their rehabilitation stage.
Draco never forgot the service Granger gave to his family—a family that had tortured and nearly killed her where they used to dine for supper. She may have been able to move on but Draco still saw her convulsing in his dreams. When he started meeting Blaise at his office, he always looked at Hermione, yearning to apologize and thank her—but all he could manage was a nod of acknowledgement.
Then Blaise and Granger's friendship allowed Blaise to meet his finance, Claire and the rest was history. Now they were in muggle London, waiting for some trollops to cause question to Blaise's fidelity. Draco stared irritated at Blaise. Blaise finally noticed and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"Yes, Draco?" Blaise smirked. Draco scowled.
"I could've been drinking fire whiskey in the parlor instead of hogwash in a whore house." Draco said icily.
"Come now, Draco. This is a fine mu-modern tradition." Blaise said as he caught himself in the sentence. Draco opened his mouth to retort when the lights flickered above him. They began to circle around before unifying their beams to focus on the stage.
" Welcome, fine patrons for a night of delights—featuring the kittens of Le Chat Noir." A voice announced before music began and the curtains slowly opened. Draco stared dispassionately at the stage as several girls emerged, hips bouncing on rhythm. Their backs were facing the crowd as they took a few steps forward, still bouncing, in short skirts and small tops. They spun suddenly to face the crowd. Draco's eyes dragged lazily amongst the faces as the girls.
-Boy, I will be your sexy silk.
Wrap me around 'round, 'round.
Draco's eyes rose in surprise as the girls gyrated their hips in a circular motion. Witches certainly did not dance like that—at least the ones he knew.
-I'll be your pussy cat drinking your milk right
down, down, down
The girls moved lower until they were on their knees and Draco watched, mouth parting slightly, as they rolled their bodies from the floor. The side view of the girls emphasized the roll and the slim figures of the females before him.
-A kiss could last all night,
You'll have to seduce me, nibble and bite.
They were crawling. Merlin, they were crawling and hips were thrusting, and hair was flipping, and Draco had never seen anything like those movements in his life. Then he spotted her and he was enchanted. She had pale skin, kohl around her eyes, and long black hair. He watched in slow motion as she tossed it, rolling her hips as she slowly moved her gaze towards him. Merlin, she was so familiar and so incredibly seductive—he was enchanted.
Draco wasn't sure what drew his eyes to her but the world had faded away as he watched her dance. He tried to figure out who it was the woman reminded him of and why she was so appealing. Their eyes met and Draco felt his mouth go dry—the look in her eyes was powerful, confident, and heady. Draco was so enthralled that he didn't notice the song had ended until she turned away. He could see her heaving chest as she smiled at the crowd. Draco joined the applause, dumbstruck, until she left the stage.
"Far classier than a whore house, eh?" The dark haired man beside Blaise commented with a smirk.
"Claire is still better than any of these ladies, Darren." Blaise commented, nowhere near as affected by the new experience as Draco. The Darren bloke noticed.
"Your friend seems to like it here." Draco snapped out of his stupor, locking eyes as an arrogant smirk appeared on his face as an instinctive defense.
"Classy is not how I'd describe it." Draco said condescendingly. Darren shrugged.
"Nothing wrong with watching pretty birds do some pretty moves. Just remember that you can tip the girls but you don't tip them publically—you have to go through the host."Darren turned away to talk to another stag party attendee and Draco turned to Blaise.
"There is something about the black haired girl—I don't know what." Draco admitted. Blaise looked amused.
"She's attractive and dances erotically?" Blaise ventured.
"Something else…I feel like I recognize her…" Blaise nearly snorted.
"You hardly ever venture out to the muggle world, Draco. I doubt that you happened to find the one who would be a dancer here tonight." Blaise said skeptically. They were interrupted by a waitress bringing out another muggle drink. Darren came over and instigated a round of shots that Draco also threw back. Several dancers returned to the stage in group or single dances but he had not seen the black haired girl again.
Behind the curtain, Hermione giggled to herself. It had been difficult at first to see Draco but now she would never forget how he looked when he watched her. Ignoring the heated flush she felt inside, she remembered his slack jaw and wide eyes—he hadn't even guessed it was her!
Hermione watched from the side of the stage as the stag party watched some of the other dancers. Draco no longer seemed as flabbergasted at the dancing, although he raised an eyebrow in disdain at some of the more scantily clad ladies and their tassels. She laughed when she looked at Blaise; he was completely unaffected and she smiled knowing that Claire would be getting a very dedicated man.
Hermione went back into the dressing room when the boys were taking another round of shots. Hermione wondered if the wizards would realize how potent muggle alcohol could be. Inside the dressing room Hermione put on her outfit as the speaker announced intermission; they needed it to put up the pole for her routine. Hair fixed, make up fixed, and a calming breath, then Hermione was out the door.
How many shots had Draco had? He couldn't remember. Darren had been pouring them down Blaise's throat but the only indicator that Blaise was affected was the slight glaze in his eyes that Draco recognized as being wasted. Darren looked disappointed. Draco was much more affected than he thought he would be. Fire whiskey burned and heated the body in a way this alcohol did not; it was difficult for him to realize how much he had consumed without that particular burn. While he was confident that he could stand without falling, Draco was sure that world was slightly swaying.
The music was beginning again and the lights were not as harsh as they had been before. In the dimmer light Draco noticed a pole in the middle of the stage for seemingly no reason. The curtains were opening only enough to form an arch way and Draco's breath caught as he noticed her through his blurry haze.
"Blaise." Draco said, cursing mentally as it came out slow, belaying his intoxication. Blaise turned his way none the less. "Her." He whispered and Blaise turned towards the stage where the woman was sauntering and approaching the pole. The song was slow and the black haired dancer grasped the pole.
-I left my girl back home,
I don't love her no more.
She was scantily clad—what looked like knickers and a bra. She was swirling her hips as she grasped the pole, moving down and arching her back as she pulled herself up. Draco felt his pants tighten around him and his blood pulse in his veins.
-Bring your love baby,
I can bring my shame.
Then she had lifted herself off the floor, clasping the pole as she flowed around the bar. Draco was unsure how it had happened, how she had transitioned, but she was inverted and then she was stretching—arms and back arched as her legs kept her fastened to the pole. Draco wondered if she was secretly a witch.
-Listen Ma, I'll give you all I got.
Give me all of this, I need confidence in myself.
Merlin. Draco wasn't sure how she was spinning so fast as she flowed from one position to the next, but suddenly she was twirling slower, legs and arms stretched so she looked like she was reaching for him. She was parallel to the floor and Draco could see the strength of her body as they held her tightly to the bar by only the crook of her arm and knee. He wondered if any of the others were so affected by her routine but he dared not even glance away.
She was on the floor, arching her back like she was in the throes of passion. Her legs were straight and pointed as she moved, reaching up to grasp the pole. Suddenly, she was pulling herself up and she was moving so fluidly and Draco could only marvel. She would climb, spin, and at one point she held on by only her arms as her legs split in the air. Then she was on the ground—hips moving, back arching, hair flipping.
-Just tell me you love me.
Draco once again required the applause to break his concentration. He turned to Blaise who looked less impassive than he had all night.
"She does seem familiar." Blaise reaffirmed. Darren looked over at their conversation.
"Find a bird you like, brother?" Darren teased and Draco found it far more welcoming than most pure bloods were accustomed to. Blaise seemed at ease at the informal conversation and responded normally.
"The girl that just danced seemed familiar." Blaise said. Darren looked surprised.
"Really? She's a favorite here. She's great on the bar. In fact, if you know her I would definitely want an introduction." Blaise looked at Darren with exasperation.
"I don't know if I know her…she just has a certain something about her…" Blaise continued.
"A certain je ne sais quoi." Draco concluded. Darren shrugged.
"Well if you like her, you can always tip her. They bring out envelopes and you can even write a note on it." Darren suggested. Draco felt a little uneasy at the thought of tipping the dancer…it was something that they did not do much in the Wizarding world.
"I've never seen dancing like that." Another wizard next to Draco commented. He was one of the wizards Blaise had collaborated with for work and had once again developed a friendship. The comment, however, caused the other muggles to look suspiciously at the wizard.
"You've never seen pole dancing?" One asked skeptically.
"Some of us stay in classier establishments." Draco sneered.
"Says the guy who is slack-jawed and glazed eyed as he watches. You hiding a boner under the table, too?" The guy barked back and Draco snarled as he stood up, the chair screeching back. The other guy did the same causing Darren and Blaise attention to snap towards them.
"Oi, belt up you two. You're both plastered. Sit down and drink some water." Darren said authoritatively. Draco waited for the muggle to sit down before complying. He scoffed as he drank some water. Another woman took the stage to dance on the pole but Draco did not find her as compelling. He recognized some of the moves but he did not respond so enthusiastically to her performance. He did perk up when the black haired dancer emerged again; noting this time that she did, indeed, seem to have quite a following if the attentive audience was anything to go by. He felt strangely irritated by their leering, followed by a little embarrassed by his hypocrisy. The music began and he looked again at the stage, all prior thoughts ignored.
"Good job, Rose!" One of the girls smiled at Hermione. Hermione smiled back.
"You too, Na Na." Hermione whipped off her sweat. Reaching for the back of her head, she unhooked the black wig she was wearing, silently casting the counterspell for the sticking charm she used to keep it in place—it was weak enough she could do it wandless. She placed the wig on the mannequin head in and put it in her locker before going back to the mirror. She ran a hand through her pixie cut hair and cleaned up her makeup but did not take it off. Instead, she put on her leather jacket over her changed clothes and moved to the exit. She opened her door and turned into the hallway before stopping in surprise. Draco Malfoy was wandering around looking lost and fairly tipsy. Hermione bit back a laugh. Keeping her face straight, she addressed him.
"You're not supposed to be here, sir." She said in Rose's voice—an easy disguise that she maintained until she reached her apartment. Draco turned in surprise at the sultry voice. His mouth parted in surprise.
"I was, er, well, I was looking for the bathroom." Hermione couldn't help the laugh at something she couldn't ever imagine Draco Malfoy saying in such an honest and blunt way.
"I'll show you the way." Hermione offered with a smile. Draco nodded and they walked quietly down the halls.
"You're hair…was long." Draco mentioned and Hermione turned back in surprise, wincing.
"It's actually a wig. I keep it short." Hermione smiled apologetically before running her fingers through her short hair. Draco stared at her and Hermione wondered how long her spell lasted.
"You can see your face better this way." He commented and they continued walking to their destination. "You're very good at that dancing." Hermione was surprised when he continued speaking—he hadn't said anything directly to her since the war. They were never very nice things.
"I just started pole dancing, relatively speaking. I've actually only been doing it for a bit under two years." She admitted. They began walking up stairs and turned a wary eye at Draco to see if he would struggle up them. He managed.
"You must have practiced a lot, then." He said as Hermione pushed open a particular door. Into the main hallway.
"Thank you, I have practiced a lot." Hermione smiled. "The bathroom is right over there. Thank you for your patronage. I hope you come to watch us again." Hermione finished with the rhetoric they were encouraged to say when they met patrons. She made a turn to move away.
"My name is Draco Malfoy." Draco announced as he took out his hand for her. He spoke confidently and somewhat arrogantly and Hermione could see bit of his former self. She took his hand regardless.
"Rose Noir." She said with a small smile. They released hands and she turned to exit out the front door, nodding at the host and the doorman as she left. In the reflection of the glass, she noticed Draco was still watching her as she left.
A/N: So I saw some pretty awesome pole dancing videos and I thought it'd be interesting for Hermione to be able to express herself through a sensual style of dance. It's something that's so contrary to her nature, that nobody would ever expect it—the perfect disguise!
The songs I used were actually based off youtube videos featuring dancers. They're listed below:
Olya Swan and Co. Dancing to Sexy Silk by Jessie J.-
/watch?v=a_k97Ovhktk&index=1&list=LLYRLiRlWzHgGQAL4JXLeg1g
Dirdy Birdy Spinning Pole to Wicked Games by The Weeknd
/watch?v=a_k97Ovhktk&list=LLYRLiRlWzHgGQAL4JXLeg1g&index=1