Draco's first thought was something along the lines of "where the hell is she stowing her wand in an outfit like that?" but his first words were, "Where are we going?"

"A nightclub." He stopped in his tracks, knowing that she was fully aware of how much he avoided being in public places.

"A muggle club," she shouted over her shoulder as the noise from city night life began to grow around them.

"Oh," he said simply, moving forward again, trying to catch up to Hermione who kept flitting in and out of his vision as she moved among the crowds of people. When had being around muggles become cause for relief, he thought to himself, smirking at the irony.

He had finally caught up to her and she started talking, "Here's what I need: you keep me out of trouble, don't let anyone touch my drink, don't let anyone touch me, if I go to the bathroom, make sure I come out in a few minutes so I'm not passed out or getting groped, and make sure I'm back in the castle by two."

He took it all in slowly, realizing this was a list she had memorized and rehearsed due its frequent use. The noise of the city was increasing around them and he could hear the thump of loud music somewhere ahead of them.

She continued, "You're not to drink anything except water, but I'll drink what I want. Also, I'll dance with who I want, when I want, how I want and you're not to interfere unless they start trying to take advantage, got it?" She stopped, looking up at Malfoy, who simply nodded, without smile or judgment in his eyes.

She walked along a row of nightclubs before finding the one she was looking for. Of course it would be the loudest one, he thought. A line had formed outside the door, but Hermione walked up to the bouncer and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and he let her in. Draco started to follow, but was cut off from her by the bouncer's very large forearm. "He's with me, Joe," she stated, and the forearm lifted, allowing him access.

It was a scene he's been in before, except there were no glasses of amber liquids being carried by bewitched trays that appeared to float in the air, no house elves quickly cleaning up the spilled drinks and vomit, no Wrock playing through the speakers. In fact, he didn't recognize this music at all.

He followed Hermione who made a beeline for the bar. The barman immediately ignored the other customers as his favorite one appeared. Draco didn't like the way the bartender's eyes roamed over her body, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. She shouted over the music, "The usual, Ben, and a water for my friend," pointing her thumb over her shoulder at Draco. "With lime," Draco shouted too, adding to her order.

Their drinks were delivered promptly, Hermione's with a smile and Malfoy's with a sneer. He smiled to himself, liking how it felt for others to assume she was here with him. His thoughts were interrupted though, and his smiled faded, as she ordered a second drink, her first one already empty.

Three more songs played and Hermione sat on a barstool while Draco leaned on the bar to her left, sipping his water. She finished her second drink and ordered two shots of vodka. She downed them both, one after the other, pursing her lips and shaking her head from the burn. He wanted to make her throat burn from screaming his name.

With each passing song and each disappearing drink, Hermione seemed to lighten, as if something heavy had been lifted from her back. She started to dance in her seat, bouncing slightly from side to side. Draco saw multiple men staring at the stool with envy, and rolled his eyes at how she had no idea what she was doing to these poor muggle men.

Eventually a man finally approached her, took her hand, and led her on the dance floor. "About damn time," muttered Draco, knowing that it would never be him, but if it could, her ass wouldn't have had a chance to touch that chair before he took her in his arms to dance.

He kept an eye on her as she was led into the middle of the floor. The stranger, at least to Draco, was an inch shorter than he was and much less toned, wearing khaki pants and a bright purple polo; he looked ridiculous. He seemed older, maybe in his mid-thirties, but Hermione didn't seem to mind. The fog machine kept filling the room and there were at least a hundred other bodies, but Draco never lost sight of her. At first she barely moved, only swaying from side to side as the man's hands were loosely around her waist. Then the song switched to something she recognized and she changed her dancing to match the song.

The tempo was fast, the music loud, and the lyrics suggestive. She turned in his arms, pulling his hands tighter around her body, pressing herself against the length of this stranger and grinding her hips into his groin. Her hands were over her head, her elbows bent and her fingers gently touching his shoulders as she began to lower her body to the ground, fingers trailing down his chest, never stopping the swaying of her hips. Then she straightened her knees so her ass would push up against him and her skirt would slip higher up her body.

Damn, she does know what she's doing, Malfoy thought. He saw this, in detail, as well as the way the man pushed his hips against her, eyes closed, head tilted back and mouth slightly open. His hands started to separate, one going further up her body towards her breasts and the other going down, slipping the tips beneath the waist of her skirt. Draco started to move forward, ready to kill a complete and total stranger, when she looked up quickly, shook her head and pushed his hands away from those areas, back to the center of her flat but soft midriff, never stopping her dance. Draco retreated back to the bar - he hadn't been needed.

After what felt to him like a lifetime, it was 2 am. He approached Hermione, who had never set foot off the dance floor instead sending the stranger to get her drinks. Both their eyes were closed as they moved their bodies together. Draco resisted the urge to crucio the man and opted to tap Hermione on the shoulder. They both looked up and before the man could take a step towards Malfoy, who was only too eager to beat him black and blue, she turned to the stranger and said, "Got to go. Curfew," and with a quick peck on the man's cheek, grabbed Draco's hand, led him off the dance floor, out the door, and back to the apparition point. Not once did his hand unclench from a fist.