The Punishing
Chapter 15

Hermione's POV:

I lounged amongst the charcoal-grey sheets that made up Draco's bed, feeling their coolness on my humid skin. Beside me, he laid asleep.

Our relationship was strange in the sense that we'd claimed each other's mind and bodies, and I felt an attachment to him that I couldn't explain. The reality was, no matter what, that we never really could be together. I think he knew that too. The Punishing was set in stone, and a war to reverse what damage had been done would last years… how could we possibly grow into something where we could call this real.

He loved me.

How foolish he was. Tears brimmed along my lower lash line suddenly, and the heaviness left them overflowing and down my face. Why bring something like that into this world, where I was enslaved by his people?

I grieved, knowing why I was truly angered and upset. It was because I had to call these feelings for him love.

No, Hermione, don't do this to yourself. I begged myself, resisting admittance. But the truth was alive, that I loved him too. He was just as much a slave to politics as I was, and his vulnerable demeanour had been perfect enough for me to meet the person I'd fall for.

Fuck. What now? How would we ever escape our fate?

The simple answer was; we wouldn't. I saw no way around our situation to a place where our feelings would be welcomed.

In my efforts to distract myself from a cycle of troubling thoughts, I let my fingers dance in a spiral, watching small sparks ignite off the tips. For the first time since the Punishing began, I was reminded of who I was; a witch. At least, in some people's eyes.

The light, like little bolts of lightning, spasmed in a great orb and I managed to pull a smile out of this depression. Cordelia had been right about not needing a wand to conduct magic. She explained in more detail later that how else would Muggles, like us, be capable of conducting it in the first place? How else were we known about by the schools? We possess it within.

I wondered how something so simple and so beautiful, could be so rejected and looked over by an entire society of Wizards. They accepted Squibs more than us, purely because of their heritage. If anything, it showed we were all the same, and it came down to a matter of nature and nurture. Muggles, being hidden from the secret that there was magic in our universe, had no means to, per se, access that power within themselves, while children like Draco were introduced to it from birth.

I'd checked my family tree numerous times, for a witch or wizard ancestor who had attended any schools from Hogwarts in Scotland, Durmstrang, Beaubatons, Ilvermorny and even Mahoutokoro in Asia. No such heritage existed within my blood.

My gut turned like a muggle's washing machine as I came to a final realisation that our best solution was to walk away while we still could.

Of course, I wiped my tears only for them to be replaced with new ones, I had to give up the one good thing to happen to me in the past- ugh, who knew anymore.

For now, I'd use what time I had with him, but my mind would be occupied with leaving. However I was going to manage to do that…

Morning arose and so did I, leaving his drapes pulled closed so the early rays didn't stir him. Fetching a new uniform for the day, I leaned for a bold look as my fingers ran down some leather material. It was a one-pieced suit, cupping around my arse cheeks and leading down into suspenders. The chest was open in a key-hole shape, and it trailed down to my belly button teasingly. I had the sneaky feeling Draco would approve fondly.

Before he woke, I started my day by falling in with Cordelia, who was already up and dusting. I hid the smile I sent her, cautious of Jake's presence only in the next room where he cleaned and polished the glass-wear that Narcissa had used up. When they'd run out last night by dinner, she skulled from the bottle instead as a very tired and drained looking Charles and Finn stood behind her. Those boys were being fucked senseless and more than usual.

Cordelia explained that they adored Narcissa and worshiped the ground she stepped on. She said that in her chambers, they get to indulge in all sorts of rich refinements as well as the great company she made. She treated them as lovers, not slaves, Cordelia confirmed, having been told by Charles and Finn themselves.

The door bell rang, loud and intimidatingly. It would be in the Malfoy nature to not own a door bell that dimed like others, but one that boomed like old gothic church bells.

I looked to Cordelia cautiously and she shared my nervousness. We had the most to hide, after all. With a sense of courage, I stepped towards the door and opened it wide slowly.

"Oh, morning Granger," Theodore Nott sneered with amusement.

Part of me wished it was the Ministry to grace the foyer instead.

He stepped into their home and looked around curiously. "Draco. Where is he?" He asked me flatly.

"My Master is asleep," I admitted. It was already approaching nine in the morning, he should have been up by now.

"Hm," he hummed to himself curiously, "well, you'll have to get him up, I have to speak with him rather urgently."

I bow as Cordelia took my place, offering to host Theodore Nott with a beverage while he waited. I heard him ask for a coffee, strongly made.

I climbed the flight of stairs, minding how my posture made me look. Was I being submissive? Dominant? Fearful? Resentful? Every position my muscles clamped together in, made all the difference.

As suspected, Draco was sprawled over the middle of the bed. He was knocked out cold.

"Draco," I whispered, locking his door. He didn't flinch and so I approach his bed. "Draco. Draco," I repeat, placing my palms delicately to his stomach.

His eyelashes began fluttering ever so faintly before he peeled them open.

"What is it?" He asked, groaning through his stiff voice box and then coughing.

"Theo is here," I lowered my voice, and stole a nervous glance at the door. "He wants to speak with you."

Draco's tiredness seemed to wither away as I watched his golden brows crease and then he began rising from his mattress to dress. He didn't put much effort into it and simply threw on a plain white shirt that fitted his upper frame deliciously and a pair of tracksuit pants. I hadn't even known he owned something like that as his attire generally consisted of formal suits in all black. Sometimes a splash of white if it he was feeling laid back.

"You'd better come down with me. You know the drill?" He asked quickly, securing the tracksuit's waistband on his chiselled hips.

I nod confidently and fall short of his long strides.

Their eyes meet from atop the stairs. Nott is standing proudly, sipping at his coffee, and when he lowers it, a smug grin emerges as he swallows.

"Malfoy," he addresses him courteously.

Draco only nods in acknowledgement. "You'll have to forgive me, I was enjoying my Sunday slumber. I hope my girls attended to you," he switched his gaze to Cordelia, who waited in the corner with her head low, so that her eyes were locked to the floor. I did the same, standing at Draco's side. It was impolite for one of us to appear in any way engaged to their private business…

"I understand our fathers are involved in a lawsuit, however, I thought I'd take it upon myself to bring the matters up with you directly," he says, inspecting the dark-roast liquid in his mug as if it were one of his more pleasant experiences or worst.

"I see," Draco says.

Nott sighs, "I'm hosting another soiree at my home tonight. Blaise will be in attendance, and I expect Pansy and the Greengrass sisters to make an appearance too. Join us, will you?" He dared.

Draco was calm, "of course. 8 o'clock?"

He nods, "sharp."

"Excellent."

With a fix of his cuffs, he gave his farewells as he strolled from the manor.

Draco let out a sigh, though his posture didn't fail him. "Cordelia, would you see to a brunch of sorts?" He asks.

She curtsies, "yes, Master Draco," and finds her way into the kitchen.

Draco captures my attention by placing his palm at the small of my back, but I notice he doesn't look at me. "Come," he simply says in a low, voice, and he leads us towards the study.

He firmly closes its doors, enchanting it with a lock. I watch his shoulders rise and fall to his heavy breaths.

"Draco?" I pipe up in the comfort of our privacy.

He finds his composure and spins quickly, leaning his back against the door. He still can't even look at me and his nostrils were flared out. Suddenly, his body lashes out in one great movement and he punches the closest wall.

His fist smashes through the plaster and a poof of white dust explodes, only to sprinkle down to the floor like pixie dust.

I rush over to him, taking his wrist and cradling it to my chest as I gasp in panic.

"Draco! Don't hurt yourself like that!" I gape at him. There was blood trickling from his knuckles, down his forearm. He'd split the skin that covered his bones.

I scurry away, aiming for the bookshelf where I knew there to be a volume on healing spells and remedies. The spine of Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions hooked under my finger as I pulled it out and then frantically began flipping through the pages. I had been sure to pass a spell in here to knit his wounds.

Found it.

Draco has come up behind me, cradling his fist and waiting for my help.

I trace my finger along the spiked curve of his knuckles, "Vulnera Sanentur," I chant repetitively under my breath, watching the blood flow slow and skin bind back together.

I hadn't realised I was crying, but he had, and he took his healthy hand to wipe it from my cheekbone.

"I'm sorry, I just," he tried to say, but was lost for an explanation.

I peered up through my wet eyelashes, waiting for him. I realised I didn't like seeing him angry. But it wasn't out of fear for my safety, but for him getting hurt. The Malfoy's were infamously renowned for their power, before and after the Punishing. Generations of their family had played their parts in influencing both their political and social views and succeeded. Draco was no different to them when it came to seeking to obtain his desires. He had the ability to dig deep and identify what that was, as Lucius also did, and plan and manipulate the system into his favour for it.

I watched him chew on his gums nervously before he spoke. "I want this to be over," he said. "Whatever it is Nott wants to say to me, involves you, and I can't put you through it on good conscience."

I sway in astonishment.

"You can't just hide from these things, Draco. Like it or not, you are an immediate member associated with those who control our entire world. Your input is as good as theirs and you need to show them that!" I yelled, heaving from a source of irritation I hadn't felt was sitting there. It was in the open now.

Draco's jaw tensed as he clicked his tongue. "You know perfectly well what would become of not just me, but you as well, if I stood up for what I believed in," he said in a warning voice.

No. That's just not good enough.

"They're gaining in on you, Draco! With plans to do Godric-knows what if you take one wrong step! You don't have to change the world, but you do need to remind Nott of exactly who he's talking to. Like it or not, Lucius is Minister of Magic, and you are his son. For all the wrong reasons, he will protect your families' reputation, meaning it's Nott Senior and Junior who should be worried, not you," my teeth bare and my tongue is flat against them as the words ooze like poison.

He was wide-eyed, mouth parted in a stunned 'o'.

"I don't know how," he tremored.

I sigh, and hold his chin, "we start tonight. You don't have to worry about protecting me all the time… you need help too." The last part I had whispered as though I was choking. It felt like I was letting him go, somehow.

In my deep subconscious, I'd made my bed and decided I should go, for the both of us.

Cordelia, upon finishing her daily chores, spent several hours in the slave dorms sewing and stitching together a refreshing set of uniforms for tonight. She was coming too, as were Charles and Finn, generously donated by Narcissa. I wondered how she'd entertain herself for the night.

She'd laid out the black, fishnet bodysuit, cuffed at the neck in leather, over Draco's bed for me, attached to a pair of heels that would strap around in a criss-cross design over my shins. She'd helped me put them on, already in a matching fishnet halter top and boy-cut panties.

"Have you attended one of Nott's parties before?" I asked nervously. The last time I had went was during my early impressions of Draco Malfoy; when he was just a confusing mess of emotions to study.

She licked her lips, "once, I went with Lucius as the parents were in attendance also. It was shortly after Maria died… He had me passed around the table of disgusting old men."

I felt her pain as she spoke them. The fear as a slave after one's Master had let another die like a fly on the wall, was unlike any other. You questioned how little it would take for them to decide you were disposable also. You questioned how they would do it and when, to accept your death sooner. It was thoughts like these that broke our kind to our last bone. Why so many of us took the easy way out…

Cordelia fought a lot of silent battles, I realised. She had to be in one of the worst positions a Slave could be in; under the one with all the power over not only herself, but all slaves. She was nothing to him, and she knew it. She knew her undeniable beauty was his trophy, to be paraded around to his colleagues. At the Yule Ball, I'd caught a glimpse of her doing her rounds, offering trays of drinks to the other Masters, and they'd all openly sexually harassed her in one way or another. It was no wonder she had to teach herself magic to feel any sense of security.

I gave her a look. It didn't mean much from the outside, but inside it meant that everything was going to be okay. She responded with a half-cocked smile as she finished tying the last strap on my calf.

We met Draco in the Foyer, where he stood with Narcissa. She was clothed today, and modestly. I noted she was missing her signature fragrance of liquor. I silently felt happy for her and her son.

Charles and Finn crossed from the left wing of the stairs, both shirtless with their own leather chokers, thick-strapped suspenders down their chests that hooked into silky black shorts.

Finn had wavy, sandy blonde hair, complimented by a longer face and sturdy chin. He was shorter than Charles, but certainly with broader chest and shoulders, while Charles was a handsome brunette with an athletic figure of ripped stomach muscle.

Draco cleared his throat, forcing himself to peel his eyes off his mother's boy-toys and onto me. A sound of ravishment slipped off his tongue.

The fishnet body suit was just simply that… fishnet and nothing else. Beneath the lack of material, was less so, as I hadn't worn any underwear to cover the lips of my pussy, nor a bra, which left my breasts in full exposure. Cordelia's two-piece fell consistent to mine, revealing her perky tits and dark, hazel nipples through the holes.

Draco, to tie us all in, smashingly wore a charcoal morning-coat and trouser, with a light grey double-breasted waistcoat and satin tie. I began salivating at the mouth at his lighter choice in colour scheme and classical attire.

Narcissa's nostrils flared out as she inhaled deeply, "you be safe," she said to nobody-in-particular. It felt like she didn't only mean her son.

"Of course, Mother," he said, kissing her rosy-apple cheeks.

The green flame of the fireplace ignited before my eyes as I felt my skin be enveloped by it and the Floo took us to the home of Theodore Nott.

We filed out, following Draco's head-strong lead. I could tell he was racking his nerves, holding himself strong to avoid failure.

Draco's POV:

"Draco!" Nott cheered, raising his glass. He had been right, Blaise, Pansy, Astoria and Daphne were the only others invited to his soiree.

"Ladies, gentleman," I address with polite nods of my head.

The room looked not to me, but behind, where my four slaves stood in utter submission to me. I wasn't particularly known to carry them in numbers, as they usually did, unable to find satisfaction out of one partner.

Cordelia had designed their uniforms with a sense of dominance, that wasn't typically shown in slave-wear. It was subtle enough not to shake the balance; hinting that they weren't just under my control but had some of their own to be used for purely sexual matters. It was selling the idea well, judging by the astonished and almost jealous faces of my comrades.

"Someone wants to play tonight," Blaise cackled deviously, running his finger across his lip.

I chuckle under my breath, finding my seat at the head of the table once more.

"Cordelia," I snapped my fingers, "up there."

She submitted fully to my orders and takes to the stage where she joined three other entertainers of Nott's. She looked far more intimidating and brought the attention onto herself.

"Isn't she your Father's slave?" Nott asked me, unable to bring himself to take his eyes off of her sensual dancing.

"He's not using her, is he?" I scoff, bringing Hermione to sit at my feet so I could pet her hair whilst Charles and Finn stood firmly behind. I asked them to find me a beverage and keep them filled for the remainder of the night.

Nott seemed to agree with my logic.

"Blaise, how are your studies travelling along?" I drew the conversation to down the table.

He shrugged his shoulder, "I'm starting to think there's no point," he says. I knew Blaise had wanted to be a teacher and understood his hesitation to dedicate his time until action was taken on refurbishing the schools.

"I still don't see why you'd want to become a professor back at that school. You should be a Hit Wizard in the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol," Nott input.

"My second choice would be a professional Quidditch Player, then commentator, then coach, then Ministry," he replied tensely. Blaise's parent's, unlike ours, hadn't been Death Eaters, though that didn't put aside his own personal prejudice's against muggle-born's and blood-traitors. His Father wasn't in the picture either. Just his mum and several new step-fathers that mysteriously died leaving them a generous inheritance.

"There is no more Quidditch," Astoria laughed.

"I know that, Astoria" he bellowed with frustration. He was rather handy on a broom back in school and made an excellent player on the Slytherin too.

I looked up to find Cordelia. Her dirty-blonde bangs fell over her eyes, so you could only see her parted lips. She channelled herself to dance for them, letting her back glide down the pole to fall into a squat.

"So, Draco," Nott quietly grabs my attention while Blaise discussed the ridiculousness of the Ministry not funding the sport. "Why the extra entertainment? Not getting bored of Granger already, are you?" He joked.

I didn't find it funny.

She still was at my feet, resting her head against my knee as I stroked her hair.

"No, not yet, she'll always be my pet. Cordelia is a wild spirit, if you will, and like I said, she's not in use, and I enjoy watching her dance for me. As for Charles and Finn, I've been making them more useful to me as of late," I said, picking at my cuticles as though this conversation bored me. But it did.

Nott didn't press the matter, he appeared impressed enough with my answer.

Instead, he brought up the real reason I was here.

"I'm growing tired of my Father's menacing habits. This lawsuit has dragged on far too long in my opinion," he sipped on his brandy.

I was inadequately taken back by his opening statement.

"I see, what makes you say that?" I ask, no wavering in my tone.

He shrugs, "my father is a paranoid arse, Malfoy, you've known this as well as I and that it's only gotten worse since…" he paused, unable to bring up his Mother, "since then. The prat works at the Ministry in London for months at a time without as much as a letter home. I may not remember how I ended up in your maze, but I know I'm capable of getting utterly smashed to blacking out. Plus, I wouldn't put it past the old man that he is using it to try overpower your Father as Minister." His words were harsh, laced with a lot of unhinged hatred that I hadn't seen from him since the early stages of the Punishing. Before he fell victim to alcoholism and slave girls to waste away his lonely days.

He was still a fucking rapist though.

"I'm sorry your relationship with your Father has gotten so bad, my friend," I offer carefully. "In truth, I feel the same towards Lucius, so I understand where you're coming from. What do you suggest we do of the lawsuit?"

He smirked, "I had thoughts of buying some new slave and have her bring forth a witness testimony that I was with her in the garden." There was underlying amusement in his tone as though he knew it was too perfectly in character. It would make his Father look like a fool.

"Slaves in our new world mean nothing in the Law industry, unfortunately. If you really want good enough evidence, pay off a guest to make a testimony that they'd seen you stumbling off with another girl – preferably one of similar features to Granger's. There's a greedy twat in my Father's office who would surely be more than willing to deface your Father's name; Artemis Brown," I suggest, almost vomiting the idea to him as we were closer to putting this nonsense back in our favour.

Beneath me, Hermione peeped, adjusting her sore knees.

"Up," I said to her flatly.

She crawled to sit across my lap, just how I liked her to be. Everything of hers was showing, even the parts I would prefer to be kept private. The fishnet lingerie hid no secrets.

"Charles, Finn," I add, "Cordelia is looking a little lonely up there. Put on a good show, will you?" I almost had sounded bored with the idea.

They marched up the stage, each taking a side of her that they began ravishing with their mouths from her neck to her collarbone.

"I think I plan on overthrowing my Father once I enter the Ministry. I want to see the bastard lose it all, right before his eyes," Nott suddenly grumbled into his drink. It had been the sixth glass since I arrived on top of Merlin-knows how many he'd started the day with.

"My friend, I know exactly what you mean," I agreed humbly.

"He's a soft cunt, honestly. They're all sitting pretty up in the Ministry for now, but when the Dark Lord eventually returns, they'll be scampering silly," he continued. "We're the ones who are ready, Malfoy. The ones who can take their place and bring our kind to where we belong."

My sense of comfort very quickly withered away.

A rapist and a racist, with daddy issues.

"Cheers to that," I raise my glass.

Charles was on his knees before Cordelia, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder as his mouth latched onto her centre. Finn stood behind, wrapping his arms around to squeeze and torture her breasts. Cordelia's face was one of an out-of-body experience as they both pleasured her at once.

It was far more of a show than any of these Masters and Mistresses had seen. One with slaves enduring sexual passion and dominance out of the norm of utter submission and compliance. I could tell they secretly yearned to be involved as Pansy and Blaise salivated over them. It appeared that Astoria and Daphne were taking action on their boredom as they walked off to a four-poster bed with their many male and female slaves.

Their parents were rather quiet figures in the Wizarding World. They'd opened a Bed and Breakfast as they'd always dreamed, then added the slaves and accidentally made a Brothel and Breakfast. Now, Daphne and Astoria were products of royal treatment and entitlement at the establishment.

"Draco, what are they doing?" Pansy slipped, watching in astonishment as my three slaves engaged in a sexy heat. Her long, dark-red nails hung from her lip.

"We have our own kind of specialties," I say to her.

"What kind of specialties?"

"The ones where I don't just get what I want every time I bloody ask for it, Pansy," and with a demonstration, I shift Hermione down, so she was belly-up over my lap. She let her neck loll back onto the armrest and I ran my fingers from the point of her chin, down her chest, between her perfectly mounded breasts and navel before leaving it to hang right above her clit.

Pansy shuddered.

"I don't need to eat a cunt out to feel better," Blaise snorted, "I just want them to look like that," he gestured to Cordelia's 'o' face.

She'd been brought down to her knees, having a male's tongue and lips on her breasts and parting the folds of her vagina. With that, she let out pitchy moans of excitement as though she was in her own world.

"I'm afraid you won't find it just by shoving your wuss of a cock in them, Blaise," I mused, cupping Hermione's breast firmly. Pansy and Nott joined me in a chorus of laughter.

I'll always be their true leader. Hermione was right…

She squirmed beneath me as I kneaded them.

"Think of it this way," I continued, letting my hands stream down to the lower end of her body, dipping between her thighs, "you can make your slave do whatever you want, whenever you want; you can fuck them senseless day in and day out, and they have no power to do otherwise… I don't particularly find any fun in that" I huffed. I'd begun stroking the lips of her pussy, using the pads of four of my fingers to rub in formatted circles. She was breathing heavier beneath my touch, keeping her eyes closed as she laid back and enjoyed it. "By stimulating your slaves, they are fully at your mercy. You can watch them unravel. Make them beg for more… It's a rather intoxicating experience."

I let the ideas float in their minds. No doubt, the three were thinking it over judging by the looks on their distracted faces.

Hermione whimpered.

Nott shifted in his seat, no doubt concealing his hard-on as he imagined her across his lap, moaning under his touch.

I growled, pressing harder into Hermione's clit and she blushed feverishly. With one swift movement, I lift her to me, so her neck was at my mercy, "easy baby girl," I whispered, biting down on it.

"Oh!" she gasped, clenching her eyes tightly shut as I shifted the bodysuit aside and eased my fingers in her.

Merlin have Mercy on my soul, deforming her so publicly like this. I preferred our affairs to be private, to have her only submit before me and to feel her sopping wet core only in front of my eyes.

Still, she held her ground, as she'd insisted that she would earlier.

"Don't worry about me, Draco, we have to do what we must to preserve ourselves in this world a little longer," she sighed with frustration.

I had been difficult in accepting this plan.

"We need more time. This is the only way, you must do it. I trust you, Draco," she came up, brushing a fallen chunk of hair from my eyes. I was able to see her pearly, genuine eyes, as they convinced me everything was going to be okay.

Hermione began to clench around my fingers, coming quickly towards an orgasm. I hadn't meant to get her there and not like this.

I hated doing it, but out of anxiety I looked up to find Nott, wondering if he still had eyes on his dream slave-girl, or the threesome performed on stage. To no surprise, he was watching us.

She came, crying into my shoulder as she contained her reaction by squeezing her thighs into my hips, stabilising her shaking.

I pulled myself back into character, sharing a deviously impressed snarl with Hermione as she fell limp from my lap. It showed just how she supposedly stroked my ego as I was the one to bend her to my wishes.

Almost bored looking, I suck at my fingers like her cum was in my way and paid no more attention to her as she collapsed onto me.

No short of Hermione, I looked up to the stage where Cordelia's screams pulled the crowd's attention.

Internally, I was nauseous and felt on the brink of passing out. Cordelia had done so much for me, and I couldn't bare watching her put her body on display like that, whether the offered or not. I didn't want to play any part in reminding them of who they were… None of them.

As she too, orgasmed before an audience of Purebloods, I looked away.

Cordelia fell onto Charles in Finn, and together they made a pile of sweaty, half-naked people ready to fall asleep and rest their aching muscles.

"My, Draco, I have to say you're incredibly naughty, aren't you?" Pansy giggled as she enjoyed the finale of their show.

I smirk, bringing a glass to my lips and feeling the burning firewhiskey slip down my throat. It was taking some of the edge off, but not nearly enough. "I've had to find some way to entertain myself, haven't I?" I note.

"I suppose. If you really wanted that kind of satisfaction, you knew I was an owl away. Perhaps, you'd be willing to share some more of your secrets with me," she egged me on, biting her lip.

I narrowed my eyes faintly, "that's quite an offer, Pansy. Unfortunately, as far as I'm concerned, if I want to be Minister behind my Father, it'd be highly inappropriate of me to be caught in a casual rendezvous with other Purebloods until an official arranged engagement is made."

Pansy shut her trap quickly. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, but overall understanding. Our world as Purebloods may be more relaxed on proper etiquette, but in the eyes of the Prophet and its readers, sloppy affairs were still frowned upon between our own.

"Granger, my glass is empty, get me another," I frowned at the cup, twisting it between my fingers.

She managed to peel herself from my lap, and with the wobbly legs of a newborn deer, she walked off to the bar. I watched her hips sway more rhythmically as she found her footing.

Fuck I loved that bodysuit far too much, it was unhealthy. If only I didn't have to share it with them.

She carried back to me, an expensive brand of rum. I assumed the Firewhisky had been drank dry by Blaise already. Perhaps even Daphne, she definitely wasn't shy with dark liquors.

As her heels made one last click before she reached the side of my chair, she popped the cork delicately, and poured the rum.

"Thank you, dear," I simply say with a cock of my eyebrow as I ease her back across my lap. "You know what I like," I whisper to her, though loud enough to be made out by close eavesdroppers. She curled against me, pulling aside my clothes where she trailed kisses from my shoulder up to my ear.

Blaise stiffens, rolling his knuckles in his fist.

"I've got to be fucking mental," he says with a disbelieving eye-roll as he stands and beckons for one of his slave girls. A caramel-headed girl in a red lingerie set waddles over daintily in her heels – Brooke, I think her name was – and Blaise takes her by her hand. "This better work, Malfoy," he leaves me one last smirk, as though daring me to come clean with my so-called joke.

I hear the sound of Nott placing another empty glass down. He was drunk.

"Oh, fuck me, Malfoy, I don't think I should put my hands on another slave," he strained, rubbing his temples.

I'm struck by surprise, and feel Hermione react against me too. Neither of us expected these words to come from his lips.

"This newer bitch, Dahlia, is knocked up with some poor bastard," he chuckled amusedly to himself.

My throat runs dry and itchy and my face was flushed with sensations of heat and ice.

"Pregnant?" I stutter.

He sings a hum with a smile, "yep, we're having her sent away to keep it quiet from the Prophet."

Hermione can no longer bring herself to continue kissing me and only tries to attempt to keep her face buried in the crook of my neck. I felt the cool hiss of her tears falling onto me.

All too overwhelmingly, I cannot be here anymore.