Draco did manage to get a few hours of sleep early in the morning; he was off on Saturdays, able to chip into paperwork if he chose to or simply take his time. 6 days a week he worked as an auror and it just made his head heavier as time passed. One could only stare at cases for so long before their eyes went crossed, and he was beginning to feel that way in the department; stuck. The plateau not only weighed down his work, but also his days. No longer did he read before bed, or call Blaise for a game of chess. It was straight to bed after scarfing down leftovers, occasionally a call to Narcissa who kept such close tabs on her son that he still felt suffocated. A mother's guilt was a fickle thing, and one that he wished didn't bear on him every time he answered her calls.
When he awoke though, everything about him was jittery. He had only visited the Chateau once before, to drop off a set of clothes and a wad of cash for Pansy. Even then, he wasn't allowed to step foot into the building nor address her by name; she had met him at the curb, stood on the very toe of her heels to plant a quick kiss on his forehead, and bolted back into the club with fervor. It was clear how much she loved it there from how she discussed it with him, but he had never bothered to actually explore the depths of the large building.
Slipping on a pair of dark, sleek robes, he held the photo in his hands once more. To say he wasn't curious about the type of work Granger did exactly in this club would be a bold faced lie; each member had a specific set of talents. Pansy's was her bubbly personality combined with flexibility, allure being the way she slid around the pole like it was an extension of her body. Once she even begged him to give it a try, but to him, there was no reason why a man like him would need to spin around the damned chrome thing. Based on the small photo, it was clear Hermione wasn't playing the innocent role his friend once did. No, that quality of leather was reserved for those who were more domineering in their sexual endeavors. The details were starting to stand out more; the flogger consisted of 9 long strands, each braided and thick. The heels she donned were thick soled, laced tight against strong and slender legs. Even her shape had filled out slightly, the curves more accentuated.
A quick search of an online directory gave him only vague details of each dancer; their photo was not used, but simply an outline of their form, a description of their services, and a teaser quote the website seemed to use to draw clients in. Pansy's was easily recognizable; "Daisy", though highly unoriginal in his opinion, was the dancer persona and name that she absolutely adored using. He scrolled through dozens of descriptions, finding all of them varied and unique; men seemed to also be available for certain clientele, advertised as anything from a "dom" to a "sub". At the bottom of the screen though, the outline of voluminous hair caught his attention, the flogger seemingly to be a trend as it hung from the hip of the anonymous "model".
She went by Jade, and Draco wracked his brain to remember anything that he could regarding the name. It came up blank; nothing was similar, nor reminiscent of his days in school. She was 5'4", 130lbs, and described as being The Lioness of the Chateau. The details were vague about her, though the quote stood out: "Once you surrender yourself to me, you will always be mine". The tag line below it: Jewel of the Chateau.
It took several moments before Draco's face began to flush and eyes widened with surprise. This was the same girl who was almost painfully shy with male interaction in school, the one who flushed at any innuendo he threw at her, who left the room nearly in tears after he stated that "Nobody would fuck a mudblood like her". The memory made him cringe; it felt disgusting even thinking about those words leaving his mouth. To think of that girl being...domineering in any way was shocking to say the least. His finger hovered over the "Book VIP Now" option, and he chewed idly at a callous on his hand. The application listed on the site looked rigorous, and slightly intimidating. After what felt like minutes, he clicked the hyperlink, sending him to an online banking page. It was nearly 13 galleons to even book an appointment...but this felt right.
His time-slot for a private dance was set to 8pm tonight, though he had to be there at 7 to go over the contract, procedures, and limitations of the club. It was now or never, but the anxiety bubbling within his stomach threatened to spill into the territory of nausea. Pansy would absolutely fucking kill him, and honestly, he was more scared of her than he was of most people. Nobody could back a 6'4" man into a corner like little 5'0" Pansy. However...nothing he was doing was illegal. Immoral, yes, but that was easy to justify. This was like therapy, just a little bit of a different approach. Granger would make money, he would get closure, he'd wipe his hands with it. Maybe they would just sit down and talk. Maybe she would boot him out. Maybe, just maybe, he would find some hedonistic pleasure in the experience. He felt himself start to harden at the thought, tensing his muscle as the anticipation grew. Regardless, there was no going back and 13 galleons had already drawn from his account.
o-o-o-o
At 6:45 sharp, Draco was dressed and ready to leave. It took almost half an hour of staring his reflection down before actually finding the nerve to dress accordingly (or what he thought was accordingly; was there an etiquette for sex club attire?). Nevertheless, he checked his wrist watch, scarfed down a leftover tarte his mother had made for him this week, and allowed the Floo powder to send him in the right direction. Already, his palms were beginning to sweat. Tonight was going to be long, that he knew for sure.
He knew the Floo wasn't going to transport him directly to the club, but he certainly didn't anticipate it being such a trek to get there. It was 6:58 by the time he was standing in front of the tinted double doors, and it was there that he picked at his nails and attempted to calm his nerves. His face was easily recognizable, and he had to adjust his demeanor accordingly; a sneer put on his face, his shoulders square, his eyes narrowed. It felt alien to put on that front going into an experience such as this one, but it didn't deter him from pushing the doors open and entering the foreign territory.
This...was not what he expected. The warm red light shining over a curved front desk made sense, this was the redlight district after all. But the receptionist with a sleek blonde ponytail and bubbly smile wasn't one he expected, nor was the black marble floors that allowed his dress shoes to soundless glide. This place felt, and almost looked like, a luxury hotel. Looking up from her perched position at the desk, the woman gave a warm smile. "Hi! Are you here by appointment?" Draco silently nodded, approaching the desk to tower over her. "First time?" she gathered, smirking slightly after how tense his posture had become. He didn't have time to respond before she was pushing a stack of waivers and paperwork in his direction, pointing at the line of couches along the back wall like telling a dog to go lay down. Irritation seeped into his features, but he held his tongue and took his position.
The paperwork looked basic. Waivers about liability and risk of bodily harm, expectations, rules and regulations, the whole nine-yards. After jotting down his initials, the next pages felt like he was looking at a complex arithmetic problem: it was lists upon lists of kinks, some of which he didn't even know the name of. What in the hell even was "sounding"? They ranged based on level of contact, and he was almost hesitant to start putting checkmarks next to them. Granger was supposedly only a dancer, though this must be customary for all who entered, he assumed. It had been nearly 40 minutes until he finished going through each box. Almost everything, minus the "unsanitary" section was left as being a checkmark for yes or maybe. The last page was a safe word of his choosing: Strawberry.
The receptionist gave another faux smile when he returned with the paperwork. "Alright, sweetheart. Last thing before you meet Jade will be our non-disclosure agreement." She rifled through her desk, pulling forth a blue quill and placing it in his palm. "I'm going to need you to sign here, stating that you consent to being unable to share any details from your session with people unaffiliated with the club". Draco almost hesitated before signing, though the blonde's unnerving gaze urged him to finish. As soon as the quill left his palm, he knew the magic instilled in it was alive. It felt like a buzz over his body, threatening to zap him should he make one wrong move.
It seemed as though the receptionist delighted in his reaction, for her smile was made wider. "Now, I'm just going to make sure the agreement is bound correctly, okay? Repeat after me: Madam Jade has curly hair, has a birthmark on her left cheek, and works at the Chateau north of Main. Got it?". Draco began to speak, "Madam Jade has-" a snap, like the magic was trying to pull his jaw closed, to keep the breath from escaping his lungs. His eyes flew open in alarm, met with a laugh. He couldn't finish the statement, no matter how hard he tried. "Perfect! Now, write it down". This woman was obviously in complete bliss watching him fumble over his words and efforts to fight the magic. When passed a simple quill, his hands began to cramp, the feeling of live electricity coursing through the nerves as he tried to copy down the statement she had made. It was futile; whatever had bound him to this place and the people within it was keeping him from describing it.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" He said in a hushed and angered tone, though the receptionist just clicked her tongue. "Page 2, article 3.4 clearly stated that this would be the necessary procedure. Did you not read it?" His cheeks flushed, and the laugh that met him was infuriating and alluring. "I'll have to relay that to Madam Jade. She's very big on following rules!". A tap of her wand, and the doors leading towards the main hallway opened for him. "You'll be in room 13, sugar. First flight of stairs on your left, second door down". A bag was opened for him, and he dropped his watch and wand into it. His body begged him to bolt out of this place, to leave this world of fetishism that he felt he had no place being in, but his mind kept his body in the direction of the assigned room. This wasn't magic pushing him forward; this was determination.
Draco Malfoy stood in front of the plush red door, his fingers tracing marks along the velvet. Was he supposed to knock? To call out? He was so out of his element here, and the roar of music from the main lounge downstairs obviously didn't seem to help. Without time to think, or even react, the heavy door swung open to reveal the owner of the room. "Are you fucking kidding me?" was all the owner said before he was able to get a good look at her.
There, in that doorway, stood Hermione Granger. Everything about her both intimidated and drew him in; the corset that clasped tightly around her midsection pushed her bust high, the leather straps around the top keeping them from popping out all together. With the black laced heels on, she was almost at his chin level, tall enough that he could see the anger and disgust in her expression. Draco was almost disappointed to look down and realize that the dark black undergarments weren't as revealing at the top, her trademark flogger wriggling around at her thighs to wave at him. If it weren't for his foot in the doorway, she would have slammed the door right in his face. "Granger, wait, I-" A hiss cut him off, and she threw the door back open to point her wand right between his eyes.
"First, don't ever fucking say that name here, do you understand?" Her words were slow and controlled, and sweat trickled down his back as the wand neared his skin. This had to be illegal, or at least against regulations if they even had them for strip clubs. "Secondly, go find some other person to get your rocks off. I'm not fucking interested." His hands went up, though her grip on the highly crafted wood never waivered. "Please, just hear me out." Draco nearly pleaded, though Hermione cut him off. "I don't know how you tracked me down, but I am not interested in whatever bullshit you're spewing. Come here to taunt me, Malfoy? To get some laughs in about the Mudblood working here?" Dark brown eyes challenged him, and he visibly flinched at the slur.
Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a large bag of coins. "I have 75 galleons in this bag. I'm not here to do anything like that, I swear on my life. I'm just here for...the experience". Hermione held her stance for what felt like hours, the mane of tawny curls framing her dangerous expression. She was once an easy tell, somebody he knew he could rile up and get a reaction. Now, the blank expression yielded no answers. It was until she lowered the wand that he felt the tension he didn't know he was holding begin to dissipate only for a moment before she stepped to the side of the velvet door. "There's a chair on the back corner. Sit down and remain there until I say otherwise."
And with that, Draco was swept into a world he knew nothing. The woman who was half his size radiated a power he rarely even saw from the largest of men he worked with; it should have scared him. Instead, it excited him, and he could feel his cock start to harden as he complied and waited for Jade to start her VIP session.
