The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 10: Swathed in Silk

The club closed completely on Christmas Eve in order to throw a party for the staff and all of the Pleiades, who found sparkling beaded gowns in their armoires and black boxes filled with heavy, decadent jewels waiting on their vanities. Each outfit was styled perfectly for their personalities, the best colors for their skin and hair, their height and curves and everything was paired with expensive black leather heels at least three inches high. Hermione's dress was a deep wine red with jet black jewels dripping like rain down the front of the bodice, sleeves off the shoulder, the ankle length skirt dragging dramatically behind her in a short train.Two black leather cuffs with silver clasps and a thick silver choker were her jewelry and she wondered if the other girls' pieces were just as suggestive.

They weren't.

Draco greeted them at the entrance to the dining room where they enjoyed a four-course dinner with bottomless champagne out of enchanted crystal flutes. Before they even got to dessert, Hermione was feeling warm and tingly, her eyelids a bit heavy but her smile still genuine. Draco wore a black tuxedo with a diamond pin in the lapel, making toasts to each of them from his spot at the head of the table, his spirits high as he made jokes about each of their favorite customers, their 'special skills' that kept them in demand, or some specific spicy or filthy memory from the past year; each of his stories leaving them all howling with laughter.

"And what about Hermione?" Leanna asked, leaning back in her chair with a sly smile on her face, swirling the bubbly in her glass. A few of the other girls lowered their heads, giggling into their own champagne.

"What about her?" Draco shot back, his eyes burning into Dove's from across the room but keeping his voice light. Everyone fell silent and Leanna set her glass down while Hermione stared into her lap. "She's our newest little star and while she hasn't quite found her...rhythm yet...I'm sure we'll have her on her back with some regularity soon enough to find out where her expertise lies. Let's just say that as of now...the reviews are still out."

The table burst into appreciative laughter and he raised a glass to his little Sparrow, nodding at the look of relief on her face.

Once dinner was over they all stayed up late playing Christmas songs on the piano and drinking far too much. Draco took up residence behind the bar and mixed Shattered Dragons for everyone, taking this one opportunity to serve them, presenting the drinks in heavy cut crystal highballs on shining silver trays. They played ancient wizarding parlor games, Draco transfiguring apples into mystery trinkets that needed to be guessed from behind blindfolds, or changing something on the Christmas Tree and seeing who could discover it first. Everyone was happy and gracious. Even the girls who had whispered behind her back or tried to humiliate her at dinner gave Hermione drunken hugs and well wishes for the coming year. For a few precious hours they were all the same, the pureblood and the muggleborn, prisoner and jailer, the stars and their guardian.

After half of a bottle of Champagne, Sarah took her aside and admitted to admiring her when she was growing up, to being awed by her bravery, her brilliance, how she fought to the very end in a war that the rest of them had given up on. She refused to be brought down. She talked about Harry and Ron's deaths as if they were episodes of a television show or scenes from a book she'd read and Hermione suddenly felt as if someone were stepping on her throat, her breath tight in her lungs. She could remember standing on the battlefield in Surrey, stepping over bodies and seeing the shock of red hair, seeing Ron lying in the mud, his face so peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. Ron and Harry had died. They had died in the cold and rain, swallowing blood and mud and tears, fighting for witches like Hermione. And Hermione lived. She lived and by some strange twist of fate, her punishment for surviving was to live in the lap of luxury, warm from the brutal winter cold, a full belly, swathed in silk and weighed down by jewels, fucking millionaire purebloods for money while thousands of muggleborn wizards and witches were dying in the streets. The glittering lights and bright Christmas decorations blurred before her as her eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away. When Sarah noticed that her smile had faltered, she sat down beside her and took her hand in hers.