Baton Rouge

- 7 -

Hermione got out of the shower and glanced outside. It was already getting dark and in the Baton Rouge the late afternoon was used to prepare the show for the coming night. She had to hurry to get to the rehearsal on time, so she didn't think about her yesterday's experiences, nor about a certain blonde former Slytherin who was being kicked out of the club by the doorman just then - with the insistent snub that doors weren't open yet.

But the young witch was oblivious to that, so she got dressed and left her room without the funny feeling in her stomach she might have had if she had known that Draco Malfoy was in her immediate vicinity again.

He, on the other hand, felt incredibly busted as he staggered out of the noble brothel and found himself stared at by other pedestrians. Of course, he couldn't just walk in there. Blaise had explained it to him yesterday: the Baton Rouge was a nightclub and not open around the clock.

And what did he expect from just showing up there, anyway? He didn't know. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to look for the answer to that question either. Instead, he turned and almost hastily left Diagon Alley.

He needed a potion against the swelling headache behind his forehead and a decent amount of sleep - and the world would be normal again. At least he fervently hoped so. And he never wanted to come back to the Baton Rouge. The thought alone was disturbing.

The very moment Draco finally reached his apartment and locked the door behind him, Hermione was put in a glittery corset in the Baton Rouge and had to sit in a chair to get her makeup and hair done, what felt quite odd to her. While Melody and another young woman bounced around her, arguing about which feather boa would go best with the color of her corset, Hermione stared at herself in the mirror in disbelief. She didn't even look that bad. And she hadn't thought that about herself for a long time.

As she got up and slipped into the shoes Melody had put in front of her, in another part of London a tall blond wizard fell into his bed in confusion. He ruffled his hair and tried to stop thinking to be finally able to sleep.

But his swirling thoughts also found a way into his dreams, which began to haunt him a few minutes later.

+.+.+

Draco finished his Butterbeer and peered through the smudged window of the pub towards the Baton Rouge's entrance. Men had been coming and going for quite some time and he knew there was no way around it: He would enter the sodding club again, even if he couldn't explain it.

No matter what he had sworn to himself - here he was again. He had tried to distract himself, considered contacting Blaise, then dismissed it. There hadn't been a point. He wanted to open himself to the club again. And a faint voice in his head, which he had been trying to ignore all evening, whispered to him that he wanted to check on Granger too; who she was leaving the salon with tonight. And maybe he also wanted to tease her a little.

He sighed, threw a few Knut on the bar and stood up. Luckily the sleep and the potion had done what he had hoped for. He felt better. After a shower and a quick supper, he actually looked fine again. He had freshly shaved, his hair was impressive (of course), and he was in a wrinkle-free dark gray suit that gave him his usual authority.

That was probably the reason why the blue-eyed, long-legged witch at the bar had been looking at him again and again for the past few minutes - and incidentally had also undone the first two buttons of her blouse quite conspicuously.

Draco continued to ignore her as he left the pub and imagined her grimacing in disappointment and immediately choosing a new victim. He had to grin at the thought and was annoyed at the same time that he obviously wasn't that kind of wizard anymore who used his charm to take advantage of such a situation. Blaise had already complained about this several times and called it wasted potential, which always made Draco laugh.