Baton Rouge

- 25 -

It was a relatively quiet evening compared to the weekend Hermione had first entered the Baton Rouge. Nevertheless, the club was well attended for a normal weekday. And although there would be no show tonight, a few men had scattered around the tables in the Salon, waiting for suitable company.

Hermione was sitting at the bar. She was wearing a short black dress and her curls fell down her back tamely. Melody had done a great job again and Hermione had noticed with an appreciative look in the mirror that she could definitely be called pretty. Especially since she had managed to resist the pills that had crossed her path as soon as she had set foot in the club again.

Almost all the girls, even here at the Baton Rouge, took these drugs to make their day easier. But Hermione had remained steadfast, and now she was being rewarded as her body slowly recovered from the hardships she had put herself through for so long.

She set down her glass and turned around so she could examine the entire room. Since she had been here again, not a night had gone by that she hadn't done this several times. And of course, deep down, Hermione knew exactly why she kept doing it.

Every time she imagined that she could spot him on one of the velvet sofas or at one of the small tables, her heart pounded involuntarily. But until now, Malfoy hadn't reappeared. It had been over a week since she had left his apartment and she had neither seen him at the Baton Rouge, nor heard from him.

Basically, it was idiotic. Zabini had told her that he had been the one who had gotten Malfoy to visit the brothel with him. Besides, she had successfully persuaded herself that he must have been very glad to be rid of her. And so there was no reason for him to come back just a few days later. No reason at all.

But Hermione just couldn't stop thinking about what he had said. That he wanted to screw the Ministry and track down Harry on his own. If Malfoy acted on his words (and Hermione still wasn't entirely convinced of that), then she would likely be reading about his execution in the Daily Prophet within a few weeks. She doubted that this insane idea, his plan, made any sense. On the contrary - he would pay with his life if he really tried to fool Umbridge and Voldemort.

She could have kicked herself for not asking Malfoy if he was capable of Occlumency. But what would that have changed in the end? This information would not have been of any use to her. If he did, it might add a few days to his life in the case that he actually put his plan into action. If he did not, he was lost anyway.

Her mind wandered again. She closed her eyes briefly as she couldn't help but picture Malfoy's face. That indefinable expression, his stormy gray eyes, his gaze that had always been on the verge of devouring her.

Hermione blinked. She ordered another drink, knowing full well that she would be in a lot of trouble if she continued to sit at the bar and daydream for the rest of the evening.

It was difficult to banish the images - and the associated feelings welling up in her body. She could almost feel his hands on her. His lips on her neck. Heard the soft, longing sound that had made her want to give herself to him again, even though she had been so determined not to. Since it had been over so abruptly, she just couldn't let go of those last few minutes with Malfoy. The scene just kept creeping into her head.

In fact, she shouldn't be thinking about him at all. At least he had made it clear to her that he didn't care that she had to leave. What else would have made him turn his back on her like that? He had left without another word. Had left her in the bathroom, still struggling with her waning lust and the discovery that the spell had been broken without her noticing.

She had firmly assumed she would feel it breaking. Secretly, she had even hoped it would make her feel different. That eventually it would become clear that she had only allowed him to sleep with her because of the contract. The complete opposite had been the case.