open wounds // D R A M I O N E

01

Within the heart of Mayfair, London lies the strip of exclusive bars and clubs called Diagon Alley. It's the place where the hottest celebrities & socialites convene and let their hair down. If you are spotted amongst the crowds, you were one of the elites. You're riddled with wealth and status. People fear you, yet beg to be within your presence. They'll do anything to taste the top.

That mentality doesn't faze Pansy Parkinson. She dances with her hips seductively swinging to the music whilst behind her, Daphne Greengrass drunkenly sings out the lyrics like she's headlining her own concert in Hyde Park. Through the bobbing heads of the crowd, her gaze catches lifetime friend Theodore Nott working his way around the dancing bodies.

"Where have you been?" Pansy asks, more like shouts at Theo as she tries to compete with the loud music along with the harmonies of drunk chatter.

"I went to collect." He pauses briefly as he swings round a large bottle of premium vodka from behind his back. "This. Ta-da!" Her eyes light up straight at the bottle and swears that her throat suddenly becomes dry and tacky, craving for the alcohol.

He winks at her, using his free hand to cup her face. "Open wide." Pansy flattens her tongue to the floor of her mouth allowing a seamless pathway for the vodka to slide down her throat. The sharp taste makes her face scrunch up as she feels Theo's arm wrap around her shoulder engulfing her in a side hug, his other arm doing the same action to Daphne, forming a little circle. The trio let their bodies do the talking as they descend deeper into their euphoric bliss.

Out the back, stood the lean figures of Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey, both smoking on the finest tobacco. The warm fumes trail from their lips, as they both subtly check out women from a far. Their eyes scan over their delicate features, the curvature of their hips and their plump lips, all while the pair have a leisurely conversation.

"Have you seen the new McLaren?" Adrian asks, bringing the cigarette to his lips, his eyes remain on a brunette girl, chatting with her friends.

"The 720s? Yeah mate." Blaise nods in agreement, his focus also on the same brunette in the distance. "I'm liking the sculpture of the model, especially the backend."

Adrian takes in the girl's hourglass figure as her friend playfully spins her around. "Yeah this newer model definitely has sleeker curves. It's truly stunning."

"I bet the engine is way more reliable and powerful than the older models."

"I don't doubt that for a second. It seems that with its highest horsepower and long mileage, it allows the car to be." Adrian turns to face Blaise who looks back at him. "Let's say, durable."

The pair laugh to themselves, their focus returning on the petite brunette.

Below them, under the many layers of concrete, sits Hermione Granger, perched on the arm of a leather sofa. With her gold heels dangle over the edge, the hem of her skirt rides up her slim thigh as she crosses her legs together. Her fingers dance across the board shoulders of Draco Malfoy. Leaning back with his ankle resting on his knee cap, he sits with a deadpan expression, staring at a man across from them, on a small sofa, hunch over with his hands clasped together in front of them. The three of them discussing some important business.

"I can get you that code Malfoy." The man reassures them.

"Then I ask yet again, why haven't you got it here?" Malfoy cocks his head, narrowing his silver daggers at him. The man gulps, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable surrounded by the presence of Draco Malfoy. But this is business and Malfoy knew that, thus he doesn't always have to rely on violence to guarantee his victories. Sometimes he resorts to that tactic for the pure entertainment of it. "You knew this meeting was going to happen sooner or later Charles. So why isn't there a shiny memory stick, with the code in it, in the palm of your grubby hand?"