A/N: So, this is my new story. I know I'm weeks later than I anticipated, but life just comes up sometimes and it was really out of my control. Nevertheless, I really hope you enjoy! It was a lot of hard work. Let me know what you think.

Notes: The only thing you ought to know when reading this (beyond the warnings listed below) is that the chapters are going to be much longer than my other stories and that I'm assigning a song for each chapter, which will also pair for the chapter title.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue!


Song selection for this chapter: Stripper by the Soho Dolls

Chapter One: Stripper

"Mm... Fuck, yeah..." he muttered, just for the sake of filling in the silence. If he didn't make the effort, it was going to be much more awkward than it already was. And fucking hell was it awkward!

Draco tried not to sigh in frustration as he leaned back into his plush leather seat. Though he didn't see what a big bloody deal it would be. The bint probably would mistake it for his pleasure. He ran his fingers through his fine gold hair and stared down at the brunette in disgust.

He'd met her in a bar sometime earlier that day, he couldn't remember when, where, or why. He didn't even know who she was, really. But he'd reckoned her face did look familiar, so he'd had a drink with her, just for 'old time's sake'. Regardless, she had lured him in with her faux sultry voice. He hadn't minded at the time because he'd been right fucking bored, but she'd said all this bullshit about how she'd "show him things he'd never seen before".

Bloody lying bint.

Not only was she just plain bad at it, it was just bloody awkward. But Draco Malfoy never turned down a pretty girl, at least that's what he told himself. Looking down at her as her lips closed around him sloppily, attempting to suck up his length, he thought she was passable. Maybe he'd screw her if he was really, really drunk. But that was the issue. He wasn't really, really drunk.

It never mattered by this point.

He almost wanted to scoff at her. She probably thought she was all special, pulling his length all the way into the back of her throat, just barely gagging. He wasn't impressed, he'd had it all before. She'd promised to show him something special. Fucking bitch was a liar, obviously. Why did girls always feel the need to lie about their talents, anyhow?

It wasn't as if he wasn't going to screw her just because she was horrible at it.

She began to rub her tongue along the underside of his cock, staring up at him with sultry eyes, as if that would make the shitty blowjob better. Truth was, he just bored out of his skull. There was no passion in it, nothing special. The same boring actions, different mouth, different girl. Did it really matter anymore? He grabbed her by the hair and began to thrust for himself. It was obvious she wasn't going to get the job done.

She began to choke just as he knew she would, as inexperienced as she was, but he didn't fucking care. She'd lied, now she was getting what she deserved. He almost wanted to laugh at her wide eyes, but it was time to concentrate. She braced herself against his legs as he began to thrust wildly into her mouth, tilting her head back to get right into the back of her throat. Her face was turning red but it didn't matter. He was close.

Just as he was about to come, the door opened and in entered the bane of his existence. Blaise fucking Zabini. His head shot up to find the bastard about to open his mouth to say something no one gave a fuck about, as he was always won't to do. But he realized, luckily at the last minute, what exactly Draco was doing. More specifically, that Draco's cock was buried down some random girl's throat.

He was out of the room faster than Draco could blink, thank god.

It didn't take much longer after that. The girl was obviously embarrassed at being caught, which Draco clearly didn't understand. What was there to be embarrassed about? He was the most sought after man in Britain and she was a fucking nobody. If anything, he ought to be embarrassed. The pent up frustration was taken out on the poor girl's mouth as he began to thrust wildly once more, with no regard of her pleasure. She wasn't here for pleasure; anyhow, she just wanted a story to tell to her friends. He knew exactly how it went.

Then finally, blessedly, he came. He'd been starting to think that it would never have happened today with her inexperienced mouth and the boredom of the act, but it finally came.

He relaxed back into the leather seat and watched her flushed face with unseeing eyes. She was shaking, wondering what was going to happen now. He didn't want anything more to do with the boring girl, of course. He just hoped she would get the picture and fucking leave him be. He inclined back further, closing his eyes, pretending to be tired. Which, of course, was entirely impossible with the poor job she'd done.

He was sweaty from the exertions and it was fucking uncomfortable.

"That was...fun," she offered slowly. "Um, should I just...?"

But thankfully, he didn't have to respond as there was a knock on the door. Blaise probably had never had such brilliant timing. The girl blanched, righted her clothes, and was on her feet, smoothing her hair down before he'd even said, "Come in."

Blaise hesitantly opened the door, stepping in. The girl brushed past him, her head down so he wouldn't see her face, but that was a lost cause. He'd seen her and everything she'd been doing. Draco felt a little bit disgusted in her behaviour. Blaise's eyes widened a bit, staring back at him as he tucked himself back into his pants. It didn't bother Draco. It was nothing the man hadn't seen before.

"Do my eyes deceive me or was that Tracey Davis?" asked Blaise in his careful tone.

"I don't know. Why?" Draco shrugged. What the fuck did it matter?

Blaise shook his head. "We were at her wedding last week, you imbecile."

Draco paused as if to make sure that Blaise hadn't been pulling his leg, and then laughed. "That's just too good!" he chuckled as Blaise scowled his usual scowl at Draco's antics. "Wait, you mean the wedding where I fucked the bride before she walked down the aisle?"

Blaise looked a bit shocked. "You didn't!"

Draco only smirked as Blaise shook his head clearly disgusted. He didn't understand what the man's deal was. He was always harping on about one thing or another and it was really starting to tick Draco off. What was his bloody problem? It wasn't as if Draco had done anything morally heinous. All he'd done was screw someone else's bride and then let her suck him off a couple of days later, not remembering who she was.

Draco inwardly cringed. So alright, it wasn't exactly the best thing he'd done in his days, but it definitely wasn't the worst. "It's not like I chased after her," he defended. "She came after me. Honestly, I didn't even know she was Davis until you pointed it out."

And that was true. Draco never chased after girls. Never had in his long, long past and never would. The day Draco Malfoy chased after a girl was the day hell would freeze over. Merlin would come back to toss his world around and his balls would fall off before that would happen. Yeah, not happening, not in a million fucking years.

But he still looked at Draco in that disbelieving way of his that he had. Draco rolled his eyes and fought the urge to throw out a snarky comeback. Blaise, as always, was unaware of Draco's attempts at being nice. "That's sleazy, mate, even for you."

"Sleazy? Me? You've some nerve." Blaise narrowed his eyes. Of course holier than thou Zabini would never ever acknowledge the flaws within himself. "What? Forgetting that you're screwing my ex, are you?" Blaise's cheeks darkened, which was a feat in itself that made Draco smirk. "I didn't know you were into sloppy seconds so much, Blaisey, especial mine! Quite kinky-"

"Enough," Blaise cut him off in a clipped tone. "Get dressed, we have a board meeting."

That was Blaise, ignoring him and his comments. The boy had been that way since they were little, when his mother would receive Lady Zabini the gold digger for tea and stick Draco and Blaise together to play. They'd become a sort of friends fast enough surely, but solely out of circumstance.

Had they not been forced together for so many years, first by their mothers, then at Hogwarts as a consequence of dorming for seven long years, they would certainly not be friends. Draco and Blaise were complete polar opposites. Blaise was quiet, logical, rational, while Draco was loud, boisterous, and arrogant. Blaise was emotionless, Draco was nearly bipolar. Blaise liked to read like a little bookworm and Draco could not give a fuck about anything, really.

No one exactly knew why they were friends. It appeared as if they hated each other, almost, but that wasn't true. Blaise took care of Draco when need be and Draco... well Draco did whatever Blaise asked after throwing a snarky fit. He tolerated Blaise because he always had and Blaise kept Draco in line because he probably had nothing better to do with his life other than fucking Draco's ex-girlfriend.

Now, Draco wasn't petty when it came to his friends, just because he had so few and far in between. Draco didn't begrudge Blaise for trying to have a relationship, if that's what it was, with Pansy Parkinson (he pitied him, really), he just enjoyed making Blaise feel uncomfortable. It was kind of like a hobby.

Much had changed since the end of the war, but not his relationship with Zabini. The Dark Lord had fallen, his mother had followed the same route only a year after, his father had been sentenced to Azkaban and had served his time shamefully, eventually being released. Even the Ministry of Magic had gone through a period of bullshit reform, which didn't change much but had made people feel a bit better. Draco had gone through women like tissue, but throughout all that Zabini had always stuck around.

Together, they had discovered the meaning of life. Or, well, Draco had whilst Zabini remained completely boring. It irked Draco to no end. Life was quite simple, in reality. He had developed the perfect philosophy. To live, one only needed four things: Sex, drugs, lies, and amusement.

Some might call it a useless existence but fuck it if he cared what anyone thought about him. There was no such thing as ideals, the war had proven that much. Both sides had fought for something and neither had gotten what they wanted, neither had really accomplished anything. There was no such thing as love – his parent's marriage had proven that. Schooling and knowledge didn't make a difference, didn't get you anywhere in life, only money did. One only needed to look at the Weasley's, as rotten as they were, for an example.

What was money good for, anyway? Sex, Drugs, and amusement. Perhaps strippers as well, but that was all. There was nothing more to one's existence, Draco had determined. People worked day and night for money, money just so they could get a morsel of pleasure and luxury now and then. And Draco was filthy rich, of course. Why work when he could satisfy his existence as it was?

Blaise stepped towards Draco and snapped his fingers in front of the blond's face until the fellow started. "What are you, deaf? We have to get going!"

"I think I'm going to skip this one, actually," Draco yawned, getting up and picking his way lazily over to his bed. "You go on ahead and send my regards, yes? Great, see you. Don't forget to shut the door behind you."

Draco plopped himself down on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He ought to have discarded his clothes before doing so, but he was much too lazy for that now. When Blaise walked over to the bed and sat himself down without being invited, Draco sighed. What could the man possibly want now? He had been perfectly clear with his wishes... It wasn't exactly too difficult to follow.

"Is this about having to plan the funeral?" asked Blaise carefully, as if it were some kind of sensitive subject.

Draco stared at Blaise with a deadpanned expression, waiting for the fucker to elaborate. When nothing came but a strange look, Draco had the urge to strangle the bastard. It wasn't as if he was asking for too much. He didn't like his feathers ruffled when he was all groggy, Blaise should know that by now. "Are you going to tell me what you're on about or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Blaise seemed uncomfortable. "Your father passed away two days ago..." he trailed, waiting to see if Draco had even been aware of the news. Draco put on his best so what? expression. "Are you not arranging the funeral, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. It was bad enough that he had to go to the stupid thing, why the fuck would he ever waste his time planning it? "I think the house elves will manage wonderfully, won't they?" Blaise opened his mouth to retort, something Draco knew he wouldn't want to waste time hearing, so he beat Blaise to it. "I'm not bothered, how could I be? He was a foul person and not much of a father. I just don't give a fuck. Don't really want anything to do with it."

Blaise nodded, staring at him in something that was akin to pity. Draco couldn't fathom why anyone would pity him now. His life was absolutely fantastic. He no longer had to tolerate the bastard that had made his life miserable for years, he had full control of his inheritance, and the manor was now for his personal use. He was young, good looking, and all that. Life was as good as it was going to get. He didn't need pity, he needed a good drinking buddy.

Truth was, when he'd heard Lucius had finally died, he'd immediately gone to the club and bought everyone a shot. In retrospect, it almost sounded heartless, but Draco didn't fucking care. His father had been heartless, cruel, a right bleeding bastard. Draco didn't regret it. In fact, hatred was more than Lucius deserved at this point. Lucius didn't deserve to have his name spoken or even thought of.

"Well, want to go to the club then, since you refuse to leave me be?" Draco questioned lightly.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "No, you and I have to go to the board meeting, you fucking idiot. They're transferring ownership of the company to you! You have to be there to sign the papers, so get the fuck up and get bloody dressed before I curse your balls off!"

Blaise seemed to be rather pissed off with Draco. If only Draco cared...

"I thought they'd wait until after the funeral, at least," Draco yawned, once more. "When is this meeting anyway?"

"We're half an hour late," he hissed back. By that point, he had already gone over to Draco's well stocked closet and brought back a pair of dress robes Draco didn't remember ever seeing before. "Now please, get dressed so we can just get this over with. I've seen enough of your ugly mug for one day."

Draco pretended to be offended at the flustered comment before getting up to do as he was asked. This was how it always was. Blaise would force Draco into doing stuff that needed to get done and then when it was all over, Draco would force Blaise to act like a normal human being. When all was said and done, Blaise was the closest thing to family Draco had ever had, though he just wouldn't ever dare say something that corny aloud.

"Well, alright. You go," Draco muttered, discarding his clothes and casting a scourigfy on himself. "I'll catch up with you in just a minute." With his shirt over his head, Draco missed the evil look Blaise sent his way. If he had, he would know that Blaise would seriously hurt him later if he took more than a minute.

But because he hadn't, he took exactly five.


Hermione Granger was angry.

Now, she wasn't often angry, she didn't have a temper, or anger management type issues, she liked to think. In fact, she was quite cool and rational most of the time! She did things properly and anger just didn't get you places you needed to be. Most of the time it was a hindrance and you could hardly do a good job if you were blinded by such a consuming emotion. So no, she liked to refrain from giving into rage.

But when she was angry, she felt she was very justified in taking part in such an unnecessary behaviour. So when the sixth thing went wrong that day at work, she'd just about had it! She was ready to tear into the next person that pissed her off, and with the imbeciles that she worked with? That was going to be entirely too easy.

It wasn't their fault, she amended inside her head. They were just... not what she'd envisioned her co-workers to be like, she supposed. She couldn't blame the world for not living up to her standards, right? She could only yell at it, kick and scream until it took notice of her, and maybe make a few changes before the anger ran out and guilt began to pour in.

Ten years, though, was much too long. Any hope of such a thing happening had long since died and even been buried.

Yes, she'd been here ten years. When she'd gone back and properly graduated from Hogwarts the year after the war and come to an end, she'd thought that the world would certainly be a better place. She'd easily been swept up as a member of the new Committee of Reform, which essentially was responsible for helping Wizarding Britain adjust to the changes they were clearly experiencing.

She'd been hired as a poster child, but she'd had no idea back then. The whole bloody committee was a sham, something she'd figured out a year into her work. The reforms they proposed were meaningless, the reforms they actually went through with were not worth mentioning, and she didn't really have a job there. It was all a waste of time.

So, she'd moved on, hoping to find another cause to dedicate herself to. In her ten years at the Ministry of Magic, she'd worked in: the Committee of Reform, the Department of International Magical Cooperation and all of its sub offices, the offices of the Improper Use of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, The Department of Magical Transportation, the Committee of Experimental Charms, and now she was stuck in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

She'd just gotten this newish job a year and a half ago and was still hoping for it to get better. She'd thought that perhaps she could pursue her passion for protecting those who could not protect themselves. Specifically House Elves.

Now, she wasn't stupid. She knew her work with S.P.E.W back in the day had been a miserable failure, but seriously, she was working with a bunch of fucking idiots. She'd like to think she was an idealist most of the time, but when she saw people like her current co-workers going about their day, she had absolutely no hope for the world.

Just today, Marian, the lady in the office next door had forgotten that she'd had to prepare for the big department meeting that was TOMORROW. Sasha who was the deputy head for the bloody department had forgotten to book the Ministry board rooms for their big department meeting tomorrow! Charles had forgotten that she was supposed to speak at the godforsaken department meeting, which was again – TOMORROW!

And twenty-five out of the thirty-five people that worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had told her that they wouldn't be able to make it to the bloody department meeting tomorrow, out of conflicting scheduling or something. Not that she hadn't been planning this for a month. Oh no, she definitely hadn't given them at least three notices in the past week.

She was angry. She was ready to quit. There was no hope in the world, not for little house elves, not for any poor little creatures, and definitely not for her.


Draco walked lazily into the board meeting and completely missed when everyone quieted down. This was normal behaviour for a Malfoy. Everyone noticed when you came into the room, watched what you did, how you moved, what you said, if you chewed too quickly, if you began to sweat, etc, etc. It was all a bloody nightmare, but Draco was very much used to it by this age. He hadn't been raised poorly, he knew how to handle this kind of pressure.

But of course, he'd completely forgotten the fact that he was nearly 45 minutes late to the meeting in which his father's entire life's work (The work beyond bending over backwards to let the Dark Lord fuck him up the arse, that is) was being transferred under his name. To be honest, Draco didn't care for any of it. He knew he wouldn't be managing the business. Blaise probably would have a hand in running it. It was going to be as it always had been – he would be called once in a while to give a speech, sign something, or listen to some random prick ramble. Nothing more, nothing less.

As they finally began the proceedings, Draco realized he was bored out of his fucking mind. He didn't really understand exactly why he needed to be here to listen to some old fucking pigs to lecture him. And lecturing him they were! Condescending fuckers. They all thought they'd be getting life easy now, now that their dictator was gone.

Draco didn't mind that the old farts were going to take over the company and get whatever the fuck they wanted. Draco hardly cared, in fact, he encouraged it. People should always go after whatever they wanted in life. If these men wanted money and pseudo power, well then, all the more power to them.

What he did mind was their fucking attitude to his face. As they each took their turn speaking to him about their roles in the company, what would be expected of him, what he ought to be expecting from now on... it was all a fucking farce and a huge slap in the face! They spoke to him as if he were a child, as if he weren't even educated. It pissed him the hell off.

Minutes passed and he realized he was tapping his foot impatiently. The board members stared at him knowingly. They, of course, thought he was a useless vagabond drug addict that just liked to fuck around all day. Sure, that may be exactly what he was, but these rich old bastards had no right to judge him over such things. His anger grew rapidly, something he had become adept at hiding, as they droned on.

"...and finally, you will be expected to maintain the company values and image in public at all times, of course. I know this may be difficult," the man, who had something to do with public relations or something of the sort, told him in that nasal-like condescending voice. Draco fought to urge to grit his teeth and instead nodded politely.

He was not a fucking child for Merlin's sake.

"Very good!" another portly old man exclaimed. He couldn't remember any of their names, but it hardly mattered. They were all going to get what was coming to them. "So then, we can begin with the signing. Here, here, and here," he pointed.

Draco began the large process, signing his name with a flourish over forty freaking times. By the end of it, his hand was beginning to cramp and the room had become especially hot and sweaty. Draco had not ever seen a more disgusting sight than what lay before him, sweaty old men attempting to fan themselves off. He couldn't wait to be rid of them. And then finally, with the last signature, a gold flash of light glowed throughout the room signalling the transfer of ownership to him. Draco sighed in relief. He wondered silently if that had been more work than it was worth.

They all congratulated him, the fuckers who thought they were going to rob him of the power that was rightfully his since birth. Who the fuck did they think they were, talking to him like that, treating him as if he were some kind of fool? Draco Malfoy might have been laid back and a bit of an unaccomplished person, but he did not ever let anyone fuck around with him.

"So Mr. Malfoy, what will be your first action as the Head of Malfoy Industries?" asked the man who was obviously wearing a wig. It wasn't fooling anyone, Draco wanted to shout.

But instead, he let a small smile spread across his face, lighting his features. He knew he looked the perfect picture of innocence just then. All the better to throw them off with what he was about to do. He stood up, gesturing for them to all follow the action. "After much consideration over the last hour, I've come to a wonderful decision," he paused, letting them wait for him to continue. "You're all fired."

Blaise was startled out of his stupor and shouted a loud, "What?"

"Yeah, you're all fired," Draco repeated. "Except for you, Blaise, of course. You can stay." Draco smiled at him a little evilly.

"Delightful," he drawled sarcastically and left the board room, shutting the door with a resounding bang.

Draco stared at the shocked faces around him and barely restrained himself from laughing in their faces. It probably wasn't wise to fire the entire head staff of his company, but they were old rotting bastards, anyways. They could suffer for treating him any less than he deserved to be treated. They didn't deserve to be the dirt under his soles, so for all he cared, they could all fuck off.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Draco taunted. No one said anything at all for a moment, just twelve sweaty faces staring back at him in absolute horror. Draco realized that they probably hadn't ever expected this kind of reaction from him. He almost cruelly wished that one of them would keel over in a heart attack just to add to the drama, but it didn't seem like a possibility at the moment unfortunately. That was just too bad.

"You can't just fire us!" one of them began to say. "I've worked here for fifteen years!"

"Lovely. So it's clear that you've overstayed your welcome, isn't it? Now I suggest you leave right away, there's no need to pack. I will have the house elves send your belongings where they ought to be," Draco said good naturedly. "Unless you prefer security to escort you out?"

"You don't know what you're doing, boy," one of them said as he angrily left the room. "This is going to be the end of you, I swear it!"

Draco rolled his eyes and waved the man out with as much condescension as he could manage – which was a lot. It wasn't like he hadn't heard those exact words shouted at him several times before. He was quite used to it. The appeal of firing the fuckers was beginning to quickly wear off now and he was rapidly becoming bored again. Could one actually be bored to death?

Then something caught his attention. As the last of the board members filed out, Draco noticed an unlikely trio at the very end of the shame faced procession. A goblin, a tired looking man who couldn't be a day over thirty, and a girl. Yeah, she was a girl, alright. She must have just graduated last May, in fact.

"Oi, you three!" he called out sharply. Of course, they seemed to be used to such treatment because he didn't even need to clarify who he was talking to. "Who are you?" he questioned when they stood before him.

The tired man stared at Draco as if wondering why he was even bothering with such a task. "I am Bart Gloringhouse, sir, I work in your now non-existent PR department. This is Tamsin, she was Mr. Flaharty's assistant, and this is Ognuk, Head of Finance."

If anything, Draco liked the man's spunk. "Right. I like you three, so you can stay," Draco said, shrugging. They didn't seem to have anything to say to that and the tired man looked a little reluctant. "Ten percent raise and you can have the rest of the week off, but I expect you here bright and early Monday morning dealing with everything that needs to be done, got it?"

"Yes, sir," the three chimed.

Draco gave them a wave and they left, heeding the obvious command. Draco inclined back into his chair, realizing that he was actually quite tired today for no reason. It wasn't as if he'd done all that much strenuous work. He was just... tired. As he closed his eyes and began to see the smoky hallways of his most favourite place on earth, something, or someone, smacked him on the back of the head, startling him awake.

"I hate you," Blaise nearly yelled at him. "Why is it that you can never do anything right, Malfoy? All you had to do was sign some papers for god sakes! Where the hell am I going to find a whole new board?"

"Not entirely new, I kept some," Draco muttered in his defence. "Besides, I thought you hated the fuckers, anyway. You've only been ranting about them for the past ten years or so."

Blaise's eyes softened for a moment. "I didn't know you actually listened to those rants or I never would've done it! Look at where we are now! How the hell are we going to get anything done without a board?" Blaise hit Draco over the head again, his anger back in full force. Draco was surprised he wasn't in a choke hold yet.

Draco shrugged, unconcerned. It probably wasn't good business, but he wasn't a businessman. It didn't matter to him if they weren't completely on top of things at the moment. They had a valid excuse, at least, and in Draco's books that meant everything was A-okay. It meant that he could laze off and let them deal with the problem another day – whoever "them" was, was still undetermined.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow, yeah?" asked Draco, standing up and stretching, much to Blaise's annoyance. Both he and Blaise knew that he wasn't actually going to do anything. Draco never did anything, never solved his own problems. Why would this suddenly be the first time? "But for now, let's go to the club."

It must have been such a catastrophe, something that even Blaise wasn't willing to deal with at the moment Draco realized, because for the first time ever in the history of their friendship, Blaise agreed to do something with Draco without putting up a fuss first.


"Get off me, Ronald!" Hermione nearly hissed.

Ron looked at her as if he'd been slapped, but she wasn't fooled one bit. She'd seen this look before, he put it on practically every time they fought (and that was more often than she could count). The man really was made up of four emotions: Happy, sad, angry, or horny. It disgusted Hermione, especially when they were fighting like they were now. It was at these times she questioned her decision to repeatedly stay with him.

"Why are you such a prude, for Merlin's sake?" Ron slurred in her general direction, his breath stinking of alcohol. "We never do it and you're saying no now?"

She nearly vomited a little bit in her mouth at the smell of firewhisky wafting into her face. She hated when he was like this. In fact, she was pretty sure she'd broken up with him at least three times just because he was like this. She didn't like the fact that he needed to resort to alcohol, or that he came over to her flat after he was well and thoroughly pissed to get laid.

What was she, some kind of common whore? It really hurt her feelings and he just didn't seem to understand. Well, she deserved better than this! She deserved someone who understood what she wanted and treated her and her body with some goddamned respect. She was a woman, a dignified, accomplished woman, not some cheap slag in a brothel. This was it, this was the last goddamn time she was going to break up with him.

"I'm not doing anything with you," she said, determined now that she had made her mind up.

When Hermione got something into her head, she very well went through with it. There was no stopping her now. And she would not get back together with him either, like the last twenty times when he brought flowers over the next day (or more accurately, the next week). She was done with this idiotic relationship just like she was done expecting something good to happen at work. She needed change. Sticking around and waiting for things to change themselves was just not going to happen, she decided.

"Aw, come on, baby," he pleaded, stumbling toward her. He grabbed her around the waist and began to kiss sloppily along her neck, causing her to shiver in revulsion. "Don't be like that. You know I can't resist only because you're so beautiful." He was mumbling at this point and she hat to strain to hear his excuses, because that's what they were – excuses. "Is it wrong that I want you, Hermy?"

"No, it's how you go about it, Ronald, now let me go!" she nearly screamed. His eyes, which had been drooping, widened in a flash and he stumbled a step away from her as if shocked she could possibly deny him. "I want you to leave now," she stated confidently. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to leave and never come back.

Ron ignored her, obviously thinking she wasn't being serious. And how could he take her seriously? She hadn't ever been completely serious with him. He knew he'd always be forgiven for it all eventually. It was sad, sadder than she was willing to admit it at the moment because at that moment all she wanted was to crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep about the state of her life.

"You don't really want me gone," he said, walking over towards the couch and throwing himself onto it. That kind of behaviour made her clench her fists together. How could she like him if he was going to behave like a child? And worse, how could she like him if he insisted on dragging the couch around with his weight and scratching up her floors? "Why do you have to act so uptight all the time, love?"

"Don't call me that!" she hissed. "I want you to leave, Ronald, right now or I'm going to curse you until you can't see, get it?" She reached into her pocked to grasp a hold of her wand just in case that possibility was necessary. She hadn't cursed him since... well, since Sixth year when he'd ditched her for Lavender Brown.

And God had that felt good.

The drunk buffoon still hadn't realized that she was losing her patience with him because all he did was grin cockily back at her, spreading himself lazily on her couch. She closed her eyes and counted to ten slowly, taking in deep breaths. It was okay, really. He'd get up and leave and she wouldn't have to berate herself for wasting more than ten years of her life over a man who had alcohol issues and had a range of emotions that could fit in a tea-spoon.

"Want to join me?"


"We could kiss and make up, love, I'm sorry-"


"We can open another bottle of firewhisky, I'll even share, babe."

And the only thought that went through her head as she registered that comment was: fuck the numbers! She couldn't believe he could be so thick as to suggest something so stupid, but she wasn't past thinking that low. Instead of causing herself brain damage trying to understand the inner workings of Ronald Weasley's mind, she pulled out her wand and blasted him through her front door.

Five minutes later, after a quick reparo to deal with the mess and a Dreamless Sleep Potion, she was fast asleep and completely oblivious to Ron attempting to make his pathetic way home.


The air was completely smoky, just the way Draco liked it. It gave the room a more sensual vibe, he felt, and he was something of a connoisseur of sensuality he liked to think. Smoke, as it was, was a kind of a blanket in these kinds of places. Whether it came from the cigar, the candles, the fireplace, or whatever spells the owner of this joint was purposely using, it was working well for Draco.

The smoke would caress him, cloaking him in its warm sheath just as it caressed the scantily clad girls before him. He wasn't particularly interested in any of them at the moment, but they were still something pretty to look at. In the light of the day they could've just been ordinary women. But just then, in that dimly lit smoky room with Draco watching them as the smoke touched them nearly everywhere, they were something special.

They were finally beautiful.

This is where Draco came to feel beauty, to see it, to touch it, to hold it, to bloody taste it. He could feel it in his veins by the time he was satisfied and gone, could see it imprinted in the flesh of his mind. And it all happened in that smoky little room, tucked away in the depths of London. Not many knew of the place and those that did were a closely knit group. Draco might not know their names (secrecy was a preferred trait more often than not) but he knew what they liked.

And it was here that Draco felt most like a man. He could sit there and just watch whatever show was being put on for him and he would just know that it was all for him. They would dance and sing for him, strip and run their hands along their naked bodies just for him. And when they were pleasured, Draco knew it was still just going to be for him.

He wasn't particularly possessive of them so he didn't care where their pleasure came from. It didn't matter if it was his turn to pound into the beauty of his choosing. She never complained. She was always wet, always wanting, no matter what time it was, no matter who it was that was doing the taking. But Draco knew, and he was assured often, that it was his.

He never felt as good when he wasn't in that smoky room. They accepted him there, welcomed him, even the patrons and workers alike. They knew who he was and his god given right to just own all that he touched. They knew that if he wanted, he could crush them with just a snap of his fingers because he was that powerful. They acknowledged it, accepted it, craved it...

They wanted him and he liked it.

For outside that room, whenever he stepped outside that room, he was someone else all of a sudden. He wasn't respected. His philosophy was garbage to everyone else but him and a few select others. That was alright though, he could take the questions: Draco, why don't you ever grow up? Draco, when will you get a real job? Draco, when will you take up your responsibilities? Draco, when will you get out of this phase, Draco? Why, Draco? Why?

The questions were always coming. He just didn't care enough to answer.

He could take all the condescending looks, he could take the abuse they threw at him behind his back. It didn't matter because he didn't care enough for it to matter. But in that room, that room of smoke and mirrors where beauty waited for him to claim it, he was accepted for who and what he was. He wasn't just another bloody rich boy, he was the bloody rich boy. No one else.

Just him.

And he liked it that way – just him.

A/N: I really hope that that was something enjoyable. I know it was long – do you guys prefer shorter chapters? I realize it might've been a little boring BUT I SWEAR IT WILL GET BETTER! Leave me a review and let me know what you think. :)

Here's a spoiler for the next chapter:

As he sat there lazily, enjoying the feel of the girl's lips on his neck, he was suddenly surprised by the presence of someone who had just walked through the door. "Granger? Is that Granger?" he asked no one in particular.

"Is that the one you desire?" asked the girl in his lap.