Wrote this on a whim. Kinky themes. Part one of four.

Super thank you to WayMay for editing and believing in this, even when I thought it might be sh*t. You always have my back, and for that, I thank you dearly.
~A.

Bond

By MrBenzedrine

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I won't make a profit from this story. Unless you count friendship/followers as profit.
Dramione shipping
Rated M for lemons and future lemons.
Part 1 of 4.

"Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven

"Luna, I don't quite feel comfortable…"

She stared across the front lawn of a lavish looking, three-tier building made up of black bricks and no windows. Surrounding the establishment were trees on all sides- privacy, she noted shyly, for all attending 'guests.' There was one circular slab of concrete fifty feet away for Apparition arrivals and departures, where Hermione and Luna stood, and a beautifully constructed path made of cobblestones leading up to the front door.

Luna Lovegood gave her friend a cheerful smile and patted her shoulder. "This will be good for you, Hermione. You need to unwind -you said it yourself."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced down at her white sundress accented with blue flowers. The halter straps around her neck dug in too tight to her skin (though Hermione had only herself to blame, as she tied those straps rather tight so no one would be able to untie them quickly). Her exposed legs trembled in her ballet flats as the night air picked up a considerably icy gust of wind. "But when I said that, I meant a nice cup of herbal tea and a good book. Not… this." She waved at the building with its daunting black door as the only visible way in or out.

Luna shrugged in response and took her friend by the arm to lead her down the path. "Ever since your divorce, you've been nothing but a pent up bundle of nargles. -Everyone says so."

"Do they?"

"Yes." The blonde smiled warmly as she tugged at Hermione's arm to quicken their stride. "I promise you; there's nothing sinister behind these doors. Just a way for witches and wizards to release pent up energy."

"By feeling up on each other in designated rooms?" She gave a cold laugh.

"It's not like that at all," said Luna, "Bond is a place where you can have a conversation with someone if that's all you wish, or you can do more. One can act out their most irreverent fantasies in a safe, structured environment. There are rules. Safety regulations. It's just up your alley."

"Except the part where I'm expected to pick a random stranger to engage in sexual acts with."

Luna came to an abrupt stop, turning her head up towards the slightly taller witch. "The first tier is just a nightclub. You can have a drink, dance, and unwind. You don't have to explore the other two floors. But I do think this will be good for you."

"Why did I agree to this in the first place?"

"Because you know it's what you need. And because I told you that I wouldn't sign your petition unless you came out for a drink with me."

"A drink." Hermione nodded. "Yes. Exactly. A drink. Not this!"

"You never specified where."

Hermione sighed and gave up, allowing Luna to walk her all the way up the front steps and to the large, metal door with a silver, hooped knocker. Luna reached her hand up, knocked on it once, twice, and then two quick times, and the door swung open immediately. The hallway looked dark and secluded, and Hermione backed up. "I… I don't think anyone's home."

"It's just a glamour. Come on. In you pop." Luna shoved her friend inside, and when Hermione's feet broke through the threshold, the dark entryway lit to life with color. Surrounding her was a large, lavish nightclub; the walls were draped in red velvet on three sides, and on the fourth stood a wall lined with shelves of liquor all the way to the ceiling. A bar, complete with black, cushioned swivel chairs and scantily clad witches brewing alluring alcoholic concoctions, ran the length of the fourth wall. The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies, jumping and gyrating to some pulsing, rhythmic bass that shook Hermione down to her bones as she took a few more steps inside. Luna came up behind her, her red lipstick pulling back into a smile that said, 'told you you'd like it'.

A burly looking wizard with a shaved head walked over to them with his wand. "Welcome to Tier One, ladies." Luna offered out her left hand, and the wizard waved his wand over it- a red X glowed underneath her skin and disappeared. Hermione raised an eyebrow as the wizard looked impatiently to her, and it took Luna elbowing her in the ribs for her to thrust her hand out and allow him to do the same. The X tingled as it glowed back at her, but when it faded away, the sensation left. "Right. Tonight is ladies' night, so witches drink for half price. If you find someone interesting enough to proceed to Tier Two, please see Tommy over at the staircase." He nudged to a slender, shorter wizard with curly brown hair and a clipboard. "Enjoy yourselves."

"We will," Luna grinned, tugging Hermione around the arm over to the edge of the bar top.

"What is the X for?" Hermione asked inquisitively.

"It's a consent spell. If at any time you don't like what someone is doing, the red X lights up, and the bouncers are alerted to step in. I told you -safety."

Hermione blinked down at her hand twice, flexing her fingers. "That's… quite brilliant."

"See? Nothing to worry about."

An edgy witch with purple hair and a nose ring walked up on the other side of the counter, smiling to Luna. "Lu! Nice to see you."

"Hi, Jez," Luna grinned, blushing.

"The usual tonight?"

"Double it, please. I'm treating my friend for a night out."

The bartender named Jez looked Hermione over, nodded, and gave Luna -dare Hermione think it -a jealous look. "She's a pretty one."

"And as straight as they get," Luna replied. Jez seemed thoroughly satisfied with the answer, and poured them two shots of fire whiskey, and another shot each of pixie rum. "I get off work in an hour," she told the blonde, giving her a small wink.

Hermione now understood why Luna enjoyed this particular club so much. It wasn't because of what went on at the other levels. It was because Luna found herself a beautiful bartender to enjoy said time on the other two levels. Which meant in an hour, when she would no doubt flitter off to locate the bartender when her shift ended, Hermione would have the opportunity to slip out the front door, no harm, no foul. Relief flooded over her, and she gave out a sigh of contentment. 'Oh, what the Hell?' she thought and downed her shots, happily. Luna looked impressed, and she toasted Hermione to a "Night of frivolous intentions and bad decisions!"

It didn't take long for the alcohol to hit Hermione's bloodstream -she was a lightweight, more than she cared to admit, and soon Luna had her out on the dance floor, attempting to sway to the beat of the songs as the vibrating bass tickled her skin. A few men tried to approach her to dance, but she waved them off politely, opting for dancing with her friend instead. While she danced, she took the time to observe the rest of the club. Along the three walls with velvet drapes, there were tables. Each table had a particular rune associated with it, and two to four wizards or witches with flute glasses or crystal tumblers. The VIP section, no doubt. She also noticed that some of the men and women at the sectioned tables wore black domino masks.

"Luna," Hermione whispered in her friend's ear, (or shouted because the music was blaring around them), "Why do the VIP's wear masks?"

"They're not VIP's," said Luna, "They're the ones who've come here with their spouses."

"What?" Hermione frowned. "You mean they come here to cheat?"

"No." Luna realized that her friend had given up on the dancing, and she ushered her back to a corner pocket table with a flowing rune that resembled a figure eight. Hermione was surprised that they had found a table so quickly, but then again, Luna was a regular. "There's a few couples who come here together to… swing."

"Swing?"

"You know… exchange partners for the night."

Hermione gasped. "People do that?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "Yes, Hermione. People do quite a bit of things besides drink tea and read books."

"And… and they're alright with it? All of them?"

"How should I know?" Her friend shrugged. "But they wear the masks out of respect for their partners. It's a declaration for the singles in the area; 'I'm taken, so don't get attached.' Makes things less complicated for people, such as yourself."

"Such as myself?"

"You know. Someone who might get attached."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "You talk like I'm going to pick someone from this place and dive right in."

"Who knows? You might find someone you're interested in. All I'm saying is that you needn't bother yourself with the masked ones. They usually just trade off amongst themselves. They're not your speed."

Feeling a bit insulted, Hermione crossed her arms and watched her friend saunter off to fetch them more alcohol. It was intriguing, watching the men and women in the domino masks, and soon Hermione found her eyes trailing over each and every one, trying to piece together their story. Were they happy being here? Did they feel comfortable with passing their significant other off to someone else? Did they feel at all branded by the masks, or was it liberating to hide their identities? She watched a beautiful brunette leave with a caramel-creamed gentleman in one of those masks, strolling hand in hand, across the dance floor over to the set of ebony steps leading up to the second tier. The wizard called 'Tommy' waved a wand over both of their left hands, finding them reasonable, and unclasped a velvet rope to allow the couple their ascension to Hermione's unknown.

"Getting more interested in that second tier, are we?" Luna giggled, returning with a martini glass full of some frothy, green liquid that gave off the smell of green apples. Hermione licked a bit of foam off the top, accidently catching the eye of a domino-masked gentleman in the opposite back corner at the same time. She wasn't sure how she knew he was watching her. The club was so dark and the fact that his face in her general direction didn't mean his eyes were actually on her, but her gut jerked, and her instincts flared. Even from this far away, she could tell he was handsome. His features were sharp, and his body was lean. He looked a tad familiar, but then again... "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind terribly if I…" She nudged off towards the bar, where the bartender Jez had already collected her purse. Hermione shook her head and waved her hand. "Go on, Luna. I'm going to finish this and probably be off. -I had a lovely time. Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go on. Off you pop."

"Thanks, I shouldn't be too long… maybe you'll stay?"

She gave her friend an encouraging nod, and Luna gave her a hug before skittering off to meet Jez on the edge of the dance floor. Together, the two made their way to Tommy and the rope and ascended the staircase into the unknown.

'By that time, I'll be long gone,' thought Hermione, taking another sip of her foamy beverage. The brew was cold on her lips but heated up when it hit the back of her throat. The bubbles burst on their way down her esophagus, and she found an extreme urge to giggle. She brought her hand to her mouth, biting back a slew of laughter as a man with charcoal skin and a shaved head approached her table, donning one of those alluring black masks. Hmm, wasn't that strange? It wasn't alluring before. Now it was all she could think about. What did he look like behind that strip of fabric?

"Hello," said the man, taking Luna's chair. He gave her a grin and strummed his fingers along the table. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. Is this your first time at Bond?"

There was a voice in the back of Hermione's head that shouted, 'Don't speak to him! You don't know him!' But a warmth crawled over her skin, and she smiled, despite herself. "It is."

"Oh my. Well, that is a rare gift indeed. Was that fetching little dollop here a moment ago your date?"

"Luna?" She heard herself laugh. It was like she was on the outside, watching herself. She hardly had any control of herself. "No, she's just a friend of mine."

"Are you in the market for more friends?"

The room began to spin. Hermione shook her head, attempting to rid the bubbly feeling tickling her brain. She stood up from her chair, clutching at her wand. "E-excuse me…" There was something terribly wrong. She stumbled across the dance floor in an attempt to make it to the bathroom, but she brushed into one of the dancers and stumbled backward -directly into someone's lap.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." She tried to stand, but the room was a merry-go-round of lights, colors, and sounds that made her wrap her arms around the person instead, burying her face into their neck. "I… I can't seem to stand…"

"I'll admit, this isn't exactly how I thought we'd see each other again," said a quiet, velveteen voice in her ear. It belonged to a man, and it was oddly familiar. Where had she heard it before? Hermione drew her face back, still clinging to whomever it was as her body began to shake. She looked into the calm, collective eyes of…

"Malfoy?" It had been years since they'd last spoken, but she'd recognize those silver eyes any day, even if they were tucked behind the black fabric of a mask. Her breath caught, and she quickly made to stand, but the spinning in her head jerked her right back down so that she pressed her nose into the crook of his neck. "So… dizzy…"

"Oi, oi." A second voice called -it was the man who had approached her at her table. "Just what do you think you're doing, Draco?"

"Doing? I haven't done a thing. She fell into my lap."

"Likely story."

"It's true," said a feminine voice to Hermione's left, "I saw the whole thing."

"Pans, why don't you do us all a favor and go grab one of those sobering tablets from the front desk?"

There was a shuffle of fabric, and Hermione heard the distinct clack of heels as someone left the table.

"I've got dibs on her when she comes to."

"You haven't got dibs on anyone, Zabini. -Do you even realize who you were about to chat up?"

Hermione shifted closer to the warmth of Malfoy's body, still immersed in the spinning of her equilibrium. She gave a small yawn, tightened her grip around his neck, and mumbled, "You smell nice."

She heard him snort a laugh. "Do I? Merlin help us all. Gryffindor's princess thinks I smell nice."

The room vibrated with kicking bass of the music, and Hermione groaned. "Why… why am I so dizzy?"

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and a pretty witch with short, black hair held out two pink tablets in front of her. "Here. Chew these. You'll be right as rain in a moment."

She reached out, slipped the chews into her mouth, and bit down. There was an uproar of fizz that spilled down the back of her throat, and with a small cough, her head cleared, as well as her vision. Slowly, she began to piece together the events of the last five minutes, looking up around at the array of domino masks staring back at her.

"Oh, look," said Pansy Parkinson, "She's come around. Hello. Someone get a bit too tossed for her own good?"

She felt a warm breath tickle the side of her neck. "I have half a mind to think someone spiked your drink. Did you piss off the bartender?"

Hermione went ridged, and she loosened the grip around the neck she clung to, peeling her face back slowly to meet the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He held an amused smirk as he stared back at her, seemingly not bothered at all by the idea that she was sitting precariously on his lap.

"I… I'm so sorry. I.. One moment I was drinking with Luna… and the next…" That horrible bartender! She must have drugged Hermione's beverage! She searched her eyes around at all of her childhood counterparts, taking into account that they were all here, in Bond, and they were all wearing masks. She jumped out of Malfoy's lap immediately and staggered to her feet. "I… I should get going. I'm sure Luna will be looking for me."

"Didn't look that way to me," said Malfoy, smirking up at her. "I think Looney might have replaced you."

"I'm not with Luna. Not like that."

"Then why are you in a place like this?" asked Pansy. "I didn't take you for the type."

Hermione flushed cherry pink as Malfoy laughed and said, "Well, of course, she isn't the type. She, apparently, wandered in here by mistake. Tell me, Granger, did you think this was a library from the outside?"

"Still as quippish as ever, I see. The years haven't changed you."

"Nor you, apparently."

"I dunno," said Blaise Zabini, stepping forward and draping an arm around Hermione's shoulder, "She looks a bit more grown up to me." The ex-Slytherin gestured down to her tight fitting dress, and more noticeably, her breasts. The entire table lit up with laughter, and Hermione felt the back of her left hand prickle. It lit up with the red X, and Zabini instantly removed his grip on her. "Sorry, Granger."

"Weasley," Malfoy went to correct.

"Granger," Hermione said definitively. He quirked a blonde eyebrow at her, expressionless otherwise.

"Granger? Well, well. You think that'd be all over the papers."

"It was," she said icily.

"I thought it was odd she wasn't wearing a mask," said Pansy to Blaise.

"So, is that why you're here?" Malfoy teased. "Exploring a side of yourself you couldn't when you were with Ronikins?"

"Don't call him that."

He shrugged. "What do you care?"

"I… I don't." She glanced around the group. "I really should be going. Erm… thank you all, again."

"Off in such a hurry?" Zabini asked, stepping into her path.

"Didn't you get the hint the first time, Blaise? She's not interested."

Hermione felt the back of her neck prickle, and she turned around. "Excuse you, but where do you get off deciding who I am and am not interested in?"

Malfoy grinned up at her. "Oh? Are you interested? By all means, then. Go on."

"I…"

"Are you interested?" Blaise asked her, hopeful.

"I've never… I just came here for the alcohol."

"And you did such a splendid job keeping that under control," Malfoy quipped. Hermione had half a mind to hex him on the spot, and reached for her wand -where was it? Oh, Lord! Where was her wand? "I must have dropped… has anyone seen-?" She turned on the spot, looking around the dance floor for any sign of it. "-my wand?"

"Silly Granger. You are a mess this evening." Draco Malfoy raised his own, cast a silent accio spell, and Hermione watched as her wand came sailing through a crowd of dancers to fly towards him. He grabbed it tightly and began to twirl it through his fingertips. "Oh, looky what I found."

"Give it here, Malfoy," Hermione said, jutting her hand out.

"Hmm… what will you give me if I do?"

"I know what I will if you don't -you want a sock in the nose like our third year?"

"Cheeky." He held it out to her, and she snatched it up. "I take it you're off to scurry away back home?"

"I don't scurry."

"But you are leaving."

"Yes."

"It's just as well. I dare say prudish imps don't make well for this type of environment."

"Prudish-? Did you just call me an imp?"

"Come on, Blaise," Pansy said, exchanging glances with Malfoy. Hermione wasn't sure why, but she felt as if there were some unspoken words between them. "Why don't we go have a dance?"

"Really? You want to dance with me? I've been trying to get you to for weeks. Why now?"

"If you want to question it, I can just as easily change my mind."

"No, no!" Blaise bowed gracefully to Hermione. "Maybe another time, Granger? I'm always a willing participant to break in the new guests." A chill went up Hermione's spine, thinking of what Blaise could mean by 'break in', and she shuddered as she watched Pansy drag him off towards the dance floor, leaving her and Malfoy alone at the table. They stared at each other for a time, though she wasn't sure why.

"I thought you were going?"

"I am."

"Go on then. Off you get."

She scowled. "You don't get to tell me when I leave. I will leave of my own accord."

"Oh, of course. Of course. But this place isn't for the faint of heart, is it?" He grinned. "I knew the moment I saw you walk in that you wouldn't make it till midnight. We were all taking bets, you see. Pansy was quite generous; she said you'd at least make it till one. Looks like, however, that I've won the pool."

"And what did Zabini say?"

"He said he'd get you to stay all night -underneath him. When I called him a twat, he went to talk to you."

"Confident, isn't he?"

"He's got more confidence than game."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"Why don't you just go on along home, Granger? Get back to your books and your… whatever it is you do."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No." She took an empty seat next to him, crossing her arms. "I've decided you can't win the pool."

"Have you?" He smirked. "You do know that they close down the dance floor at eleven thirty?"

No, Hermione did not know that. "Why would they?"

"To entice everyone to the upper tiers." He drifted his eyes to the ceiling, and presumably, beyond. He looked pleased with himself.

"Is that where your wife is?"

His smile dropped. "I'd rather not talk about her if it's all the same to you."

"Why not?"

"Personal reasons. -Would you want to talk about your separation from Weasley?"

"No."

"Then let's make a deal -I won't ask you about him if you don't ask me about her."

"Fine." She sighed, glancing around at the wizards and witches with their bodies melded into one another's. It had been far too long since Hermione had been physically close to anyone -Malfoy's lap had practically been the closest experience to another man since Ron. And he'd smelled rather nice… when she was sure he wasn't looking (obviously lost in thought), she took the time to have a look at him. He had grown since their last encounter -his legs appeared longer, and his shoulders were filled out. He still was slim, but not skinny like before. Other than that, he looked about the same. Still the same white-blonde hair and steely eyes. Still that arrogant smirk as his resting face. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"What?" he asked, bringing his focus back around to her and out of his thoughts.

"Up there." She gestured to the ceiling. "I assume you didn't come here for the ambiance. This doesn't seem like your scene."

"That's because it's not. It's my wife's."

"Ah." She nodded, biting on her lower lip. "I know we said not to talk about it, but you can't leave me at that."

"Burning with questions?"

"Yes."

"Good." He smirked.

"Come on, please? One question?"

"You just can't help yourself can you?" He watched her shake her head. "Fine. One." He threw up a finger. "And that's it. Ask."

"If this is your wife's sort of thing, why even come at all if you aren't interested? I mean, you wear the mask, so I assume you mean to play a bit."

"Well, well. Look who suddenly just got curious about my sex life?"

"Don't be crude. Answer the question -you said you would."

He chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Because everyone likes a bit of fun once in a while."

"Not me." She gestured around the floor. "Not this."

"No?" He leaned forward. "Then why did you agree to come? Your friend must have told you what kind of establishment this was. So, answer a question of mine. How can you sit there and pretend you're not curious about those upper floors?"

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, and eventually caved to the truth. "I'm a tad curious, but that doesn't mean I'd actually go through with anything. What I mean is… I just… "

"Curiosity's got the best of you?"

She nodded. "Why am I even talking about this with you?"

"Who knows." He shrugged, leaning back and giving a long stretch. There was a significant pause that stretched out over minutes, where the two of them quietly watched the dancers on the floor and the lights flicker between hues of reds, greens, and blues. Eventually, Malfoy broke the silence. "If you're interested, I could show you."

"Show me what?"

"The second floor." Where she thought she would find a smirk, she only found a thoughtful, serious expression.

"Are you off the rails?" She laughed. "You think I'd go up there with you? And what-? Fool around?"

"Like I'd want to fool around with you," he sneered quietly, crossing his arms. "I was only offering to show you. You can't go up on your own. You have to have a partner. Or a group."

"And why would you be so privy to escort me upstairs to sate my curiosity?"

"Because I'm dying to see your reaction."

"You're a pig."

"And you're a chicken."

She gasped. "I am not!"

"Oh look, your feathers are ruffling. Are you wet, Granger?" He cast her a sly wink. She didn't miss is double entendre.

"I am not a chicken."

"Prove it." He challenged. "Go up to the second tier with me."

Hermione wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was her Gryffindor nature. Maybe it was because she didn't want to seem yellow in Malfoy's eyes. Perhaps, and if only a little bit, the thought of seeing what was on the second floor had her grasping at the chance. Even if it was with Malfoy. She didn't have to do anything, she told herself. That's what the little red X was for, wasn't it? "Alright." She stood and yanked him up to his feet as well. "If it will shut you up, let's go."

His eyes lit up behind his mask, and he gave a dangerous grin that made her heart slam in her chest. "Really?"

"I said yes, didn't I? I could just change my mind."

He fell silent at once, merely giving a small gesture towards the other end of the floor, where the guard named Tommy waited. Much to Hermione's surprise, Malfoy slipped his hand in hers, a claim on what was his as they walked through the crowded dance floor and to the velvet rope separating them from what was above. Tommy checked their hands, smiled, and waved his wand to pull back the line. Still not a word spoken, Malfoy tugged her by the hand up the stairs, Hermione's eyes trailing down to the remaining partiers as she wondered what had gotten into her. Was she actually climbing this staircase with Malfoy? What on Earth had gotten into her this evening?

"Prepare yourself," he called back to her as they arrived at a red door painted with a clear number 2.

"Why? What am I going to see?"

He chuckled darkly, gripping her hand tighter. "Oh, this is going to be rich."

By the choice of Malfoy's words, Hermione expected to see a massive orgy as the door swung open. She expected to see people splayed irreverently about the room, clothes discarded on the floor, moans tossed into the air wantonly. But, much to her surprise, it was a dimly lit room with chaise lounges and people talking quietly. Surrounding three of the four walls were doors. At least ten of them to each wall, all red, and painted with the same runes she'd seen on the tables from the dance floor. Couples, some with masks, some without, and some a mixture, could be seen chatting or necking with each other. All in all, it was rather tame.

She gave a small laugh. "Is this what the fuss is about? I expected… more."

"This is just the lounge," Malfoy said to her, his grip on her hand never ceasing, "It's the rooms that'll get you."

"The rooms?" She looked around to each of the doors. "Why the runes? I don't recognize them."

"The runes are made up by the owner of the establishment. Complete gibberish to someone on the outside." He tugged her along until they stood in front of one with a curved U shape adorned with four dots on both sides. "But to the nightlife, each one holds a different meaning."

"So this one?" She pointed to the marking.

"Kink." A smirk lit up on his face as he watched her face pale. "If you sit at one of the tables down below with this marking, you're telling others you're adventurous."

Hermione nodded in understanding, surprised she couldn't have figured out this system herself. Luna had been very right about one thing: rules and procedures were this club's cup of tea. "I see." Not wanting to seem shy (like she felt on the inside), she glanced about at the doors and said, "How do you know when one is occupied?"

"The rune will glow."

Well, that did make sense. "What rune did you three have at your table?"

A soft hand came up and touched her shoulder, startling her. She jerked around and came face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson, giggling as a drunken Blaise Zabini kissed along the back of her neck. "I wondered where you two had run off to," she mused, reaching back to run her fingers over Blaise's shaved head.

"I… oh! No. No, we're not- It's not like that-"

"It isn't?" Zabini's head shot up. "Pansy, maybe she'd like to join us?"

Pansy eyed her up and down, shrugging. "I don't usually besmirch myself with dirty blood," she gave Hermione a wink, "But I suppose for her, I'd make an exception. Only if she'd play the sub."

"Sub?" Hermione squeaked out, backing one of her heels into Malfoy's toe. He hissed at her, tugging her off of his foot and, inadvertently, into his chest. "I… I don't…"

"Well, why'd you come up here at all, then?" The ebony-haired witch scoffed. "Oh, don't tell me it was for research? Draco, your charity work knows no bounds."

Charity? Oh, the nerve of this woman! And to think Hermione had thought she'd changed at all! "I came up here because I wanted to be." She scowled.

"Oh? Is that so?" Pansy crossed her arms. "Alright then, Granger. Which door will you choose?"

She heard Malfoy chuckle behind her, obviously enjoying the corner Hermione had found herself in. "Yes, Granger," he teased, "Which door will you choose?" She turned her head towards him and shot him a venomous glare, to which he blew her a mock kiss. "Time's ticking, love. Or maybe you'd like to change your mind and join Pans and Blaise?"

Panic spread through her, and in a moment of pure bravery (and stupidity), Hermione yanked Malfoy near the closest, non-glowing door with a rune painted like a lowercase 't' with two dots at the bottom. She had no idea what it meant, but anything would be better than whatever Zabini and Parkinson had in mind. She shot Pansy a smirk as she jerked the door open and pulled Malfoy in behind her.

She came face-to-face with something out of a horror film. While the center of the room held a beautiful chaise lounge and an elegant throw rug, the walls lined up in the small, black-walled room were adorned with unfamiliar items hanging from hooks on the wall. Some were made of leather, some of metal, and others a combination thereof. "What the Hell kind of room is this?" she whispered breathlessly.

Malfoy shut the door behind them, and the buzzing from the common room muted in an instant. "You just had to pick this room, didn't you?" He shook his head, chuckling.

"What does that mean?" She nudged around to the objects on the wall. "This, in no way, could be considered sexual."

"Care to make a wager on that?" He wagged his finger in front of her face. "Don't assume to know unless you have all the details, Granger. I thought you knew better than that." He stepped past her and removed the mask from his face – Hermione found that breathing suddenly became rather difficult. Had… had he always been that handsome? Or was he just uglier as a teenager? Because she did not remember him to be that strong-jawed or his cheekbones to be so prominent. My, what a mask could take away! His smirk fit him properly, now -even more than it did before, and he used it to his advantage as he gestured to the wall at his left. "Bondage room."

"Bondage?"

"I imagine Blaise will never leave you alone until he's had his way with you, now. This is one of his favorites."

"I would never stoop so low."

"Oh, so you're above all that, now? Maybe Pansy was right. You are a charity case. Tell me, how long are we to stand here before I'm to pretend something went on between us?"

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking that I'd want anyone to believe you and I fooled around." She crossed her arms, watching him as he shrugged and made his way to the chaise lounge and took a seat. He spread an arm across the back, widening his legs into a comfortable, masculine position. Then, Malfoy leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"You're all talk, Granger."

"You think so?"

"I know so." He tapped his foot leisurely. "You pretend that you're frightened of this room, but I happened to notice the X on your hand hasn't lit up once. So, either you are terribly clueless, or you're actually intrigued by the idea of bondage."

"Ha." She rolled her eyes. "I am not."

"Bet on it?"

"What is it with you and bets?" She watched him lift his head back up to stare at her challengingly. "I'm not interested. You're out of your mind if you think I am."

"That so?" He pushed off of the lounge and made his way up to her, asserting his face into her personal space. "Tell me, Granger, what would you say if I bent you over that lounge over there, pushed up your skirt, laid you across my lap and smacked your ass so hard that I had you dripping wet between your legs?"

Her breathing hitched as Hermione's mind painted an elaborate picture of her rosy red cheeks being thwarted over and over by Malfoy's large, masculine hand as beads of sweat dripped down the side of her cheek. "I'd say you'd need to be locked away in a padded cell, because that's the last thing I'd ever want."

She saw his hand go for the wrist of her left hand, and she made to step back, but he was quicker. His long fingers wrapped around it and tugged her hand up between them. "Oh, look at that. Caught in your own lie." Hermione's cheeks flooded with warmth, and she was sure they'd turned a lovely shade of magenta as Malfoy tugged her closer, nose to nose. "Repressed, much?"

Hermione jerked herself away from him and cast her eyes elsewhere. There was no way she was interested in any of this. No way, she thought as her eyes trailed over the leather she now identified as whips, and the metal she realized were handcuffs. It all shifted into focus -there were shackles, manacles, chains, fetters with metal bars between them. But what if… what if she was? She'd never even given it a second thought before until the moment Malfoy had thrown her hand up in her face. She should feel uncomfortable, shouldn't she? Then again, once you've been tortured and cut for information when you were but a child, the idea of anything less than that seemed tame. Bellatrix Lestrange's face worked its way to the forefront of her mind, and she shivered.

"I'm not repressed," she whispered, after a time, turning her gaze on him. "It's simply that nothing frightens me anymore."

"That so?" He stared at her, calm; calculating. He gestured around the room. "Pick something."

"What?"

"You say nothing frightens you. Pick something from the wall, and we'll try it out." He kept an even face as he measured her expression of surprise.

"You're married."

"Wonderful deduction."

"I mean -you're married. M.A.R.R.I.E.D."

"And you can spell, too! What a catch." His voice dribbled with sarcasm.

She scowled. "How would you not consider that cheating on your wife?"

"Because," he said simply, "She and I have an understanding. What happens here is left here. Easy as that."

"Is that why you'd be willing to look past who I am? Are you that depraved for sexual conquests?"

"Obviously, you are, as well, or you wouldn't have pulled me in here."

"Ha!" she gave a short, crisp laugh. "How do you figure?"

Malfoy stepped forward, bringing himself back into her personal bubble as he brought his fingers up and stroked down the side of her cheek. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, tension built in Hermione's throat as she forgot how to breathe; her eyelids fluttered open and shut like butterfly wings, and she licked her lips absentmindedly. God, it had been too long since she'd been touched in any way that resembled affection. He noticed because his lips tugged up in a satisfied smirk as he let his fingers roam down her neck, her collarbone, her breast, her stomach... "I'll make it easy for you," he whispered, "I'll pick something out. You go wait on the lounge like a good little pet."

"I'm not your pet," she seethed, bringing her eyes back to focus. There, she glared up at him, tensing her jaw. "I'm not your anything."

"Yet." He winked. "But I have a feeling, by the end of the night, you'll be singing a different tune." His hand curled around her waist and grabbed her bum. Hermione gasped, making to move away when his other hand came out and ran down the side of her arm with delicate strokes. Fingers gripped possessively around the meat of her ass cheeks, and he yanked her forward until she was chest to chest with him, her hands trying to form a barrier as they rested against his sculpted abdomen. Even the confines of his white button up couldn't hide the firmness beneath. His silver-flecked eyes glistened into her earth-toned ones, commanding attention. "You have five seconds to decide if you want to leave this room. After that, you're mine. And you're to do whatever I say when I say it. Five seconds, Granger. Four…"

Oh, sweet sugar quills, what had she gotten herself into?

"Three."

Run, Hermione! Run for the door!

"Two."

But why? Why should she run? His eyes were so intoxicating. They were better than two bottles of whiskey at the end of a heated day at the office…

"One."

She knew she should get going. She had but a second to back away, leave out the door, and never come back again. One second to go home to her flat, curl up with a good book, and frig herself to the image of those icy gray eyes melting the exterior of her resolve to leave. One second to go back to being Hermione Granger.

The second had disappeared, and her heart quickened in realization as Malfoy stroked the back of his fingers down the side of her face once more. "Good girl." There was a change in the atmosphere as something in Hermione's head clicked. She was standing in a nightclub, in a bondage room, with Draco Malfoy, and she, by default, had given him complete control over her. Why would she do such a thing? Where was her head? When had this night taken such a drastic turn from drinks with her friend to alone with a dangerous ex-Death Eater? What would Ron say? Bollocks to Ron. It wasn't his choice to make; it was hers. And, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she found herself rooted to her spot on the floor as Malfoy stepped back and gave an approving sweep over her form. "I always knew your bravery was why you were sorted into Gryffindor. Despite your wit, you still have a rebellious streak I've always found quite endearing. -Go to the lounge. Now."

Hermione was vaguely aware her feet moved - she soon realized she stood in front of the lengthy sofa, looking back over her shoulder for sanction. When he nodded, she took a seat, folding her arms in her lap and sitting like a ridged statue. Malfoy's dress shoes clacked across the floor as he tucked his hands behind his back and strolled around to each wall, observing the different items with interest. He took his time skimming over each and every one, occasionally looking back to her with a foreboding smirk. Hermione's hands clenched and unclenched, but still; no X glowed red on the back of her hand. So, why was her heart racing?

"I.."

His eyes snapped over to her, and she fell silent. Tension built within her vocal chords, rendering her speechless. She swallowed, trying to alleviate the pressure, but all it did was make it difficult to breathe.

"Have you ever been tied up, Granger?" he asked. She found the will to shake her head side to side. He turned back to the wall. "So we'll build slowly." He reached his hand out and brought down two latex gloves, shiny and red. Part of the fingertips were missing, Hermione observed, as they would only cover to one's knuckles. "Put these on," he told her, tossing them over. Hermione caught them in the air, scrunching her face up in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. And because you'll like what comes next."

She turned the gloves over in her hands, noting the soft, faux fur on the inside. With a roll of the eyes, she slipped them on, and they magically formed around her hands until they were an exact fit. They only came a bit above the wrists when they finished their resizing. "Now wha-" she began, but cut herself off when the gloves jerked of their own accord, sending her hands flying back behind her spine before they slammed her wrists into each other. "Oh!" She gasped, trying to struggle free, but the gloves stayed side by side, never yielding. "That's cheating!"

"Is it?" he smirked.

"How will you know if I'm uncomfortable, then, if you can't see my X?"

He raised an eyebrow and strolled up behind the chaise lounge, setting one hand, and then the other, on her shoulders. "I have a confession to make. The magic used in that branding douses the moment you step foot in one of these rooms. So tell me, little lion, how does it feel to know that you're no longer in control?"

Hermione writhed against the gloves' restraints. "You lying, cheating git!"

"I never lied. I omitted the truth."

"That's lying!"

"No, that's being a Slytherin."

"You let me go this instant, Malfoy! You do it, or else I'm going to—to…" Soft lips feasted on the skin of her neck with tender attention, and she forgot what her next words were. All she could feel was his mouth leaving brazen kisses and soft licks from the base of her jaw all the way down to the crook of her neck. She tried to shrug him off, but his hands kept her firmly planted until Malfoy had her sighing and groaning just the way he wanted. His teeth bit down along her pulse point before he licked a line up to her earlobe and whispered, "You were going to what, Granger?" He nibbled along the shell of her ear. "Go on. Do tell."

"I…" She bit down on her lip, swallowed up by the shimmer of heat that coated her skin. "I don't remember."

"Like I said. All talk." He kissed her cheek sensually. "Care to get a bit braver, princess?"

Her head lay in a fog, and she struggled against all odds to come out of it. She blinked a few times, taking in the view of the room, and settled on, "I'd have to be brave for the both of us, I'd imagine. You're rather cowardly to tie me up."

"It's a bondage room, Granger. -Why did I expect you to be compliant?" She couldn't see it, but she was sure he rolled his eyes. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear before. You're mine now." He snapped his fingers, and a thick strap of silk flew off of the wall and into his hand. "If you insist on using that mouth of yours to defy me, I'm going to have to insist on gagging it up."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh. I would. I've been waiting to do this for a very long time…"

"Do? What are you-?" Hermione started but was cut off when he brought his hands out and slipped the strip of cloth into her mouth before tying it tightly behind her head with precision. How many times had he done this? She hoped that this material was sanitary…

"Oh, look at that. You seem so much more attractive already. Silent." He stalked around the chaise lounge and stood in front of her, smirking. "Don't act like you're not getting a thrill out of this."

To spite him, she narrowed her eyes, although as she clamped her legs together, she did notice a dampness that hadn't been there before. She breathed heavily through her nose, trying to calm her senses as her legs shook.

"You look nervous, Granger," he teased as he took a seat next to her. "Why? It's only me." The hand closest to her latched onto her thigh, pulling the material of her dress up and revealing the flesh of her upper leg. Her body reacted instinctively, twitching her leg open slightly. Malfoy seized the opportunity and slipped his fingers down the inside of her thigh, petting it with gentle circles. "Care to play a game of chicken?"

Hermione shook her head, but he ignored her.

"I'll tell you what. You make it to the end of the game without moaning, and I'll take it as a sign that you aren't enjoying yourself, and I'll let you go. Sound fair?" He flickered his eyes up to hers, enjoyment written in his blown pupils. Then he tugged her leg out and trailed his fingers up the incline of her thigh, crawling a pace up to her underwear. Hermione felt her leg quake uncontrollably against the pads of his fingers, and he chuckled in a low, gravelly tone. "Does it feel good, pet?" She felt a brush of his thumb against the hem of her panties, and he clicked his tongue. "Well, that settles it. I was concerned for a moment you weren't into this, but Merlin, Granger, you're soaked all the way through." His fingers slid up and down her underwear, slickened with her arousal. Against her better judgment, Hermione felt a crawl of sound build in her throat and clamped it tight to keep from giving in.

Unexpectedly, Malfoy pulled his fingers away from her and, with a quick movement, yanked her down across his lap on her stomach. Hermione's face hit the soft cushions, and her feet tucked up behind her automatically as Malfoy bunched up the back of her dress over her backside and tugged her underwear down to the middle of her thighs. Cold air rushed between her legs, countering the heat of her, now, pulsing center. She made to push her legs together, but Malfoy slipped his hand between them and rested his fingers along the nub of her clit, rendering her still. "You're practically dripping. And I haven't even touched you, yet. Do you want me to touch you, Hermione?"

It was the first time in her adult life that she'd heard him utter her given name and the way he purred it sent a shiver up her spine. All of her resolve to hold back crumbled, and she nodded her head, desperately. Yes. Yes, she did want him to touch her.

"You do?" he chuckled, tapping his index finger along her clit. "Are you sure?"

'Yes!' Hermione groaned, but it came out as a muffled, "Ess!" instead.

"Positive?"

Her head bobbed up and down, and she wiggled her hips for more contact. Malfoy, much to her dismay, removed his hand from her and hoisted her back upright on the lounge to sit on her haunches. His face was a shade pinker than it had been before, and there was a bulge in the front of his trousers. Slowly, he reached up, untied the gag, and, without warning, pulled her lips down to his. Hermione gasped into the warmth of his mouth, finding it softer and less intimidating than she would have imagined. His kiss was firm and yet gentle, like fire and ice resting in the same set of powerful lips. His fingers stroked down the sides of her face as his tongue licked against her lower lip. Eventually, Hermione gave in, and his tongue met hers in a dazzling display of ownership and submission. She tried to fight back, but the soft caress of his tongue as it brushed against hers set a fire in her belly, convincing her to concede. She gave a low, sensual moan as he pulled his tongue back to his own mouth and caught her upper lip between his teeth. He doctored it with a swipe of his tongue, then moving on to her lower lip to bite down before he bestowed the same, gentle lick to that one as well. He withdrew his face from hers, reached around, slipped the gloves off of her hands, and caught her as she fell forward from loss of balance. Her head rested in the crook of his neck once again tonight, and she inhaled the scent of sandalwood and fresh soap.

"Next Friday," he whispered in her ear, "Come back. Find me. Can you do that, princess?"

Hermione nodded slowly, the frustration between her legs built up to an uncomfortable level. She wanted -no, needed release. She needed it so urgently.

"Good. One condition, though. If you touch yourself between now and then, this ends."

"I…" She found her voice again, pulling her hands up to his shoulders and pushing herself off of him to look him in the eyes. "What… why?"

"I don't need to give you a reason." He rose to stand and pulled her up with him. Hermione staggered to her feet, and Malfoy kissed her atop the forehead. "So, next Friday?"

She nodded meekly.

"What a good pet." He released her from his hold and strode across the room to the door. "Come now, Granger. I'm not going to leave you in here all by your lonesome. Blaise might try to slip in."

Hermione blinked once, taking in his words. Then she, discretely, fixed her underwear and followed him out the door. The common room was far less crowded -how long had they been stowed away? Malfoy slipped his mask back on his face and gave her a wink just as Luna emerged from another rune-marked door. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she carried her shoes in her hands. "Hermione?" She broke out into a devilish smile. "Oh, my word! I knew you'd find someone to-" Her eyes caught sight of the man next to her friend, and, much to Hermione's astonishment, she nodded once and said, "Well, isn't that interesting?"

Malfoy cast her an expression Hermione couldn't quite read -it almost looked embarrassed, but she couldn't be sure.

"I've got to go," he said, turning his attention to Hermione. "Remember what I said." He nodded to her once before exiting through the red door, no doubt on his way back down to find his wife.

Luna giggled, uncontrollably, into her hand. "Look at you, Miss Granger!"

"Luna, you can't tell anyone."

"Well, of course, I'm not going to tell," her friend told her, hurt flashing across her face. "What happens at Bond, stays at Bond. I'm just impressed, is all."

"Impressed? Did you see who I was with?"

"Yes, I did."

"Aren't you appalled… or shocked… or… something else besides 'impressed'?"

Luna laughed again, throwing an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I'm going to let you figure this one out on your own. I'm sure he'll tell you in time."

"Tell me?" Hermione asked as her friend led her towards the exit. "Tell me what? Luna, you can't leave the conversation on that note."

"I can, and I will." Luna grinned from ear to ear. "But I tell you what. Let's go back to my place, and I'll make us a nice cup of tea and you can tell me all about it."

"I thought what happens at Bond, stays at Bond."

"Oh, it does." Luna winked. "I was only testing you."

Hermione was led out of the club by her friend, and when they arrived at the Apparition spot, she glanced back at the black bricked building, pensive. What had Luna meant back there? What did she know about Malfoy? Would she really return next week? She shook her head and focused. She could think about these things when she arrived back home, safe under the covers of her bed. There, she could ponder on the events of this evening, and why she allowed Draco Malfoy to touch her in ways that she only read about in romance novels.

"By the way, Luna, I'm pretty sure your horrible girlfriend spiked my drink…"