Chapter Text
Part One: (Not) A One Night Stand
Dearly Beloveds:
On behalf of Draco Malfoy—Reformed Death Eater and Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible & Filthily Wealthy Bachelor—you are cordially invited to celebrate his final year of debauchery, tomfoolery, rakehellery, and sexcapades.
🥀 Date: June 5th
🥀 Time: 10:00 pm - Sunrise
🥀 Location: The Emerald Room (coordinates disclosed prior to event)
🥀Attire: Mourning black
🥀Requirements: Dancing (dirty) and only the finest champagne, scotch, and cigars for our dearest pretty boy
Signed,
The Snake Pit
***
Draco Malfoy stood in front of the mirror in his flat adding pomade to his hair. No longer as stiff as it was when he was a young chap, his hair now sat in that “he spent thirty minutes on his hair but actually it looks like he only spent two” effortlessly perfect sort of way.
With his black suit and black button-down shirt neatly pressed—tattoos poking out from his sleeves and traveling down his hands and fingers—Draco Malfoy knew he looked good.
A little cologne here. A little fluff of the hair there.
With the final adjustment, he placed the setting charm to keep it looking fresh all night and then donned his black jacket to complete the ensemble.
He was ready.
At the sound of a knock, he turned, finding Pansy Parkinson standing in the doorway, crisp black bob matching her tight black dress and heels.
Her red lips lifted into a salacious smile. “Almost ready, darling?”
“For a night of debauchery? Yes. For my final year of single-hood? No.”
She sauntered into the room, stopping before him to straighten his already crisp collar. “Now, now, Draco, turning twenty-five shouldn’t be a life sentence. We’re still so young! There’s so much life yet to live. Besides, your mother could find you a lovely pureblood girl by the time you turn twenty-six.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “You know she has her eyes set on Astoria Greengrass.”
“And would that be so bad?”
“I mean, she’s nice, I guess. She’s rather innocent, though, isn’t she?”
Pansy shrugged minutely and then placed her hands on her hips. “She would be docile, polite, and cordial—the epitome of a pureblood wife.”
“Oh, yes. Rivoting.”
Pansy quirked an eyebrow. “And what would you want instead? A little Malfoy Harlot waiting for you in your bed to do all manner of deliciously indecent things?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, of course, there needs to be bedroom compatibility, but… I don’t know. I need more than just that.”
“Your mother did tell you that if you found someone then she would void the pending—unsigned, I might add—contract with the Greengrasses.”
Draco drifted to his bar cart, pouring two glasses of scotch. Handing Pansy one of the glasses, they cheersed and took a sip.
“I have to find that witch first.”
“You have impossible standards, and, instead of lowering them, you are willing to settle for Astoria. Tsk tsk, darling.”
“You know, we made a pact in sixth year. If neither of us were married by twenty-six, then we would marry each other.”
Pansy laughed. “Oh, my, my.” She lifted her glass to her lips, pausing, not taking a sip yet. “We would eat each other alive. A snake for a snake, in our case, would only end in one way: total annihilation."
“Are you really that daft?”
Blaise and Theo walked into the room and headed straight for the bar cart, pouring themselves their own drinks.
Theo took a sip, nodding at the taste. “You and Pansy would make it a span of a week—after the excitement of tantalizing the marriage bed—before you would be dead by the other’s wand.”
Blaise snorted into his glass. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
“But what a lovely week in bed it would be,” Pansy joked, saluting her glass.
“To Draco Malfoy’s final year of single-hood!” Theo yelled.
They all clinked their glasses and threw back the remains of their scotch, hissing afterwards.
Clapping his hands, Theo cleared his throat. “Alright, snakes. It’s time to send the coordinates.”
Flourishing his wand, he cast a patronus, an illuminescent octopus popping out. He spoke the coordinates and sent the octopus on its way, undoubtedly to hundreds and hundreds of guests.
Blaise straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Now, you can’t be the first one to your own party, but we can have a bit of pre-party fun beforehand.”
And together, they Flooed to The Emerald Room.
***
Glasses of champagne poured and cigars in hand, Draco sat with Theo, Blaise, Pansy, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, and Adrian Pucey as the bass from the club thumped and reverberated throughout the room.
“Who all did you invite?” Adrian asked.
Draco sighed, shaking his head, when Theo, Blaise, and Pansy smirked at one another in challenge.
Theo took a sip of champagne. “The final guest list is two hundred and fifty, but we shall see. I mean, who wouldn’t want to attend a private event at The Emerald Room?”
“Considering that you and Blaise created The Emerald Room with the intention of being invite only, and enforced a non-disclosure agreement so no one leaks the location, wouldn’t you say there’s a private event every time you all are open?” Draco asked sarcastically.
Blaise lifted an eyebrow. “Ole Chap has a point, you know.”
“So, what’s on the agenda tonight? You all have been rather tight-lipped.”
Rather than receiving an actual answer, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo responded simultaneously.
“Debauchery.”
“Tomfoolery.”
“Rakehellery.”
"Oh," Theo said, pausing to take a slow drag of his cigar. Releasing the smoke, a puff of layered rings escaped his mouth. "And sexcapades."
“Lovely,” Draco muttered into his glass.
“Come on, mate,” Adrian said, nudging Draco with his knee. “This is it. This is your final birthday before it all changes!”
Draco acutely avoided Astoria’s gaze, who was currently assessing him with finite precision. He did not need the reminder that the Malfoy family clause ensured that he be wed before twenty-six years old.
Shortly after his next birthday, he would be required to produce an heir.
Draco nearly shivered.
What a sad way to live.
“Have your eye on anyone?” Adrian asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “There has to be someone.”
Again, Draco didn’t say a damn word. All of his mates knew that Draco’s mother and Astoria’s parents were drafting a marriage contract. Rather than speaking about it openly, the contract turned into the giant hippogriff in the room.
Instead, they did the sensible thing by pretending it didn’t exist.
Him and Astoria were friendly, but he wouldn’t say that he was particularly close with her. More so, they were close because of his proximity to Daphne, considering that Astoria was a few years younger than him. It wasn’t until Narcissa Malfoy started having luncheons with Daphne’s parents that Draco knew something was awry, but he didn’t quite predict Astoria.
About two years ago, when his mother dropped the news that he was to meet with Lady Greengrass, Draco and Daphne assumed that their parents were discussing a marriage contract between the two of them.
Pucey had been a mess.
Not that he said anything, but Draco read him like a book. It would be bloody terrible for one of his best mates to marry the girl of his dreams.
Draco arrived for tea, meeting his mother in the greenhouse at Malfoy Manor, and nearly stopped in his tracks when he saw Astoria Greengrass instead. They sat quietly, letting their mothers exchange pleasantries. There had been a few more teas, each one progressing in their polite, yet pointed, discussions regarding the marriage contract.
All the while, Draco and Astoria—the impacted parties at the table—remained silent. Neither of them seemed particularly enthused, but they were polite, nonetheless.
Given that Draco and Astoria never brought up the drafted marriage contract, it became an unspoken rule that it simply didn’t exist.
A part of him wondered if she was seeing someone else, secretively. Would he care?
He thought on this for a moment.
Nah, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck. They could always opt for an open-marriage. Something told him that Astoria would be game for that. After all, their contracted roles were to marry and sire a child. Other than that, they could do whatever they wanted as long as it was discussed and mutually agreed upon between the two of them.
Plenty of pureblood couples had open marriages, anyways.
Still, it felt odd and, honestly rude, to actively pursue another witch when his one-day (could-be) betrothed sat four seats away from him. At the same time, Draco didn’t really have an answer for Pucey because he hadn’t come across anyone who he had been excited to see again.
Yes, he had his midnight dalliances and a couple sexcapades as Theo so graciously calls it, but that was it.
Throughout it all, there hadn’t been a single witch who he envisioned to be his future wife, and so the countdown to wedding and bedding Astoria Greengrass continued on.
“Oh, don’t worry, darling,” Pansy stated as she observed her manicured red nails. “I’m sure someone is bound to catch your attention.”
Adrian turned to look at the girls in the group. “And what about you ladies? Have your eye on anyone?”
Draco astutely observed Pucey’s hopeful eyes as he looked toward Daph.
“I actually heard about someone being in attendance tonight who has turned into a rather shockingly handsome wizard,” Daphne responded, wiggling her eyebrows.
“More handsome than us?” Theo jested.
“Yes, actually.”
Blaise leaned forward. “Oh, really? Who?”
Daphne sat up straight, crossing her legs as she gave each of them a pointed look. “Neville Longbottom.”
Several long seconds passed before they burst out in laughter.
“Neville Bloody Longbottom?!”
“Longbottom?”
“That git?”
“Daphne, be serious!”
She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I am being serious.”
“Where did you hear that from?” Theo asked, sputtering.
“Oh, I haven’t heard anything. I’ve seen him with my own eyes.”
“Really?” Pansy asked, perking up.
“Yes, really.”
“Didn’t even know we invited the bloke,” Blaise said, looking toward Theo.
“You didn’t,” Astoria said, biting back a laugh, then she gestured toward her sister. “She did.”
“What?”
“How?”
Daphne and Astoria threw their heads back and laughed.
Daph saluted her drink. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Why?” Blaise asked.
“You’ll see,” Astoria said, winking at Daphne.
“Mhmm,” Theo said. “Next, you’re going to say that Weaselbee is suddenly fit.”
“Actually—” Daph started but was cut off by Theo.
“Oh, come off it! There’s no bloody way.”
Pansy drained the last of her champagne. “I have it on good authority that several of the Gryffindors have bloomed beautifully into their own.”
“Really.” Blaise deadpanned.
Pansy, Blaise, and Theo exchanged looks, something passing between them.
Pansy rolled her eyes, placing her drink on the table. “Entirely serious. You’ll just have to find out for yourselves. Are you chumps finally ready? I want to dance!”
They drained the last of their champagne, snubbed out the cigars, and made their way toward the door and entered into the bedlam.
***
Music coincided with the lighting overhead as shades of green, purple, blue, pink, red, and yellow flickered across the room, highlighting the many dancing bodies. Within the smoke, and from their private booth on the second floor, Draco saw towers of champagne stationed around the club.
Above the dance floor, the ceiling yawned open, revealing a Veela woman descending downwards on a golden ring covered in woven ivy and climbing roses. The crowd continued to dance as they watched her descend toward the dance floor. The Veela contorted her body until she dangled upside down, legs twisted in the golden hoop. Just when the music grew silent, she paused, still as a statue. When the bass dropped, fire burst out of her mouth.
Everyone erupted, throwing their hands into the air as the fire turned into sparkling glitter that covered the crowd.
As Draco stepped up to the edge of the balcony, a glittering dragon emerged from the wall, flying and roaring throughout the room. All heads turned to look up. Upon seeing Draco, the guests cheered, saluting their drinks. There were several women who even blew kisses, no doubt wanting to catch his special attention tonight. Naturally, Theo noticed. He stepped up beside Draco, pretending to catch their kisses and then promptly slapping them right on Draco’s arse.
The golden, shimmering dragon continued its voyage around the room, undulating in time with the beat of the music. Upon returning to Draco, it stopped, looking right at him as it flapped its wings. With one final roar, golden fire burst out from its mouth and then the dragon exploded into fireworks. Rather than floating downward, though, the fireworks flew upward, painting the ceiling with a vivid, twinkling interpretation of the night sky.
Right in the middle of it all was the constellation of his namesake. Draco.
Daphne gestured toward a tattoo stand on the other side of the club. “I want one!” Daphne exclaimed. She turned, swinging her gaze toward Draco. “And I want you to be the one to do it.”
Astoria gasped. “Mum and dad will kill you, Daph!”
She shrugged. “What they won’t know won’t hurt them. Plus, I’ll just get it where they can’t see it.”
Pansy laughed. “Oh, I can get behind that!”
“Isn’t it my birthday?” Draco asked.
“Yes, but just this once?” Daph asked, batting her eyelashes.
Pansy poured him a glass of champagne. “Come on, darling. For your best mates? And then you can do whatever you want.”
Draco sighed, shaking his head. “Fine.”
The girls cheered and then pulled him by the hand, tugging him down the stairs.
As they passed through the crowd, guests topped off his champagne, even though he didn’t need any more. When the lights traveled across the room, Draco caught a male and female snake charmer dancing on a miniature stage, the snakes coiling dangerously and seductively around their arms, legs, and necks.
When they slipped past a wizard holding a tray of chocolate covered strawberries, Theo quickly grabbed a couple and handed them to a girl next to him.
She turned, pressing the strawberry into Draco’s lips. This girl, who he had never met before, wiped off a piece of chocolate from the corner of his mouth and licked it, sucking on her finger long and hard, pulling it out with a pop. She winked, brushing her fingertips down his arm before disappearing into the crowd.
Moments after swallowing the chocolate strawberry, he felt a calming sensation drape over his body.
“What did you put in those?” Draco asked, a calm euphoria settling into his bones.
“The chocolate has ingredients from a potion that I’ve been working on. It’s supposed to heighten the senses, but in a calming way.”
When everyone stared at Theo, he shrugged. “It’s all natural. Organic, even!”
Draco rolled his eyes and took another swig of his champagne. Honestly, it was delightful, so he wasn’t about to start complaining. Now, if there were any negative side effects…
Upon approaching the tattoo booth, Draco took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves before grabbing packets of clean needles, sanitizing tools, ink, and a tattoo gun. Nodding toward the witch and wizard who were currently tattooing a mermaid on a guy's calf and a constellation on a girl’s arm, Draco took the seat at the end.
Daphne laid on the table and then lifted the side of her dress (and her knickers) to expose a snippet of her hip bone. Pucey had no idea where to look as his eyes darted all around the club, only to bounce back toward Daph’s hip. One of these days, Pucey was going to have to just go for it, but that was not his problem.
“What do you want?” Draco asked.
“A laurel crown.”
Draco nodded before swiveling in the chair to work on the design. Once she approved, Draco got to work, the tattoo gun vibrating in his hand. When he was done, Daphne squealed in excitement when she looked in the handheld mirror.
Soon after, Pansy sat in front of him, slowly pulling the straps of her dress down and over her arms until it bunched together around her waist, exposing her breasts without a care in the world. Theo and Blaise immediately stood behind Draco, turning their heads in assessment.
Astoria, standing off to the side, covered her eyes. “Damnit, Pans!”
Pansy lifted a brow and shrugged. “They’re just breasts.”
“And gloriously voluptuous ones at that,” Theo responded, nodding in approval.
Draco laughed, shaking his head as he flicked his wand toward the curtain for more privacy. “What do you want?”
“Have you ever heard of a boob chandelier?”
“Of course I have, Pans. I did one just last week.”
“Marvelous! That’s what I want.”
Pansy’s took a little longer, but it was primarily fine line with a little bit of shading here and there. By the time he was done, Blaise and Theo were begging for their own tattoos. Draco glared at them as he took off his gloves and then headed toward a tower of champagne.
As soon as the drink reached his fingers, Pans and Daph dragged them all to the dance floor.
Surrounded by a sea of people, they lost themselves in the music.
The lights.
The drinks.
The snake charmers.
The male and female Veelas that breathed glittering fire when dangling from the ceiling.
Many witches came up to Draco to dance—rather filthily—for a song or two. After a while he grew bored of that, the dancing not quite hitting like it used to, so he extracted himself from the slippery confines of the girl in front of him and made his way to the bar.
“Ah! The birthday boy,” Theo said, turning and smiling as he threw his arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Have you met Sofia? I don’t think so. Draco. Sofia. Sofia. Draco.”
Draco turned to look at the witch with dark, sleek hair and pale skin. She extended a hand, smiling demurely at him.
“Draco,” he responded, forgoing his manners.
Theo rambled on about… something. He didn’t know what. It might have had to do with… Sophie? Sofia? He wasn’t quite listening. She seemed polite and had a nice smile, but she lacked the connection. When Sofia excused herself, Theo wrapped his arm around him.
“She’s fit, isn’t she?”
“Uh, I guess so.”
“You guess so? Did you see her beautiful blue eyes?”
“No, I guess I didn’t.”
“Come on, mate. She’s a total babe.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Draco clapped him on the shoulder, and then walked back toward the dance floor, except he made it a grand total of two feet before Blaise hooked an arm around his shoulder, pulling him toward a different witch.
“Have you met my friend, Amara?”
Tall and slender, like a model, with gold charms woven into her braided hair, she was quite beautiful. She even spoke French which was a nice change of pace for Draco. But she couldn’t hold his interest, and, honestly, he just wanted another glass of champagne, realizing that Theo had distracted him from his initial conquest.
Like a shiny beacon, Pansy met Draco in the crowd carrying two drinks in her hand. They saluted and took a sip.
“Pucey is looking for you,” she shouted, leaning in to be heard over the thumping music.
Draco groaned. “You lot are needy tonight. Is it another witch?”
Pansy rolled her eyes. “They are just trying to get you laid, but no, it’s not. I don’t know what he wanted. I stopped listening.”
He sighed. “Where is he?”
Pointing a manicured finger to the opposite end of the club, she said, “Somewhere over there. Might be easier to go around the crowd. Over there, to the right.”
As Draco pushed through the dancing bodies, he grabbed another chocolate covered strawberry with Theo’s suspiciously organic and all-natural ingredients. The calming effect was instantaneous and his senses immediately heightened. It did not feel like a high. It just felt like he was given something to cut through the bullshit, to only allow joy and contentment to filter through with the added benefit that colours seemed brighter and noises seemed merrier. Even the air felt gentler on his skin.
Another dragon—this time various shades of blue—flew out of thin air, soaring across the crowd. People reached upwards, running their hands through its shimmering formless body. When it roared, blue fire erupted from its maw, shifting into a glittering dust of green, purple, and gold.
Draco watched, mesmerized.
Following a trail of gold as it lazily floated down, he saw her.
In the middle of the dance floor stood a woman, a beautiful woman with voluminous curls. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell that she was gorgeous as she looked toward the ceiling, one hand in the air, the other holding a glass of champagne. Her body moved with the music in a way that reminded him of the tide in the ocean—effortless and alluring, something he could gladly get lost in.
Golden dust rained down on her, covering her like a radiant ethereal goddess.
When someone accidentally bumped into him, Draco realized that he had stopped walking entirely and was standing there, alone, in the middle of the dance floor staring at a stranger.
He had to talk to her.
He had to see her.
He needed to know who she was.
At the same time he took a step forward, she turned, face concealed in the shadows, but when the lighting highlighted her features, he stopped dead in his tracks, for she was none other than Hermione Granger.