Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy nearly had a heart attack. Or swallowed his toothbrush. Either way, saying he was startled would have been an understatement.
It was a gloomy afternoon in Wiltshire, which made the sparse sunshine look like moon rays at 4 p.m.
Draco had slept for Merlin-knows-how-long. If he was honest, he didn’t recall falling asleep. He had been enjoying a fine bottle of Ogden’s in his home library. At some point of the night, his body must have been in autopilot and delivered him to his bed in the same clothes he wore to his employment interview at the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Get a career to reintroduce yourself to society, drink yourself to oblivion after the interview. One step forward, two steps back - a f*cked up party dance routine.
His bare feet dragged him to the French windows in the living room. He’d been living here for five years and everything was still exactly as it had been when he moved into his family’s countryside home. The only rooms he had added some personal flair to were the library and the home study. Everything else was as his mother had decorated it. His mother… he really should visit her sometime.
Draco rounded the corner into the living room as he brushed his teeth. He might be hungover but he would never neglect his teeth.
Orion - Draco’s obscenely large eagle owl - was perched on a branch outside a set of French windows. Even though the owl was, well, an owl, he managed to look irritated at having to wait for so long.
Draco mumbled a greeting under his breath and opened the windows for Orion, who happily hopped inside and on to his perch in the living room. He dropped the letter and helped himself to some treats without waiting for his master’s command.
“Greedy bird,” Draco shoved his toothbrush into one cheek and picked up the envelope from where Orion had dropped it on the area rug.
A sigh left him as he bent forward to grab it - he felt old at 22, and he wasn’t getting any younger.
“Merlin’s beard, Orion, did you have to drop it on the floor,” Draco huffed and flipped the letter over to read the front.
It simply had his name written on it in perfect penmanship - Draco Lucius Malfoy.
The back flap was kept shut with a black wax seal. Nondescript without any etchings or engravings. Whoever sent it clearly aimed for subtlety. And it was unnerving.
Draco unceremoniously ripped it open and pulled out its contents - an invitation written on to a lavish piece of parchment and a small leather pouch.
He lowered himself on to his armchair and read the invitation. At first, he thought one of his long lost distant cousins was marrying another cousin but he was even more surprised to see what the invitation actually was for.
To Draco Lucius Malfoy,
The Siren’s Pearls Gentleman’s Club cordially invites you to a night - and more - of indulgence. If you do not wish to heed to this invitation, the door is closed. If you do decide to take the plunge, wear the cufflinks in the leather pouch to the club tonight. You will not be disappointed.
The address to the club was disclosed at the bottom of the invitation. Draco had heard of the Siren’s Pearls Gentleman’s Club before. Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini constantly bitched about not getting invited. But he… he was invited. A known ex-Death Eater.
Draco looked at Orion and back to his invitation. There were many pros and cons to consider. First, he was lonely. That was not a secret. While the distance and the solitude provided solace and healing, it was isolating. Leaving his house with some purpose would be… beneficial to some extent.
Second, he didn’t know what kinds of wizards and witches frequented the establishment. He knew the club was old and favored and highly-esteemed. Members of the Wizengamot had been rumored to wander into Siren’s Pearls for a nightcap. And if the club was still operating on an invitation and membership basis, then the will call list must still be exclusive to those with sizable vaults.
Third, could he actually do this? Would he be able to cope with being surrounded by people - strangers - in a place with walls and a roof? He knew he’d have to suck it up if he got the job at the MLE but this whole gentleman’s club thing was a different beast. It was likely that he would find himself strolling into a hub with all his favorite vices, a cursed treasure.
“What do I even have to lose at this point,” Draco muttered around his toothbrush. He opened the leather pouch and dumped the cufflinks on to his open palm. Was that… Mother of Pearl? The cufflinks were certainly luxurious and had weight to them. “I think I have just the right suit for these. f*ck it… Orion, help yourself to another anchovy.”
Draco got up, stretched his back and went to get ready.
The Siren’s Pearls Gentleman’s Club - architecturally - would make any history nerd org*sm. And Draco was on the verge. It was a massive structure - not at all subtle - in the outskirts of Wizarding London. It was built in Beaux-Arts style with details pertaining to other styles of Mediterranean Revival architecture. The windows were enchanted to show something very different happening inside to appear inconspicuous to wandering eyes.
The lighting leading the path up the staircase to the front door was warm and inviting. The landscaping was lovely… Draco was nervous. In all reality, he was nervous. He kept busying himself with taking in the outside of the club because he was afraid of facing what was inside. It was a Siren’s lair after all - booze, lights, stages, girls - the Pearls. The Infamous Pearls Theo and Blaise constantly drool about.
From what he understood so far, the Siren’s Pearls Gentleman’s Club had a hierarchy within its walls when it came to the entertainers. There were the dancers and the singers, the waitresses. They existed in their own sphere. But they were not Pearls. No… the Pearls were on a different level. According to Nott, the Pearls were the most beautiful jewels around. The Pearls were a group of five women who rose above the rest and established themselves as the patron favorites.
The Pearls demanded adoration.
Draco walked up the stairs which led to the main entrance. He was many things but he was not a coward - or at least, that’s what he told himself as he pulled the heavy ornate door open.
There was a receptionist sitting at a desk in the foyer, and she flashed him a bright smile.
“Good evening! Welcome to the Siren’s Pearls Gentleman’s Club,” the receptionist stood up.. Her legs went on for miles, it seemed. She wore those soft tights with the seams on the backs of her legs. “I’m Laverne.”
Laverne walked around her desk. Her gait was perky and her outfit looked like those worn by women in those cheesy boss/assistant adult magazine spreads.
Draco shook her outstretched hand, “Draco. Draco Malfoy.”
“Yes, we all know who you are, Mr. Malfoy. We are all pleased you’ve heeded to our invitation,” Laverne smiled. “Those cufflinks look great on you.”
“Ah, well, thank you,” Draco awkwardly adjusted his sleeves.
Laverne gestured to his right, “Mel can take your cloak.”
Draco jumped when Mel, a young wizard, appeared from the shadows to take his cloak to the guests’ wardrobe. He quickly exchanged the cloak with a slip of paper with a matching number to the tag on the hanger Mel was holding.
“Sign here, if you please, Mr. Malfoy,” Laverne said as she returned to her spot behind her desk. She set several copies of waivers and documents for Draco to sign. He was so nervous, his signature was rushed and splotchy, but it would do.
“Excellent,” Laverne processed all the documents at an impressive speed. “You are all set, Mr. Malfoy. Feel free to go up the stairs on either side to enter the club. Welcome again to our lair.”
I’m royally screwed, Draco thought to himself as he made his way up the stairs. One of his dragon hide shoes caught on the crimson carpet lining the stairs.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered once he regained his balance and made it to the top of the stairs.
One of his pale hands stretched to pull the lush velvet curtains aside but an employee beat him to it.
“Welcome, Mr. Malfoy,” the security wizard greeted him with a gruff voice.
“Yes, hello, thank you,” Draco stammered and walked inside. His fingers found purchase around his tie to loosen it up a bit. What in Salazar’s name am I doing here?
The Siren’s Pearls Gentlemen's Club was - much like other magical buildings - bigger in the inside than it appeared from the outside. The furniture was tasteful - black velvet, golden hardware, polished wood. The floor was beautifully tiled and the lighting was warm and minimal. There were two bars on the main floor - the smaller one had barrel mixed drinks while the larger bar had a full menu or brews, spirits and more.
There were beautiful dancers on small stages and two pole dancers on the main stage. And the crowd loved them. Men clapped and cheered and hooted whenever they’d shake their asses to the music, even if the movement didn’t go with the beat of the song playing through the speakers.
Draco strolled to the full bar for a drink, allowing his stormy eyes to wander over his surroundings. There were familiar faces all over and he figured they’d all silently agreed to pretend to be strangers within the club’s walls.
Wizengamot figures, heads of ministry departments, acclaimed musicians, famed potioneers, fellow ex-Death Eaters and Order of Merlin recipients. And a select four few had a stunning woman on their laps. Pearls. Four of the five Pearls. He saw one of them brush her stiletto heel over a violinist’s crotch, which made Draco's neck flush and grow warm.
Holy sh*t. Holy sh*t. Where the f*ck am I?
“Ahem… may I have a glass of Ogden’s please? Neat and keep the tab open,” Draco stated as confidently as he could when he made it to the bar.
The bartender nodded in acknowledgement and added an old fashioned glass to the growing line of empty glasses.
This was going to be a long night, he thought to himself. The sounds of clinking ice cubes and co*cktail shakers meshed with the low rumble of lewd conversations and music. The bartenders moved with efficiency and accuracy, as if they could never spill a bottle or add lemon juice to the wrong mixed drink. They were indulgent potion makers.
Draco sat on a tufted bar stool to wait for his drink. Some of the men at the bar were enjoying boards of cured meats and smelly cheeses and odd mixed-grain crackers. One particular gentleman was napping at the end of the line. He would surely be upset when he woke up and realized his heavily-pomaded curls had been in his ale.
He felt for the sleeping patron. Draco himself had his own moments of falling into drunken slumber at various bars, much to Blaise and Theo’s distaste. He even has a faint memory of Pansy splashing a glass of cold water into his face to wake him up. Wicked, unforgiving witch.
The hyper-focused bartender set his glass by his wrist, “Neat Ogden’s.”
“Thank you,” Draco lifted the glass to nothing in particular in a vague toast and took a sip.
He continued to sit at the bar, watching the patrons flutter around with entertainers. He also happened to spot the owner of the club, Miss Evangeline, doing her rounds while flanked by her bald assistant.
Draco took a second sip of his Ogden’s, trying hard to convince himself that he should pace his drinking if he wanted to fully appreciate the exclusive club. But that plan was quickly going out the window.
Some patrons parted in his line of view and he could make out the metal bars of a massive cage. That’s when he spotted her and desperately wished he had pre-gamed. Jude. Jude Elliott. Mudblood. Ravenclaw. Former schoolyard enemy. Massive bitch.
There she was in her glory, swaying her hips in smooth figure-eights against the bars, letting men drape her in money and diamond necklaces originally bought for their wives. She somehow looked exactly the same as he last saw her five years ago. Caramel skin, a dancer’s build, luscious dark curls… pleasant tit*... pouty lips - Merlin, Draco, enough! But those tit* must feel so soft to hold…
The Ogden’s burned his throat as he threw back the whole two fingers of it.
“Another one?” The bartender asked.
“Heavens, yes,” Draco muttered, gray eyes fixed on the cage dancer.
Definitely a long night.
