On one couch she thought she saw a man sleeping peacefully, but then realized his head was thrown back in bliss, a girl on the ground between his legs with her mouth on him. She quickly averted her gaze, throat burning again, but it was like she'd opened Pandora's box. No matter where her eyes darted, she found others in similar positions — out in the open like that.

A blonde girl in only knickers and a bra passed in front of them, leading an older man towards a wall of doors on the left. He was already unbuttoning as he followed her into a small booth.

It was like a brothel with elements of a Muggle strip club. Transactions were either out in the open or hidden away in private stalls; it seemed to depend on the man's preference. Hermione saw a girl bouncing on top of a young man in a way that was clearly penetrative. Her cheeks burned as they passed the couple, acutely aware of Draco's presence next to her, the girl's pants and breathy moans echoing in her ears.

Flint led them deeper into the room, and Draco's hand on her back pressed her close to his side. She knew he'd done his best to avoid bringing her here, to "The Lounge." They had barely been able to look at each other for the past few weeks — ending up here tonight was probably the last thing he wanted. There was no easy way to manage the situation. They'd simply have to survive it.

They turned a corner through a large archway and into another room, the left half obscured by private booths. Several more doors on the farthest wall; the other side filled with plush velvet couches and chairs. A roaring fireplace on the right wall, sending ambers across the room, and a blue sphere of light overhead, casting shadows on familiar faces. Two girls in silver collars danced on a cleared platform near the center of the seating area, similar to a stage at a club, while men lounged and chatted in chairs facing them.

Her lungs filled with air, steadying her. Apart from the dancing, there was nothing she hadn't seen in the other room.

She found Charlotte moving through the crowd with a tray of hors d'oeuvres and fruit, another girl following her with drinks. The men's hands would pass over their backsides and up their thighs as they served, and Charlotte sent each a wink and a smile.

The olive-skinned teenager was being dragged by the arm into a private booth as they passed, her eyes red and her cheeks streaming with tears. Hermione blinked, looking away. Somewhere in her mind's eye, there was a lake. A clear lake, the water still and unmoving—

The party halted, shattering her concentration. Marcus plopped onto a couch facing Theo and his date, and dragged Penelope down to his side. Penelope looked like she'd finally arrived at the moment she'd been dreading all night as Marcus slung his arm around her shoulders and played with her curls.