Draco started to direct her towards a different set of couches, but Flint grabbed the arm of a large chair and dragged it closer, gesturing for Draco to sit. Draco smiled thinly and folded himself into the cushions, pushing Hermione to sit on the arm of the chair instead of his lap. She wasn't sure it was any better — from this perch, she had a vantage point of the entire room.

"Miss Granger," Flint lilted over the thrumming music. "How do you like The Lounge? Is it everything you dreamed of and more?" He smirked into his glass, his eyes locked on her.

Hermione tore her eyes away and stared at her lap, pressing her lips closed. Afraid of opening her mouth, like the anger and bile would come tumbling out of her in waves if she did.

"I'd say they really should be thanking us," Warrington called to Flint from the next couch over, his Lot in his lap, her lips on his neck.

"Thanking you?" The scornful reply left her throat before she could catch herself. Draco went very still next to her. Her heartbeat fluttered amidst her growing sense of panic.

Warrington leveled his gaze on her. "That's right, Mudblood. Thanking us for giving you such a fine hall. For inviting you to dinner and pouring you champagne."

She looked down in a show of obedience, heart thumping madly.

"You Muggles are all the same," Pucey drawled. "It's in your true nature. You don't have to deny it any longer, Granger." He leered at her, and she felt her skin crawl. "Look how much they all enjoy it!" He turned and gestured to the slaves — the dancing two giggled, another moaned as she ground her hips on a man in a chair. And on another couch, Cho Chang kissed another girl slowly as Mulciber watched, rubbing himself through his trousers.

"Come on, Granger," Flint crooned. "Don't be such a spoilsport." His fingers started unbuckling his belt, and Penelope set down her champagne glass, crawling to the floor between his knees with a blank expression. "Let Draco know just how much you appreciate him."

Hermione jerked her eyes away, her breath tight in her chest as she found Warrington's girl turning to straddle his lap. Her stomach squeezed, and vomit pumped into her throat. She swallowed it down and stared at a wall.

Draco dropped a hand on her knee — a quiet warning not to move. "I prefer my appreciation in private. Besides, I'd hate to distract your birds with the size of my cock."

She listened to Flint laugh, his breath thin with excitement from the things Penelope was doing to him.

She watched Charlotte offer fruit to the boys that weren't currently forcing oral sex on their slaves.

She smelled the cigar smoke and heard the sound of laughter and clinking glasses and gasping and moaning.

Her true nature, he'd said. As a Muggle.

Draco whispered to her that they would leave shortly, and she blinked slowly at the carpets, eyes glued to the knees of a brunette she hardly knew as the girl sat before a pure-blood boy who believed she should thank him for the opportunity.