Baton Rouge

- 4 -

Hermione stood in front of the dark wooden door concealing her future room and listened to the melodious stream of words spilling from the lips of a short, blonde witch who had fittingly introduced herself as Melody.

As Hermione quickly had found out, Melody wasn't a prostitute, but some kind of contact person for the girls, who also coordinated the stage shows and was responsible for the costumes.

But she wasn't the only one who was employed in the Baton Rouge without having to spread her legs. Hermione's eyes almost popped out of her head when Melody explained to her that also all waitresses were paid exclusively for that. It hadn't been anything like that in the little brothel in Knockturn Alley. Each of them had been responsible for everything.

On the way to her room, Hermione began to feel uncomfortable. She felt dirty and disgusting as the furniture in the entryway and hallways was undoubtedly exquisite. In contrast to where she used to live before, everything in here was tidy. Hermione couldn't believe her ears when Melody explained that every witch had her own little bathroom. In the meantime, she was glad that she had accepted her former boss's offer and with that apparently given her happiness a boost.

"You should definitely take a shower," Melody said, snapping Hermione out of her trance. She noticed that the blond young woman wrinkled her nose slightly, and was immediately ashamed. She looked down at herself and shrugged her shoulders in embarrassment, but Melody waved it off.

"It's all right. I know where you're from." That sentence didn't necessarily make Hermione feel any better, but she didn't answer. She would have loved to say out loud who she actually was, and that she certainly hadn't chosen this life, but it wouldn't make a difference - not anymore.

"Just come down when you're done. I'll get some new clothes for you and we'll do a little fitting backstage so we know what costume size you can wear." Melody noticed the startled look on Hermione's face and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. Tonight you just have to be pretty and sit at the bar for a while. Tomorrow afternoon there will be rehearsals again, then you can show us what you've got. Depending on that, we'll use you for the shows. But let me blab - the more dancing, the more money." She winked teasingly.

Hermione nodded. There was so much information and strange impressions at once that she just didn't know what to answer. But Melody probably thought Hermione was shy, because she just kept smiling and tirelessly filling in any blanks of the conversation with more references to the Baton Rouge. It was amazing how different this club was from the old brothel in Knockturn Alley.

"Thank you," Hermione finally said, just to say anything at all, and Melody nodded generously.

"See you soon then." She glanced at the clock and furrowed her eyebrows. "The show starts in an hour. Try to be back downstairs in thirty minutes." Hermione nodded again. There had been days, she'd had less time to gather herself, change, or even shower.

With a last smile, Melody turned around and disappeared down the stairs with springy steps. She had every reason to be in a good mood. After all, her job was easy to do compared to the one Hermione had landed, and probably even better paid.

Hermione sighed and looked absentmindedly at the small key she had been given. There was no point in pondering her fate over and over again. It couldn't be changed, and the chances of Voldemort's fall were so slim that Hermione had given up hope. She had long reconciled herself to doing things that she might once have despised or at least questioned. It had just become normal. What else could she have done?

She put the key in the lock, turned it and swallowed as the door opened slowly. Unexpectedly, the room was no shabbier than the rest of the etablissement. It was simple, but clean and adequately furnished. The bed was large, freshly made and had multiple pillows. Hermione stepped in and lowered her bag, looking around curiously. On the right-hand wall was a large closet, in which her few clothes would probably disappear. Across the room, she spotted a desk, a chair, and above it - Hermione let out a quiet sound of joy - a wooden, small bookshelf.