Dark Desires

Chapter 12

AN: Exciting news! I'm back, and planning on completing this story. All votes and comments mean so much to me, so please continue leaving them :D

"Come to watch me dance, have you, muddy?"

Hermione was swung up on the table by two surprisingly strong arms. Bellatrix's cold hands still had a grasp around the brunette's wrists when she signalled for the bartender, who nodded in solemnity as though Bellatrix was a long-loved friend with good humour and witty anecdotes, rather than one of the most feared women in all of Europe. It was remarkable how the raven haired witch seemed to have won everyone over - she really had the charm when she wanted to.

"Have some drinks with me, pretty lady Granger!" yelled Bellatrix over the noise of people shouting and music blasting. She is obviously quite hammered, Hermione thought, to be calling me 'pretty'. Yet still, she accepted her offer.

"Where were you this entire time? I haven't seen you since the early morning", Hermione managed to ask once they were sitting safe and sound at the bar stools, away from the thick crowd of muggles.

"Why, were you worried about me?" Hermione wanted to protest (although, in fact, she had been worried) and argue that she wished Bellatrix had been run over by a bus after the horror-show that had been the early morning, but was interrupted. "The Great Hermione Granger was worried about ME: a death eater! My, I am honoured beyond words", Bellatrix cackled on sarcastically, "A toast to me: the infinitely miss-able Bellatrix Black!" Hermione wondered why she had left out 'Lestrange', but raised her shot-glass in defeat nonetheless and downed the brown liquid with a grimace. Bellatrix was almost unrecognisable where she sat with a large grin plastered across her face, her arms dipping and bobbing along with the rhythm of the music. 

"Keep these coming, handsome." The young bartender sent Bellatrix a toothy grin before filling up their shot-glasses with even more mysterious, brown liquid. He gave Hermione a quick, polite smile before turning his attention to a man at the far end of the bar.

"What is this?" asked Hermione once she downed the second glass. Bellatrix laughed in response, reaching out a slender arm to dry a drop off Hermione's chin.

"They call it 'Fireball'. Their version of Firewhisky, only less magical." The girl self consciously shifted in her chair, noticing a warm feeling spreading from her throat to her belly. She wasn't sure whether it was this so-called 'Fireball', or Bellatrix's unusual lightheartedness that made her stomach tingle.

Motioning to the bartender for more drinks, Bellatrix leaned over to whisper in Hermione's ear. "You know how I pay for these drinks?" Her soft voice made Hermione shiver. She shook her head 'no', awaiting the raven haired's next move. "Watch", was all she said before turning her attention to the young, bearded man behind the polished wood. She sat up straight, her arms reaching for the man's face before pulling him down, locking their lips together. Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She watched how the other woman let the bartender roam his hands over her perfectly sculptured body, and suddenly a sting of jealousy hit her. She glared on with increasing hate towards this innocent victim of the death eater's charm. As their tongues battled each other for dominance, the silent spectator was ready to vomit in her glass. Finally, the two broke apart.

At least the free drinks were served well and beyond Hermione's wildest imagination. He mixed various liquids and made tenfold of fancy drinks Hermione couldn't even pronounce, until her mouth felt like sand and her vision struggled to focus. When it was time for the next "payment", Hermione refused to watch it all over again. She slammed her triangular glass down on the wood, stood up and stormed off into the empty reception, where her head caught up with her. She hadn't drunk since Fleur and Bill's wedding, and that was in no way a comparable amount to what she'd had to drink this evening. Involuntarily, she reached out to support herself on the receptionist's desk.