How the Mighty Have Fallen
Summary: The best way to know your enemy is to put yourself in their shoes. Hermione just wished it wasn't quiet so figuratively. Draco, on the other hand, got to grope her breasts all he wanted. DM/HG - Rated M
Author's Notes:
-Takes place the 6th year of Hogwarts, none of that DeathEater's business going on...yet.
-Please enjoy and feel free to tell me any mistakes you see. I'm sure they're are plenty. Which reminds me, if any of you are interested in becoming my beta-reader, please let me know. Thanks a bunch!
Chapter 1
The giant dining hall had been separated in half. Tables containing delicious smelling food and empty tables were friends and couples now sat. Hermione noted the other half was changed into a dance floor, where bodies of the fellow classmates mingled like snakes.
Hermione found Harry and Ron at the punch bowl. "Hey guys!" she greeted.
Harry's mouth gaped open the moment he saw her and Ron sputtered into his red drunk.
Hermione flushed and twirled, she gestured to her zebra striped top that had off the shoulder sleeves and a plunging neckline. "What do you guys think? Animal print is all the rage in the States."
Harry blushed. "You look wonderful, Hermione."
"Wonderful?!" exclaimed Ron. "She's bloody gorgeous!"
Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "It was all Ginny's idea, really."
Said red-head magically appeared beside her. "You guys have no idea how long it took me to straighten her hair!"
Ron reached out and caught a sleek chestnut strand. He dropped it just as quickly as he touched it. "You are beautiful." he said quietly.
Hermione felt her face flame. Ginny made a gagging noise and grabbed Harry. The boy grinned at them as Ginny pulled him to the dance floor.
Ron took a generous drink of the red liquid. "Want some?"
Hermione nodded, her nerves were fried. She finally was alone with Ron, now if she could just... Hermione jerked the cup out of Ron's hands and chugged the punch.
She coughed and sputtered. "What did you put in this?" Hermione snapped.
Ron smirked. "Y'know...a little bit of this and that."
"You idiotic git." replied Hermione, thrusting the cup back at him. He quickly refilled it and handed it back to her. Hermione chugged it once more. She grimaced. "What? Half firewhiskey, half punch?"
The grin on Ron's face was answer enough.
"You're going to get in trouble."
Ron shrugged. "It's New Year's Eve, we've got three hours until midnight, why not enjoy it?"
Hermione breathed deeply. This is it... "Um, Ron....ah, would you like to-"
"Won-Won!" squealed a blur of blonde and purple. Hermione glared at Lavender.
"Come dance!" she commanded.
"Wait, Hermione was going to ask me something." said Ron. Hermione could feel Lavender's eyes boring holes into her.
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to have a study group tomorrow evening." she blurted. "Exams are coming up."
Lavender giggled and Ron nodded. "Sure. I'll see you later?" asked Ron.
Hermione smiled, her eyes burning. "Maybe, I might retire early tonight." Before Ron could reply, he was whisked away by the blonde bimbo. Hermione filled her cup up and slouched on the nearest seat. She watched her friends have fun, getting more depressed by the second.
It just isn't fair, thought Hermione, why can't boys come with a manual? She drowned another cup and glanced around the dining hall. Couples everywhere snogging, half were probably inebriated as well. At a table not to far from her, a bunch of Slytherin boys laughed and teased each other.
She noticed a pair of steel gray eyes watching her. Draco Malfoy sat quietly among the other boys, sipping his drunk, watching her with enough sheer intensity to kill. He's probably thinking of ways to kill me, mused Hermione. She glanced once more time at her friends and stood.
Dizziness swept over her, causing her to waver slightly. Her stomach felt warm, not to mention it was suddenly weltering hot in the dining hall.
"Oh bloody hell, I'm inebriated." whispered Hermione. She recalled how many cups of the punch she'd drank. Was it four...or five? Maybe if she splashed some cold water on her face, she'd sober up. Slowly and carefully, Hermione walked out of the dining hall. Girls were lined up outside the restroom.
Hermione groaned.
"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!" she quipped to herself and made her way to the ghost girl's abandoned bathroom.
--
Draco Malfoy had watched the mudblood waltz in the dining hall like she owned the place. Aside from the annoyance he felt there was something else, another feeling he never thought he'd feel when it came to the Gryffindor Know-It-All. He suddenly had the desire to ask her to dance.
Her chestnut hair; unbound, sleek, and straight, shined and flowed freely around her as she twisted around to show her fuck buddies, Potter and Weasley, her outfit. Draco didn't miss the flash of smooth thigh, either.
Realization hit him like a brick wall. He didn't have the desire to ask her to dance, he desire for her.
Maybe he just liked her more when she wore less clothes. Or it was the more clothes she wore, the more annoyed he grew. Either way, something was wrong. Draco glanced down at his drink. The firewhiskey seemed to laugh at him.
He stiffly set his drink down.
Blaise eyed him. "What's the matter, Draco? Quitting already?"
Draco snorted. "We've drunk two pints already. I can't see straight as it is."
"Whatever."
Draco ignored them and watched Granger again. This time she was alone and it looked like she was sulking. He followed her eyes and understood. Potter and the female Weasley were dancing, as well as Weasley and some blonde girl.
So the mudblood was feeling a little left out? Draco smirked. Granger leaned back against the table, giving him a wonderful view of her breasts. They weren't anything to brag about, but the curve of them against her shirt promised that her bosoms would be perky.
He knew he should feel repulsed at the mere thought of the mudblood Granger, but he was just too busy feeling aroused. He was male and she female, basic chemistry. Draco decided he just needed a good shag.
He glanced from her breasts and met her chocolate eyes. From her flushed cheeks and her heavy-lidded gaze, he could tell Granger had consumed her fair share of alcohol. She abruptly turned away and stood. Her legs shook from under her and she placed a hand on her face. With determination, she walked from the dining hall.
Before he even registered what was happening, he had pardoned himself as was trailing a few feet behind the mudblood.
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