Author's Note: Hello there :) It's been a while since I've posted anything on here, and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so why don't we give it a go? Set post-Hogwarts, follows the novels, but discards the epilog. I really have great ideas for this story, so I'd LOVE feedback! Enjoy!
Draco held the shot glass up to his lips and let the liquid slide down his throat. The burning sensation left a tangy after taste, much like the sensation after ripping a bandaid off. Sure, it hurts once you're peeling the fabric from your wound, but the skin will be tender from the glue. Draco reached up and undid his top button. He wore a white silk button up shirt and dark denim jeans, complete with a green belt. His platinum blonde hair was slightly tousled, and his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol.
"How the hell do you do that?" Blaise Zabini was dressed similarly to his best friend. A burgundy button shirt and black jeans. His dark skin was in perfect contrast to his pearly white teeth. "That's eleven shots and you're just getting tipsy."
"Women do that to you." Draco answered, blinking hard once his vision blurred a little.
Blaise frowned. "I thought you said you were fine-"
"I am!" Draco held up his hands. "I am totally fine. That's why we're here, remember?"
"Is it also why you're drowning yourself in alcohol?" Blaise raised a dark eyebrow.
"It's merely a creative way to relax." The youngest Malfoy flashed his signature grin. He knocked back another shot, and ordered two more, holding one out to Blaise. "To getting piss drunk and having a great time tonight." He toasted.
"Cheers, mate." Blaise answered.
The two men clinked glasses and consumed even more alcohol. He could always count on Blaise. They'd grown exceptionally close in their final year at Hogwarts, and even more so after the war once both of their families' names were cleared. His best friend had dragged him down to Wands, a famed wizard's after hours club, tonight to help Draco have some fun.
The space was dark, with just enough light to see. The bar was slightly floating, and purple candles that had been hexed to not burn anyone floated around. The room smelled of a mix of paper money, smoke, and whisky. He could also smell the cheap leather from the band of hookers who had made their way to the club about a half hour ago. The women were all clad in skimpy dresses and tight material.
"Take a look at that one." The darker wizard licked his lips. He made eye contact with a bodacious red head who was moving on the dance floor. She wore grey leggings, a studded tank top, and sky high snakeskin heels. The girl blushed and winked suggestively at Draco's best friend.
"Go get her." Draco nudged him forward.
"You sure?" Blaise asked, always the loyal friend.
"Of course, she's hot." Draco smiled as his best friend stalked towards his prey.
Draco returned to the bar, the music drumming in his ears. He ordered one last drink and gulped it down. His head was starting to feel like it was made of lead, but his limbs felt loose and relaxed. Fuck Astoria. He thought to himself. He was here to have fun, and to forget the blonde bitch that he had been dating for the past eight months. Little did he know, she'd been fucking Terry Boot for the past four months, as he'd found out last night. Draco had stumbled upon them last night when he'd stopped by her apartment when his meeting had ended early. The whore had been up against the wall, taking him from behind. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck her.
The alcohol tossed in Draco's stomach, making his brain go fuzzy. He should be having fun, not thinking about her. He set down his glass and swayed to the dance floor. The colored lights pulsed, the music thundered all around him. Bodies gyrated against him. He deserved to let loose. Draco moved his body to the contagious music. The smell of sweat mixed with a hundred different perfumes intoxicated him. He could pick out alcohol on almost every person's breath. He made eye contact with a drop dead gorgeous blonde. She had soft blue eyes, and full, pink, cock-sucking lips. She smiled at him, and closed the space between them, her stick straight hair following her. "Hi," She flashed a smile. Her teeth were off-white, and he cought a glimpse of her tongue. She placed a manicured hand on his chest. Her nails were painted neon pink, and Draco could only imagine those hands stroking up and down his length along with that delicious mouth until he spurted his seed all over her...
He blinked, and instead of blue eyes he saw lustful green ones. The blonde hair was sticking to her neck as she moaned against the striped wall. "YES!" She cried out. "Fuck Terry yes!"
Draco dug his nails into his palm. "I'm sorry..." He rubbed his eyes. "I need to use the loo." He dashed away from the girl, not bothering to look back. Okay, He thought. No Blondes. He reached into his pocket and popped a cinnamon mint into his mouth. The taste always soothed him. The alcohol buzzing through his veins, Draco returned to the dance floor. There were people everywhere.
He let the music take him, and danced to the beat. A girl's behind was pressed against his package. She had long brown wavy locks and smelled of spicy vanilla. She had the nicest ass, he noticed, as she ground it against him. His hands roamed her body, and he massaged both of her full breasts. She moved his hands downward, and he traced the outside of her lacy thong. He slipped his fingers underneath, and began to fondle her clit. She moaned and grinded harder against him as encouragement, so he moved to penetrate her with two fingers. She moaned harder and moved her ass to the rhythm of his fingers. She suddenly turned around and pressed her mouth to his. Their tongues battled for dominance as she kissed him with fiery passion that seared behind his closed lids. She cried out against his lips as she climaxed. This woman's kiss electrified him. He drunk her smell, her touch, her taste in. His body burned with lust, and wherever her fingers grazed him, he burned with desire. He took her hand and apparated right there, and with a pop they were at his apartment.
By now, the alcohol had seriously altered his senses. He could barley see the girl in front of him, and the darkness of his home certainly didn't help. Sex didn't require light, so he picked up his brunette beauty and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her out on the mattress, and quickly discarded her tight black dress and shiny silver stilettos. He stripped himself, next, and proceeded to make her scream for him with his hands and mouth. This woman tasted so fucking good! She then got on her knees, and took him into her warm, moist mouth until he covered her in his sticky cum.
They continued onto many rounds of hot, wet sex. He took her savagely in a missionary position, then moved on so that she was riding his length with her succulent booty and brought them both to shear bliss time and again. At the end of the night, he closed his eyes, and had a peaceful night's sleep without dreaming of a certain whore with blonde hair and green eyes.
The sun peaked through the draped curtains on the far window. Hermione sat up and took in the room around her. Cream walls decorated with lavish artwork surrounded her. There was an impressive bookshelf on the far right wall next to a lamp hanging over a leather armchair. The base of the lamp was a brassy bronze that curved and twisted until the head of a snake pointed to a green lamp shade. Hermione imagined curling up on the chair on a cold winter's night, reading a romantic Shakespeare classic, the light casting a shadow on half of her face.
On the other side of the bookshelf sat a majestic desk. It was littered with papers and books. Hermione spotted a small ink pot with a quill sticking out of it. There was a melted candle pushed to the corner of the oak desk, as if someone had been up late, pouring through letters and such until the sun rise.
There was a pile of boxes on the other side of the room, and Hermione noticed that the dark wooden dresser that had been left open was only half full. A half empty bottle of firewhiskey sat atop the boxes.
Where the hell was she?
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as the pounding headache descended upon her. She needed coffee. Hermione was never really a morning person, as many of her housemates back at Hogwarts had learned. She ran her right hand through her hair. Ouch. She was seriously sore. She looked down. Her arms were spotted with swollen purple sores. What the fuck?
Suddenly, memories of last night flooded her brain. She remembered Ron asking to invite Lavender Brown into their bedroom, explaining he'd been fucking her and knocked her up a few months ago. Fucking asshole. She'd thrown the small diamond engagement ring he'd given her at him, and gone to her best friend, nervous about pinning her against her brother, but Ginny had consoled her nonetheless, offering to dress her up and take her for a good time.
She'd tamed her wild hair into soft waves that fell down her back gracefully. Ginny had made her put on a tiny black dress that showed off her ample cleavage and firm butt with huge heels. Ginny did her makeup and taken her dancing. After many rounds of drinks, they'd hit the dance floor when...
Him.
She remembered the dancing, the kissing, the sex. She could just barley remember his gorgeous features. That's where she must be! This must be his bedroom!
She jumped when she felt someone stir besides her. Turning around quickly, she met those cool grey eyes that she knew far too well from school. The eyes, the pale skin, the hair, all of it. After a moment of staring into those shocked orbs, they both let out a scream.
How had she ended up having sex with Draco Malfoy?