Hello! New to writing here and currently without a beta at that. Just sort of writing for fun, but please let me know if you enjoy it or have questions, comments, critiques.
Characters and world belong to the lovely JK Rowling.
-Chapter 1-
Accompanying Song: The Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy
Hermione's head made a soft 'thud' as it connected with the wall, her gaze flicking skyward. What had she done to end up in this position? She was always so careful, so methodical, so meticulous. She rarely jumped into danger without thinking about every possible outcome. She was the brains of the Golden Trio. She was the smartest witch of her age. So, how was it that she was faced with such a life altering predicament that had not even been a possibility only days ago? How was she now forced into a situation that she had little to no control over?
Once more her eyes gave a fleeting glance to the plastic carefully held between her trembling fingers. The result was the same, those mocking dark lines staring up at her. She groaned, her head sagged forward to rest on her knees as she pulled them to her chest and let the little plastic stick clatter to the ground below. How would she even break this news to her friends? To him?
It had been the annual Ministry Holiday Party, and Hermione always begrudgingly went along to placate her friends. It wasn't that she didn't like to go out or "have fun," as her friends always seemed to joke. It just was not what she loved. A thrilling night to her was spent on the couch in front of her fireplace with Crookshanks curled up on her feet, a book in one hand and a mug of hot cocoa in the other. She had to admit it, though, Ginny would have never let Hermione say no even if she had wanted to. Ginny loved an excuse to dress her up like a doll and make a fool of themselves late into the night. And they both knew she needed those outings.
Those fleeting moments were when she truly felt bliss, wild, free.
It was nearly eleven when Harry found his wife and best friend clinging to one another. Each of them had a champagne flute swinging haphazardly in the hand that wasn't clutching the other woman for dear life, the liquid inside sloshing up the sides and threatening to spill over.
"Well, I see you two are enjoying yourselves," he grinned as he carefully plucked the glasses from them despite protests.
"And here comes the real fun sucker," Hermione muttered before loosening her grip on Ginny.
Ginny's head fell back with a cackle before she wiggled out of Hermione's grasp and into her husband's. Her form fitting black evening gown swayed as her full hips sashayed side to side in the tantalizing manner that Ginny had perfected. The fiery redhead pushed her chest out into Harry's and it was a miracle that the delicate fabric managed to hold in her post-pregnancy breasts. "Did you miss me while you were off schmoozing," she managed in a less-than-work-appropriate purr.
"I was not schmoozing, I was simply talking to a few friends from my department." Harry's hands came down to Ginny's hips to adjust her dress, the slit that ran floor to hip threatening to expose more of his wife than he was willing to share.
Ginny's eyes rolled so hard that Hermione was sure she could physically feel it. "I still can't believe you're friends with Draco sodding Malfoy now," she grumbled, whether at his avoidance of her blatant flirting or the company he kept, Hermione was unsure.
"He's on my team, Gin. Not only that, but he's a damn fine Auror. You know more than anyone that I couldn't stand the git in school, but we were kids. I think he's actually matured since the war and being out from under Lucius's thumb surely helped as well. He hasn't made a single snide remark towards me or even called me 'Potty' in years." Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe he was defending Malfoy to them.
"He might not be necessarily friendly to me, but he's always been cordial in passing," Hermione stated with a shrug, "Though I'm sure that doesn't mean his frigid heart is even close to thawing," she finished with a rush, not one to get on Ginny's bad side. Ginny's eyes had gone wide in what she had assumed was shock at Hermione siding with Harry about Draco.
It seemed as if luck was not on her side, however.
"That was almost a compliment," came an unmistakable drawl behind her.
Hermione balked, swiveling around to meet those cold mercurial eyes. "I-" she managed to stammer out. She was a lightweight and her and Ginny had been too many drinks in. While her loose lips got her in this situation, her mind sluggishly churned to try and recover from what she said.
"Oh, I do love this song," Harry barely got out as he quickly dragged his wife to the dancefloor.
Arsehole. Coward. Git. Hermione found all the words she wanted to shout at Harry for leaving her alone, but nothing to remove her from the situation.
"I do hope that my frigid presence isn't impeding on your night," though his words were slow and careful, she could detect another emotion under them. Anger? Amusement? Her mind was too foggy for her to be able to decipher. Instead she searched his features for some telltale sign to give him away, like when the vein by Harry's temple would visibly pulse when he would get annoyed with the girls after stumbling home late on Girl's Night. Did she even know Malfoy well enough to know if he had any ticks?
"Though it must be enough to cause you to freeze up as you are simply gaping at me like a fish."
Hermione's mouth snapped shut, "I didn't know you were behind me when I said that." Deflect, but not apologize, more her style when inebriated.
"You didn't feel my cold presence?" He smirked. That stupid, arrogant smirk that she was used to seeing throughout her Hogwarts days plastered across his face. She wished she could slap it right off. Again.
Hermione managed to wave down a waiter and snag another flute of champagne. She delayed her response with a long sip to clear her thoughts before shooting him a sultry smile. "Are you enjoying the party?" She would not rise to his childish bait and would change the subject instead. New leaf or not, she knew his snobbish and argumentative ways could have hardly subsided.
He paused for a moment, glancing down at her out of the corner of his eyes as he spoke. "I was, but it seems there's a bit of a cold chill."
Her eyes rolled before she ground out a half-hearted apology, "I'm sorry that you had to hear me talk about your horrid manners in such an unflattering way."
"And I'm sorry that you consider that an apology," he hid another smirk behind his glass.
Hermione's shoulder connected with his which in turn earned her a scowl from the aristocrat beside her. She sheepishly smiled up at him. "So, what? Didn't bring Pansy to follow you around and snicker at all your snide remarks? Too sophisticated to dance at one of these events? Too afraid to give away your Bad Boy Style with having a little fun?" It seemed her carefree, drunken mood caught back up with her. Maybe she couldn't help herself, but he kept making that same stupid face that she associated with the teenager that had tormented half her childhood, and snappy retorts were begging to spill forth.
Once more she found her glass plucked out of her hand, but as she moved to object she found those long ivory fingers clasp around hers.
"I suppose you will just have to show me how it is done. How could I possibly pass up the opportunity to perfect my ways from the poster child of fun herself?" His signature drawl was dripping with sarcasm as he led Hermione to the dancefloor when another song started up.
All of the insults on the tip of her tongue about getting his hands soiled by touching her muddy self died as she stumbled behind him. Dancing while sober took her full concentration, but to dance while slightly inebriated and with the Prince of Prats at that? He would be waiting for her to make a fool of herself. Her wide doe eyes stared up at him and the fear was almost (almost) sobering as they fell into place amongst the other dancers. His chiseled features were stoic as he lead her into position, but that mischievous twinkle in his eyes would not have escaped even the most oblivious person.
When his warm palm came to rest on her open back, she felt her pulse kick into double time and the blood rush through her veins. His fingertips felt like fire against her heated skin and her mind reeled to recover from the positive thoughts it was spitting up about the interaction. It was just Malfoy of all people. It wasn't like he was anything special. Who cares if his touch sent the butterflies in her stomach aflight? And that warming sensation working through her limbs might have just been the alcohol, anyway. So what that his high cheekbones and strong jawline gave him those smoldering model good looks? Besides that-
Her thoughts were interrupted as Draco's fingers had brushed over the curve of her cheek to tuck a renegade curl behind her ear. Dammit, she cursed her body's sudden but inevitable betrayal as her feet fumbled after the gentle gesture.
"What's this? Is there something even the brightest witch of our age isn't good at?"
There was the Malfoy she remembered.
Hermione scowled, but managed to regain her form, steeling her emotions before she would dare look up to him. Instead of being met with that signature Malfoy sneer, she found him observing her movements. Her steps faltered once more under his intense gaze, but he recovered with a small pivot that hid her stumble. Was he hiding the fact she was making mistakes? Malfoy was actually being a courteous dance partner? To her?
Always curious, Hermione had to test this theory. When Malfoy's foot came forward and her own should have went back, she went forward instead as well. Their feet collided in a move that should have sent her stumbling into him, but his palm on her back braced her and pulled her in close instead. Her breath hitched in her throat as she pressed against his firm chest, time seeming to slow the moment she caught a small smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
It's just Malfoy, she chided herself again to chase away the lingering thoughts, not that it helped.
But she would absolutely not look like a fool in front of Draco Malfoy of all people, and she resumed the familiar steps of the dances he led her through.
Soon one song rolled into two and two into three. She followed each step, spinning gracefully, which was honestly shocking due to her current state, and bending easily with each dip. Despite her stubborn intention of showing him that she indeed did know what she was doing, she found her reasoning give way and enjoyment begin to take hold as well. A smile was tugging at the corner of Malfoy's lips and she couldn't help but find it contagious.
Hermione was unsure how many songs had passed at this point. They had paused a few rounds on the outer edge of the dance floor to grab a few more drinks but then it was right back to dancing. Their movements had slowed and Hermione once more found herself clutching onto another human as the drinks made the room spin. Or maybe they were spinning at this point? They shared few words, mostly Malfoy childishly spilling the latest gossip of those around them, which left her wondering if she was talking to Ginny or Malfoy here, but both found themselves aching from the laughter and smiles they had shared in the company of one another.
It was a rare sight, and she knew it. She had seen him in public with Harry before on their outings but his smiles never seemed to reach his eyes, not like this. His usually stormy grey eyes had a spark of life to them that she seldom noticed in his years post Hogwarts. To be the one that caused this reaction from Malfoy sent a fluttering in her stomach. He could be so incredibly handsome, if he just kept his bloody mouth shut, or at least refrained from his sarcastic remarks.
A content hum escaped her as her arms circled his neck when they finally were at a lazy sway. Sure, this would never happen again. She was certain he would be like Cinderella and vanish at the stroke of midnight, never to speak of this again. He would probably even go so far as to begin to avoid her if she even tried to bring tonight up. How would Harry-
"Is something on your mind?" His warm breath spilled against her ear as he spoke with a low drawl.
She shook her head to clear her mind and cursed his uncharacteristically pleasant personality. Just enjoy the sodding moment for what it was, you are having fun she scolded herself. There was a light, airy smile plastered across her face as she glanced up at him. But as she did, a soft twinkling above them caught her eye.
"Oh, mistletoe," she murmured, his gaze following hers.
She had completely forgotten. The Ministry had charmed boughs of Mistletoe to float around the room and catch unsuspecting victims, hovering above their heads until they had accomplished the deed. The couples attending had loved it, but there were the few awkward moments when friends and colleagues were caught and had to do an awkward peck on the cheek to get the boughs to cease following them. Her lips parted as she made to continue her train of thought.
But she never made it there.
Instead she felt his impossibly soft lips descend onto hers, warm and gentle and completely different than she would have anticipated. Time slowed around her and the gentle roar of the party faded out. The only sound now was the thunder of her heart against her chest. She hoped he couldn't hear the deafening noise that seemed to overpower her senses. It could have been milliseconds or hours that passed with her frozen in place, but her Gryffindor courage kicked in finally, with a little help of her champagne, and she leaned into his touch, the tip of her tongue tracing over the lower edge of his lip. He tasted like mint, with an undertone of something fruity.
She felt his lips part in a soft gasp and that was all the invitation she needed. Her lips crashed roughly into his with an unrelenting passion that she hadn't known she had in her, and especially not for him. One hand combed up through the back of his hair to draw him down as the other fisted the front of his suit jacket. His once startled and rigid posture began to ease under her assault, following her lead to pull her in closer with the palm resting mere centimeters from being in an indecent position.
"Off the floor." she managed to mumble against his lips to which he eagerly obliged.
She felt her feet carry her further from the party before her back was pressed against the cold marble wall of the Ministry. His fingers trembled and seemed unsure, but her courage had become enough for both of them. Her hands moved his to guide him, one of his hands coming up to cup her breast through her dress and the other to clutch at her backside. Their groans synchronized and breathing came out in gentle pants that washed over one another's lips. When his head dipped to graze his teeth over her neck, she knew that she lost the battle.
"Floo," she managed to choke out between moans.
"We can't," he groaned and pushed his hips roughly to hers. "The Manor-"
"My flat," she interrupted. In their haste, he hadn't noticed one of her legs move up to hook around his waist and her once knee length dress now pooled at her waist. When it seemed he didn't move fast enough, she gave a slow, tantalizing roll of her hips, only the thin pieces of fabric separating the stiffness in his trousers from her heat.
A hiss escaped Draco and once more they were moving, never breaking bodily contact like two unsupervised teenagers at a school dance. He had tossed the floo powder into the fireplace and moments later they had stumbled across her flat to her bedroom.
In that moment, they didn't have a care in the world.
They were passionate.
Wild.
Free.
But he was gone before the dawn.
Oh yeah, she groaned. Her fingers raked up through the mess of hair surrounding her face. That was what had happened. As if she could ever forget. She had purposefully avoided any route that would put her in his path the weeks following. She felt the telltale prick of tears behind her eyes.
No. She would not cry any more. It was time to pull herself together and figure this out. She was Hermione Jean Granger. Brains of the Golden Trio. Brightest Witch of her Age.
