A/N: This story wasn't planned at all. This first chapter came to be in a state very much like Hermione's in here. And I still liked it on Sunday after I woke up, so I decided to go on with it. Let's see where the story leads me...
I want to dedicate this chapter to Slytherinmomma88, because it's her birthday today! Happy birthday! And she was the little voice that encouraged me to write while drunk ;)!
Beta love to MrBenzedrine, who didn't judge me when I presented her this and says I'm cool.
Disclaimer: I don't know anything here and make no money from this.
Rated M due to language and sexual situations.
Hermione stumbled through the barely lit corridor, her vision blurred by angry tears. It was one of those moments that simply didn't make sense and would make her curse her own silliness in the morning.
Screw morning.
Even Hermione Granger, Head Girl, know-it-all par excellence, was allowed to have some emotional moments.
After all those years, after all those times where she'd been a part of a team, a part of where she belonged...she still didn't at times.
Oh, well, there was a rational part of her brain that, even while filled with firewhiskey to the brim, knew that she was overcompensating with her rational side to cope with a stress related trauma, but… she didn't want to listen to that part for once. Of course, she'd feel better in the morning if she did so. Undoubtedly, she should have gone to bed when she felt left out. She should have voiced her struggles when they asked her, "Everything alright, Hermione?" On the other side, they should have known her well enough to know that all.
Instead, she had decided to tune all rationality out, to not only give a damn what others thought, but also simply do what her emotions dictated her to do so right in this moment…
and that was why she found herself wandering around the castle shortly before midnight. Yeah, maybe she really did stagger more than she wandered.
Hermione giggled at her own thoughts.
"A girl like you shouldn't be out alone at this time."
Hermione, despite her alcohol induced haze, lunged for her wand reflexively. But then she acknowledged the (fucking attractive) man who had spoken to her. This voice! She should really tell him that he should shut up if he wouldn't want a witch drowning in her own knickers sooner or later.
"A woman like me should be bedded by a handsome wizard because she made sure that there isn't a dark wizard out there anymore to threaten her and all muggleborns' life!" Being a handsy drunk, Hermione had no quarrels whatsoever to poke the glowing-in-the-dark blond into his firm, firm, firm…abs.
"Talking about oneself in the third person isn't an exact sign of sanity, Granger, the man behind the abs judged her. Hermione blinked up to him, seriously debating how much truth was behind his words.
"I lost most of my sanity when your dear auntie carved her favourite insult into my forearm," she stated, hoping her words came over as deep and meaningful as they felt in her head.
"Low blow, Granger."
Faintly, she noticed him slipping an arm around her shoulders and turning her another direction.
"I don't do 'low blow' before the second date." Her own arm naturally settling around his waist, Hermione grabbed the hem of his shirt to play with it. Huh? Did she really shift this conversation into the sexual innuendo sector? A conversation with her fellow Head (hehehe, 'giving Head', did anyone ever use the expression in combination with him?) turned into a one-sided flirting conquest?
Fuck, but he smelled like she wanted to bury her nose in his scent all the day. "Ooops!" The Golden Girl just realized that her head had fallen to Malfoy's shoulder while he steered her to what she supposed was their common room.
"Ooops? How elaborate!" Draco's (yes, she called him that in her head, because this word had a softer, more personal sound to it than 'Malfoy') voice held its usual arrogance, but also a bout of unbridled humour.
"That was on-, onomo-" she formulated between giggles.
"Onomatopoetic?" the blond eye-candy who knew how to navigate a library suggested.
"Yeah, that one. I basically said you smell and feel good enough to take you in my bed and keep you there." A sober sounding voice reminded her that she shouldn't have said that. His fingertips twitched the bare skin of her shoulder. It was then she remembered she had let herself talk into a tight piece of top that tended to show more of her breasts than she was used to.
"My fellow, innocent Head Girl, you really shouldn't say something like that!"
She stopped her walking and gazed up to the man with the irresistible grey eyes. "What if I'm done doing what everyone thinks I should be doing?"
Boy, his answering smirk would have made the Sahara humid. "In that case…"
A/N: I recommend Syltherinmomma88's stories here: The Misadventures Into Debauchery (very yummy) and Say Something (very cool). Read them, they're great!