I'm currently unwell and in bed, what better way to pass the time than editing this Dramione fanfiction I wrote forever ago.

Currently a one shot but I'll edit and post more if there's demand for it.

Absolute filth at the end, so please only read if you like tasteful smut.

"Pansy, I'll hex you" Draco warned, struggling to detangle her arms from his neck.

An intoxicated attempt at seductive whispers had their friends sniggering.

"This was a mistake." Reunions felt like a living wake, mourning a long (and better off) forgotten past.

"You've really changed you know" She whimpered "We used to…." Ugly tears streamed down her cheeks. He didn't want to be here. Agitated prickles raced from his wrist to the nape of his neck as he glanced around at the disgusting scene. Eager Hufflepuffs talking to people they hadn't even known at school and drunk Gryffindor's loudly retelling the story of The Battle of Hogwarts, casting themselves as the hero when Draco didn't even recall them having been present.

"I grew up Pansy, so should you."

A commotion at the edge of the hall distracted those around them and Draco glanced towards the noise, but Pansy was persistent. "It's like you don't even want me anymore!", but it was too late, she was talking to a shadow as Draco's tall, cloak clad silhouette disappeared across the hall and out of the East doors.

Daphne stroked her hair tenderly and offered her a small silver compact mirror from her purse.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Pansy huffed "If he didn't want to bloody come then why did we? God knows I didn't want to come to this shit show!"

Daphne shook her head, "I don't know but I'm sure if you're just patient…"

"Let him go Pans, he's never coming back, not like he was before." Until last week Blaise himself had been unsure whether Draco would come. They'd spoken about it several times and he'd watched his best friend fight the confliction. He'd called by his office and caught him engaged in a staring contest with the invitation, cast angrily in his recycling tray. But here he was…. And Blaise was pretty sure he knew why; and it had nothing do with Pansy Parkinson.

"I know that but…"

"You're never going to get what you want from him. Just stop embarrassing yourself and let him go. Theo would have you, wouldn't you?"

Theo choked on his fire whisky, "Yeah, go on then. Mother would be pleased I suppose. She wants grandchildren thought."

"Don't they all?" Daphne let out an elongated sigh and Pansy glowered like a spoilt child.

"Wonderful, well as romantic as that offer is, I think I'll stick to Draco, thanks."

"Because you want his money?" Blaise deadpanned.

"Because he's Draco Malfoy and I'm Pansy Parkinson." She said, emphasising the names as though they were star crossed lovers.

"And that's exactly why your plight is hopeless."

Daphne looked questioningly "Are you at least going to go after him Blaise?"

"No"

"Maybe he needs a friend."

Staring off in the direction Draco had just left, Blaise shook his head. "No, he needs a fucking miracle."

Draco reached the foyer just in time to see Lavender Brown being royally dressed down by the Weasley girl. A group had gathered, watching as Ginevra Weasley pointed her wand at the stupid bint. The Weasel himself, spineless as ever stood close by, offering occasional meek rebuttals in defence of his mistress.

The entire wizarding world had been shocked to its core when the daily prophet printed the story last week, Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown, caught with their pants down at a Chudley Cannons game in Belfast. He scanned the crowd, but Granger wasn't there, where was she?

He'd seen the commotion, when Granger had thrown a drink over Ron and half the crowd has applauded, but she'd disappeared out into the castle and now he couldn't see her.

The crowd were beginning to disperse when Lavender headed off towards the floo network, tears streaming and the Weasel in tow.

"I'll check the library" he overheard Ginny say and Harry followed closely!

Well, there went his chance of intercepting. Tonight, really couldn't get any worse so he may as well head to the dungeons and say a final goodbye to the memories of his lost youth. After all, he had no intention of ever returning to Hogwarts.

As he reached the covered bridge, he heard a noise. Inside the arm of his cloak his hand grasped his wand.

"Who's there?" He sounded like his father. Questioning the darkness around him.

No reply, but he heard the noise again.

Cautiously he glanced over the edge of the wall. Sat at the very bottom of the steps, shrouded in shadows, hands covering her face, her body shook with silent sobs. "Granger?" His leather soles tapped every step until he stood directly behind her.

Silver moonlight caught on her wet cheeks as she glanced up at the man who had once haunted and humiliated her. "FUCK off Malfoy"

His jaw dropped, involuntarily, before a smirk closed it again. He'd never heard Granger swear before and it filled him with peculiar excitement. "Is there any need for that?"

"I can't deal with you. Just leave me alone."

"You did ask nicely"

She waited for him to leave but when she glanced up to look at him again, he was missing his cloak. "Oh, did you think that'd make a difference?" He smirked.

"Of course, not" she stood to leave.

"I really wouldn't, they're all looking for you."

Granger stabilised herself and sunk back onto the step in a neatly folded pile of black silk. Prickles ran from his wrist to the nape of his neck and he stiffened, nudging his discarded cloak closer to her with his foot. "It's freezing and I have house elves with warmer dresses."

"And purer blood no doubt."

"Well, that was hardly difficult."

"Do you practise being a dick Malfoy?"

"It comes quite naturally." He muttered.

Fire burnt in her eyes "… I assure you, it's impossible for you to make me feel worse tonight."

"I wasn't trying to." He often indulged in imagining scenarios where he and Granger might find themselves alone. What had begun as a fantasy of getting his own back for the time she hit him in third year, had morphed and twisted into something entirely different. He never thought it would happen though and certainly not like this.

Sitting beside her, crisp shirt tucked neatly into his black trousers, his gaunt eyes were taught with intrigue. "So what happened?" He asked.

"If I'd asked you to stay would you have left?" She whispered

The black lake was still enough for the full moon to reflect in the water and the oddness of the whole situation gave her an erratic heart beat and sweaty palms. After a bloated silence she sneered spiteful words and left them hanging there. "You already know, you read it in the bloody Prophet like everyone else."

The longer he sat beside her the more apparent the smell of Fire whisky and blackcurrant cordial became. The Gryffindor girls liked their 'Purple Dragon's' but he'd never pegged Granger a drinker. Not like the others, but who could blame her tonight? Was Granger drunk? He doubted it, given the sharpness of her conversation but tipsy enough to let down her guard. "You've had a drink."

"So, have you. It's a party."

"Do you want another?"

She expressed sudden interest when he pulled the black leather flask from his pocket and offered it to her. An enthusiastic gulp made her recoil and gasp. "Careful it's strong."

"It's lethal Malfoy, what the bloody hell is that?"

"It does the job and fits into a dress robe pocket"

He watched her, like an owner watching a caged pet and it unnerved her deeply. "Are you being nice to me? Am I really that pathetic? I think I'm going to vomit."

"Don't be dramatic Granger. It's different now, I know a bit about public humiliation. Remember?"

Another gulp from his flask and she offered it back to him, in a moment of silent comradery. For all the work she had done irradiating prejudice after the war, championing the notion that everybody could be redeemed if they wanted to be, she felt a pang of guilt at her lack of belief in Draco Malfoy. But after the trials, and the stories that had been written about him, the realisation hit her, that right now he understood how she felt better than anyone.

"I suppose it is the same."

"No, it's not." He said, she expected him to protest that what he had gone through after the war was far worse, almost a year of harassment and endless stories in the Prophet, but instead he reached for her hand and brushed it lightly with his own. "I did something wrong, so I deserved what happened to me, you didn't. For what it's worth, the Weasel is an idiot." She was not expecting that!

"Hermione" The call came from the bridge above them, the unmistakable voice of Ginny Weasley, quickly followed by Harry's much deeper tone, "Mione…please"

She snatched his hand, anchoring them both to the shadows. "I can't face them, not tonight."

He saw a familiar desperation in her brown eyes and nodded fiercely. "Do you want to go home?"

"The floo's will be busy now with people leaving, everyone will see me." She could have cursed the school for blocking apparition.

He watched her like an owner and a caged pet again, but she knew what that look meant. A simultaneously wonderful and wicked plan was forming, in the mind of Malfoy, and that was exactly what she needed. "I know somewhere nobody will look for you." He extended his hand and without a second's hesitation she took it. Keeping to the shadows he led the way.

"Well, you were right. They won't look for me here."

They stood in front of the portrait, which guarded the Slytherin common room. An elderly wizard, with an upturned sneer, glared at them but when Draco spoke the password, it swung open. Taking another gulp from Malfoys magic flask she followed him inside. He looked perfectly at home amongst the dark wood and green velvet, whilst she felt completely out of place, and loved it. "This is quite fancy for a common room isn't it?"

"I can't say we ever noticed" He watched as she acclimatised to the unlikely setting, the same question played in his mind. "Why did you come tonight if you knew they were going to be here?" He couldn't help but ask, he was curious, and Hermione's eyes narrowed in defence.

"I didn't, Ginny said they definitely weren't coming, and I couldn't hide away forever." She changed the subject seamlessly. "I never thought I'd end up here tonight. Is this where you used to meet, to plot the terrible things you were going to do to us?" She asked, perching antagonistically on the arm of a deep green chesterfield sofa.

He watched her, again, like an owner and a caged pet. It sent a shiver down her spine. "Sometimes."

A momentary loss of balance and she tumbled onto the cushions with a snorted giggle followed by naughty curiosity. "Have you ever had sex on this sofa Malfoy?" She had no idea why she asked, it felt daring and wrong and she wanted that.

"That's a very personal question."

"So was yours"

His shoulders visibly tensed as he approached her. "No, I haven't."

"Really?"

By her feet, he sat and took the flask from her hands, taking a swig he screwed on the cap. "Well Granger, this may surprise you, but there were usually people in here."

"It's empty now."

"Well that's because it's the middle of summer and all the kids are gone."

"Oh, right." she nodded.

Holding her gaze purposefully, he brushed his fingers lightly against her thigh. "There's a first time for everything though." He'd been intentionally bold, never one to be outdone, but he expected her to recoil and retreat like a cornered animal. Instead she rubbed her legs together, leaning forward in her simple black dress to reveal a depth of cleavage that made his fingers involuntarily fist the sofa cushion beside him.

It was he who pulled back.

"Granger, this isn't a good idea."

"Why?"

Opening and closing his mouth he shuddered at her directness. "We've both had a drink."

"We're adults."

"and you're not thinking straight."

Her eyes glimmered with determination, leaning further forward her chest pressed against his shoulder. He could smell her vanilla scent and fisted the sofa cushion until his knuckles flushed white. "Some of the best decisions were made in challenging times."

"And you're..."

She pulled back "…A mud-blood?"

With the definite beginnings of embarrassment and hurt flashing through her eyes, his resolve snapped. He bumped his lips to hers, softly at first and she deflated backwards with a groan until they rested against the arm of the sofa. It felt oddly wonderful, adrenaline and lust, like a forbidden toy so long desired and finally attained. He wondered if this would satiate her, if one kiss would bring her back to her senses and how he would hide the prominent swell forming at the zip of his trousers If it did. He'd have to wank in the loo the moment she left, he couldn't risk being seen like this, or worse…disgracing himself on the way home. The thought irritated him, he had never wanked in the school loo's, not even as a horny teenager and now, a fully-grown man, this was what she'd reduced him to.

So absorbed in thought, he almost missed her eager fingers unbuckle his belt and slide under his crisp white shirt. Suddenly her thighs pinned him in place, he smelt like spice and fir trees, nothing at all like Ronald and she wanted to drown inside his foreignness.

Peeling her black dress up to rest on her waist his cock twitched at the sight of her black lacey panties and milky white arse. She felt it and reached inside the silk prison, grasping hot hard flesh and earning a hiss from him as his head fell backwards. There would be no wanking tonight!

Her nipple in his mouth, catching between his teeth, he cast the dress to the floor and ripped the lace gusset of her panties, unable to remove them without removing her thighs from around his waist. "Those were…"

"Shut up" he gasped. Frantic erratic movements, both scared the other would change their mind, or that they'd be disturbed. Disbelief mixed with sheer adrenaline made it better, hotter, made them want to come harder. Her skin on his they fell sideward and he positioned himself at her entrance. Thick head butting at neat, wet, curls, he could smell her arousal and wanted nothing more than to… Momentary eye contact gave him permission and he thrust in, one hard motion, deep until his tensed balls slapped against her tight arse.

Oh god. Their contents bubbled, surging and oozing uncontrollably out of him and into her waiting cunt. He dug his fingers into her hips fighting not to empty himself completely and he scraped together his composure after one small, regrettable, eruption.

"ok?" she whispered, her eyes were squeezed closed and he groaned in response. Rocking slowly inside her, she relaxed, grinding her hips until he met her with faster harder thrusts. Pulling all the way out and crashing deeply back into her elicited the best response, she moaned so loudly he wished he'd silence charmed the dungeons. Her legs trapped him in a flesh prison he would willingly never leave. Fingers brushed her clit, and she bit his shoulder involuntarily, her muscles gripping him from the inside told him she was close, but it wasn't enough. This wouldn't be new to her, even the Weasel would have touched her clit, he had to be better, different. Palming the soft flesh of her arse until he was sure it would bruise, he spread her legs and ran his fingers down the crevice until his thumb pushed against the opening.

She jerked beneath him and searched his eyes for reassurance that this was ok. He sped up his thrusts, deeper and harder and just as he felt her muscles begin to swallow him, he pressed his thumb harder on her arse, dipping inside and using his free hand to grip her thigh as her legs convulsed and shook around him. "Fuck…Draco" she almost screamed in bewildered pleasure and with a glutaral moan his painfully tight balls contracted surging their generous contents to be eagerly swallowed by her tight cunt.

They collapsed onto the sofa, separated by inches which felt like miles, as the reality of what they'd just done settled. The black dress looked different as she used it to protect her modesty, but he knew what was under there. He would forever be able to close his eyes and picture her legs spread and convulsing.

The scent of their fornication rapidly turning rancid, Draco buttoned his shirt and struggled to find the right words.

"I wasn't going to say mud… well you know."

"What were you going to say?" She whispered

"That you'd regret it in the morning."