I can still hear the troubled melody of the music that plays inside the Hall, which now is too far of me. I can still feel the crowd dancing, eager for one only moment of insanity, in the dark.
However, everything that I feel in this moment are her hands running through my backs and pulling my hair without any delicacy. Her sweet smell is mixed with the garden's pure air – a weird combination, but I like it.
Yes, we are here, alone in the night, with our lips touching with such eager that I can't even believe. I smirk while I undo her bad done hairdo, with her hair, before so indomitable, falling perfectly on her face.
Her hands undo my tie's knot, throwing it to the floor. She kisses my neck while I lift her right calf and hold it against my own body. I don't care about anything in this moment, except that me, her, we are implementing something that in the next day would be forgotten and buried. Something that should never have happened.
But the question is that it is happening. Neither of us in our perfect sanity would have the insanity of doing what we are doing now, especially with a person that so far we thought we hated. Yes, I hated her and she hated me. She's behaving as a typical happy drunk, seducing me with the bright in her eyes and her most mysterious charms.
Even I am not sober in this occasion. Actually, I haven't been sober for days. However, in this night we two drank many bottles of firewhisky, provided without any inspection, with the frustrated attempt to forget our nonstarter relationship's wounds.
But we found out a better manner, very better manner, to do this.
With only few words, we convinced ourselves that the best to do was get out from that noisy party. Nobody saw us pass through the door, going to the gardens.
With a quick movement of my hands, I open the zipper of her fancy black dress and slip it down her body, leaving it on her feet. I look at her body, so pale in the moonlight, just dressed with black underwear, which contrasts perfectly with the whiteness of her skin. She, on the other hand, undoes the buttons of my shirt, passing her fingers through my abdomen, causing inevitable goose bumps.
Quick images come to my mind: all the fights; all the glances; all the wishes, perfectly hidden with a mutual hate. A hate that now could be anything, less disgust.
Her eyes are closed and she seems to be pleased. She whispers "Ron" on my ears, but I don't care. First because I am drunk and second because I am whispering Astoria's name on her ears. We are two losers in love's subject. She opens her eyes slowly, interrupting the pats for a moment.
"You aren't Ron" She says, confused. Her voice's pasty, as mine probably is.
I just stop to kiss her and hold her chin, make her looks at me.
"You aren't Astoria."
She shrugs, indifferent. Who's Astoria, really? Could be that silly girl from fifth year? Or that girl from second year? I can feel she was thinking about it. But I don't really care. I just look at her eyes again and I am surprised when I see disappointment.
"Just close your eyes" I said, closing mine.
She smirks and agrees. "Close my eyes" she says, closing it with a slight laugh, like it is a funny joke.
Somewhat, it is.
Hey guys, I hope you have enjoyed my first Draco/Hermione fanfic ^^ But it's just a translation to english, because the original is in portuguese. Well, if you find any mistake, tell me please, because I need to improve my english.
Please, review it!