The Muggle Project

By Lady Ceri

A/N: I've been getting many story alerts, but less than five reviews. It made me really sad as I wrote a pretty good chapter for this one. Reviews are what keeps me going, so motivate me please!

Chapter Three: When it comes to lack of sex...

"Mordred, Granger. Is this what you call food back in your kitchen?" Draco gasped and tried to avert his eyes from the pot of Mystery Stew.

"Well, I suppose it's a wee bit well-done..." Hermione, too, tried her best to look cool as she desperately tried to avoid Draco's eyes to avoid further humiliation.

"Merlin! After seeing this... this..." He stared at the pot of black stew with chunks of unknown ingredients floating atop. "This... whatever you call it! I don't even remember how a potato looks like anymore!" He grimaced.

"I'm sure it's not bad. I mean... It's got beef... and potatoes... and well, I don't quite remember but I'm pretty sure it's edible." She said the last part as if she was certainly sure of herself.

"I'd rather not eat food cooked by a mudblood, thanks. We've ordered different types of muggle junk food. I suppose I won't have a hard time taking in a chicken nugget or something." He rolled his eyes at her and her masterpiece then headed towards the phone.

She could hear him smooth talking to the other line which would mean most probably the operator was a woman. Hermione, of course, being the type of person she was, wouldn't simply let Draco Malfoy's comment on her cooking bring her down. No, she was going to eat what she cooked and she would be proud of it.

Of course, one look at the stew, and her high spirits immediately vanished.

From afar, she could hear the words, ghastly and mystery stew. She seethed in silence.

She stared once more at Draco Malfoy then headed towards the kitchen to get herself a plate and a huge glass of water to swallow whatever she had to put in her mouth.

By the time she had her third bite, she'd sworn she'd lost her appetite. It simply did not go well with her stomach, and whatever it was that she did try to eat was giving her the signal that it wanted out of her stomach, too.

She folded her arms on the table and nestled her head into it. She began to doze off, hoping that her slumber would soon relieve her hunger.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. The sight was hazy, residue of a deep sleep. First thing she saw was the digital clock that read 10:26 am. Of course, it was still the morning.

Second thing that interested her was a box of what resembled the package from McDonald's. Above it was resting a napkin that said, "To Charity."

She knew she should have been angry, but the brunette couldn't help but feel embarrassed that even Malfoy himself took pity on her. Or maybe he could just be teasing her, she thought.

"Granger, open the bloody door!" She could hear Malfoy calling from outside.

And she did.

And when she did, the first thing she said was, "Why didn't you say it louder? I mean, this is a free country."

"I didn't want to embarrass myself."

"The doorbell?"

"What the hell is a door-bell? Bell for the door?"

"Yes, something like that."

"Just get out of the way and I'll find something to do." He pushed through Hermione and sat down on the piano chair.

Hermione hadn't exactly taken a good look of the house. Being preoccupied with the thought of having a Malfoy around wasn't exactly something to just leave not dwelled upon.

The house was fairly new. It looked hardly used, or rather just simply well-kept by the previous owner. The house was filled with orange and brown tones giving the occupier a warm feeling into it. There was a piano, it was brown too. She only realised now at how spacious the whole flat was when she noticed the number of furniture that was present. For each room, there was a king-sized bed and she immediately fell in love with her room.

She could hear the faint playing of the piano. From her angle she could see Draco Malfoy pressing lightly on the keys.

"You play the piano?" She tried to make small talk.

"What's it to you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Hermione knew best to let the 'conversation' end there so she resumed to her room.

The music gradually grew louder. Perhaps Malfoy finally figured that it was nothing to be ashamed of, piano playing that is.

His music filled the flat. He played gently, unbefitting to his personality.

And then he stopped abruptly. The flat fell silent.

It was too silent now.

"Malfoy?" She called out softly; she popped her head out the door to see Malfoy's shuddering back.

"Malfoy are you okay?" Hermione went closer, and she could have sworn she heard faint sobs.

"Go away, Mudblood." His voice was raspy.

But she didn't. She stood there, staring at his back shudder. He was crying, and she knew it. Although for some reason she didn't want to know. She reached her hand out, her fingertips a few centimetres away from his back, but she took it back.

The night came and both teens were still locked inside their bedrooms.

No source of magic.

No source of fucking entertainment.

No women—because I sure am not going to shag some muggle tart.

Money, lots.

Communication? Merlin forbid if they count Granger as someone to communicate with.

Draco Malfoy doesn't usually sigh, but for the record, he did. He sighed loudly in frustration. He sighed for the lack of sex, he sighed for the lack of entertainment, he sighed for being stuck with the one woman he never found attractive, and he sighed for not being able to spend his money on anything as there was nothing interesting to buy. Fuck communication, he thought. If he went by summer by communication through sex, then he'd find himself sex. He need no Hermione Granger, he can't even consider shagging her.

He was feeling...needy.

Thinking of his lack of sex made him needy.

Once again, he sighed.

Bet you five Sickles you knew what was coming.

"Fuck." He cursed and he collapsed on his bed, his pants below his knees his erection standing tall and his hands on both sides of his bed.

"Fuck." Hermione cursed as she stubbed her toe on the door as she opened it.

Dinner came and both were extremely worn out. But of course, Hermione Granger failing to cease to understand the phrase, "Leave me alone", had once again tried to make small talk.

"So how was your day?" She asked him, twirling the same strand of spaghetti for the last five minutes. She was bored and she knew he was too. What she just can't get was why wouldn't he just step down from that platform of pride and just try to get along?

"Eventful." He replied sarcastically.

"Oh..." was all she could mutter.

After a few, long seconds of silence, Malfoy in the end, said something.

"Granger, are there any places to get down and get smashed in here?"

"Sorry?" She didn't understand, of course she wouldn't understand.

"Do you know any place to drink and get wasted?" He repeated slowly.

"Oh! Oh, yes! There are loads of places to do so in here. Especially Muggle London." She laughed.

"To do what? Staring at bulb lights all day?" He snorted into his coffee.

"It's called a light bulb, and no actually, we do have places called bars and even sex clubs—that is if that was what you were thinking of." Hermione rolled her eyes. I bet you don't even know how a bloody light bulb works.

He stared at Hermione long and hard. Hermione stared back, cocking her head to the side as if to say, 'What the fuck are you looking at?'

"You know what Granger. Maybe you can actually be of help to me." He grinned sheepishly, as if pleased with himself then resumed to eating the spaghetti Hermione had cooked, regardless of whether it was too undercooked or too dry.

"Huh?" Hermione didn't like sounding so dumbfounded, but this time, she had no excuse whatsoever.

"Chocolate frogs, Granger, honestly. Where has your wits gone to? Have you taken it out for a walk this afternoon and ran away from you? Really! What I'm saying is... you—" he pointed at her, "are going to show me around in Muggle London. Not the ones filled with weird items like iPods and such. I want to see the action, the alcohol, the sex - anything in those categories as long as I can actually see time fly by quickly." He added the last word out of desperation.

"But what if it doesn't suit his royal highness's tastes?" She said mockingly.

"You know what, Granger? I don't bloody care. I just want out of this house. If you even call this trash a house." He got up from his seat and made a silly gesture with his hands pointing towards the door. "Well? Aren't we going? I'm not exactly getting any younger here, am I?"

"Mordred, Malfoy. If you could just bloody wait, I haven't even finished with my dinner yet." She poked her undercooked spaghetti angrily while glaring at him.

"Well, excuse me I'd have thought you weren't hungry. Because it seems to me that you were twirling that strand of—if you even call that spaghetti for a good ten minutes now." He retorted.

Finally, sex. His ears perked up. One may call Draco Malfoy perverted, but the desperation was driving him mad. It was either sex or alcohol, the only way he could keep his mind off being with a Mudblood like Granger.

And finally they've left the building

The music was blaring and there were drinks Draco didn't even know that existed flowing endlessly. The muggles hadn't been at all what he'd expected them to be. Many of them actually looked decent and some even he could've sworn were part Veela for he could hardly resist the allure they were sending off.

Hermione on the other hand was being an absolute killjoy. She did not want to drink at all, let alone dance. She just sat there and crossed her arms. Soon enough, she could she Draco snogging a random girl in one of the corners at the back of the room.

"Honestly, that twit practically just dragged me to make sure he had a nanny to bring him back after he got smashed!" She looked incredulously at her drink, as if she was talking to it. In fact, she wasn't exactly sure of what exactly was in her drink. Staring at it as she let it sit in her hand for a while, she thought it was basically harmless for it was clear and it basically looked like water which had swirling blue stuff in it. Despite wondering what the lime was for in the side, she eventually took a large sip from the unknown concoction.

And then she gasped, quite too loudly, but not loud enough to penetrate through the music.

She had taken firewhisky before, but it was compared nothing to this. Her nose suddenly felt painful, and her throat felt as if it was being scorched. Her eyes watered and she desperately tried to grab for water, juice, anything as long as it wasn't this.

She took a swig, no, rather she chugged the whole glass of whatever it was she need not know at the moment. For as long as it looked like juice and had ice, she could care less.

Hermione exhaled, hoping for relief that did not come. She tried to call out for Draco's name, but it was useless. He was gone yet again, perhaps with another girl.

"Hello there." A man startled her as he took a seat beside her. He offered her a drink which was coloured pink this time. "Why are you all alone? I could've sworn you were with a guy a while ago. Blonde? Strikingly intimidating? Your boyfriend, right?"

Hermione didn't even know why this man was talking to her. Her head felt unbelievably light and her hands felt like jelly that she couldn't even clutch the drink in her hands properly. She set the drink down and sighed, "Are you kidding me?" She laughed loudly; it was as if her body and mouth had deceived her, saying stuff carelessly. "I'd rather go out with a bloody werewolf than go out with him. No, even werewolves are okay—some are actually good looking. House elves, yes, I'd rather go with a house elf than go out with him." She laughed again, now taking a sip carefully (she did not even understand how she was able to do this) from the pink liquor the man had offered her.

House elf? Werewolf? The man looked at her incredulously, yet his face softened as he joined her in laughter. My, she really is drunk, he decided.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy was practically having the time of his life. Who knew muggles actually knew how to have fun. It was an unbelievable experience. The women in this room would never compare to the women in the Wizarding world in terms of sex, no. These women could make him come even without the sex. He was not exaggerating; he was simply stating the truth.

Draco Malfoy was having too much fun to even remember anything about Hermione Granger.

"So tell me about yourself, how old are you exactly?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm 18." She giggled.

"I'm 21. You from here? I don't see you around here all the time."

"I go to school somewhere in Scotland though."

Hermione yet took another swig of her pink drink and sighed in contentment. By now, she had gotten used to the taste of alcohol that she didn't really mind it anymore. Perhaps the high alcohol content of whatever she was drinking finally had found a way to numb her tongue

"Sorry what's your name again?" By now, she could've sworn she saw someone who looked just like Ron in front of him.

"Dylan. Really, how many times have I got to repeat this?" He laughed.

"Oh yes, yes. Nice to meet you Ron." She smiled sheepishly.

Dylan cocked a brow at her. She isn't all that bad, really. She had curly hair that matched her heart-shaped face. Her brown eyes looked darker than he had first seen them. Intoxication, he concluded. He stared at her; it was very hard to dodge her drunken gaze with those eyes, really. Her lips were parted and he could see a glint of her white teeth

He found himself leaning in, he couldn't help it anymore. Even he, himself was drunk. Then again, after minutes (an exaggeration) of slowly leaning in and arguing with himself, he suddenly found his lips against hers – and thankfully she didn't mind.

Draco Malfoy's POV

"Hey Draco I got you a drink!" One of my many adoring Veela-like muggle friends approached me. I remembered her face, but after three hours of non-stop snogging and grinding, I obviously forgot.

"Thanks." I said coolly. Yes, that's great. She wouldn't suspect a thing that I had forgotten her name. In fact, I don't even remember any of their names—except for Granger's, but then Granger means nothing to me. She obviously can't be used for snogging, let alone grinding.

I mean really, just look at her, sitting there with her arms crossed!

I scanned the room, hoping to find more of her weird idiosyncrasies but I can't seem to find her. Fuck, did she leave? She had better not leave or I really will hex her before she even says the word prat.

Okay, so that obviously is not Granger with another man—snogging the wits out of her. But then the woman does look familiar. How many unbelievably curly haired brunettes do you see in a club?

Or maybe she'd left with another man and found a substitute thinking I would actually believe that this woman who apparently has the same hairstyle as her. But who would actually look twice to that girl?

I went closer, obviously to check if they had seen Granger, that mudblood who doesn't even deserve staying with a pureblood such as me, a Malfoy.

But I'd still like a closer look...

"Drake where are you going? You promised me you'd dance with me..." Not now, stupid Veela muggle.

"Later." I said coldly, and she vanished into the crowd instantly.

"Excuse me? Have you s—" And there I saw it, Hermione Granger, drunken and violated. She gave me a drunken smile and within a few seconds, her hand that was previously around the man's neck now collapsed to her side.

"Hi M-Malfoy." She chuckled in her drunken pleasure. I felt sick to the stomach, that every bit of fun I just had a few hours ago just vanished - all because I saw Granger snogging a random man.

It was not because I didn't like her snogging another person, fuck. I didn't care one bit about her whether she did or did not. But was the sight of Hermione Granger, nanny of the Golden Trio, snogging somebody else! I half expected her almost all my life in Hogwarts to end up with Weasley, but this...

"Granger! What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" I heard myself speak against my will.

"Kissing." She chirped.

I stared at the guy who was practically eating her face and as soon as I saw the lipstick marks—wait, she wears lipstick?—my stare immediately turned into a menacing glare.

He did not wait any longer for me to actually tell him to leave. "Ha ha, look at him scurry away like a frightened little ferret." I sniggered, but my little joke did not last long to actually entertain myself. I turned to Granger and shook my head in sheer mockery.

"Good show! Didn't know you were such a tart, Granger. Was Weasley that bad of a kisser that he couldn't satiate your desires?" I laughed.

"I am not snogging Ron." She suddenly sounded sober, or so I thought it sounded sober.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you and your boyfriend didn't go through that stage yet?" Oh yes, it was fun to make fun of her, especially when she was in this state.

"If youu mush-t kno-ow!" She raised a hand and pointed at me, but it seemed that her hand felt too heavy to even sustain that position. "I am absssolutely sssingle! This means I can snog whoever I want!" Yes, Granger, given that they'd actually even want to kiss you.

"It's quite warm, don't you think?" She started struggled to take off her sweater, but as she did, the tank top—or so I think they call these tank tops—under her sweater got caught up with it, almost making her take off her upper garments (brassiere not included) altogether—but thankfully she noticed this and pulled her top back down.

And I gasped, I wanted to look away, but it just was not right. Who in the world—who in the fucking world knew that this person, this girl, this girl I was so used to calling 'mudblood' had the most, if not, one of the most amazing bodies I've ever seen in a woman.

She looked almost sinful. Merlin, maybe I have taken in too much alcohol. Please let this be just a drunken state or else I will never forgive myself for even finding Granger's body even acceptable.

But really, who knew she had such a nice rack? Who knew she actually had curves under those rag-like school robes she was always in? Who knew that her breasts were actually round and perk, and not triangular as the rumours in the school say? Or perhaps it could be her tank top. It hugged her in the wrong places, deceiving my eyes.

"Granger, let's go." I grabbed her arm, painfully on purpose.

"No, let me go!" She hissed, her parted lips looked so swollen, and her eyes were filled with such obscurity that even I could not decipher. I shoved her arm back to where it was before and I looked at her.

And the most unexpected turn happened, her arms snaked their way around my torso, pulling my lower regions against her chest. Fuck. This cannot be good.

"Malfoy... I'm too tired to go home..." She whined, or was she... moaning?

She pressed herself against my lower regions get again, thank Merlin this time she had hit my buckle.

"Get off me, Mudblood!" I grasped both shoulders and pushed her back to the loveseat, not caring whether I had hurt her.

She stared at me with those intoxicated, deep brown eyes, with a hurting look in her eyes. I shuddered and took a seat in front of her, taking the untouched drinks that were left to be consumed.

I chugged it, almost just in a gulp. I didn't care what, but I needed something to make me forget about my state of deviation with Granger's body. I staggered as I finished my fourth drink and by the time I finished my fifth, I looked up to see that she was asleep.

Finally, the mudblood was dead to the world. But then...

"Fuck, Granger! Wake up! I am not bloody carrying you home! I don't even know where the flat is!" I shouted through the loud music, shaking her awake.

And she took my hand, lacing her filthy fingers with mine. I struggled to pull away, but she kept a firm hold. Who knew that the mudblood actually had other strong parts in her?

"I wasn't asleep, Malfoy." She spoke in a slur. She licked her lips and now it was even worse that I found myself in such a helpless state—and her lips were glittering of moist, as if seducing me.

"This means I can snog whoever I want!"

If I wasn't in such a state, I would hex those lips into fish lips.

If I could do magic, I'd have apparated.

If I Granger hadn't put up such a show, I'd have had sex with the most wonderful looking Veela muggles I'd found.

If she wasn't drunk, she'd have gone home by now.

If she just kept her body to herself, my mind—clearly not in its regular state—would have not been preoccupied with wanting to do unimaginable things with her.

But I just wasn't, wasn't in my correct state of mind.

And neither was Hermione Granger

Draco Malfoy found himself leaning in, giving up on what was left of his self respect and pride; he leaned in slowly, unconsciously—until...

"What in the world do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" It was she this time, who shoved his hand away.

"What do you think you were doing!?" He retorted, the usual bite in his voice coming back along with his senses. Who the hell does she think she is?! His sight was now clear, and thanks to his fury, he now saw nothing in Hermione's body – now making sure that it was his drunken state of mind that made him such unthinkable thoughts.

"Really, Granger!" He sneered as he continued, "Embracing me? Even going as far as touching my hand? Who did you think you were just now? A pureblood? Just like my lot? Did your drunken mind actually believe you were as good as Pansy?"

Hermione Granger was beyond appalled. Never in her life was she compared to that tart. No! And what was even worse than that was the mortification she felt – a result of the great amount of alcohol she consumed in less than an hour.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, she wanted to say so many things. That she had not at all even considered that—that—girl in the same level as her. Hermione believed that she was not at all as pretty and as feminine as Pansy Parkinson could be, but she would never go as low as stoop down into the likes of her. She believed herself to be the one to succeed, the one with the brains, the responsible one.

"Stupid cat got your tongue, Granger?" Draco scoffed, enjoying her unable to find a retort.

And then she smirked, and raised a brow at him. "Apparently, I wasn't the one leaning down for a kiss. Who knew Draco Malfoy would actually dare kiss a muggle-born."

"If you must know Granger, your feeble attempts to seduce people worked on a foolish man, and almost actually worked on me. After all, in a man's drunken state of mind, nothing is impossible kiss. Then again, maybe you're an exception Granger. Your filthy blood just reeks—so filthy that it can even penetrate through a heavily intoxicated pureblood wizard to bring back his normal condition."

"I wasn't trying to seduce—" She got cut off quickly by him saying,

"It's the lack of sex that's been getting to me, Granger. Do not flatter yourself. A person like you is not worth being flattered."

A/N: Steamy? I believe fuming, is actually the word for it. Seems like the two won't be doing what Professor McGonagall predicted at all anytime soon.