A/N: SaintDionysus and MotherofBulls retain dual ownership of this piece. Because FFN's policies do not provide for a joint acknowledgement of collaborative efforts between writers, please be advised that each writer has posted the story in its totality on their respective writer pages. Reader should be advised that this is not plagiarism. It is merely an attempt for each writer to work within the antiquated, draconian policies of FFN that do not acknowledge the possibility that authors may collaborate.
Chapter Summary:Well, we kind of had some writer's block with our works in progress so we decided to Soup. Hope you don't mind.
Again...we were drunk while writing this and will write all the updates while drunk.
Beta: We don't need no stinking beta. We are drunk and you have to read all our typos.
All the tropes we must try to tackle:
Marriage law
8th year
Headboy/Headgirl
Enemies to lovers
Virgin Hermione
Creature
Afraid of flying
Pureblood Hermione
Time Travel
Sex God Draco
Memory loss
Voldy wins
Badass Narcissa
Horrible Lucius
Protective Harry / Totally overt references to their platonic friendship
Best friend Ginny
Theo and Blaise as best friends of Draco
Crazy Jealous/Angry Ron
Ron bashing
A portrait doing something
Mentioning the slap in 3rd year
Mione/Drakey
Green Lingerie
"you're incorrigible"
Hermione "filling out" / suddenly has hot bod
Slytherin Prince & Gryffindor Princess
Following the Black tradition of naming children after constellations
Draco getting mad and calling Hermione a Mudblood
Rogue DeathEaters tormenting them
Amazing virginity loss
Terrible virginity loss
Bed sharing
"You're so fucking tight"—he'll say this when he's in her
"Mine."
So much smut
Slytherin Hermione
Drunken hookup
Magically locked together in a room for hours
Tutoring
Body switch
Masquerade
TROPE SOUP
By MotherofBulls and SaintDionsysus
Day Four: Masquerade/Mistaken Identity
Draco scratched his head as to what the evening has in store. It seemed cruel that he had to put on a mask (or a "masque" as fancy people would call it) and deprive the world of the beauteous vision that was he. At least his masque didn't have straps on it and he was able to magically fix it to his face (because otherwise HOW THE FUCK would it stay on if he was to...I don't now...meet someone and have a clandestine affair with them in a dark corner), so it didn't mess up his perfect hair.
As expected, Narcissa pulled out all the stops and had gowns and masques hand-crafted in Venice by slave labor, I mean muggles under the Imperius, I mean...well yeah. Muggles made fancy ass masks (or 'masques' because fancy) against their will, but goddammit, they were beautiful.
The poncy prince ran his fingers against the fine velvet robes before putting them against his skin. He'd been working out and he'd been looking fine. He hollered down to his mother, "Hey Mum! Next year our theme should be Bacchanal. All we need are grapes and togas!" And a shit ton of wine and orgies. He imagined how women would fawn of is chiseled form, traipsing around the manor, feeding him grapes with his head cradled in their laps, weraring little more than a few scraps of gauze.
Maybe they could even extend their social circle to include up and coming people in wizarding society. People like Hermione Granger. She had haunted his dreams for the last three nights and he'd woken up with sticky sheets. He supposed that earned her the right to feed him grapes whilst half-naked.
Honestly, out of all the gods on Olympus, Dionysus deserved the most praise. (Interesting theory, Cat! Why would this god stand out to you in particular, I wonder.) (Dude. Wine and 'fertility'. His whole goal is to get you drunk and bone. He's my hero.) (We all have a hero in our hearts.) (Look, A. Your pen name can make a cameo later in the story if you want.) (I'm good. It's easier to make fun of my pen name than anything. I like it when people call me MoB. SO I TOTALLY ENCOURAGE YOU ALL TO DO THAT!) (Join the MoB, bitches.) (The Notorious MoB, son!)
So, yeah, DRACO was getting ready for his mother's fancy-ass masquerade. His mother burst into his room an hour into his routine, looking like a goddess. "Draco, darling. You're not ready yet?"
Draco was on hour one of his pre-party skin care regimen. He only had another hour and a half to go if he could get some fucking peace and quiet. "Mum!" He hid his face, which was covered in some sort of green crust.
"That isn't the sort of mask I expected you to wear, Draco."
"OH MY GOD, MUM! I LIKE THE WAY IT MINIMIZES MY PORES!"
A roar came from the fireplace and Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini swaggered out of the green flames. Accenting his mocha skin and golden eyes, Blaise donned black and bronze robes the ostentatious plumage protruding from the masque/mask (have we decided on consistent spelling? eh) (It's not called a "maskerade.") He looked like sex on a stick. Theo went with the whole reptilian vibe with robes made of green, copper, and black sequins. Accented with strips of snake and crocodile skin. If Draco did dudes, he would do both of them. They looked really bangable.
"Draco, still moisturizing?" Theo laughed before turning to his the Malfoy matriarch and winking. "Cissy."
"No, Theo. I'm working on my pores. Moisturizing is next. And laugh all you fucking want, but it takes time to look this good. Nobody alive has skin this naturally porcelain."
"I told you to switch to the Korean shit, Draco," Blaise chasitized. "It works faster and more effective than your over-priced French shit."
"If I gave up French skincare, my ancestors would come back from the grave just to shit on me."
"This is officially a poncey-ass conversation and I want no part of it." Theo rolled his eyes and slipped an arm behind Narcissa's back. "So, Lucius still in Azkaban?"
Blaise joined Theo and Narcissa and added, "We sure hope so."
She giggled and said, "Not in front of Draco, boys."
Draco growled. With his scaley, dried green mask (not 'masque' this time) he resembled a demonic lizard. "Stop making my mum giggle. It's fucking unnatural and I forbid it."
"Cissy," Theo growled in her ear, "I think we have, oh, um, three hours before Draco's skin routine completes. Can you think of anything we could do to do occupy our time?"
"We got here just much too early but if there is anything, and we mean anything we can do to help get ready for this party, we are glad to help." Blaise drawled.
"I'm very skilled with my hands," Theo whispered into her ear.
"And I speak so many languages, or tongues, if you prefer," Blaise said, sandwiching Narcissa between him and Theo.
"Hey, Mum! How would you like a nice, cozy cell in Azkaban next to dear, old Dad? Because that's what you'll get if you decide you'd like a bit of statutory rape with your party," Draco said, Scourgifying his face, revealing the less-than-charming puce color that stained his cheeks.
"Draco, you're the only one under age." Theo corrected him. "My birthday was two weeks ago and Blaise shares a birthday with Granger."
"Literally no one cares when either of you were born," Draco said. "This bit isn't about you. It's about me and my attempt to dissolve into obscurity for one night so I can be 'normal' and no one will treat me like a baby Death Eater. And maybe, just maybe, I can find true love along the way."
Somewhere in this oversized house, a cricket chose this moment to start bellowing.
"Come on boys. Let's let Draco finish primping and fantasizing about the obscure concept of 'true love.' I think there are some decorations that need to be taken down and moved elsewhere." Narcissa took both young men by the hand, down the halls.
"I don't even bloody care," Draco muttered as he grumpily applied La Mer to his face. He sighed as he examined his face from all angles. "The world doesn't deserve me."
Hours later, Draco emerged from his room looking like a fairy prince. He couldn't bear to hide his beauty from the world, so he opted to wear a thin strap (albeit an absurdly overpriced thin strap that was painstakingly crafted by Muggle Venetians) of a masque over his eyes. But, of course, you could still see those damn things because nobody on earth had silver eyes besides Draco Malfoy. He was basically a collection of distinctive features and he was freaking kidding himself if he thought no one would recognize him.
He ran into Blaise and Theo in the ballroom, each of them looking shrug, mildly disheveled, and avoiding each other's eyes.
"How do I look?" Draco asked, giving them a spin. Whirling around so that every angle could be seen in all its magnificence.
"If I swung that way, I'd let you blow me," Blaise said.
"Fuck you very much, Blaise. Did my mum say who all was coming tonight?"
Theo sniggered. "Her mouth was a little too full to recite the guest list at us."
Draco glared. "I will burn your family alive if you allude to that again."
"Rude," Theo said. "I think your mum might have said something about sending out an invite to everyone in our year at Hogwarts. Something about 'never knowing who might be important one day' or whatever."
"Interesting…" Draco pondered. "You think Granger will be here? How would you rate her perceptiveness? On a scale of one to ten? One being Lois Lane and ten being Sherlock Holmes."
"Well," Blaise said, rubbing his chin for effect. "On the one hand, she is supposed to be The Brightest Witch of our—"
"Fucking hells, do not finish that sentence," Draco said, fuming. He basically despised when people called her that. It was getting old as shit.
"Well...that. But, on the other hand, she's been hanging around Potter and Weasley for nearly seven years now, and she still hasn't realized that they're both enormous arseholes." Blaise reasoned
Theo patted himself down, "Has anyone seen my wand? Oh I remember, I transfigured it into as dil — never mind. It's in your mum's room...I mean...I know where it is."
Draco was silent a moment, his expression totally blank before raising his wand and casting a wordless hex at Theo.
"You set me on fire, you fucking almost-albino shit!"
"I did warn you," Draco said, bored with the conversation and now making his way to the refreshments. He didn't even notice Blaise casting an emergency Aguamenti on Theo.
"I need a new costume now. Well, good thing Cissy ordered extras." Theo could have castrated himself for being outrageously obtuse. He called for a house elf to apparate him before Draco could hex him once again.
Blaise strolled over to Draco who was pouring himself a generous glass of wine. "You didn't have to do that, mate."
Draco shrugged. "Look upon the field of fucks that I have sown and see that it is barren."
The horns trumpeted and guests began to arrive one by one down the grand staircase. Then She arrived. It had to be her. In a golden gown that swished as she walked and her hair in brown ringlets pinned at her crown. The masque decorated with red velvet, roses, and ribbons wowed him from across the ballroom. (I basically made Hermione look like Belle. Shoot me.) (You do you.)
Draco chuckled at how adorable her masque was. As if she wasn't every bit as distinctive in her physicality as he was. Did she really think no one would know it was her. He had two choices: (1) He could assume his modus operandi and be a twat to her, letting her know right away he knew it was her, or (2) He could pretend he had no idea who she was and woo her.
Option Two it was. It was never even a competition, really. Option Two came with the delightful possibility that he could convince her to follow him "somewhere quiet" and finally bury his own wand, if you know what I mean. He was aching to find out if she was as good as he dreamt she was.
She looked around hoping that she would spot her friends, but dammit. She lost one of her contacts before walking into the Manor. NO ONE knew she wore them. No one had even seen her with reading glasses. She just went straight for contact lenses. Oh, and there was that nasty accident in potions yesterday. She could barely hear a thing.
"You look lonely," a smooth, silky, borderline dirty voice whispered in her ear.
She turned to face the owner of said voice and beheld the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Probably. He was wearing a thin strap of plaster over his face so obviously, SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT HE FUCKING LOOKED LIKE BECAUSE THAT IS THE ONLY PART OF THE FACE THAT MATTERS! His platinum hair, gray eyes, and arrogant, poncey posture were a mystery to her. Who could he be? Such a mystery. A mystery of the ages. She must get to know this oh-so-mysterious man.
"WHAT?!" she yelled back in his ear. "I CAN'T HEAR. FINNEGAN WAS MY PARTNER YESTERDAY. CAULDRON EXPLOSION. CAN'T HEAR A THING. CAN YOU WRITE IT WITH YOUR WAND?"
Well, there go all of his great lines. Guess he's going to have to rely on body language. He grabbed her in his arms and they began to waltz across the ballroom floor.
"DO I KNOW YOU? YOU LOOK AND SMELL FAMILIAR. I CAN'T SEE. LOST MY CONTACTS."
He fought the urge to scowl. What was the damn point of looking this good if the quite literal girl of his dreams couldn't see him to appreciate it? Instead he retrieved his wand and wrote out, "Y-O-U-R L-O-S-S P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S. I-'-M A F-U-C-K-I-N-G V-I-S-I-O-N-!"
He was so sure of himself. So confident. So manly. Who could he be? Who did she possibly know who was that sure of himself? Such a mystery.
"YOU DON'T NEED TO BE SUCH A DICK. FOR FUCKS SAKE. IF DIDN'T KNOW ANY BETTER, I WOULD THINK YOU'RE EITHER MALFOY OR MCCLAGGEN OR MAYBE EVEN MACMILLAN. THEY'RE ALL PONCY ARSEHOLES BUT AS I DON'T HAVE FULL USAGE OF MY SENSES, I CANNOT VERIFY."
He darted his eyes back and forth sheepishly. "W-O-U-L-D T-H-A-T B-E A P-R-O-B-L-E-M-? I H-E-A-R-D T-H-A-T D-R-A-C-O M-A-L-F-O-Y I-S A S-T-U-D I-N T-H-E B-E-D-R-O-O-M-!"
So mysterious. Who could he possibly be? "I ALSO HEAR THAT HE SPENDS MORE TIME ON HIS FACE THAN FOREPLAY."
People were starting to stare.
He rolled his eyes, realizing that it was time for a different tactic. "Y-O-U L-O-O-K S-O B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L T-O-N-I-G-H-T-."
"Oh! My ears popped! Would you look at that. Goodness. My throat is so sore. I must have been screaming at the top of my lungs. Well, that's embarrassing. I apologize." She said sheepishly. "Thank you for the compliment."
Draco assumed his most charming smile. "Don't worry about it. You weren't annoying or shrill at all. I could listen to you talk all evening. At any volume, really." His own ears had yet to pop from her screaming in his ear. He hoped that all came out suave and silky because otherwise he had no idea.
She sighed. He was so handsome, maybe. Who knew? That mask. Masque. Whatever. If only she knew what he looked like. If only that inch of face she couldn't see was visible to her. Then she would be able to get a full picture of who this mysterious person was. "I feel like I've known you forever. Merlin, if only I hadn't lost my contacts. I always bring a spare pair, but I switched handbags."
That's because she fucking had known him forever...or at least since they were eleven.
He smiled. "You don't seem like the kind of girl who frequents fancy balls like this. You seem like the type who'd rather spend her evening curled up in front of the fire with a good book."
He knows me so well. Could it be fate? The Brightest Witch of Her Age who had absolutely no fucking idea from his voice, stature, height, build, bright blond hair, eyes, and overall just the rest of his pale, pointy face, who this person was, pondered. If only I knew.
Draco just snickered to himself. On the scale of one to ten, definitely Lois Lane. She must have caught Weasel's obliviousness from years of proximity to him. This was why he cut Crabbe and Goyle loose. That shit was contagious. He wondered if she was already drunk, or maybe stoned. Could the loss of optical aids really have that much effect on her skills of observation? Eh, He was going to run with it.
"You look like something out of a fairytale," he attempted to say sexily in a volume that would register with her because he was kind of afraid to whisper. He wasn't 100 percent sure her hearing was totally back and the whole whispering thing would be wasted.
"Well," she paused, "Because it is. I had my gown modeled after my favourite fairy princess. She loves books and sees the good in everyone."
"That's fascinating," he said, having stopped paid attention after she said "Well." "How would you like to come Somewhere Quiet with me? The noise in here can't possibly be good for your sensitive ears."
He's so thoughtful. "I wish I knew who you were. I feel like I do. Something out of a dream. One that has haunted me for nights."
"Three nights, perhaps?" He asked suggestively.
"How did you…" she trailed off. "Every night I have these amazing dreams, but for some reason, I don't truly enjoy who I'm with, but the sex is amazing. I wake up every morning not knowing who the person is but I seek them out in the real world. Because, fuck he knew how to eat pussy."
"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked flirtatiously. "The real him knows how to eat pussy too."
She beamed at him like Belle in a bookshop. "Mysterious Stranger, I would love to go Somewhere Quiet with you. But do you know your way around Malfoy Manor? It's quite large from what I understand."
He snickered. "It is quite large, as you'll soon learn, my sweet."
"What?"
"I mean, yeah. I know my way around."
She sighed. "Who could you possibly be?" Her brain was not operational. Her blurred vision was getting the best of her and she was beginning to get a headache but mystery Person was really turning her on. "Do you know where the library is? I've always wanted to have sex in a library."
"You bet your sweet rosebud I do." He grabbed her by the hand and dragged her away from the ball.
"Alright, Beauty, would you like a drink. This bar is impressively stocked. Not exactly sure how anyone could read while drunk, but I hear that there are some fantastic authors who write drunk. I believe it was Hemingway who coined the phrase, 'Write Drunk, Edit Sober.'" (Or in our case, Write Drunk, Don't Edit At All, Publish Drunk, Repeat.)
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I came here for sex, Mysterious Stranger. Not reading." It was the first time in her life she had ever been able to say that, and it felt so good.
All of a sudden, Draco questioned that this was really Granger. There is no way in seven hells she would trash reading. Then he looked at her. Petite, great rack, curly hair, big brown eyes, swotty voice. Yup. It was her.
He couldn't wait to fuck her.
"I can't wait to fuck you."
She smiled. "Awww. That's so sweet, Person."
He dropped to his knees and climbed under her voluminous gown. It swallowed him completely. So many layers. So much ruching. Fucking princess dresses. He'd never be able to look at another one without getting hard as hell again. As he finally found her tiny body under all the crinoline, he was totally stoked that she wore pretty panties. Because that would really ruin the illusion. Gorgeous dress and nasty granny panties. Come on girls. Get your act together. But there was beautiful nude lace. Not RED. Not GREEN. A sensible color that wouldn't clash with the elegant garment. He gently pressed her legs apart, urging her feet to scoot further apart. Draco gently moved the lace to the side and slipped his finger in once and brought it to his lips. It tasted better than his dreams. He pressed his lips against her lower lips and savored the moment. His tongue slipped in slowly teasing her, hoping she would beg for it.
"Oh, Person! Person! Yes! Right there," Hermione moaned, wishing she knew his name so she could scream it, but making do.
He quirked an eyebrow. She could say 'baby' or 'sexy' or 'adonis'. Or just not say 'person'. The ambiguity was a bit of a turn-off for him. No offense to the gender non-binary crowd, but Draco was really proud to be a MAN and not 'Person'. Also, COME ON! Really, how the fuck did she not know who he was?
"Mother fucker! Yes! Right there! Don't stop."
Merlin, she was filthy. 'Mother fucker' worked a lot better than 'Person,' but then his mind went to Blaise and Theo and his rapidly engorging dick went limp. He did his best to get back in the game, eating her out and fingering that pretty pink pussy. Carefully, he hooked one of her legs on his shoulder and use one of hands to support her. With the extra stability, he just dove right in and nom nom nommmming away. He remembered he still had his masque on. Well, it wasn't in the way. No point taking it off.
"Oh fuck yes! I'm going to fuck your face so hard," she screamed grinding her lady bits all over his pristine face.
Ooooooookay. His dick was working again. Draco left his mouth to do all the work while he stroked himself, helping it get harder. Because, he was so going to rail that swot against one of these bookcases. This was hotter than all the librarian porn he'd seen combined.
"Pump your fingers harder. Do it!"
Salazar's rod, she was bossy. He might have been appalled at how turned on that made him if his brain hadn't been so preoccupied with the prospect of fucking her (supposedly) brilliant brains out. All he could do was obey as his fingers picked up the pace.
"I'M COOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMIIIIIIIIINGGGGGG!" she wailed smashing her cunt against his pointy face and long fingers.
Her cunt clamped down on his fingers and he continued to lick her until she pushed his head away. He looked up at her with a sexy, shining smirk, wiping her lady juices off of his face. "Say that a little louder, princess. I don't think the house elves in the kitchens heard you."
She panted, coming down from her high. Who could this mysterious man POSSIBLY be? He seemed so familiar, and yet somehow his identity escaped her.
Draco fought his way out of the voluminous dress and came nose to nose with her. SURELY she would figure it out if their eyes were that close together.
"You're like a dream…Who are you?" she said wistfully.
That's it she's high. That's the only way she can't figure it out. Lovegood. Lovegood probably slipped her shrooms or something. BECAUSE THERE IS NO POSSIBLE WAY THAT HERMIONE GRANGER COULD NOT FIGURE OUT THAT I AM DRACO MALFOY BECAUSE SHE FIGURED OUT THAT A BASILISK WAS SLITHERING THROUGH THE PIPES WHEN OH, WELL, UM, THE GREATEST WITCHES AND WIZARDS COULDN'T FIGURE OUT SLYTHERIN'S MONSTER. BUT SHE CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHO SHE IS FUCKING? SHE IS SOOOOOO HIGH.
Draco battled with his conscious. Can I do this? Can I really have sex with her when she doesn't even know who I am? Can I really take advantage like that?
She shoved her hand down his pants and stroked his erection.
He gasped. Fuck yeah! I can do it. I can fuck her bowlegged. Draco had to use her wand to lift up a good deal of the dress so he hoist her up on the ledge of the nearest book case. He planned on fucking her so good.
"You have the most delicious cunt I have ever tasted. So fucking gorgeous. Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?"
She bit her lip lasciviously (big word, drunky) (I'm not super duper happy with my use of it, but it's crack, so it's cool) and he was powerless to stop the groan that escaped him. "You want it?"
"Oh, fuck yeah."
They didn't bother taking off clothes or masques. Just dick in pussy, clothes moved to the side. He was so eager that he didn't even wait for a blowjob. He fucking loved those things, but he REALLY wanted to fuck her up against the books. It was part of this swot fetish. It went well with the aesthetic.
"Oh, Granger. You feel so good," he moaned into her neck.
"So do you. You...wait. Hold up." She paused for a moment and looked him in the eyes, trying to see him properly. "You...You know who I am?" she panted.
"Have you seriously not figured out who I am yet?" he continued to thrust, his cock coated in her wetness.
She narrowed her eyes, forcing them to focus on what was before her. Pointy features, pale skin, blond hair, gray eyes, tall, lean and muscular Seeker build…
Who the fuck was he?
He sighed, still not ceasing in his relentless thrusting. "For fuck's sake, Granger, I'm calling bullshit on the whole genius thing."
"I don't fucking care. Just FUCK me," she demanded
"I can do that." He placed a hot, sucking kiss to her neck.
"Fucking Luna. I should have known those weren't regular mushrooms on that pizza," she opened her legs wider, aching for all of his heated ministrations.
"I fucking knew it!" he exclaimed pounding away. "For a moment I worried that you had caught Weasel's stupid."
She froze. Weasel? Oh, my fucking… "Malfoy?"
He continued to thrust inside of her. "In. The. Flesh. Merlin, I've been dreaming about your pussy for three nights now." He slowed so he could recount some of the delicious details for her. "On the first night, you are an angry minx. Uggggh. On the second night, you were my blushing virgin bride to be."
"Wait. what?"
"Last night, you were my fucking mate. Damn, I could fuck you in every dream from now until eternity," He nipped at her neck and carefully pushed her masque away.
She was perfect.
"Malfoy," she whispered. "I...I…"
"Just let yourself feel, princess. If you can get over yourself long enough to let me make you come again, we can talk about this all you want."
"I…" she gulped. "I want to see you."
He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you would have to be clinically blind not to see that it's obviously me under this feeble strip of plaster. But for you, I'll relinquish my frail anonymity." He released his grip on her waist (keeping his other hand firmly planted on her thigh, which was wrapped around his hips) to remove his masque, such as it was.
"It is you."
"Okay, Belle. You're obviously fucking high. And as cute as it is, we've a job to finish." He pointed at their joined genitals, suggestively.
"Right. Sure. Carry on."
"Thank you," he said, thrusting his hips into her again. "You're so tight, Granger."
"Th-thank you," she gasped.
He rolled his eyes at her Gryffindor etiquette. If she was capable of politeness at a time like this, he obviously wasn't doing his job right. He doubled his efforts and thrust into her even harder.
"Oh my fucking—Malfoy! Yes. Don't stop."
He dropped his hand to where her dress and his waist met and bravely made the journey under the layers of tulle and nonsense to find her clit. "You like that?" he asked as he rubbed her.
"I think I'm...fuck!"
The feeling of Hermione Granger coming hard around his cock was the single most erotic moment of his life. She was squeezing the life out of him. She had to exercise those kegels. No other explanation would do.
"Merlin, Granger!" he panted as he shot hot cum into her. He bit down on the spot where her shoulder met her neck and licked the abused area till he had completely come home.
The two of them stood there in the aftermath, trembling from their orgasms, wondering what the hell to do now that they had finished. (Because of course they would orgasm at the same damn time.) (But of course. This is Trope Soup, after all.)
"Um...should we date?" Draco asked.
Hermione bit her lip. "How would I explain this to Harry and Ron?"
"You could just try, 'It's my life. I don't owe either of you wankers an explanation. Fuck off if you don't like it,' but hey. Your choice."
"So, by date, would we just date, or would we be girlfriend and boyfriend?" she said unsure of the the whole situation.
"I'm not sharing you, Granger. You will be my girlfriend and you will agree not to let any other bloke up that obnoxious skirt of yours."
She shrugged. "I see the romance is dead already."
"Romance?" he asked, incredulous. "I shagged you against a book shelf. In a library. Are you not as aroused by that as I am? This was something out of a Disney fan fiction. We ticked all the damn tropes on that one, Granger. Be a little grateful."
She rolled her eyes. "How did I not see that it was you?"
"Question of the motherfucking year, Granger. Are you rushing to do magic mushrooms again?"
"Ugh, I'm so high. But it made sex feel so good. I'm actually still kind of high. If you get your cock hard again, I'll take my dress off this time," she said, avoiding his question.
It worked too well. He brightened at the prospect of a second round. "Actually, I think I'll strip you out of that oversized abortion-of-a-garment. Which you look lovely in, by the way."
"Whatever, Malfoy. Just do that thing you do where you make me forget my own name, and you can say whatever you want about my dress."
"Deal," he said, thrusting his fingers inside of her.
"UGH. My head. Where the fuck am I? It's so dark. Where is my wand?"
"Malfoy. Is that you?"
"Granger? Is that you?"
"Yes? Where are we? I just regained consciousness too."
He felt long wooden handles topple over on his head. "I think a broom cupboard."
"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
"Well, we were doing prefect rounds and you were being a right bint, going on about how we should check in here because you heard a noise. And I followed you...and that's about it."
"Oh, no," she said, checking the doorknob, casting Alohomora and every other potentially useful spell she knew. "Does that mean…?"
"We're locked in a closet together," he intoned.
A/N: So...we Souped. Sorry if you're still waiting on A Girl Worth Fighting For, Drama Club, Dominus Ominum, An Indefinite Amount of Forever, The Year Neville Broke Bad, and The Last Dream. We needed a crack break.
IS the most incriminating sentence ever.
But really. We did it. Here is our final Halloween offering. We hope you all find it sufficiently tropey and drunkenly dirty. This is now officially our version of drunken hookups since we're both in committed relationships. We get drunk and hook up these kids in filthy ways. Yeah we do. Man. it's a lot of smut. We hope it never grows stale. Like an Amish marriage. Oh, is that bad? But really, what Amish are reading Dramione smut. Do they have computers and phones. I know nothing.
You are welcome.
Enjoy wearing your slutty halloween costumes. Tap into your inner Plastics and wear those animal ears and lingerie.