Title: Red Bull
Word Count: 647
Rating: R
A/N: Little drabble for Elyaeru. Her prompt was: dm/hg, Antigua, cocktails on the beach.

What the hell is this?" Hermione asked disgustedly, staring down at the drink in her hand.

If Draco wasn't such a good liar, he would have blushed. "It is my own special recipe. I call it a Russian Bull," he smiled, shooting her a sideways glance.

Hermione grimaced, but took a drink before turning back to the ocean. The Order had sent her and Draco to Antigua to rendezvous with Luicus Malfoy, who had deserted Voldemort just months after Draco had decided to fight alongside the Boy-Who-Lived. The elder Malfoy was now revealing all the information he had about the Dark Lord's past, plans, and supporters. He was doing it from a plush Caribbean resort, in a manner better befitting Wizarding royalty than a man being hunted down by a vicious psychopath. "I thought your father was in hiding?" Hermione grumbled.

"He is," Draco drawled in reply. "But Malfoy's don't hide like the common folk."

Hermione rolled her eyes before taking another sip of her drink. "What is in this, anyways?"

"Ur…" Draco suddenly lost all ability to sound suave. "It's 'Red Bull' and vodka," he muttered, praying fervently that Hermione would not figure out that the sole purpose behind the combination of a high caffeine soda and the clear liquor was to get the recipient drunk as quickly as possible.

"No wonder it tastes so horrid," Hermione informed him, before laying back in the lounge to soak up more of the sun.

Draco glanced over at her again. She looked simply delectable today, with her hair down and a white linen sun dress hugging her curves. The Slytherin had been trying to get into brown-eyed girl's knickers for weeks. All of his usual seduction tactics, however, had failed. In his growing desperation, therefore, he had dragged her to with him to meet up with his father. He hoped that the romantic location and a bit of alcohol would succeed in lowering her defenses and making Draco irresistible.

Hermione hummed quietly, still sipping her drink. "I wish I'd brought a swimming suit," she murmured. "It's been ages since I've swum in the ocean."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to hide his physical reaction to envisioning 'wet' Hermione. "I could transfigure your dress into a bikini, if you'd like," he offered with a wink.

"Or I could just remove my dress and swim in my knickers," she replied teasingly.

Draco dropped his head back on the lounge and shut his eyes tightly, trying to get his growing erection under control. "Granger, are you trying to kill me?" he asked in exasperation.

Hermione giggled at his plight. "I don't see what the problem is, Malfoy. It's not like you weren't going to get to see me naked later, anyway."

At that remark, Draco opened his eyes and turned to stare at her. "What did you say?"

"I don't need to be seduced or drunk to sleep with you. I just needed us to be more than 100 feet away from Ron and Harry, so they don't Crucio you when the deed is done."

"You could have let me in on that little piece of information," he pouted.

"But you are so cute when you are frustrated," she smiled, reaching over, grabbing his hand, and giving it a squeeze.

"Granger, I'm cute all the time," Draco replied, his usual self-confidence coming back in full force now that he knew it was just a matter of time before he had Hermione Granger in his bed.

"And so modest too."

"Hush woman," he commanded. "Let's get naked and go swimming."

Hermione shook her head and giggled at his eagerness. Biting her lip, she pulled her dress over her head, stood up, and made her way toward the waves with Draco close on her heels. It was wartime after all, and who knew when she would get to the beach again.