May 3rd

Kissing Draco Malfoy was complete and utter madness. Hermione wouldn't have done it if she wasn't so drunk. Too much alcohol could make even the wisest person commit the most illogical of acts. At least that's what she continued to tell herself the longer their first kiss went on without stopping.

She had never been attracted to the man. Not even after all of the time they'd spent together since the beginning of the year. Every time she looked at him all she could see was the obnoxious eleven year old who made fun of her teeth and called her a filthy, little Mudblood at every turn. Some wounds took a long time to heal if they ever did. Years of torment at his hands wouldn't be easily forgotten.

Of course, those were her thoughts before she felt the man kiss her breath away. Even in her intoxicated state she knew that she shouldn't give in to his advances. It was wrong. They were just asking for even further complications. How could they continue to move forward with whatever their friendship had become if they muddied the waters with impropriety?

Draco's movements were confident and just a touch on the domineering side. Hermione was surprised by his actions. Somehow she'd gotten it in her head that he would be hesitant and unsure of himself. At least that was how all of her experiences with men closer to her own age tended to go. In the past, that was a major reason she tended to avoid those her own age. They all seemed intimidated by her, afraid they might break her.

Not Draco. His lips moved over hers with an assurance that he had no plans to suddenly grow frightened of his own shadow. She liked the self-confidence. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss all of the wizards her own age for so long. Of course, she tried to push down the uncomfortable reminders that neither of them were exactly children any longer. Their forties loomed ahead of them, ready to strike them both before Hermione was ready.

His hands slid into her messy curls, effectively keeping her face pinned exactly where he wanted it. Once again she had nothing to complain about. She loved the feel of a man tugging her hair in passionate moments. The pain was just enough to keep her begging for more. Unafraid to take further control of the increasingly dangerous position they found themselves in, Draco pushed the witch back until her head rested on the arm of the sofa. He broke contact with her mouth long enough to stare down at her with that blasted smirk she still hated.

"Pleasant surprise to come home to find you dressed in my dressing gown."

She'd known it was inappropriate when she first pulled it on to cover her nakedness, but she didn't care. At the time, she never expected him to come home to find her in it. Watching the wizard's eyes rake over her body admiring his clothes on her excited Hermione in a manner she never would've expected before that moment. To even imagine that there could ever come a time when she was in such an intimate position with the wizard she once hated above all others was once unfathomable. Seeing his grey eyes darken in appreciation made her hate herself for not engineering a similar moment before that night.

When his hands reached for the flimsy cloth belt holding the garment together, she flinched. Imperceptible to any but one who knew every single emotion and reaction she possessed, he didn't even notice the split-second hesitation of their escalated actions. She knew that if she allowed the barrier between them to fall and they moved the very definition of their relationship further towards something even less easily definable, there would be no turning back. She would destroy him just as she destroyed everyone and everything else she touched.

But, she decided that he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions. If he wanted to burn, who was she to deny him? All worries about the fact that they were likely about to make a very serious error in judgment were pushed to the back of her mind. Regret could come in the morning like it always did. Reaching out to grab life by the bollocks was all they could hope for in their fucked up excuse for a world. There was always the possibility that the morning would never come for them again. They would be fools to deny themselves.

While Draco worked at untying the robe covering Hermione, she busied her hands with the buttons on his shirt. The air in the flat was thick with anticipation of what would happen next. For once, she didn't want to dwell too much on the logistics or worry about the details. She longed to do nothing but feel what life had to offer. Hadn't she had enough misery in life to allow for just a few moments of pleasure? Just as the Death Eaters used to reach out with both hands to grab what distractions from the pain of their existence they could in the beginning of their regime, she let all of her concerns drift away.

The cool air blowing across Hermione's bare skin sent a shiver through her entire body. Goosebumps erupted everywhere Draco's intense scrutiny followed. She was no innocent maiden unused to the pleasures of the flesh. No, she was about as far from one of those as it was possible to be. Still, despite her extensive experience with a myriad of differing wizards and even a few witches here and there, she couldn't remember the last time that she felt such excitement in witnessing a hungry gaze. He wasn't hiding how much he desired her, and somehow, the simple primal act of showing his true emotions in the heated moment affected her more than it should. It went against their training to be so expressive. One of the first lessons a good Death Eater learned was to temper and hide their emotions and their deepest desires. To push his training aside in the moment was no small act.

There was no time to further consider the magnitude of the moment before Draco's mouth began its torturous exploration of her exposed body. As she tugged at his clothes, practically ripping the buttons off in the process, she wasn't able to get very far before all coherent thought left her head. With a swirl of his practiced tongue down the soft flesh of her neck, over her sensitive collarbones, and down to her aching nipples, she was certain that she had already gone completely mad. All thoughts of stripping the wizard of his clothing slipped out of her head. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the delicious sensations he was able to pluck from her with nothing but his lips and his hands. Was this how it would always be? Or was the alcohol they shared only serving to increase the intensity?

It was all happening so fast she could hardly think straight. Nor was she entirely sure what to do with her hands. Draco confused her, made her forget all of her concerns, all of her worries. In the back of her mind, that part that was still screaming at her to put an end to what they started, she knew she was being reckless again. They couldn't come back from this moment no matter how hard they tried. Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe Draco wasn't the one in danger of burning. She was.

Frustrated that she couldn't even taste the pleasures of the flesh without second-guessing herself or her partner's motive, a low growl erupted from the back of her throat. Hermione's hand clutching his collar forced his mouth back to hers. Excited by her aggressiveness, the wizard enthusiastically attacked her mouth as she renewed her intentions to remove him of his clothes. A single light brush against the rising bulge in the man's trousers brought out an animalistic guttural resonance from him that she felt all the way to her pulsing core. Unsatisfied with how long it was taking her, Draco removed his wandering hands from her body to complete the process for her. His shirt was ripped off his chest so roughly she could've sworn she heard a rip in the fabric. The speed with which he removed his heavy boots and the rest of his damned clothes was impressive. If Hermione could've thought beyond divesting herself of the open and now useless robe, she might have had the presence of mind to compliment him or tease him for his eagerness.

"Fuck, Hermione."

She wasn't sure what he was referring to, the heat in the room, the fact that she was completely naked, or something else entirely. He wasn't in a rush to explain himself either. What use were words when actions could be infinitely more pleasurable? As if to prove his silent point, the wizard lined his hips up with hers. Both of them were practically panting and they hadn't even really gotten started. With a gentle squeeze to the back of each of her thighs, Hermione opened herself to him, a silent pleading in her eyes to not torture her any longer.

A single, determined snap of his hips fully sheathed his hard, aching cock within her pliable and ready body. Their eyes met as they each gasped at the change in the thickness of the air of the room. There was no turning back. Draco was the first to make a move. He pulled back, threatening to remove himself entirely before slamming back with a grunt. Emboldened by the moan escaping her lips, he repeated his actions, steadily increasing the pace until neither of them could think a coherent thought.

All concern that Hermione was making another big mistake disappeared. If they were going to burn, they would burn together.