Hermione raised a hand. "I'll have another Unicorn Blood."
The White Rabbit was a small pub in Diagon Alley with rooms available to rent on the second level. She would have preferred the Leaky Cauldron, but she didn't know if Tom was working or his new hire, Hannah Abbott.
Also, the chances of her running into anyone she knew was low. The bartender passed her a silvery drink.
Hermione wasn't foolish, she had him substitute a nonalcoholic silvery spritzer for the original main ingredient, Silver Jinx tequila. She certainly didn't need any help lowering her inhibitions. Admittedly, it was pleasantly mixed with Elderflower wine, but that had about as much alcohol as a Butterbeer.
She wasn't nursing it either, and she tipped generously each drink. Home had seemed so empty tonight, and books couldn't keep her mind occupied.
Tossing half of it back in one smooth motion, she nearly spit it back out when she saw who sat next to her.
"I'll have what she's having."
Hermione leaned one elbow on the bar, staring at one Theodore Nott. Oh, it hadn't even been that long since she saw his smirking mug. He stopped by the offices to meet with Malfoy at least once a month, they were great friends.
She could only imagine what sort of underhanded dealings the former classmates were up to. He was one of the tallest men she knew, and he had filled out a lot since Hogwarts. He was still as unpleasant to deal with, and she had never backed down when they passed each other in the hall.
"Single or double?" The bartender asked blandly.
"Double." He looked up thoughtfully. "I'm shocked to see you here on a work night." Then his attention zoned back on her with a growing smirk. "Oh, that's right. Why don't I buy us a round, Granger? Make hers a double too."
Hermione stared at him, eyes narrowed. He knew she wasn't going back to work tomorrow, did he? Smarmy git. "Don't you work tomorrow, or can you rob and lie to people with a hangover?"
Nott shook his head at her tolerantly. "Granger, Granger. Your upbringing is showing. I make business deals with contracts. It's hardly my fault that people misunderstand the written word."
She scoffed. "You go out of your way to dupe people and blame them for trusting you? Nice, really lovely. I couldn't imagine why you're here alone."
"Hitting bludgers at your own teammates, are you?" He looked pointedly at the empty seat on her other side.
She toyed with her wand between her fingers, glancing him over.
The bartender placed two drinks in front of them, and Granger grabbed hers before Nott could do something dominant like grab hers to drink.
Taking a drink, she was relieved to taste spritzer and not the potent liquor. She did notice, however, he charged Nott for two doubles.
It took everything in her to not laugh.
"Look, I only came over to express my deepest sympathies." Nott pulled the fakest look of compassion she had ever seen.
"I didn't need them until a moment ago." She toyed with her squat glass, very glad she had chosen such a weak drink. He didn't quite get under her skin the way Malfoy did, but that was like comparing a valley to a canyon.
"Malfoy was certainly raging about your last mission today. I could almost feel sorry for you, you know, if you were worth it."
"I don't think you're worth this conversation." Looking him straight in the eye, she finished off her drink and set it in front of him. "Enjoy."
She turned on her heel and walked past the tables and to the booths.
"Two more, and keep them coming."
She could hear the clink of galleons and soon, footsteps following her.
Normally she would not allow anyone unwanted to invade her evening, but after all the frustration of the day this felt good. She welcomed the pursuing because it would lead to a good argument.
If Hermione were honest with herself, and she often was, she was spoiling for one.
She took the last booth in the corner of the pub and slid along the smooth seat.
Nott sat across from her with his nearly full glass. He tipped it back and drank every last drop, placing it between them.
"I'm not worth a conversation, Granger? Aren't you the one always opening your mouth around me when you get the chance?"
"What can I say," she leaned back against the seat, twirling her wand again, "you just don't intimidate me. You're a little boy with galleons and friends in high places."
"I can assure you that there's nothing little about me."
As they stared at each other, she noticed his brown eyes were actually a hazel, ringed with grey. Sweet Merlin he was tall even when sitting.
"Oh, I already know that."She began counting on her fingers. "Head, check. Ego, check. Sense of entitlement, check. Estimation of your own self; false...but check."
He sneered at her. "While we're talking about your hair, why don't you let it down once a while? Or would that dislodge the massive branch lodged up your-"
A crack interrupted him, and they had two fresh glasses sitting at the table.
Hermione recognized the one with a hint of bubbles rising up, and she took that one and downed it immediately.
It did occur to her that he would think she was playing his game, but since she could only win...it didn't bother her. He would be absolutely pissed before she even felt tipsy.
"You're quick to brag, aren't you Nott? Yet here you are on a weeknight, trying to forget about your pathetic life." She still read the news sources often, and though he inherited Nott Enterprises, he was far from scandalous in his personal life.
"Bludger, teammate." He pointed to her and back to himself. Even he realized that wasn't the best comeback, because he lifted his drink and smacked down an empty glass. "Let's be honest, Granger. You're on the cusp of being unemployed, and well past the age of attracting a rich wizard...not that, honestly, you've ever been likely to land one."
Hermione sat up straighter in her seat, ignoring the startling crack of a new drink and going straight for taking a long drink. "Oh, Nott." She grinned, her eyes narrowing. "Just because your ability to attract witches is based solely on your Gringotts' account doesn't mean every wizard relies on such tactics."
He grabbed his drink and took a drink nearly as long as hers, but he sucked in a breath as he lowered it. A double shot of Silver Jinx was no easy task, and she enjoyed the thought of drinking him into the ground.
"Soon, everyone is going to know you're worth nothing." He slid out of the booth, standing up to his full height. "Nothing."
Before he could escape she was in front of him, head tilted back with her wand jammed into his neck. "What do you know, Nott? What is Malfoy up to?"
Though he was the Director, he couldn't just get rid of an Auror because she was injured. There was something else going on.
His eyes dipped low and rose back to her eyes. "You're awfully fond of whipping out your wand. Envy, undoubtedly."
She stepped closer to him, keeping the tip pressed right against his pulse point. "You would know the shiftiest of Muggle psychology. This wand has at least, what," her gaze dipped very low, and back up to him, "at least six inches on you? And it works every time."
Hermione couldn't say exactly what happened next, but she did know suddenly his mouth was covering hers, invading in ways she wanted desperately.
Hot, wet, and delicious, their tongues battled for dominance as he stooped to gather her roughly against him.
She met him stroke for stroke, one hand gripping the collar of his robe as if she were drowning and he was the last boat off a sinking ship.
Heat rolled off his skin and she could feel it, invigorating her to grip him closer. It settled under her skin, sending signals to take, take all of it.
The back of her knees hit the booth as he pushed her back, and she jerked him sharply so his back was half-pressed against the seat.
"Granger," he gasped as their mouth broke apart, "you dirty Mudblood."
She slid one knee over his thighs, pinning him in the booth seat. "Shut it, you bloody wanker." She pressed against his mouth the way her body pressed against his.
His hands lifted her hips and soon the table dug into her back as she grinded on his lap. Mouths sealed together, one hand tangled in her hair the way she gripped the back of his neck.
There were so many layers between them, she had to fight the strong urge to rip them apart.
The next time they broke apart his green-flecked hazel eyes met hers. "I always knew you were gagging for it."
Her upper lip lifted, "I doubt you have enough to gag on, Nott."
His grip on the back of her neck tightened, and they were kissing again. She bit his lip, and he gripped her thigh so hard it hurt.
Hermione knew she wasn't into pain at all, but that heat from his skin kept her pleasantly immune to the discomfort of his fingers digging into her flesh.
She explored his mouth with the coppery taste of blood from her bite, gripping the back of his neck hard. She felt herself pull hard on his hair, so hard his head tilted back.
She bit his neck.
His hips bucked against hers, a hiss leaving his lips.
"Get a room. Now." It almost shocked her the words came from her mouth and not his.
She pulled herself to the side, off his lap as she regarded him with a heavy-lidded gaze.
He looked at her, his mouth swollen and color high in his cheeks. But he got up, somewhat unsteadily, and disappeared in the direction toward the bar.
Hermione sucked in a deep breath, the sudden coolness leaving her befuddled.
What was she doing?
He reappeared before she could figure that one out, crawling on the seat and pressing her back against the seat as his mouth claimed hers.
It was uncomfortable, her knee halfway wedged between them and the table side digging into her side, and yet she she consuming his mouth with hot abandon.
He passed something hard and cool into her palm. "Now," he whispered.
A room key.
She gripped the back his short hair, forcing his head back. Heat crawled against her skin like a living thing, her fingers curled into the hold. It felt like there was talons just beneath the surface, and yet she didn't shrink away.
"Now," she breathed hotly against his neck.
The path to the stairs was navigated by both of them, his leaned heavily against the wall before continuing up, fingers gripped tightly around hers.
They embraced against just outside of one of the doors, his fumbling around the lock allowed her to sharply nip around his neck.
His breathing was heavy and unsteady, aroused and frustrated, before he got the key in and then the door opened.
She pushed him inside, pinning him against the wall as she kept him at her level with a renewed grip on the back of his neck. Her imagination fired, desperately wanting to feel skin beneath the robes. Everytime he pressed against her, he could almost, but not quite, feel him against her stomach.
Her fingers itched to yank the layers between them out of her way. It was imperative she did so.
Every hitch in his breathing, every half-groan sent her deeper into needing this, right now.
She barely landed on the bed before he whispered against her mouth, "I'll be right back."
He made his way toward the conjoining bathroom, only stumbling once before locating the knob and opening it to disappear inside.
The sound of rushing water filled her ears.
How considerate of him, to wash up before he joined her.
She took a seat on the bed, lips curling into something smug and satisfied. It raced along her veins and deeper yet, she felt as if the aching between her thighs contrasted with the rapid heartbeat in her chest and excitement.
He was ripe for the plucking.
But there was something else, trying to remind her of...of what? It kept nagging at her as she listened to the water run.
Lust and hunger banked deep within her, trying to drive out all other thoughts.
Yet she had never stopped thinking, not even during that horrid time she was Petrified.
Malfoy was raging about you.
Why would he rage about a successful mission?
And yet she had never heard one word about...successful. Her young partner had been so grateful to be alive… Harry had been so pleased to see her awake, then that awkwardness had distracted her…
Nobody had said one word about the Veela who attacked her.
Had it survived?
That thought was so sobering that she looked around the room with a critical eye. Comfortable with a single bed and a washbin close by. It was clean, the linen on the bed looked soft.
Was she here to...to shag Theodore Nott? Really? She wasn't even drunk, which might, in theory, excuse such an ill-thought out, inhibition-free action.
The water in the loo turned off, and she stood up, suddenly in a panic.
She walked quickly to the door, hearing the door behind her open as she fled. Down the stairs and out the otherwise innocent pub, uncaring of how she looked.
Despite the unease about the slight amount of alcohol she actually consumed, she Apparated the moment she felt it safe.
Normally it squeezed deeply, but this time she was hardly affected as she appeared outside the flats. It really did feel as if she were simply stepping from one place to another.
It wasn't until she was in her own sitting room and sitting on her sofa that she pulled out her wand again.
She slowly dropped the wand on the pillow next to her, and tried to wandlessly summon a glass. It rushed into her hand instantly. She filled it with water with a simple Aguamenti, still unsettled by the lack of wand.
Wandless magic had been practiced often in training, but this was as simple as flicking a wand. No concentration needed.
Hermione sipped her water, deeply unsettled by the ease she could summon a blanket, refill her glass, and recall thoughts of the creature she had wounded so greviously.
Had its body been found?
She ignored the ache thrumming under the surface, instead telling herself she had everything under control.
Author Notes:
Update!
I do so hope those that the M rating, or the implications of the summary, might leave you not be too horrified by the adult content. It only goes downhill from here. ;D
For those few that are awaiting an update for my other fic, it will be updated tomorrow, promise! I've had some computer trouble in the last few days, and it really threw off my update schedule! D: