Chapter Eight: "The Right & Wrong Decision"

"Clean."

She repeated the word to herself as she read it on the paper, when Ginny hugged her from behind. Sheepishly, she folded it up, it must've been the fiftieth time she'd looked at it today, and she was delivered the results only the day before.

"Would you put that down? You're fine, I knew you would be. Even if he's vile, he would be far more embarrassed than you could ever be if he wasn't all clear and you found out about it. And probably knew I'd spread it round he was a slag out of spite."

"Yeah well, everyone knows about his idiocy now regardless," Hermione laughed bitterly.
Resting on the coffee table next to her clinic results was the gossip column from The Daily Prophet. A photo of Blaise walking out from his Oxford Street office was printed on the left, and then, one of Hermione and Ginny arm in arm on the right. As if they were secure in their solidarity.

"God, I'm sorry, alright," Ginny groaned, slumping onto their leather couch next to her flatmate. "They were bloody harassing me. As well as Harry, as well as Ron."

Several reporters, after somehow finding out that she dropped Blaise like spilled hot coffee, were hounding everyone related to the couple about the reasons why that was. It was two nights ago when Ginny had been walking back from the corner store for an ice cream run, seriously moody from bad cramps, that she finally snapped.

"Hermione dumped that bastard because he cheated on her! Now get the hell out of my way!"

Harry had found it quite funny that they printed it word for word, Ginny did too if she was honest. But Hermione was pissed that she was in the papers at all, and now they had decided to trail her more for answers on who it was he'd banged.

"You think that anyone's going to find out it was that girl, what's her name, Georgia May?" Ron asked, coming over and squatting onto the floor.
The boys were here. They were all going out for drinks because it was Friday, and Ron's first weekend off in months.

"Unless Draco tells them, in which case I may murder him. He must know that. She was very nice to tell me about it, wasn't she?"

"Don't call him by his first name, doesn't deserve it, does he?" Harry commented, plopping down on the armchair. "I suppose since you have no qualms being business partners with him though, you don't care."

Rolling her eyes, she ignored him. "Georgia May, you were right Ron, is the one who doesn't deserve anything. She'll be slandered if they find out, when it was Blaise that lied to her. Even if it's just in the wizard world, and she would never be the wiser, I don't care."

"Well, you shouldn't have exploded when you heard the news, now that info is at his disposal." Ginny stood up again to turn off the telly and nudged him with her elbow, hard. "Hey! Alright, alright, sorry Hermione. I hate him, can't help the anger. Did he pay you by the way?"

Hermione refrained from telling her friend that Malfoy had sat on that very same seat barely a week ago, if he was going to be stroppy. She hadn't disinfected it yet.

"Yeah well, what would you do if Ginny cheated? Probably go on a hunting mission for the bloke…but anyway, I was mad. I was mad because Malfoy was right. He predicted that Blaise would be a slime-ball and he was sat there while it was confirmed for me. Ugh. And yes, yes he did."

She'd bought a bunch of brand new clothes with the money. When she first received the cheque, she almost fainted. He certainly overpaid her. And she had the hunch that he'd done it on purpose, just so she would mention it. It would've been rude to send it back, and it would make her have to contact him again, so she scribbled a quick thanks and sent if off to the ministry mail room. And that was that.

"Good. Let's drop this, surely you're tired of it. We can go to a terribly plebeian bar," Ron drawled in a great impression of Lucius Malfoy, "where no Slytherins would step foot. Drink some stout, maybe some shots." He finished munching on the roast Hermione had made, smiling at the laughs he'd generated.

"Sounds good," Hermione giggled.
Eager to leave, she was hoping for some unadulterated fun tonight. Painting on some makeup and shimmying into what Ginny had dubbed her 'hot girl disguise', she dreamed of something exciting.
A few days ago she'd been mulling over her romances against her better judgement. The fact that the only good one was ended because of conflicting schedules and the rest were duds left a sour taste in her mouth. Viktor had a serious girlfriend now, and everyone else was obviously not the best fit for her.

Now she felt seriously inadequate again. Somebody so well-known had deemed her worthy of dating for the sole reason she was friends with Harry (and a small part of her stressing it might be her intelligence and job success) ; it was was disgusting. That he'd cheated on her made it worse, as she'd always felt insecure of her looks, and in her opinion, would never come close to resembling the likes of Georgia May. It was a hefty slap in the face.

"Alright ready to go yet, Ron? Going to get third helpings as well?" Ginny rolled her eyes, raring to get out of the stuffy building as well.

"Yup," he replied, mouth muffled with potatoes. "Lesss go!"

Gathering up the dishes, the girls flung them in the sink and rinsed them, too anxious to leave. Stepping into their heels they practically pushed their way out.

"Where to?" Hermione inquired as they got on the elevator, she was always too busy to know about hotspots.

"Wherever the wind takes us," Harry replied breezily, earning a smack on the chest from his fiancee. They all laughed their way onto the street, giddy from the anticipation of a much needed night out.

Draco was sitting on his bed, tapping his feet, giddy as well. Yet he was wanting to sleep instead of go out or consume alcohol, a rare occurrence that surprised even himself. It was only half nine, and he was exhausted while restless at the same time. Sober and completely bored.

To be fair, he'd had several interesting phone calls in the past few hours, and now all the un-pleasantries he'd exchanged were running through his head.
Pansy was convinced he knew about Blaise cheating before Hermione had, and he couldn't explain himself in any way that would seem aloof enough to make her believe any different.
Blaise was convinced that Draco knew, that he was somehow involved in the relationships demise, and was now sending threats through text.
And Theo was convinced Draco knew, and wouldn't stop asking him if he did.

The relish he felt knowing Blaise had gotten what he deserved was fast becoming ruined being cornered like a naughty child who stole some cookies for the jar. Buzzing in his pocket, he fumbled to grab his phone. Only to chuck it against the dresser when he saw the word 'Parkinson'.

On the hardwood, the noises and movement were even more irritating, and they didn't end. Sighing, he got up reluctantly to snatch it off the floor.

"Yes?" he answered moodily, falling back on his mattress with his legs still hung off the edge.

"Why do you keep ignoring me? Just tell me what happened."
She was livid, he could tell by the way her tone was sickly sweet.

"For the last time, Pansy - would you leave it alone?" he said calmly. "Nothing happened."

"No, I won't. And yes it did! You posted your contract on your website, and it gives credit to Granger. We both know you did it so Blaise would see it. Admit it, you got wind about Blaise being a scumbag, or saw it, or something. And wanted to throw in his face that she let you hire her."

"Darling, I put up my contract after they broke up. I'm going to tell you I didn't know anything and you will pester me again telling me I did," he stated, feigning indifference.

"Because I know you did!" she steamed, trying not to raise her voice. "It's driving me crazy! You keep dodging the questions. "

"You think I'd not have spread it round then, or used it as blackmail had I known?"

"I've considered that, but Draco, you went to Granger's house, didn't you? The night before the news story. How did the papers know they were split anyways? You must have told them; it happened when you were there."

"Pansy," he laughed, disbelief filling him at how perceptive she was. "You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm right. I bet you know who he cheated with."

"I'm going to bed, Pans. If you want to hang out, text me. I'm not answering any more calls if you're just going to hound me. Bye."

"Draco Malfoy, don't you dare ha-"

He clicked off, noticing a crack on the back of his cell, shrugging before tossing it on his lap.

It kept on vibrating, and he felt an odd jolt in his lower body after a short time.

"Seriously? Great, now even a bloody phone can turn me on."
Exhaling in exasperation, he gave in to temptation. Unzipping his pants, he wiggled them to his knees, started thumbing below his waist.

Now a daily routine, he considered perhaps his constant frustration and jitters were from needing to get thoroughly shagged, and wondered who exactly he could seek out to alleviate them. Because desperation was the station he was at, and he'd do something stupid soon if it wasn't fixed.

Finishing in a few fast minutes, he ended up only slightly relieved. Grabbing a tissue, he felt reminiscent of being 15 again. Awkward and unappealing to have to resort to this all the time.

"I need to get the hell out of here."

Somewhere in London…

"So where's Lavender tonight?"
Hermione had wanted to ask that question since he stepped into her flat 3 hours ago, but was just intoxicated enough to do so now.

She'd expected her to be trailing him, especially on his one day off. It was almost as if they were two third wheels tonight, Ginny was all over Harry since the start of the evening.

Luckily Hermione was able to enjoy a few g&t's and their conversation wasn't that cumbersome so far having being left alone together. Curiosity was getting the better of her now and she had to blurt out about old Lav's absence.

The bar they'd chosen was called the Good Ship, just down the block from the boys apartment. Very famous, a detail unbeknownst to them when they got there, the place was crowded. A popular venue for indie bands that all began with 'The', tonight the hefty cover charge was for The Wombats.

Ginny really liked them so she had fed Harry enough rum and cokes to get him to go dance. The noise was enough to make the small spot personal, and the crowd was convened in front of the stage. She and Ron were sitting up a staircase and onto the second floor that overlooked the platform. Hermione wasn't confident enough yet from her cocktails to get up and make a fool of herself down below.

"Didn't want to come," Ron replied after a long pause, looking at the table and passing his pint glass between his hands.

"Oh?" she continued tentatively, his face suddenly blue.

"We're on a 'break'," he huffed. "Hasn't been working out. She's saying that we don't spend enough time together. And it's not my fault! I feel terrible but I don't willingly work 60 hour weeks. I only have a bit longer to go til my internship is over, don't I? No idea where she even is either, and she refused to come out when we can actually go home and enjoy the morning after. Girls."

Sympathy twisted in Hermione's stomach for him. He really did love her, they had dated for a long time, she often forgot that fact because she rarely saw him nor her nowadays.
"I'm sorry to hear that. This might sound I dunno, rude," she began, unable to stop herself, "but she seems the type that is really dependent for support when in a relationship."

"Well, er, yeah she is," he agreed uneasily.

"God, sorry. That was really bitchy…it's not a bad thing, it's quite romantic really. Some people can't handle when their partner has a busy schedule," she saved herself, touching his arm with her hand, head light and dizzy. "It's hard."

"No, it's fine. You're right anyways, it's nice a lot of the time but it's gotten to the point where she's so clingy. You don't seem like you'd get like that, eh? That's why it's reprehensible to you."
She was about to lay on him when she noticed he was smiling.

"What're you so happy about? Think it's funny I'm not loving enough or something?" she teased, leaning across the tiny table to swipe at his face.

He ducked while chuckling and grabbed her arm.
"Not at all, I was just thinking how wonderful it is that you understand very well that it takes commitment to reach your goals. Don't think you'd ever pester me about working."

When he didn't let her go and slid his fingers gently down to hers, holding them, a small part of her was screaming to let go. However, the lingering clear mind she usually had was all but gone.

Looking meaningfully into her eyes, she felt her heart flutter unwillingly. It was too soon for this.
"I'll get the next round, yeah? 'Nother gin and tonic?"

"How sweet you are. Yes, please."
Grinning like an idiot when he left, her eyes grew wide a moment later and she shook her head, scolding herself.
Why are you flirting? He has a girlfriend! Stop, it, stop it, stop it. What are you thinking?

She was thinking she was horny.
She was thinking that she was tired of being serious all the time, of being a prude.
She was drunk.

They're on a break, the devil on her shoulder urged. And he's wanted to get with you forever. Are you going to punish him and stay away because he isn't as sensible as you? Just because he dated somebody else first? He likes you, you like him. He's nice, caring, and thinks you're attractive. Isn't that what you've always wanted?

"Cheers!"
Sliding a tall glass in front of her, he sat back down, clinking his beer against it before chugging half of his.

A foam moustache the residue of his hastiness, Hermione tittered at him. "Oh Ron, I never knew you could pull off facial hair so well."

Turning scarlet up to his ears, he wiped his face and mimed gulping down her drink. She took a hearty sip, grimacing at the bitterness immediately.

"Bleh. Ron, thank you, but oh my goodness this is strong."

"It's a double shot– they call it Texas-style!" he exclaimed in a southern twang, shooting a finger-gun at her and emitting a 'pow' bullet sound.

Laughing uncontrollably at his antics, Hermione gave in. Gave in to her already waning inhibitions so she didn't even think about them. Or the consequences.

"You are ridiculous."

"And you're a wuss," he stuck out his tongue at her, finishing off his lager. "I need another one already, merlin. These muggle drinks, I tell you."

She paused before she could inform him that wizarding ones could be much worse, she'd avoided talking about the party she attended, or Blaise and the Slytherins in general.
He returned to the bar again, and came back with a second drink for both of them. Well, second is a relative term. She'd already downed 2, and Ron 5 of his favourite poison.

"Ronald Weasley, are you trying to get me drunk?" she inquired raising an eyebrow before falling into a fit of giggles at his concerned expression.

"Just want to make sure milady is properly looked after in the alcohol department," he said with a wicked air.

"Well thank you kind sir," she hiccupped, causing him to smile with his teeth for a split second before glancing downwards. He was self-conscious of himself, and when he let it show it was one of Hermione's favourite quirks of his.

They chatted for a few more minutes, mostly babble about the music, some of the more daring patrons who were dancing, and then somehow it came back to the last topic she wanted to discuss.

"So Hermione…are you alright? I mean –" he paused noticing her snap to attention, going rigid. "It's just that what that dragon dung did to you must've hurt. Being a cheating slag and all. And I know I like, you know, kinda stayed away from you for a bit, it's just cuz I can't stand him or the people he associates with."
Ron was definitely falling off the deep end, but it didn't help matters that he was endearing, and possibly more adorable in this state.

"It's fine Ron. And I'm fine. Honestly, I'm relieved. His circle of friends hated me, probably always would. I felt under scrutiny 24/7 and it would've driven me crazy after a few months. It was only 4 weeks too, I wasn't attached. I know exactly what happened and who was involved, I can move on."
She only meant to say she was alright, but the story and her feelings bled from her lips before she was able to seal them shut.

"That's good to hear. I was worried, Harry told me what happened, wanted to go on a manhunt to be honest," he admitted, looking a bit embarrassed after a second thought. "You're still on the first one? Drink woman!"

He tried to cover up with teasing, but Hermione wasn't fooled. She felt touched, yet didn't mention it further, simpering at him before emptying the glass.

"It's unnecessary for you to do that on my behalf, though I appreciate it Ron," she explained softly. Skimming her bare foot against his knee, shoes too tight, she could see from his sudden stillness he was calculating on how to react.

And with what he decided to say next, she wasn't sure if she was pleased or not.

"You deserve a lot better than him. Ginny said you always acted like you were inadequate or something when you talked about him."

"I'm like that regardless of who I'm with though, it's just more pronounced when I'm dating," she declared, feeling both flattered and a bit pissy he knew about her self-doubt.

"But you don't need to be, Hermione," he explained, throwing his hands up. "You're the best in the room half the time. You're smart, you're kind, and you're beautiful. What else does a bloke need?" he asked, popping some peanuts from the bar in his mouth. "And just because maybe Zabini was 'hot and rich' too, and good at deductive reasoning or whatever he did to get so successful, doesn't mean shite. You were 10 leagues above him before and are 1000 now after he decided to be an arse."

"Oh, Ron," she replied in a small voice, ludicrously sensing tears well up in her eyes.
She really was temperamental when smashed.

"HEY! What're you guys still doing up here, come dannnceeee!"

Ginny was completely obliterated. Shots will do that to good people. The couple had reappeared to take a break from the sweaty crowd.

"God, my heels are killing me."
Ginny pulled out a random chair and sat on it beside Hermione, wiping perspiration off her brow.

"You're really convincing me to want to go with you, Gin," Hermione laughed, receiving a reproachful look back, and felt relief that somebody had come in before she did something stupid like cry or worse.

"Oh stuff it, don't be so boring," she dropped her head on the table and feigned sleep, snoring very loudly.

"Gin," Harry warned her, both amused and mortified. "Don't get us kicked out by being obnoxious, the bartender almost was ready to cut you off. Been eyeing your 'moves' all night."

"And you - you're being a butt!" she poked his chin. "Remember when we used to have adventures at Hogwarts, and paid no heed to the rules? By the way, my dance moves are fab and you're just jealous. Tsk tsk, Mr. Hero. Not a good look. Now c'mere!" she yanked him by his collar downwards, snogging him passionately.

After a stunned moment of confusion, he obliged and touched her face, kissing her back. Plopping his rum on the table to become more invested, it got uncomfortable for everyone around really fast.

"Looks like I'm out of cash, going to run to the ATM thing across the street. Hermione, wanna join?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm out too," she added, patting her non-existent dress pockets and practically tripping down the stairs.

Following Ron out the door, they crossed the street past the smoking patrons on the sidewalk, and into an HSBC branch. In the silence of the tiny room her head was ringing.

"You really are out of money. I thought it was an excuse," she confessed, leaning against the ABM while he tried to figure out the machine. By the looks of how pristine his debit still was, she figured she was in for a humorous treat.

"Yeh, well, I didn't want to spend more money but, hell, weekend off. Might as well. Don't really fancy seeing my sister try it on with my best mate, but they'll get it together when they realize we've left. Probably grab one more beer and then gonna head out."

"Oh, well alright," she replied, swaying a bit, unable to stand still. After a solid minute of shaking impatiently, and him pressing innumerable buttons, he started muttering swears under his breath.

"Stupid….Bloody muggle shit…god dammit - "

"Ron, you have to enter your password," she giggled, peeking at the screen. "Don't you remember it?"

"Youdo it then, Miss Genius," he taunted, grabbing her elbow and playfully pushing her in front of him. "It's 3794. Forty quid, please."

As she concentrated on withdrawing his pounds, she felt warm breath on the nape of her neck. And his hands sweeping her hips lightly, innocently, but sparking something powerful nonetheless. Once she finished the transaction, she spun slowly round, gazing up at him. Noticing the lust in his eyes.

"H-here," she stuttered, reaching up and placing the bills and card in the breast pocket of his plaid long-sleeve.
First mistake was that she left her fingers to linger.
Second was when he seized her by the elbows and melted his mouth onto hers.

"Fuck, Hermione," he groaned, when she responded by jumping up and clutching fistfuls of his hair, pulling him down to her. He cupped her arse and lifted so she could rest on the minuscule ledge for easier access.

Fiercely groping each other, the third mistake was when he snaked his hand under her dress and into her panties to stroke her wet slit, making her jaw drop in the most delightful of ways. Hermione wasn't expecting to be so aroused by how naughty this was, there were cameras watching and street lights outside; but she was. For the next few minutes they got lost in listening to their ragged breaths, feeling the dull ache of sexual desire, and the sensation of skin on skin.

Ready to cum, Ron had to withdraw from her as they were unfortunately interrupted by some drunk party of people, catcalling and whistling as they pulled apart. Hermione readjusted her dress, blushing red while annoyed she didn't get to get off.

"Ey, sexy, you was at the bar cross the way, yeah? Fancy dancing with me when we get back, lass? I'll show you a good time."

"No, but thanks," she smiled gaily.

"Oh come on. Lovely girl like you? Dump ginger boy over here. He's a muppet."

"A muppet?"
She was way too wasted to take this seriously, the glazed look in his eyes and snickers from his friends letting her know it was all in fun. But drunken boys are stupid, and Ron balled his fists.

"Yeah, youse a sour looking one," he slurred, nudging the biggest in the group to egg him on to fight.

Hermione was too anxious, wanting to sink into her sheets with a boy to do this tonight. She held onto Ron's bicep gently and led him out.

"And let me guess, you must have a great personality?"

Everyone laughed except for the rejected chap, and Hermione felt victorious as they returned to the bar. Slinking onto dance floor, they mixed in with the crowd to seek out Ginny and Harry. In their drunken stupor they so desired to regale the tale of the trip to the bank.

When they couldn't find their mates, the final mistake they made was during the last song of the night.

"I'm back in Liverpool, and everything seems the same, but I worked something out last night in this little boy's brain…"
Hermione edged her way up to the front to witness the bands closing number, agreeing that they were actually quite good.

"Please learn from my mistakes, please learn from my mistakes."

Coming up behind her again, Ron held on to her waist as he drank. While he was steadied, she gyrated to the sound against him. When she sensed him getting hard and gripped tighter, fingernails biting into her middle, she whispered "I'm going to shag you really nicely tonight."

Banging their bodies against the more dedicated fans, they finally found their friends who were too far gone to realize what was happening.

"Let's dance to Joy Division, and celebrate the irony! Everything is going wrong, but we're so happy, yes we're so happy! Thank you London!"

The singer screeched his thanks while the strum of the guitar ended the set with a flourish. Cheers rose to ear-splitting level.

"That was so great!" Ginny squeaked as the boys on stage waved and exited to the green room. "Let's find a freaking taxi and blow this popsicle stand."

Beckoning her fiancée towards her, she hopped onto his back and said 'Yah!'. After his initial startling, Harry brayed like a noble steed and ran from the place, stumbling on the way out the door.

"She's been watching way too many American films. Who does that?"

"Let's get the hell out of here," Ron managed to spit out through choking laughter, holding her hand and dragging her out into the evening air.

Somewhere else in London…

"So what happened this fine day that made you run out of people to hang out with?"

Draco was caught off guard by the question, and turned his attention back to Georgia May, who was stirring her margarita with the cocktail stick, sucking on the olive.

"Wow, that was rude. I only meant, we don't really know each other. Why call me? I was a bit nonplussed when you rang," she spat the pimento onto her napkin, making a face. "Ugh, bar olives always taste disgusting."

They were resting on a fuscia divan in Mamounia Lounge, a swanky Moroccan themed joint. It was quite expensive to get in unless you were famous, but worth the price as nobody had bothered them, and to Georgia's pleasure, nobody had recognized her.

He decided to just spill his guts, possibly spurred on by wine. They always say it's best to do it on strangers.

"Well, since it all came out you shacked up with Blaise, people have been interrogating me nonstop about if I knew. And for the sake of everyone involved, which apparently I am, I've refused to answer them straight. I just needed to escape my house, couldn't sleep, nothing going on in the morning."

"But again, why me?"

"I must divulge the sad truths here. Georgia, I don't really have many friends. And Pansy, you know, she was the closest one I have. But she's pissed off now, and very nosy. Besides her, and even she's guilty, I got nobody who likes to go out with for the hell of it. I always have to be going to some affair or be preparing for one."

"God, welcome to my life," she pouted, falling forwards on the table, hitting it with her head.

She was a very amusing person, her mannerisms extreme and accent changing from London to Brooklyn every sentence. 'Pansy-lite' was what Draco had named her in secret. A bit crazy and always speaking her mind, she wasn't quite so catty, a real free spirit.

"Same boat, different strokes?"

"Oh yeah. In New York most people don't care who I am or know, and my college mates treat me like I'm normal. That's why I went there, why I moved. Favourite city in the world to be honest, but I do miss my dad loads though. My mum, she's from there, is a bit wacky, yes, even wackier than my father," she chuckled at his expression. "It can get to be too much. But same goes for here; everyone puts me on a glittering pedestal, stupid British gossip blogs and tabloids track me every move. It's nerve wracking. I feel like I'm being watched 24/7."

"That sounds pretty terrible," he replied deadpan, and she whacked his arm. He grinned back, sipping the rest of his wine.

"No sympathy," she mumbled with a coy smile. "Ah, that's why I like you, you know. Don't seem fake. I could tell when you walked in the room that first time we met that you weren't. Vivienne said that to me too."

"Yeah well, I'm just a very blunt person who likes calling people out, not exactly the most genuine," he countered, pouring himself another.

"Take a compliment, you tosser. Out of your friends, you seemed the least pretentious. And shut up, I know Blaise is probably the worst of them."

"You have no idea, love," he winked, wherein she grumbled. "And thank you. I should say the same about you. You're very fun to talk to, very chill. Don't get too riled up, but don't act like a door mat."

"Darlin', I spent so long trying not to be what everyone expected that I was anything but what I wanted to be," she disclosed, signalling to the waitress she'd like another beverage, pointing to a foreign concoction on the menu. "That mint tea thing I had earlier was good, think I want another. This place is really nice by the way, thanks for inviting me out."

Her words were spinning in and out of his brain, momentarily distracting him.

"Draco?"

"Sorry," he focused on her once more. "My pleasure, but what do you mean by what 'everyone expected'?"
He stretched out his limbs, yawning because it was nearly 1. He'd called her at 10 and met up at 11 by the tubes, impressed she'd risk taking them. God only knew what would happen to a gorgeous girl in the dark. The staff had been flirting with her all night as a testament, and she deflected it with grace, guess that was what models and famous people do.

"The public and the fans were waiting for me to either fuck up with drugs or drink, or else be a star and have a band, be a model like mum. Then criticize me either way. And I was so afraid of falling into that cliché trap, I always hid. But I felt like I was in a cage you know? Like, this is gonna be really conceited sounding, but I can probably do anything I want. I have the means and the connections to pursue whatever, but that fact scared me so much that I refused to try anything at all. Where's the challenge, the thrill, or sense of accomplishment, you know? If I don't have to work for it."

Never in his time on earth had somebody else described his predicament and sentiments so perfectly.

"And then I thought a few years ago, well fuck it. Didn't want to get wrinkly and then tackle and sort out my priorities too late along. I kept getting asked to model so once Viv did, I decided I liked her designs and I just went. I like to draw, pretty rubbish at it, but it's fun, I'd like to learn about it. So I picked a school and just went. What a waste it would be to have all these opportunities and throw them away because I'm what, vulnerable? Hell no. Are you alright, you're pale."

"I'm always pale," he murmured, causing her to let out a small titter. "Fuck mate, you just verbally stated all my internal thoughts. It's eerie."

"Really? Nobody else ever gets what I mean if I explain it."
She leaned in closer, in an unusual state of speechlessness.

"Yes, to a tee what you just said resonates with me. My parents are the worst kind of rich people. With all due respect, and not to take away from your situation, at least your mum and dad are cool."

Georgia snorted, widening her eyes. "If you say so."

"I'm serious. I'd never hear the end of it if I went to America. They'd think I was running away. I know people talk about what I've chosen to pursue. Dear old daddy and mummy are the kind that like to one-up, and are part of a society that are narcissistic to the point where I can't step a toe out of line or everyone will talk about it for weeks behind my back. They have high expectations and pushed me to try and be something I'm not interested in being. I will admit I dicked around after school but they told me out the blue 'hey son, we're cutting you off until you find a job.' So that's why I'm here now, I used to live in Wiltshire, I'm so out of my element. I didn't want this. At least you plucked up the courage, I was forced. Got no ideas of what I'm doing with my 'business', but here I am doing alright, getting lots of attention because I had help from the right people. I don't really give two fucks if I fail, I feel utterly useless all of the time. And it's as if I'm stuck in limbo with people who don't even care about me, they just care about what I do so they don't look bad."

"Aw, honey," she stood up to pat him on the head, almost towering him in her stilettos to start with. "Don't worry, you'll find someone you can trust; who loves you and will fight off the wolves. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so. I can't imagine why I just told you all that. Stop being easy to confide in," he grinned, going a bit pink.

"You wouldn't believe how many have said the exact same thing. Pent up anger, I'm good at sussing it out. And don't hope, try," she appealed, slamming her fist onto the tablecloth. "You're a chick magnet now, remember? Soon to be famous stylist, a bonafide stud; and don't you forget it."

"Yeah, not quite. I'm pretty pathetic, never had a girlfriend. I've come to the conclusion that I'm un-fanciable, just got money," he explained deadpan. "What about you though? Got the blokes lined up in a queue. You're basically a solid 10. Too independent or something?" he inquired, causing her to close her eyes and grin, like she was charmed by his comment but had heard it dozens of times before.

"You are not. You just seem closed off to everyone else, cold. So when you make an effort to talk it's like it's a façade if somebody doesn't know you. That's what I noticed."

"I thought you said I wasn't fake not ten seconds ago," he argued, amused but slightly irritated at her changing story.

"Well, the first thing I ever heard you say was 'Bugger off, Pans!' and gave her this little smirk and impish shove. You were yourself round her, and thus around me. And you're a liar, she definitely fancies you, always had her hands on some appendage of yours. Why not Pansy?"

"She has a boyfriend, remember?" he said, hating how crystal clear his best friend was to see through. He didn't enjoy how outsiders noticed it.

"Doesn't matter if she wants you, does it? She likes him but I know she wants you more, I'm a girl."

"Well it matters to me. I don't love her is all. She's great in her own way, but I never got that punch in the gut."

"Punch in the gut? Explain." Georgia was curious now.
While she had liked Draco's personality, it wasn't until this midnight adventure that she recognized he wasn't full of himself. He played ball with the boys he knew, she heard the way he spoke to his employees and 'mates'. But she could tell now he was vulnerable like everyone else, and was being more than amicable right now, very open. People were not often like this with her until much later on in their friendship.

"This is going to sound petty and like I'm holding a grudge, maybe I am, but Blaise dated this girl in sixth year; Eliza Omirou. She was amazing, really unlike the rest of them. I was completely head over heels, could barely talk to her, always felt like I was going to puke when I was around her presence. And I guess it wasn't obvious at all until one weekend during summer where I blurted it out to someone. Was really drunk. Probably Theo I told, that unpleasant looking bloke. Blaise kept it a secret from her only so he could throw it in my face after that. It's a big part of the reason I dumped them all, mostly because I was sick of them winning everyone over at school and everyone still hated my guts. I never professed my love, but I'm over it now. I regret it, though she moved back to Rhodes where she was from, it probably wouldn't have worked anyways."

He sighed and thought back to his first crush, with her kind face, petite frame, and soft auburn curls. Draco hoped she was doing well now. She was very smart, and obviously being in Slytherin, very wealthy.

"That's so sad," Georgia pouted. "Fucking adolescence, man."

"Agreed."

He had yet to reveal that story to anybody, least of all Pansy. It was nice to let it out.

An epiphany hit him that this was a big reason he despised the fibre of Blaise's being. Not just because of his constant flaunting, but because he'd turned everyone against him with a snap of his finger. Perhaps that's why they'd dropped him in sixth year, because he thought he'd plot to steal her away.

Draco didn't feel remorse for breaking up his spiel with Granger, so maybe a bit more revenge and it would be even. Blaise had done the same with Eliza and had used Hermione, only in Hogwarts it was because she was one of the fittest girls there. Now they were adults he hadn't changed, it seemed so petty.

"One of these days I'll come across Blaise and punch him in the dick. Deal?"

"Deal."
Slugging back the almost empty bottle of chardonnay, a morose pain was creeping over him. And he wanted it to cease and desist, it wasn't the place or time.

"Don't get all pouty. So you haven't had a girlfriend, so what? Dating is fine! I'm 20, you're what? 22? I've only had one serious boyfriend. Nothing to be ashamed of, we're still babies."

"Never been on one of those, either. I'm a dateless virgin, hopeless case. Kissed Pansy once at a party, that's the extent of my romantic encounters. I said it was pathetic," he restated to a Georgia May that had now adopted a sad puppy dog look.

"Sweetie...oh sweetie." Getting up and wrapping her arms round his shoulders, she didn't know what else to do. "Poor you. Really had a hard time at school, eh?"

"No," he muttered though the curtain of blonde. "I was a prick for the first few years. I made all of them dislike me. Blaise just helped the process."

"Regardless," she put her thumb to his lips to make him stop sulking. "That is pathetic. I almost hoped you were putting me on to get me into bed, but you're not. You're a good time, and don't deserve to be punished forever for being a petulant 14 year old."

"Get you into bed? Would you let me then?" he asked, tongue in cheek. "I haven't lost all hope, just most of it."

"Don't play the 'woe is me' card, you dolt. Never works. And who knows, you did invite me out and provided me with privacy and free alcohol."
Tugging on a silk curtain that hung to separate the guests in the lounge, she whipped it closed and sat down on Draco's lap, resuming hugging him, and swung her legs out.
"And apparently, I'm such a tramp."

Smile on his face at her confidence, he wasn't so oblivious that he couldn't anticipate what was coming next. She planted a soft peck on his jaw, slowly trailing up to his mouth. Hesitation and nerves crippled him momentarily, but this is what he wanted, wasn't it?

Caressing her hair, she emitted a satisfied 'mm' that he was on board and moved a thigh over to straddle him, gliding a solitary finger from his neck down to his trousers, as they embraced each other with a tentative yet exciting vigour.
He enjoyed a woman who was bold, and she enjoyed a man who wasn't so cocky all the time. She found his predicament and the manner in which he'd explained it strangely cute, and worthy of having her remedy the situation.

Pushing him further against the cushions, she was palming his cock now while he hadn't figured put where else to put his hands. Wanting to unzip his jeans so she could lick him, Georgia breathed that it was her favourite thing to do in his ear. Real power was the ability to get your partner so wound up by what you're doing to them, she thought, blowjobs are not submissive.

So when she did find the metal pull, Draco didn't quite know why he froze, and why he gently told her to stop even though he was rock solid.
"What's wrong? They won't interrupt us, don't worry," she sunk to the carpet and he was so turned on that he almost gave in. Almost.

"I just – fuck, there's something wrong with me. I can't do it," he whined, and she halted, shocked almost. "You're a great girl but I don't see us getting together, do you? Somehow I want that, to be dating the person I have sex with. I'd like to be able to hang out with you and not ruin this. That's the problem. I can't so easily just let go the way you can, you could shag me and not be weird tomorrow. God, how lame am I? What kind of a man…" he grunted an audible 'augh!', pulling out strands from his head in frustration, and thrusting his face in his hands.

"Draco...no, I don't want to be with you. I think you were right, I'm too independent to get attached right now. You're just being honest with yourself, you put stock in intimacy a lot more than me. And maybe that's why you haven't shagged Pansy or fucked random chicks," Georgia recovered, fixing her hair and sitting beside him, a bit embarrassed, a bit rejected.

"Well you're not random. You're lovely and you deserve much better than me," he said, resting his head on her shoulder. "I just know I would be unsettled in the morning, not because of you, because of my own hang-ups."

She pulled him down so he was lying on the sofa, smoothing down his hair soothingly with a spare hand while she hovered over top.

He really wasn't bad looking, she decided. He had the most unique eyes, was relatively fit, and he played up his fairness well by the way he dressed and styled his hair.
Oddly wanting him now, perhaps because he didn't want her, before now she was simply ready for anything, for something wild as she always was. Ultimately, she was chuffed that he wanted her in his life without merely wanting to bang. So she tried to salvage the night and continue like how it was before.

"I appreciate it, trust me. And I wish you the best in your quest for Eliza 2.0," she taunted jokingly, while he flipped up his middle finger. "Rude. Now, let's get you home and we can watch a movie or something. My house is empty and boring, and you live like 10 blocks away. And probably don't want to go alone."

He contemplated the offer for a second. Wasn't tired in the least.
"Alright, let's go."

"Alright, let's go."
Hermione and Ron had gotten into bed the same time Draco and Georgia did. Only they weren't having a James Bond marathon. They were naked.

Harry commandeered Ginny, so they had her whole flat to themselves. Possibilities and scarce opportunities too good to pass up, they'd already shagged on the couch twice, and had now decided to change scenes.

Ron shoved her onto the sheets, spreading her legs wide to lap at her already drenched clit, teasing a finger in her at the same rhythm he was licking so she was screaming with maximum bliss.

"Fuck me, fuck me again Ron," she begged.

This was what she needed, something to make her feel alive again. To feel sexy.

She hadn't expected that Ron would be so rough, he was normally gentle in everything he did. Seizing her by her stomach, he twisted her around from her starfish pose and motioned for her to get on her knees. She obeyed him without a fuss. He stood up from his position on the hard floor and proceeded pulling her back by the hips so she was level with him. He thrust into her easily, pounding her doggy-style, his favourite position. And now, hers.

"Your so hot," he growled at her pleasured mewls. "I've been waiting to do this forever."

"We should do this every night," she moaned.

The angle hit all the best spots, and she got her third release that night quickly, out of breath by the enthusiasm they put into it.

But he wasn't done yet, the first few fucks giving him a longer last to his endurance. He hoisted her torso up, craving more closeness to her. Massaging her tits, he was now able to bite her neck and she had the leverage to push back on his cock with delicious force. Ready to burst, he gave her all he had until he came inside, both of them collapsing in a heap.

She was intoxicated, but not completely idiotic. As Ron relaxed in a peaceful ecstasy she made her way to the living room. Waving her wand, she was using the contraception spells they'd learned in seventh year, protection one cast before they'd made love the initial time.

Returning to the boudoir with some crappy champagne and a new album to listen to, they slugged it back lazily, conserving what energy they had left. Before they succumbed to sleep, she got to ride him once more and he got a fantastic trip down south as a reward for being prolific at oral.

It was all well and good that they were thoroughly shagged that night, because in the morning a shitstorm was waiting for them.