Hermione found she enjoyed the club's ambiance much more than the first time.
Yes, the music was still loud, and the space was too crowded.
But this time, she knew what to expect and it didn't catch her off-guard.
There was also the anticipation of who she would meet there.
She had a dark teal party dress that had a high neck, but no sleeves. She transfigured the skirt slightly shorter and wore it with black stockings. Sophisticated with a coquettish flair.
It was Tuesday and going out at midnight when Hermione had work the next day was incredibly foolish.
Never in a thousand years could Hermione have imagined herself doing something like this.
Of course Pansy knew it, too. This was another one of her tests, to see if Hermione was bad enough. It was a dare, really.
But if Hermione didn't show up tonight, would she ever see Pansy again?
Twice now, their encounters had been rather serendipitous.
And twice, they'd been interrupted; once by Ginny and once by Mr. Blotts. But how far would things go if they had a whole uninterrupted night?
Something in Hermione yearned to know.
She wanted to push her limits and explore this new territory filled with mystery and passion and a naughtiness that was very novel.
There was also a deep desire to prove Pansy wrong. The little moments when Hermione caught Pansy out of sorts. When Pansy's eyes widened and her perfect lips parted against her will. It made Hermione feel incredibly triumphant.
She wanted to keep seeing that expression because it meant Hermione was at least winning at some of whatever this game was.
Hermione moved through the dancers, scanning the crowd.
Would Pansy stand her up?
Hermione half hoped she would.
Then she could move on with her life.
She would be free of these mind games, free of thoughts of Pansy that plagued her constantly; of Pansy's touches and Pansy's scent and Pansy's soft moans when Hermione had kissed her.
Being ghosted- while thoroughly humiliating- would be proof enough that all this folly was for naught, and Hermione could put it all behind her and go back to her regular life-
A hand warmed Hermione's shoulder.
She turned.
Pansy was wearing black trousers and the same blazer she'd worn earlier that day- though this time, there was nothing underneath.
Hermione's pulse raced as she shyly eyed the curves of Pansy's inner breasts.
Her hair was slicked back and her lips were blood red.
Pansy's face moved towards Hermione's with ease.
When their lips locked, Hermione felt something smooth and hard shoot into her mouth and ricochet down her oesophagus.
She swallowed on reflex and coughed repeatedly, nearly choking.
"Argh- What-"
Pansy held Hermione's jaw and pressed a finger to her lips.
Hermione noticed her nails had been trimmed short, though they still gleamed a glossy black.
Something wicked gleamed in Pansy's eyes.
And then they kissed.
And swayed.
Pansy's tongue was hot and wet. It parted Hermione's lips smoothly and seamlessly.
Hands were threaded into Hermione's hair.
Hermione grabbed at Pansy's jacket lapels.
The lights started to slow, the bass pulsed harder and the Fudlops started taking effect.
Hermione was no longer moving to the music- the music moved her.
Pansy's pupils were huge. Her lips looked like fire. Her skin seemed to shine.
Other bodies moved against theirs as the club came alive.
Every touch burned and then was cold. The sensations were too much and not enough.
I want you. Oh god, I want you.
Hermione didn't know how long they'd been dancing for. It felt like they were in a time capsule, buried deep underground where no one could find them for years and years.
At several points they did shots at the bar.
Hermione didn't remember paying for any of them.
Some seared her throat with cinnamon and fire.
Others cooled her with mint and cream.
Mostly, she and Pansy danced and grinded and touched and explored each other and the whole world was a blur of colors and sensations.
After a decade (or was it a second?), Hermione looked around. Everyone moved as one, moulding into one another, limbs jutting in and out of a wave of bodies. Lots of people were staring, blissful smiles on their faces.
But of course they were staring. Pansy was beautiful. Ethereal. A goddess of the Underworld.
Hermione slipped a hand into Pansy's jacket and squeezed a bare breast. Pansy's head fell back, her neck long and exposed.
She looked like she was moaning though nothing could be heard over the sound.
I want you, oh please, oh please.
"Dykie Cunts!"
Hermione jolted as a Purple Hat passed over their heads, shouting more profanities.
And Hermione laughed.
She laughed and laughed because how absurd!
She was drunk off her arse, high on drugs, in a club, dancing and snogging her old school bully. It was all very ludacris.
Hermione Granger, Honors Graduate of Hogwarts, Junior Assistant to the Minister and Order of Merlin first class for aiding in saving the Wizarding World was a Dykie Cunt indeed.
Pansy pulled her close and she felt vibrations in Pansy's chest and she couldn't feel anything else as she laughed until she was gasping for breath and tears rolled out of her eyes.
And then she looked up in Pansy's face and Pansy was grinning and nothing had ever looked so beautiful.
I want you so bad.
She'd thought it.
But maybe she'd said it?
Because Pansy was now looking at her with an intensity that could bend anyone to her will.
She took Hermione's hand and led her through the dancers.
They crashed through a bathroom stall, and Pansy banged the door shut behind them.
And then, Hermione was pressed against the wall and Pansy was kissing her hard and fast. Hands were everywhere. Shoulders, necks, breasts, thighs. Tongues intertwined in sloppy, needy urgency.
Hermione was gasping for breath.
A hand was up her skirt, wrenching her knickers aside.
"Oh god, oh god, yes yes yes!"
Hot fingers between her nether lips.
Drenched in an instant.
"Fuck. Do you know how long I've wanted to touch you like this?" Pansy crooned in Hermione's ear.
Hermione bucked as a wet thumb began to slide over her clit over and over and over.
"Please…please d-don't…stop-"
Pansy chuckled, deep in her throat.
"I wouldn't dream of it. You look so pretty when you're begging, little plaything."
Hermione let out a sharp cry as Pansy's thumb started rubbing faster and harder.
"I would've fingered your cunt in the bookstore. Gotten you dripping over all your lovely books. Would you have liked that?"
"Y-yes…oh, yesss," Hermione whispered.
"Louder," Pansy demanded and pushed two fingers slowly inside Hermione's heat.
"Yes!"
Hermione immediately arched and keened.
It didn't matter that they were in a public stall. Hermione was sick and tired of waiting to get off and she was far too inebriated by a million things to care.
She whined and moaned loudly as Pansy's fingers curled and roughly rubbed down on just the right spot inside her.
"Oh, oh!"
Pansy pressed harder, and moved quicker.
It was mind blowing.
It was like Pansy knew exactly where to press.
But of course she did, she had all the same parts, after all.
Pansy moved with an expertise that was exacting and adept. It was like she knew what Hermione craved before even Hermione herself did. Knew what Hermione needed.
Hermione clutched at Pansy's shoulders, feeling a familiar pressure building in her abdomen.
She was at Pansy's mercy, too far gone, too sloshed, too drugged, too stimulated, too everything to do anything.
Pansy pressed her palm against Hermione's clit, eliciting a ragged gasp.
"God oh god, please, please, please!"
Hermione rocked her hips against it.
"There's one more thing that only bad girls do. Do you think you can handle it?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes-"
"Can you be my bad little girl, Granger?"
"Anything! Anything, please, just-"
"Then come for me."
"Ahn! I'm- I'm-"
Pansy's fingers started rubbing aggressively hard and something in the viciousness of it all broke Hermione down.
"Yessss!"
She arched and threw her head back and cried out and came, oh, finally, finally she came, right on command.
It was exquisite and it rocked her whole body and she shivered all over.
And then Pansy was kissing her and had anything ever tasted so good?
They broke apart after a lifetime and Hermione realised her lips felt raw but didn't care because everything else felt so satisfied.
"Let's get a smoke. Club's closing soon," Pansy murmured.
"But- but what about you? I want to-"
Hermione reached for Pansy's trousers but she was stopped by a hand.
"Ah, ah. Toys are meant to be played with, they don't do the playing."
Hermione felt the sting of rejection, though it was soothed a little as Pansy tucked a sweaty strand of hair behind Hermione's ear with surprising fondness.
They went outside and had a smoke.
They were on the edge of the night, as they stumbled down the sidewalk, arms linked to keep from drunkenly falling.
Hermione felt calmer. She inhaled the air and could almost taste how fresh it was, compared to the smoky heaviness of the club.
"You're taking the Knight Bus home?" Hermione asked, a faint slur in her words. She realised she'd lost count of how many shots they'd had.
Pansy snorted loudly.
"God no, that thing is for the poor."
Hermione laughed, almost falling face down until Pansy yanked her back.
"You're such a snob."
Pansy smirked and shoved Hermione against a nearby brick wall. She smelled of sex, smoke and cherry. Hermione inhaled and tilted her head back, basking in it.
"Want to come back to mine?"
Hermione's eyes widened. She suddenly felt quite shy.
"To- to yours? Yes, of course. Yes, I accept."
"No need to be so official," Pansy teased and Hermione felt her face heat up.
Pansy nails dug into Hermione's arms.
"Hang on then."
"But how're you going to-"
A loud crack and they both Disparated.
When they appeared, something hard slammed into Hermione's leg and there was a loud crash.
"Ow!"
Hermione had fallen hard on some kind of wood floor and Pansy was cackling.
"Pansy!" Hermione shouted, sobering instantly, "You can't do that drunk, you could've splinched!"
They were both splayed on the ground, next to a table that had been knocked over. Pieces of what looked like a rather priceless antique vase were shattered all around them.
"S'fine, done it a million times," Pansy answered loudly, pulling out her wand and vanishing the mess.
She pulled Hermione up to her feet.
Hermione discovered that they were right in the middle of a very elegant, Victorian-style sitting room. Purple and grey carpets, high ceilings and long cream curtains that let moonlight stream through.
"Pansy!" Hermione whispered harshly. It was hard to focus. Everything was spinning. "Your parents'll hear us!"
Pansy laughed again, heading to a glass cabinet and pulling out two bottles of something expensive.
"Mum is getting sloshed on wine until she passes out in Italy and Father is probably shagging his mistress. You have nothing to worry about."
Hermione stared in shock.
Pansy sighed in exasperation.
"Come on, Granger. Who cares about them, let's go have fun and make a ruckus."
Pansy took a swig of whatever was in one of the bottles (when had she even opened it?), and thrust the rest into Hermione's arms.
Hermione let Pansy tug her away, up a spinning staircase (was it spinning? Or was it just Hermione's head that was spinning?)
Next thing Hermione knew, she was flat on her back, in some kind of bed, and an offensive light was batting at her closed eyelids.
She had the worst headache of her life.
Opening her eyes proved to be a painful challenge.
Light stabbed her vision and she groaned.
What was happening?
She sat up slowly.
Her head was killing her.
It took her three whole minutes to realise she wasn't in her own bed.
It took another two minutes for her to remember the events of the previous night-or at least some of it.
It took her a split second more to realise she had work today and was currently most definitely late.
"Oh sodding sod!" She cried out, jumping out of bed. She squeaked, realising she was wearing nothing but her bra, knickers and stockings. She crouched down frantically, sorting through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor for her wand.
"Still here, are you?" A muffled voice came from under the puffy duvet.
A dishevelled Pansy peeked through bleary eyes over the top.
"How could I've been so stupid as to forget an alarm! Complete and utter debauchery! Should've been more- where is my wand?"
Pansy yawned.
"Call in sick, why don't you?"
Hermione whipped around, scandalised.
"Call in- Are you mad? I've so much to do! And I'm not sick, I've just- just had a bit of a setback is all and- ah! There it is!"
Hermione retrieved her wand sticking out from a flower pot and waved it hastily.
Her clothes on the floor vanished. Her work clothes appeared on her body, though a little haphazardly. Her arm and head were pushed through her shirt's head hole and her socks were on her hands. Even her magic was disoriented today.
Pansy guffawed loudly.
"Have you ever called in sick a day in your life, Granger? You do know that's a thing right?"
Hermione huffed while noisily Scourgifying her armpits under her shirt.
"Kinglsey is counting on me! And anyway, I want to be at work, we have a fascinating document on Niffler Law that's about to be published and I have a memo on subsidised supplies for Dragon Tamers-"
Pansy yawned again, making a show of it.
"Spare me. I'm going back to sleep."
Hermione enviously watched the tousled black hair roll over and disappear beneath the duvet.
Finally managing to charm her hair adequately flat, Hermione grabbed her bag and dived for the Floo powder on the mantelpiece. The fire ignited immediately.
"This was fun, Granger. We should do it again."
Hermione felt her stomach do a flip. She didn't have time to think what that entailed. She badly had to go.
"I'd like that," she blurted out, without thinking.
She hurriedly stepped into the flames.
/
Hermione had huge chunks of memory missing from the night before.
A closer inspection in the workplace bathroom mirror revealed multiple red splotches around her neck which could only be love bites.
Her headache persisted the entire day along with bouts of nausea.
She submitted the wrong document and spent a good hour backtracking.
She misspelt a couple of words and almost split her third coffee on the secretary.
Often she would have to retreat to the loo just to let some of her nausea pass.
She couldn't stomach food, so she bought a fourth coffee at a little cafe nearby.
Prior to her breakup with Ron, she'd had lunch every day with him and Harry, who was, of course, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
It had been like a dream come true to be able to still see her two best friends every day.
But after she and Ron had split, it had been too painful. She still loved him, after all.
So now, she ate in her office with Kingsley, or went for a coffee.
Speaking of which, all day long Kingsley kept shooting her looks and she had to assure him three times she was fine.
"Can you take these documents to Padma Patil? It's the signatures for the Department of Magical Cooperation regarding our German guests."
Hermione took the papers with a firm nod, noting that this day couldn't get any worse.
She tried to look as amenable as possible despite her headache, as she entered Padma's office.
She didn't know if anything had come of Padma and Ron since Harry's birthday.
In fact, Hermione tried to avoid Ron as much as possible- which wasn't always easy since he was currently employed in the Department of Sports and Games. Working at the Ministry almost felt like Hogwarts again, considering the comical amount of alumni that had migrated here.
Still, what Ron did or didn't do with Padma was none of Hermione's business anymore. It was important that Hermione kept things strictly professional when she was under the Ministry's roof.
"Helloi Padma, here are the documents you requested."
Padma looked up from her scrolls and gave Hermione a stony look.
"Thanks."
There was an awkward pause.
Hermione didn't know if she should say anything. But was it her responsibility to break the ice? Wasn't it Padma that owed her a sort of contrived statement for snogging Hermione's ex, two weeks after their breakup?
Padma opened her mouth and suddenly, Hermione's stomach was swept with a new wave of nausea.
Scowling, Hermione thrust the papers on the desk with a quick "Good day," before pelting from the room and making a beeline for the loo.
It was one of the worst days of Hermione's life.
Never again would she do this to herself on a weekday. Never ever.
When she got home, she raided her potions cabinet and took a Pepper Up potion, a Wideye potion and an Invigoration Draught.
She took a long shower, scrubbing away all the grime of the last twenty-four hours that felt caked to her skin despite her hasty Scourgifies.
That all helped a little and then she settled in, ordered a pizza and proceeded to eat the whole thing while watching the Muggle news.
After she'd finished, she finally could process.
What the hell was wrong with her?
What was she doing, galavanting off to a nightclub on a Tuesday? Doing drugs and dancing erotically on a dancefloor? Letting someone drunkenly Apparate her and then dowsing herself with alcohol to the point of a blackout?
She couldn't make this a regular occurance.
In fact, she should really never do it again.
It was debauchery far too advanced for her.
It put her job in jeopardy, ruined her health, made her sluggish, which she hated.
Did she regret it?
She thought of how Pansy had looked at her.
It felt like time had frozen just for the two of them as they danced and partied the night away.
Hermione would have never experienced anything like that if it wasn't for Pansy, and Hermione found she was grateful for it.
The whole experience felt incredibly selfish, but it's true that Hermione didn't often let loose for the sheer rush of it. It just wasn't logical.
But it felt good.
A shiver tickled Hermione's spine as she remembered what Pansy had done to her in the bathroom stall. How Pansy's touch had unravelled her.
Hermione had never come before by simply being fingered. It wasn't that Ron was a bad lover, per-say. It was just that he needed to be coached quite a bit on how her anatomy worked.
But Pansy just knew.
And what happened after they'd Apparated at Pansy's home?
After they'd gone upstairs it was all a blank.
Had they had sex?
How humiliating to do that with someone for the first time, and not recall anything.
Had Hermione been awful at it?
This was fun, Granger. We should do this again.
Those weren't the parting words of someone who had had a bad time. In fact, quite the opposite.
Could it be (and Hermione blushed hard at the thought) that Hermione was spectacular in bed? Maybe she'd pulled some daring feats that she wouldn't've dreamed of doing sober.
She brushed her teeth, magicked her pyjamas on and fell asleep playing with herself, thinking of all the erotic possibilities that she couldn't remember and wondered if Pansy was doing the same.
/