Chapter 1 : One.
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This is my first fanfiction so I hope you guys like reading it because I loved writing it.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is part of the Harry Potter world it all belongs to the wonderful J.K Rowling. However much I wish it I am never ever going to own Draco Malfoy.
Please R&R :)
She shouldn’t have been drinking, she knew that. But a person can only cope with seeing Lavender Brown fawn all over Ron Weasley for so long without downing a few fire whiskeys. She had been determined to enjoy herself, not to let that whole thing ruin her night; which of course it had. She had honestly thought that he would have had a little more decency to tell Lavender to stop acting like a leech for one night; their graduation night. ‘Obviously not,’ she thought as Lavender conveniently launched herself at Ron and started kissing him with such ferocity that she was surprised they hadn’t gone flying backwards. ‘I need another drink.’ As she made her way over to the drinks table she glanced over at the rest of her friends. Harry was with Ginny and Neville had finally plucked up the courage to ask Luna out, yes it was a lovely little couple fest. She would have gone over but somehow the feeling of being the third wheel to three sets of couples wasn’t all that appealing. Picking up two tumblers of fire whisky she decided that she needed to get some fresh air, or at least escape from everyone else’s happiness.
Once outside the heavy doors of the Great Hall she took in a deep breath. Now that she had walked more than ten steps she realised just how drunk she was. The entrance hall swam in front of her and she blinked rapidly to try and bring it back into focus. She had only ever got drunk once before and that was at a family party, it wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience. This though was different, she felt free, as though whilst she felt like this it didn’t matter. Realising she still had the two drinks in her hand she smiled down at them and clinked them together, “cheers, here’s to a good night,” she said in a rather slurred voice. She giggled to herself and walked over to the large staircase, she remembered being sat here a few years ago, once again all thanks to Ron Weasley. As she lowered herself on to the third step she stumbled slightly nearly spilling the contents of one of the tumblers. “Oopsy daisy,” she said in a sing-song voice as she examined the glass to make sure nothing had been lost.
A rustling noise caught her attention; she spun round to see where it had come from, as she glanced along the top of the stair well she thought she saw a shadow disappear down the corridor. “Hello?” she called straining her neck to see if anyone was there. Contemplating whether to investigate what the mysterious rustling noise was she took a large swig of one of her fire whiskeys and set the empty glass down on the stair next to her. ‘Probably just Mrs Norris’ she thought as she nursed her last drink, if only she had a bottle with her. Just as she was about to get up and find a new place to wallow there came a new sound, one of footsteps. ‘Okay, there is definitely someone up there’. Picking up the hem of her dress she attempted to run up the stairs, which nearly resulted in her being back down at the bottom of them. Steadying herself she decided that a fast paced walk would be appropriate and she rounded the corner to try and find the source of this noise. “He-ll-oo?” she called again, louder. In her drunken state she felt rather giddy, ‘Someone wants me to find them’. The sober her would never have walked off on her own, even in the safety of Hogwarts, she was too sensible. This version of her however was quite excited, as though she was playing a game of hide and seek.
“Whoever you are, you would be my new best friend if you had a bottle of fire whisky with you,” she chimed, a sly smile sliding onto her face. The sound of a bottle being opened caused her to giggle; she took a sip from her remaining drink and walked forward swinging the hem of her dress around. The corridor was extremely dark, making it impossible for her to make out any shadow that might give away the persons whereabouts. “Come on stop hiding, let me see who you are,” her tone was teasing. She was surprising herself at how she was acting, definitely not her usual up tight self. A muffled clink sounded from round the corner and she smiled, she was close. Stopping to take another sip from her whiskey she noticed where this person had led her, when she rounded the corner she would be at the entrance to the room of requirement. ‘Interesting’, she thought, ‘So they actually want to be found’. Taking another sip, she walked round the corner. To her disappointment there was no-one there, whoever it was had obviously already entered the room. Knowing what she had to do she paced back and forth in front of the blank wall, something that was difficult due to the amount of alcohol she had consumed. ‘I need you to let me into the same room as the person before, I need you to let me in the same room as the person before, I need you to let me in the same room as the person before’. After the third time of chanting she heard a sort of whooshing noise, opening her eyes she was greeted with a beautifully carved mahogany door with an ornate handle ‘Fancy,’ she thought as she lifted it.
The room that she entered was just as beautiful as the door that concealed it. The walls were adorned with deep red hangings made of silk and the ceiling resembled an extravagant circus top in the same colour as the hangings. It had a feeling of grace, somewhat romantic. There was a bar at the far end of the room and she started to make her way over to it. There was still no sign of the mysterious person with the bottle and she was beginning to feel like she’d been tricked. “Okay, you obviously wanted me to follow you here so show yourself,” she shouted indignantly. Getting up off the barstool she had perched on she decided to investigate the other side of the room where there was a rather expensive looking chaise lounge. The sound of glass hitting wood stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t move a part of her didn’t want this little game to end.
“So what’s your poison?” a deep, sultry voice asked her. A shock ran through her body as she recognised who it belonged too. She lifted the glass up to her lips and took down the rest of the fire whiskey; the feeling of it alighting her insides gave her the confidence to turn around. She did it slowly, holding the glass out to the side in a nonchalant way so as to appear confident.
“Whatever it is that you’ve got in that bottle of yours,” she answered smiling coyly at him. A tremor of recognition flickered across his grey eyes; she wasn’t going to back down to his little game. He waved a bottle of fire whiskey around and grabbed two fresh tumblers from behind the bar. She had to admit that if she had much more to drink then she wouldn’t have much control over her actions, she was already acting way out of character. As she reached the bar she took in his appearance. His hair wasn’t in its usual slicked back style; it fell freely in a loose wave with rebellious strands dancing in front of his eyes. His suit jacket wasn’t done up and the top three buttons on his shirt were left open giving a sneak peek of the toned body that was hidden underneath. She felt herself go red as she registered these things and a smirk appeared on his face as if he knew what she was thinking.
“I didn’t think a girl like you would be drinking or for that matter up for a little game of hide and seek,” he stated handing her a tumbler, his hand grazing hers as he did so. She took a sip not breaking the eye contact; she could see her warm hazel eyes reflected in his steel grey ones.
“Well you know what they say, always look out for the quite ones,” she answered brushing a stray ringlet out of her face. He smirked again and took a sip from his own drink. “I didn’t see you in the Great Hall, didn’t want to join the party?” she asked him, teasingly.
He looked her dead in the eye and answered “I’ve always thought that the private parties are the best ones.” The atmosphere in the room was palpable; neither of them knew how far this little game of theirs would go.
She got up off the barstool and walked to the centre of the room. “I must give you credit, this room is beautiful, is this where you bring all the girls?” she asked giving him a challenging look.
He let out a dry laugh and walked to meet her. “Only the ones who are brave enough.” She gave him a questioning look and took another sip of her drink. ‘This could get very interesting,’ she thought as he continued to stare at her. He was standing very close, something which should have made her feel uncomfortable. Instead she felt excited, intrigued, knowing that she wasn’t acting like her normal self. A few moments passed and they did nothing but stare. As if they were silently daring each other to make the next move. ‘If only I could read his mind’.
Breaking the eye contact he walked over to an old fashioned gramophone, something which she had not noticed when she had entered the room. He placed the needle onto the vinyl disc that lay waiting; once the crackling noise had subsided a soft woman’s voice began to sing over the top of a beautiful melody. He turned to face her. “Oh how very cliché of you,” she teased before he’d even asked her to dance. He laughed but this time it was warm with whiskey. Taking her hand in his he pulled her into him and placed his free hand on the small of her back. The firmness of his arms and the smell of his rich cologne made her body tingle as they fell into a rhythm. Neither of them spoke, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. ‘This is crazy,” she thought, it was obviously all down to the fire whiskey. The song was beautiful, the lyrics telling a story of passion and love. They danced in silence, as though talking might break a secret spell only they knew about.
The song came to an end and she took the opportunity to break away from him. He gave her a look of mock hurt. “I think we should have another drink,” she told him, walking over to the bar. She leant over the bar to retrieve the fire whiskey and as she straightened herself back up she felt his hands on her waist.
“You know I’m starting to like this side of you,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling the nape of her neck. Not bothering with a glass she took a few gulps straight from the bottle. She manoeuvred herself so that she was facing him and held the bottle up for him to take. As he took a drink she noticed how chiselled his jaw was. Putting the bottle down he placed both hands on the bar so that she was essentially trapped. ‘If you think it’s going to be that easy’ she thought to herself and gave him another coy smile.
“It’s getting rather warm in here, why don’t you take your jacket off?” she asked whilst slipping her hands inside his jacket and placing them on his broad shoulders. He smiled and stood up straight. She slipped the jacket off his shoulders and swung it over the bar. “That’s better,” she said biting her lip as she took in his masculine physique. ‘And he still wants to play,’ she thought as he dragged the bottle off the bar and casually lifted it to his lips. She giggled and walked around to the back of the bar, she was surprised to find it fully stocked. Searching for another bottle of fire whiskey she looked at him from the corner of her eye, he was showing no signs no faltering and she was determined to see how far this would go.
Emerging from behind the bar she motioned to him that they now each had their own bottle. He lifted his up in recognition and sauntered to the middle of the room. It was quite clear that the whiskey was affecting him as well. He withdrew his wand from his trouser pocket and flicked it in the direction of the gramophone, the vinyl disc swapped with another and a new song filled the room. With another flick he turned the volume down so that it was background music.
The fire whiskey had now taken full control of her actions and she began to sway to the music as he spread himself out on the chaise lounge. She was aware that he was watching her but she didn’t care, she wanted him too. After spinning around one to many times she stopped, steadying herself and allowed the room to refocus. He was still watching her. She let out a loud laugh and gulped more whiskey from the bottle.
“I must say this you, well it suits you,” he told her, waving his hand in her direction.
She cocked her head and looked at him. “Oh really? And why is that?” she asked biting her lip. He rose from the chaise lounge and took a step toward her.
“I don’t know,” he pondered. “I think it makes you kind of sexy,” he finished giving her a smouldering look. ‘Sexy,’ she thought, ‘Certainly haven’t been called that before’. She considered him, with his blond hair, steely grey eyes, gorgeous body and he was calling her sexy.
“Well, you aren’t too bad yourself,” she said as he took another step towards her. The atmosphere was electric and she took another swig from the bottle to calm herself down.
“The dress does help of course,” he said as his eyes swept down her body, appreciatively. She had chosen the dress wisely. Knowing that it would accentuate her new more womanly figure she had liked the way it cinched in at the waist and tapered out below her thighs and with its blood red colour she had hope it would catch Ron’s attention. Shaking her head so as to get Ron from her mind she had another drink and thought smugly ‘Well it certainly caught someone’s attention’.
He was extremely close to her now, only a few inches between them. They both had another drink, everything felt very surreal. “Have you ever felt like that before?” he asked, a hint of seriousness in his voice, she shook her head. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek bone and she felt as though her whole body was on fire. “You deserve to feel that way,” he told her tracing his fingers down her neck, across her collarbone and down her arm. She could feel her breath becoming shorter, she didn’t want him to win; she needed to get him back for that.
“And what about you?” she asked. “Obviously you’ve been made to feel that way.” He gave her a knowing smile and she laughed smuttily. She looked into his eyes; she really wanted to get him, like he had just got her. “But have you really?” she asked lifting her hand up and touching his chest where his buttons were open. “I mean have you really, really been made to feel that way?” she asked again undoing the rest of his shirt buttons. She didn’t look up at him but admired his toned torso, running her hand across it. He grabbed her hand and lifted it up to his mouth.
“No I haven’t,” he answered barely above a whisper. “Not like this.” She smiled, ‘Got you’, she thought and began to lift the whiskey bottle for another drink. He stopped her. He dropped the bottle he was holding on the floor and snaked his arms around her, she bit her lip and looked at his mouth.
“Does this mean I’ve won then?” she asked mock-innocently. This taunt seemed to work and he chuckled. Brushing her chestnut curls off her shoulder he lowered his lips onto her neck and left a trail of the lightest kisses all the way up to her jaw. Each kiss was like a tiny electric shock to her and she couldn’t believe how right it felt to have him kissing her.
“No I don’t think it does,” he whispered softly in her ear.
He lifted his head so that their noses were almost touching; their breathing had become extremely shallow. Without any hesitation his lips met hers. She could taste the fire whiskey on his breath as the kiss grew deeper; she dropped her bottle next to his for ten bottles of fire whiskey could not make her feel the way his kiss could. His lips were surprisingly soft, he didn’t overpower her in fact it was as if he was reacting to every movement she made and every breath that she caught. It wasn’t rough; it was deep and passionate. The smell of the fire whiskey mixed with his cologne and she had never known the feeling of want to be so strong. As his hands roamed her tangled curls she ran hers over his toned back, gripping at him as he pulled her in tighter. The moment in the Great Hall was forgotten, all she knew was him.
She broke away, breathing heavily. He looked at her, his eyes full of emotion, full of feeling; an odd but rousing sight. She pulled at his shirt until it lay discarded on the floor and fervently kissed his shoulders, his chest and his neck. She stared at him and he stared back, lost in the moment. Slowly lifting his hands they grazed her shoulders and he lowered the straps on her dress and repaid her with tiny fluttering kisses. She yearned for him, wanted to feel his lips on hers once more.
He lifted a hand and cupped her face, “Hermione,” he breathed and guided her hands round his neck. He kissed her just below her right ear, a lingering, intense kiss and it felt as though every nerve in her body was alive.
“Draco,” she whispered back guiding his head so that there wasn’t even an inch between them. His lips crashed on to hers with no pretence of hesitation, he wanted her. She fell in against his strong body. This time the kiss was powerful, almost as if this was the thing keeping them alive. He stopped abruptly and she nearly fell forward. She gave him a quizzical look but he didn’t breath a word. He lifted her into his arms and carried her over to chaise lounge. Giving her another smouldering look he lowered himself down next to her and kissed her with such force it knocked the breath out of her. She took a moment to get her breath back and he smiled at her; a teasing, drunken but ultimately loving smile. She smiled back at him and bit her lip once more knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist it and sure enough he was kissing her again, passionately, fiercely and tenderly all at the same time.
And she thought ‘This isn’t a game anymore.’