(Very very late) Gift exchange fic for daughterjudy
Title: Drinking in the dark (a gift fic for daughterjudy)
Summary: Hermione just wanted to be alone and drink alone. And then he had to start showing up. Based on daughterjudy’s prompt ‘At a pub’
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Hermione (past mentions of a few other varied relationships)
Genre: Slight angst
Beta: Fairy//scarletladyy, who is amazing and I can't thank enough :)
Rating/Warnings: Strong PG-13. Implied sex, a couple naughty words
Word Count: 1,528
Author’s Notes: Jaime, I hope you like this! I’m so sorry it took me so long. I kept starting fics and then discarding them, until I finally settled on this. I hope it is somewhat worth the wait! :)
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure!
It was dark and musky, the way she liked it these days. More importantly, it was quiet and empty, which was even more the way she liked it these days.
She made her way over to the bar, nodded her head at the barkeep, and less than thirty seconds later was sipping on her pint of Firewhiskey. Again, just as she liked it these days.
Until the sound of the front door opening cut through the peaceful silence and the sound of footsteps making their way across the floor interrupted her evening plans of drinking alone.
The footsteps stopped next to her. She saw the patent leather dark brown shoes, and she lifted her eyes.
She glared at the figure beside her, his white-gold hair seeming like an overly bright ray of sunshine in the bleak surroundings.
How was that even possible anyway?
She couldn’t help herself.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone biting and bitter, trying to make it entirely too clear she was not pleased to see him.
He turned, stared her up and down.
“What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“And I asked you second.”
She huffed. “What does it look like I’m doing here?”
He didn’t answer, just turned to the barkeep and ordered himself a drink that matched hers. Then he sat down on the stool beside her.
“Really?” she practically hissed at him.
He shrugged. “I don’t see your name on it.”
•••
“Two nights in a row?” She glared at the man ordering a drink, once again taking a seat next to her. She was already two drinks in and working on a third, and she had been content and blissful in her solitude, apart from the barkeep who by now knew never to ask her questions. Or even try to talk to her. Or come close to her.
This man knew no such thing apparently.
“I don’t see your name on the door,” the man said. He barely glanced at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means? You don’t own this pub. I do believe I am allowed to frequent it, if I want.”
“Aren’t there other pubs you could frequent? This doesn’t seem like a place for someone with your stature.” She practically spit out the words.
Now he turned to her, looked her directly in the eyes, then stared her up and down.
“And this doesn’t seem like a place for someone like you, either. Is there not a library you should be visiting instead?”
“Shut up, Malfoy. I wanted to be alone.”
“What? The libraries were too crowded, Granger?”
The way he said her name, so mocking and sneering …
She glared again. “Maybe I wanted a drink.”
“Maybe I did, too.”
“No, really,” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “Why are you here?”
She glared more as she waited for an answer, chugged back her Firewhiskey and raised her hand to signal for another one.
He shrugged. “Maybe I just feel like being here.”
•••
“That’s it.” She stood up before he could sit down. “I’m leaving.”
He didn’t seem fazed. He took the seat he’d been taking for the past two days.
“If you have to,” he said.
She glared. “I shouldn’t have to. You should have to. I was here first.”
“What? You think this pub can somehow survive on your patronage alone?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You act like it.”
“Look.” She gestured around the empty pub. “There are plenty of seats. Go somewhere else.”
“I like this one.”
He took a sip of the Firewhiskey the barkeep handed him, and signaled for the man to give Hermione a new one as well.
She groaned, but she found herself sitting back down.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered. “Have you not tortured me enough in my life? Why are you here and not out at some fancy party with your beautiful fiancée, showing off how perfect and amazing your life is?”
“Maybe my life is not so perfect and amazing.”
She scoffed. “Doubtful. Successful and respected career? Check. Beautiful and respected fiancée? Check. Friends, money and prestige? Check.”
She nodded at the barkeep as he handed her another glass, chugged the drink back.
Malfoy was staring at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. She took another drink.
“What?” she said uneasily. “It’s true.”
“I could have said the same thing about you,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
He stared pointedly at her. “I could have said the same thing about you,” he repeated. “Just two months ago. Fabulous career, madly in love with the man of your dreams and planning the perfect wedding, friends who adored you …”
He paused. She drank.
“And now look at you,” he said. “Career a little off-course because of one stupid mistake, a man who cheated on you with one of your best friends, friends who somehow took his side … and here you are now, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age, drinking herself into a coma every night at some hole-in-the-wall pub.”
She downed the rest of her drink, avoided Malfoy’s gaze. Anything to hide the tears she felt beginning to well.
She summoned up her fury.
“Your point?”
He shrugged. “Not everything is how it seems. All I’m saying.”
•••
“Fine,” she said. It had been two days since their last talk. “Everything isn’t sunshine and roses with Astoria, I take it.”
He glanced at her. “So now you want to talk?”
“Well, you keep coming in and you keep sitting next to me. What the bloody hell else do you suggest?”
He shrugged. “Fine. It’s not sunshine and roses.”
“I thought you loved her?”
“I like her just fine.”
“Hmmmm.” Hermione took a drink. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“You think?” Malfoy scoffed. He signaled to the barkeep for another round for them both.
“Why do you stay with her?”
“Because it’s expected.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
He turned to her. It was his turn to glare.
“Really?” He sneered at her, his eyes dark. “Why do you think Weasley stayed with you when he was banging Lovegood on the side for months? Sometimes things are expected.”
She went to slap him. He caught her wrist.
She thought he’d push her hand away. Instead, he drew her toward him, leaned toward her. She didn’t move away, just waited. His lips attacked hers, hard and furious.
She gasped, now pushing him away.
“What the bloody hell, Malfoy?” she cried.
He shrugged. “Just wanted to see what Weasley gave up.”
•••
“You should tell Astoria.”
“I should tell Astoria what?”
“What we’re doing.” Hermione wiped a hand across her mouth, not that it mattered. Her lipstick was smeared now anyway, some of it on Draco’s face.
“Why?”
“Because she deserves to know.”
“She’s fine.”
Hermione gestured for a new drink, finished off the one she had.
“I doubt that.”
“She’s fucking Blaise Zabini. She’s fine.”
“Oh.” Hermione thanked the barkeep for her drink, swallowed it down. “Then why are you still together?”
“Our parents expect it.”
“It’s not their life.”
Draco snorted. “I’m a Malfoy. It is their life.”
“Even if you don’t want it?”
“Even if I don’t want it.”
He took a drink. So did she.
“But if you could do what you want,” she said, “what would you do?”
“Right now?”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
He smirked at her. “Well,” he said, “for starters, I’d follow you into the ladies’ room, push your knickers to the side, put my fingers inside you and watch you come. And then I’d go from there.”
Hermione finished off her drink, put it down, stared at Draco.
“Interesting,” she said. “Meet me in the ladies’ room in five.”
••
“So is this really what we’re doing with our lives?”
Draco glanced at her, ordered a drink.
“What are you talking about?”
She gestured between the two of them, at the pile of glasses in front of her. As usual, she had a huge head start.
“You. Me. A dingy pub. Having sex in a truly disgusting bathroom every day after work.”
Draco took his drink with a smile.
“You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem.” She ordered another drink, turned back to Draco. “I asked if we’re really doing this.”
“Why?” he said again. “Do you need to give it a fancy title?”
“No,” she said. “Just don’t want to show up someday and see you banging some other patron. That’s all. Been there, done that. Not really interested in doing it again.”
He nodded. “I get that. Same goes for you, of course.”
“Fair enough.”
“Then, yeah.” Draco lifted his drink. “This is what we’re doing with our lives.”
She lifted her drink as well. “Okay then.”
“Okay?”
“Yup. Okay.”
She clinked her glass with his, smirked at him.
“But you should drink up,” she said. “Because now that we’re doing this, I feel comfortable telling you I’m not wearing any knickers.”
Draco drained his glass.
“I’m yours,” he said.
She smiled.
“I know.”
Kristine | Puff | 51 points
Summary: Hermione just wanted to be alone and drink alone. And then he had to start showing up. Based on daughterjudy’s prompt ‘At a pub’
Characters/Pairings: Draco/Hermione (past mentions of a few other varied relationships)
Genre: Slight angst
Beta: Fairy//scarletladyy, who is amazing and I can't thank enough :)
Rating/Warnings: Strong PG-13. Implied sex, a couple naughty words
Word Count: 1,528
Author’s Notes: Jaime, I hope you like this! I’m so sorry it took me so long. I kept starting fics and then discarding them, until I finally settled on this. I hope it is somewhat worth the wait! :)
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure!
It was dark and musky, the way she liked it these days. More importantly, it was quiet and empty, which was even more the way she liked it these days.
She made her way over to the bar, nodded her head at the barkeep, and less than thirty seconds later was sipping on her pint of Firewhiskey. Again, just as she liked it these days.
Until the sound of the front door opening cut through the peaceful silence and the sound of footsteps making their way across the floor interrupted her evening plans of drinking alone.
The footsteps stopped next to her. She saw the patent leather dark brown shoes, and she lifted her eyes.
She glared at the figure beside her, his white-gold hair seeming like an overly bright ray of sunshine in the bleak surroundings.
How was that even possible anyway?
She couldn’t help herself.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone biting and bitter, trying to make it entirely too clear she was not pleased to see him.
He turned, stared her up and down.
“What are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“And I asked you second.”
She huffed. “What does it look like I’m doing here?”
He didn’t answer, just turned to the barkeep and ordered himself a drink that matched hers. Then he sat down on the stool beside her.
“Really?” she practically hissed at him.
He shrugged. “I don’t see your name on it.”
•••
“Two nights in a row?” She glared at the man ordering a drink, once again taking a seat next to her. She was already two drinks in and working on a third, and she had been content and blissful in her solitude, apart from the barkeep who by now knew never to ask her questions. Or even try to talk to her. Or come close to her.
This man knew no such thing apparently.
“I don’t see your name on the door,” the man said. He barely glanced at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What do you think it means? You don’t own this pub. I do believe I am allowed to frequent it, if I want.”
“Aren’t there other pubs you could frequent? This doesn’t seem like a place for someone with your stature.” She practically spit out the words.
Now he turned to her, looked her directly in the eyes, then stared her up and down.
“And this doesn’t seem like a place for someone like you, either. Is there not a library you should be visiting instead?”
“Shut up, Malfoy. I wanted to be alone.”
“What? The libraries were too crowded, Granger?”
The way he said her name, so mocking and sneering …
She glared again. “Maybe I wanted a drink.”
“Maybe I did, too.”
“No, really,” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “Why are you here?”
She glared more as she waited for an answer, chugged back her Firewhiskey and raised her hand to signal for another one.
He shrugged. “Maybe I just feel like being here.”
•••
“That’s it.” She stood up before he could sit down. “I’m leaving.”
He didn’t seem fazed. He took the seat he’d been taking for the past two days.
“If you have to,” he said.
She glared. “I shouldn’t have to. You should have to. I was here first.”
“What? You think this pub can somehow survive on your patronage alone?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You act like it.”
“Look.” She gestured around the empty pub. “There are plenty of seats. Go somewhere else.”
“I like this one.”
He took a sip of the Firewhiskey the barkeep handed him, and signaled for the man to give Hermione a new one as well.
She groaned, but she found herself sitting back down.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered. “Have you not tortured me enough in my life? Why are you here and not out at some fancy party with your beautiful fiancée, showing off how perfect and amazing your life is?”
“Maybe my life is not so perfect and amazing.”
She scoffed. “Doubtful. Successful and respected career? Check. Beautiful and respected fiancée? Check. Friends, money and prestige? Check.”
She nodded at the barkeep as he handed her another glass, chugged the drink back.
Malfoy was staring at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable. She took another drink.
“What?” she said uneasily. “It’s true.”
“I could have said the same thing about you,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
He stared pointedly at her. “I could have said the same thing about you,” he repeated. “Just two months ago. Fabulous career, madly in love with the man of your dreams and planning the perfect wedding, friends who adored you …”
He paused. She drank.
“And now look at you,” he said. “Career a little off-course because of one stupid mistake, a man who cheated on you with one of your best friends, friends who somehow took his side … and here you are now, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our age, drinking herself into a coma every night at some hole-in-the-wall pub.”
She downed the rest of her drink, avoided Malfoy’s gaze. Anything to hide the tears she felt beginning to well.
She summoned up her fury.
“Your point?”
He shrugged. “Not everything is how it seems. All I’m saying.”
•••
“Fine,” she said. It had been two days since their last talk. “Everything isn’t sunshine and roses with Astoria, I take it.”
He glanced at her. “So now you want to talk?”
“Well, you keep coming in and you keep sitting next to me. What the bloody hell else do you suggest?”
He shrugged. “Fine. It’s not sunshine and roses.”
“I thought you loved her?”
“I like her just fine.”
“Hmmmm.” Hermione took a drink. “That doesn’t sound promising.”
“You think?” Malfoy scoffed. He signaled to the barkeep for another round for them both.
“Why do you stay with her?”
“Because it’s expected.”
“That’s a stupid reason.”
He turned to her. It was his turn to glare.
“Really?” He sneered at her, his eyes dark. “Why do you think Weasley stayed with you when he was banging Lovegood on the side for months? Sometimes things are expected.”
She went to slap him. He caught her wrist.
She thought he’d push her hand away. Instead, he drew her toward him, leaned toward her. She didn’t move away, just waited. His lips attacked hers, hard and furious.
She gasped, now pushing him away.
“What the bloody hell, Malfoy?” she cried.
He shrugged. “Just wanted to see what Weasley gave up.”
•••
“You should tell Astoria.”
“I should tell Astoria what?”
“What we’re doing.” Hermione wiped a hand across her mouth, not that it mattered. Her lipstick was smeared now anyway, some of it on Draco’s face.
“Why?”
“Because she deserves to know.”
“She’s fine.”
Hermione gestured for a new drink, finished off the one she had.
“I doubt that.”
“She’s fucking Blaise Zabini. She’s fine.”
“Oh.” Hermione thanked the barkeep for her drink, swallowed it down. “Then why are you still together?”
“Our parents expect it.”
“It’s not their life.”
Draco snorted. “I’m a Malfoy. It is their life.”
“Even if you don’t want it?”
“Even if I don’t want it.”
He took a drink. So did she.
“But if you could do what you want,” she said, “what would you do?”
“Right now?”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
He smirked at her. “Well,” he said, “for starters, I’d follow you into the ladies’ room, push your knickers to the side, put my fingers inside you and watch you come. And then I’d go from there.”
Hermione finished off her drink, put it down, stared at Draco.
“Interesting,” she said. “Meet me in the ladies’ room in five.”
••
“So is this really what we’re doing with our lives?”
Draco glanced at her, ordered a drink.
“What are you talking about?”
She gestured between the two of them, at the pile of glasses in front of her. As usual, she had a huge head start.
“You. Me. A dingy pub. Having sex in a truly disgusting bathroom every day after work.”
Draco took his drink with a smile.
“You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I didn’t say there was a problem.” She ordered another drink, turned back to Draco. “I asked if we’re really doing this.”
“Why?” he said again. “Do you need to give it a fancy title?”
“No,” she said. “Just don’t want to show up someday and see you banging some other patron. That’s all. Been there, done that. Not really interested in doing it again.”
He nodded. “I get that. Same goes for you, of course.”
“Fair enough.”
“Then, yeah.” Draco lifted his drink. “This is what we’re doing with our lives.”
She lifted her drink as well. “Okay then.”
“Okay?”
“Yup. Okay.”
She clinked her glass with his, smirked at him.
“But you should drink up,” she said. “Because now that we’re doing this, I feel comfortable telling you I’m not wearing any knickers.”
Draco drained his glass.
“I’m yours,” he said.
She smiled.
“I know.”
Kristine | Puff | 51 points