Fic: Drinks on a Winter's Night (Draco/Hermione)
TITLE: Drinks on a Winter’s Night
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Hermione should have known she’d be talked into doing something ridiculous. Which was why, she was not surprised to find herself outside a nightclub with every other Ministry worker under the age of thirty.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Hermione)
STATUS: Complete - One Shot
PROMPT: “Ministry Christmas Party.” by nitsrek0803 @ dramionedrabble
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for Day 15 @ adventchallenge
***
Hermione should have known she’d be talked into doing something ridiculous. Which was why she was not surprised to find herself outside a popular club in Diagon Alley with every other Ministry worker under the age of thirty. There was at least twenty of them, and Hermione kept her hands deep in the pockets of her coat in an attempt to keep warm as they waited in the long line of witches and wizards to be admitted.
“This is a bad idea,” Hermione murmured to Dean Thomas who stood beside her bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet.
“What are you talking about? This is a great idea.” He grinned happily, eyes bright in the cold evening air. “Anything is better than being stuck at the Ministry.”
Hermione had to admit that he was right about that. It was one thing to go into the Ministry everyday for work - it was quite another to be forced to spend the duration of the evening within its walls. Hermione hadn’t been at the annual Christmas party for more than an hour before someone suggested they skip out and go clubbing. Hermione had been more than ready to protest, but before she could say a word, she had been swept up in the excitement and now here she was, freezing cold and more than a little put out.
A sudden crack broke Hermione’s thoughts and she glanced over her shoulder to see Draco Malfoy apparate into the middle of the alley. He surveyed the line with a wrinkle of his nose and strode up the line, a determined look on his face.
“What is he doing?” Dean asked quietly, watching as Malfoy walked straight up to the bouncer and exchanged some words.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and huffed when the bouncer nodded unhooked the royal blue rope to let Malfoy past. “A line is too good for him, of course.”
“You’d think he could have-” Dean started.
“Ministry workers,” the bouncer abruptly called. “All Ministry workers to the head of the line, please.”
Dean changed his mind. “What a bastard.”
Hermione smiled, shuffling forwards with everyone else. “So let me get this straight, you hate that he wasn’t going to take you inside. But you also hate that he got you inside?”
“He’s Malfoy,” Dean huffed like this solved everything. “It’s not like he can ever actually come out on top in my eyes. I can’t believe you actually have to work with that dick.”
“He’s not so bad.”
Dean gave her a doubtful look.
Hermione sighed. “Okay, yes, he is. But we work relatively well together.”
“That’s the main thing I suppose.” Dean dug through his pockets and handed his ID to the bouncer.
Letting out a long breath Hermione did the same.
It was going to be a long night.
*
Hermione had to admit that her first clubbing experience was turning out to be pretty good. Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. Hermione had lost track of how many trays of shots had been delivered to the table. She figured that after the first three, the number was no longer important.
Standing at the bar, Hermione signaled down one of the bartenders and ordered another round of Firewhiskey and Butter Beer to be sent to the table. She was just eyeing off a bottle of bright green liquid when a puff of warm breath brushed her ear.
“So, are you ready for another?”
Hermione turned to see Malfoy sliding up beside her. His hair was falling across his forehead and into his eyes, and Hermione’s fingers itched to brush it away. “I think I’ve had enough Firewhiskey actually.”
“Lucky I wasn’t going to order it for you then.” Malfoy signaled to the barman and a tray materialized in front of them. It held two shot glasses, a shaker of salt and half a dozen lemon slices.
Hermione lifted her eyebrows and took the shot he gave her, sniffing at it curiously. “What is it?”
Malfoy didn’t answer, but there was definitely mischief in his eyes. There was something else too, something darker. Something that made Hermione’s stomach tighten and her heart pound in her chest.
Without saying a word, Malfoy grabbed Hermione’s hand and brought it to his mouth. Hermione watched, her lips slightly parted as Malfoy licked a line across the back of her hand before sucking the skin into the heat of his mouth.
Hermione swore she felt her knees buckle.
He released her hand and grabbed the salt shaker, spilling a line of salt across her wet skin. He crowded into her space, still holding her hand in his own.
“Lick,” he ordered. Hermione did, bringing her hand to her mouth on autopilot, licking away the gritty salt from her skin.
“Drink.”
With a shaky hand, Hermione brought the shot glass to her lips and knocked it back.
“Suck.” Malfoy told her, holding the lemon wedge between them at face level. Hermione leaned forward and sucked it into her mouth, her eyes stuck on Malfoy’s the entire time.
Electric.
It was the only way Hermione could think to describe it. There was electricity in them, above them, around them. If one of them didn’t make a move to look away, Hermione was sure she would explode.
She always knew there had been something between her and Malfoy. They had despised each other for seven years. Hell, they still despised each other. But they worked extremely well as a team - their skills and personalities merged perfectly in the office. Hermione should of known that all that chemistry could very well breach the Ministry walls.
“Do you like it?” Malfoy asked.
His tongue darted out, licking the back of his own hand. He scattered the salt, knocked the shot back and sucked the lime into his mouth.
Hermione couldn’t look away. It was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen, and her mind was still trying to process that it was Malfoy who was the one having the effect on her.
“Burns less than Firewhiskey,” Hermione finally managed to respond breathlessly. She swallowed thickly and turned to look over at her table. Everyone was laughing, they had probably not even noticed she had gone. She could stay. With Malfoy and his all too intoxicating eyes. Instead, she did what her brain told her to - she made her excuses and fled back to the table.
*
An hour later everyone was on the dance floor. Hermione laughed, throwing her head back and moving to the beat, loving that she had the confidence to do this when usually she wouldn’t even leave the table. Dean was doing the robot in front of her and it was hard to tell who anyone else was through the flashing lights and theatrical smoke.
Soon enough Hermione was a sweaty mess, letting the music consume her soul, no longer bothered by the random flesh she brushed up against.
From time to time, someone would bring drinks. Hermione stopped asking what they were, just took the glasses and knocked them back as they were handed to her.
She moved to the beat with Dean in front of her when suddenly she felt two hands grasp her hips and a warm body pressing close from behind. Hermione glanced over her shoulder; the second she spotted a flash of white blond hair she relaxed into the hold. She would much prefer to be dancing with Malfoy than some stranger she didn’t know.
Dean moved away and then suddenly it was just the two of them. Malfoy’s grip tightened on her waist as the beat changed to something slower, harder, the bass pumping out through the speakers and into Hermione’s very soul.
Malfoy slid a hand around her waist, and Hermione reached down to twine their fingers together against her stomach as they moved to the beat. Hermione’s other hand reached up, sinking into the soft blond strands at the base of Malfoy’s neck, pulling his head down so it nestled in the crook of her neck.
They stayed like that for the rest of the song.
At one point, someone came over with another shot, but before Hermione could grab it, Malfoy’s hand was shooting out and taking it for her. Hermione was just turning to look at Malfoy in confusion, when she felt his thumb on her lower lip. She turned her eyes back to see Malfoy had the glass poised in front of her lips.
Hermione let Malfoy coax her lips open and pour the burning liquid into her mouth. She tilted her head back until it rested on Malfoy’s shoulder as she swallowed.
Without thinking about it, Hermione turned in Malfoy’s arms, throwing both arms around his neck, a hand sinking into his hair to keep their headss low and close.
Malfoy kept one arm around Hermione’s waist and let the other wander. Down her back, over her arms, along her neck and jawline. Constantly moving and touching, never stopping in one place long enough for Hermione to really feel it.
Malfoy shifted then, suddenly slipping a leg through Hermione’s, his thighs right there and oh... that was kind of perfect.
Instead of pushing him away like she knew she should, Hermione moved closer, rolling her hips up into Malfoy’s and eliciting a small gasp from the blond, his hand stuttering on the side of her ribcage.
This was wrong. It was so wrong. They were co-workers and they were enemies. But she couldn’t stop. Everything was so hot, slow and intense and all Hermione knew was that she wanted more.
One of Hermione’s arms slid down from Malfoy’s neck and trailed down his spine before resting at his hip, squeezing gently.
The breathy noises Malfoy was making next to her hear were some of the hottest things Hermione had ever heard. And then suddenly Malfoy’s lips were on her neck, kissing, licking, biting and constantly moving as his hips and body found the perfect rhythm against hers.
Hermione clutched at Malfoy’s head harder, forcing him to stay down and for his mouth to just keep doing that.
Malfoy moaned in her ear, whispering a breathy, “Oh my god, Granger.” And just like that, the illusion shattered.
The couldn’t be doing this.
Hermione pulled back suddenly, detangling herself from Malfoy, a look of shock on both of their faces.
“I need to go,” Hermione whispered. She turned before she could change her mind and fled back across the dance floor.
Dean caught her arm halfway across. “Hey, are you all right?”
Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom, maybe get some water.”
“Well, come back out here when you’re done, okay?”
Hermione nodded again, detangling herself from him and continuing across the room.
There was no way she was going back out there.
END
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Hermione should have known she’d be talked into doing something ridiculous. Which was why, she was not surprised to find herself outside a nightclub with every other Ministry worker under the age of thirty.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Hermione)
STATUS: Complete - One Shot
PROMPT: “Ministry Christmas Party.” by nitsrek0803 @ dramionedrabble
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for Day 15 @ adventchallenge
***
Hermione should have known she’d be talked into doing something ridiculous. Which was why she was not surprised to find herself outside a popular club in Diagon Alley with every other Ministry worker under the age of thirty. There was at least twenty of them, and Hermione kept her hands deep in the pockets of her coat in an attempt to keep warm as they waited in the long line of witches and wizards to be admitted.
“This is a bad idea,” Hermione murmured to Dean Thomas who stood beside her bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet.
“What are you talking about? This is a great idea.” He grinned happily, eyes bright in the cold evening air. “Anything is better than being stuck at the Ministry.”
Hermione had to admit that he was right about that. It was one thing to go into the Ministry everyday for work - it was quite another to be forced to spend the duration of the evening within its walls. Hermione hadn’t been at the annual Christmas party for more than an hour before someone suggested they skip out and go clubbing. Hermione had been more than ready to protest, but before she could say a word, she had been swept up in the excitement and now here she was, freezing cold and more than a little put out.
A sudden crack broke Hermione’s thoughts and she glanced over her shoulder to see Draco Malfoy apparate into the middle of the alley. He surveyed the line with a wrinkle of his nose and strode up the line, a determined look on his face.
“What is he doing?” Dean asked quietly, watching as Malfoy walked straight up to the bouncer and exchanged some words.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and huffed when the bouncer nodded unhooked the royal blue rope to let Malfoy past. “A line is too good for him, of course.”
“You’d think he could have-” Dean started.
“Ministry workers,” the bouncer abruptly called. “All Ministry workers to the head of the line, please.”
Dean changed his mind. “What a bastard.”
Hermione smiled, shuffling forwards with everyone else. “So let me get this straight, you hate that he wasn’t going to take you inside. But you also hate that he got you inside?”
“He’s Malfoy,” Dean huffed like this solved everything. “It’s not like he can ever actually come out on top in my eyes. I can’t believe you actually have to work with that dick.”
“He’s not so bad.”
Dean gave her a doubtful look.
Hermione sighed. “Okay, yes, he is. But we work relatively well together.”
“That’s the main thing I suppose.” Dean dug through his pockets and handed his ID to the bouncer.
Letting out a long breath Hermione did the same.
It was going to be a long night.
*
Hermione had to admit that her first clubbing experience was turning out to be pretty good. Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. Hermione had lost track of how many trays of shots had been delivered to the table. She figured that after the first three, the number was no longer important.
Standing at the bar, Hermione signaled down one of the bartenders and ordered another round of Firewhiskey and Butter Beer to be sent to the table. She was just eyeing off a bottle of bright green liquid when a puff of warm breath brushed her ear.
“So, are you ready for another?”
Hermione turned to see Malfoy sliding up beside her. His hair was falling across his forehead and into his eyes, and Hermione’s fingers itched to brush it away. “I think I’ve had enough Firewhiskey actually.”
“Lucky I wasn’t going to order it for you then.” Malfoy signaled to the barman and a tray materialized in front of them. It held two shot glasses, a shaker of salt and half a dozen lemon slices.
Hermione lifted her eyebrows and took the shot he gave her, sniffing at it curiously. “What is it?”
Malfoy didn’t answer, but there was definitely mischief in his eyes. There was something else too, something darker. Something that made Hermione’s stomach tighten and her heart pound in her chest.
Without saying a word, Malfoy grabbed Hermione’s hand and brought it to his mouth. Hermione watched, her lips slightly parted as Malfoy licked a line across the back of her hand before sucking the skin into the heat of his mouth.
Hermione swore she felt her knees buckle.
He released her hand and grabbed the salt shaker, spilling a line of salt across her wet skin. He crowded into her space, still holding her hand in his own.
“Lick,” he ordered. Hermione did, bringing her hand to her mouth on autopilot, licking away the gritty salt from her skin.
“Drink.”
With a shaky hand, Hermione brought the shot glass to her lips and knocked it back.
“Suck.” Malfoy told her, holding the lemon wedge between them at face level. Hermione leaned forward and sucked it into her mouth, her eyes stuck on Malfoy’s the entire time.
Electric.
It was the only way Hermione could think to describe it. There was electricity in them, above them, around them. If one of them didn’t make a move to look away, Hermione was sure she would explode.
She always knew there had been something between her and Malfoy. They had despised each other for seven years. Hell, they still despised each other. But they worked extremely well as a team - their skills and personalities merged perfectly in the office. Hermione should of known that all that chemistry could very well breach the Ministry walls.
“Do you like it?” Malfoy asked.
His tongue darted out, licking the back of his own hand. He scattered the salt, knocked the shot back and sucked the lime into his mouth.
Hermione couldn’t look away. It was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen, and her mind was still trying to process that it was Malfoy who was the one having the effect on her.
“Burns less than Firewhiskey,” Hermione finally managed to respond breathlessly. She swallowed thickly and turned to look over at her table. Everyone was laughing, they had probably not even noticed she had gone. She could stay. With Malfoy and his all too intoxicating eyes. Instead, she did what her brain told her to - she made her excuses and fled back to the table.
*
An hour later everyone was on the dance floor. Hermione laughed, throwing her head back and moving to the beat, loving that she had the confidence to do this when usually she wouldn’t even leave the table. Dean was doing the robot in front of her and it was hard to tell who anyone else was through the flashing lights and theatrical smoke.
Soon enough Hermione was a sweaty mess, letting the music consume her soul, no longer bothered by the random flesh she brushed up against.
From time to time, someone would bring drinks. Hermione stopped asking what they were, just took the glasses and knocked them back as they were handed to her.
She moved to the beat with Dean in front of her when suddenly she felt two hands grasp her hips and a warm body pressing close from behind. Hermione glanced over her shoulder; the second she spotted a flash of white blond hair she relaxed into the hold. She would much prefer to be dancing with Malfoy than some stranger she didn’t know.
Dean moved away and then suddenly it was just the two of them. Malfoy’s grip tightened on her waist as the beat changed to something slower, harder, the bass pumping out through the speakers and into Hermione’s very soul.
Malfoy slid a hand around her waist, and Hermione reached down to twine their fingers together against her stomach as they moved to the beat. Hermione’s other hand reached up, sinking into the soft blond strands at the base of Malfoy’s neck, pulling his head down so it nestled in the crook of her neck.
They stayed like that for the rest of the song.
At one point, someone came over with another shot, but before Hermione could grab it, Malfoy’s hand was shooting out and taking it for her. Hermione was just turning to look at Malfoy in confusion, when she felt his thumb on her lower lip. She turned her eyes back to see Malfoy had the glass poised in front of her lips.
Hermione let Malfoy coax her lips open and pour the burning liquid into her mouth. She tilted her head back until it rested on Malfoy’s shoulder as she swallowed.
Without thinking about it, Hermione turned in Malfoy’s arms, throwing both arms around his neck, a hand sinking into his hair to keep their headss low and close.
Malfoy kept one arm around Hermione’s waist and let the other wander. Down her back, over her arms, along her neck and jawline. Constantly moving and touching, never stopping in one place long enough for Hermione to really feel it.
Malfoy shifted then, suddenly slipping a leg through Hermione’s, his thighs right there and oh... that was kind of perfect.
Instead of pushing him away like she knew she should, Hermione moved closer, rolling her hips up into Malfoy’s and eliciting a small gasp from the blond, his hand stuttering on the side of her ribcage.
This was wrong. It was so wrong. They were co-workers and they were enemies. But she couldn’t stop. Everything was so hot, slow and intense and all Hermione knew was that she wanted more.
One of Hermione’s arms slid down from Malfoy’s neck and trailed down his spine before resting at his hip, squeezing gently.
The breathy noises Malfoy was making next to her hear were some of the hottest things Hermione had ever heard. And then suddenly Malfoy’s lips were on her neck, kissing, licking, biting and constantly moving as his hips and body found the perfect rhythm against hers.
Hermione clutched at Malfoy’s head harder, forcing him to stay down and for his mouth to just keep doing that.
Malfoy moaned in her ear, whispering a breathy, “Oh my god, Granger.” And just like that, the illusion shattered.
The couldn’t be doing this.
Hermione pulled back suddenly, detangling herself from Malfoy, a look of shock on both of their faces.
“I need to go,” Hermione whispered. She turned before she could change her mind and fled back across the dance floor.
Dean caught her arm halfway across. “Hey, are you all right?”
Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom, maybe get some water.”
“Well, come back out here when you’re done, okay?”
Hermione nodded again, detangling herself from him and continuing across the room.
There was no way she was going back out there.
END