Drunklust

This is a one-shot in two parts.

“You’ve reached Ginny Potters Firemachine, I’m not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a brief message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Ginny, I will be at the Thirsty Toad until exactly 1:30 this morning – at which point you will need to apparate near-by and pick me up. Apparition when drunk is not recommended – and you see I’ll be quite drunk. In fact I’ll be rather sloshed and not likely able to walk a straight line, let alone apparate home. You see your brother was using his penis to think again. And unfortunately he was using it in someone else. And thus I need –“

“You’ve reached Ginny Potters Firemachine, I’m not available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a brief message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“-Gin your firemachine cut me off – as I was saying, your brother, my now ex- was cheating on me – with some tramp whose name rhymes with ginger…it might possibly be Ginger. Anyways the point of this message is to remind you of your obligations as my ex-maid of honour. You will pick me up from the Thirsty Toad at 1:30 to ensure I make it home safely. See you then!”

Hermione was completely sober when she left that message.
She was no longer that sober.

Three years she had wasted on that jerk – ‘that jerk’ would, of course, remain nameless until she could come up with an adequate hex that would bestow on him the pain he had given her, something the cruciatus curse couldn’t match.

And as she felt a tear threaten to fall, she took another swig of her beer. That had been her system all night. Every possible tear would be drunk away.

She hadn’t spoken to anyone since arriving, except the barkeep.

In fact that had been an interesting conversation.

She had plopped down in her seat and said “Beer please.” She thought she had hidden her pain by keeping the sentence short and sweet.

She was wrong. The bartender, someone mildly cute, bore his eyes into hers until she finally cracked “I just caught my boyfriend cheating on me with someone who’s named after a spice! I’ll be sitting here for most of the night until a friend comes to pick me up.” When the he didn’t respond, she asked “I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”
He shook his head no, and moved on his way.

But the relationship between the two had been solidified when she clunked her empty bottle on the counter, and magically a second one appeared in front of her. Well his name was ‘Lester’ but for the night, her bartender would be the only magic that mattered.

Sometimes Lester would wonder over and plunk another beer down – not that she drank quickly. She sipped her beer rather slowly, only occasionally taking large gulps when the big sobs threatened to break free. But it’s not like it took many drinks to get Hermione a little tipsy on her feet.

At one point a stranger looking equally distraught sat next to her. Looking back, Hermione would wonder what this stranger looked like exactly, or perhaps she would wonder what gender this stranger was. She would remember telling this faceless stool-mate something along the lines “If I had a kid I would not name the unfortunate child a herb. It would be like calling him or her ‘Nutmeg’ or ‘Gillyweed’, honestly who does that to their poor kid…Ginger, I tell you!”
To which the stranger laughed and mentioned something about an apple and a rumour… something Hermione could not make heads or tales of.

The stranger eventually left, leaving the seat to her right empty – which Hermione preferred – much less conversation that way. All she needed was Lester and his endless supplies of beer.

Someone in the Universe did not get that memo.

She recognized the smell before she even saw him. It smelled expensive and like a new car. Why anyone would want a new car smell was beyond Hermione’s sober comprehension, but in her current state the man could have smelled like a skunk and she probably wouldn’t have cared.

He placed his order, and she secretly hoped he hadn’t spotted her.

The universe clearly wasn’t receiving any of her mail that night.

“Granger, don’t you know how pathetic it is to sit in the corner of the bar by yourself, scowling at your beer?” Draco Malfoy drawled in a bored tone. He hadn’t even turned his head to glance at her.

“If I weren’t so sloshed right now Malfoy, I’d think of something more clever to say than this.” And fearing a tear in front of her co-worker, she took another sip.

“Granger, without the usual punch,” he said receiving his drink. Grabbing the stool next to her he added “I’m disappointed.”

“Only room in your head for one emotion at a time Malfoy, don’t waste it on disappointment!” She wasn’t even trying to say it with gusto. Instead she finished off the beer.

He watched as the bartender replaced it within mere seconds.

“Where’s Weasley to keep you under check tonight?”

She snorted at that comment and took a large chug of beer before she dared to speak.

“He’s currently keeping a dear Parsley under ‘check’,” she said with a dry chuckle. She kept her head facing forward and didn’t speak a word.

“Parsley is an unfortunate name,” he said looking at his own firewhiskey.

“Well it’s something in the herb and spice family.”

They sat in a comfortable silence, she sipping her beer, he his firewhiskey.

They had been working together in the same office since graduating Hogwarts. After the war, she had gained special permission to take her NEWTS apart from the rest of the students and graduated with the others. Both ‘the jerk’ and Harry joined her and passed admirably.

The job offers started as soon as Voldemort had been defeated. Graduate or not, Hermione was a hot commodity in the wizarding world.

In the end she accepted the job that shocked most. She had always been a “to change is to do” kind of thinker. Therefore she attacked the area that needed the most change – the Daily Prophet.

How could the wizarding world protect themselves against catastrophic events in the future if they didn’t know about them? While Harry went on to become an auror, and ‘the jerk’ entered the ministry, Hermione wrote about them.

And Malfoy was the fastest rising advertising executive in the newsroom. The reporters and ad folk always had an uneasy truce – the advertisers got more money, better hours and more respect from management, but without decent writers they’d be screwed – thus exemplified the dynamic between the two worlds.

Although the shock to her system, seeing Malfoy for the first time since the final battle, had taken Hermione a few moments to recompose herself, she nevertheless was determined to maintain the tentative peace between the newsroom and ad desks.
He of course wasn’t.

They’re actions were always the talk of the other employees. The names they would call each other, the looks they would give each other, the rumours they would spread – nothing compared to the food fight last March (there was still jello on the ceiling that just couldn’t be enchanted off.) Their schoolyard rivalry turned into a mild work place competition – who could outdo the other in a war of words (and sometimes jello.)

While sitting in his companionable silence, Hermione began to analyze the past few months at work.
Perhaps the passion behind her fight with Malfoy had something to do with her lack of passion in bed with Ron.

In fact the sex had been so horrendous towards the end, she found herself fantasizing about everyone from her boss, to Malfoy, to the underage mail boy (she was only human, and he did have gorgeous eyes).

And this train of though led her to finish her entire beer in one gulp.

Out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy observed this behaviour. Since she had accidentally bumped into him at work on his first day, he was sure his life would be hell. And here he was two years later – and he desired her more than she could ever realize.

He lived for the days when she would come back with a biting remark that no one else could match.

He enjoyed the verbal sparring as they passed each other in the hall, and the constant battle for superiority.

But mostly he enjoyed watching her as she sauntered around in muggle jeans and a button up shirt. And the way her hair fell down to the middle of her back. And the quiet laugh that would sometimes snort.
And the daydreams. Somedays he wondered how he made it through any work when all he could think of was ripping her clothes off and taking her in her tiny cubicle.

Perhaps he was feeling the effects of the alcohol, or perhaps he was just preying on her weakness, but he turned and opened his mouth. His full intentions were to tell her that her lips would look much better wrapped around his cock instead of the neck of the beer.
He turned to her and opened his mouth, when a familiar voice cried out behind him, “No more beer for this one!”

Turning in his chair he saw the world renowned Mrs. Potter, and new he had missed his chance – there was always another day at the office.
“Let’s get you home Hermione,” said Potter, nee Weasley.

“You’re 10 minutes late!” Hermione said with a scowl.

“I had to talk Harry into staying put for the night,” Weasley replied. “He wanted to come and pick you up himself.” It was at this point that Weasley had noticed Draco’s presence. With an odd but fleeting glance of curiosity, she helped Hermione to her feet.

The two walked out after Hermione drunkenly settled the bill. Looking over her shoulder, Hermione cried out “See you tomorrow Lester!” and then she took a quick glance down and caught Malfoy’s eye.


She was already working on her third beer when Malfoy grabbed the stool next to her.

“So Granger you missed a hell of a day at work today!” he drawled as he ordered a firewhiskey.

She said nothing. It was not like her to miss work. She even went in once with a fever of 104 (and she still managed to break the headlines that day).

She figured she got a free pass today.

“Here anything more about your dear boyfriend and ‘Pasnip’?” he asked, trying to get a rise out of her.

“Not my boyfriend, and not ‘Parsnip’, she’s most definitely an ‘Onion’.” Hermione said with a small smirk – Ginger, honestly the possible fun she would have with that name.

He didn’t know why he was there. Something about the look she gave him last night made him return.

And she was glad he returned. Because so long as he sat next to her, she could waste her time thinking of something other than ‘the jerk’. In fact at the moment her mind was wondering to thoughts she never should have about a certain blond ferret.

But again, she got a free pass.

In fact, she had been toying with this idea since he had sat down yesterday.

Nothing would hurt ‘the jerk’ more than sleeping with the one man he would murder if given the opportunity.

She liked to think herself above such vulgar tactics. In fact sober she had completely rejected the idea. But here she was, on her fourth beer of the night, and Malfoy was starting to look more and more dashing.

Not that he wasn’t dashing before, she reasoned with herself (afterall she wouldn’t be doing this if he weren’t at least somewhat attractive – she did not fancy the idea of waking up next to someone only to discover she had a case of beer-goggles the night before).
He was tall-ish.
Well he wasn’t ever going to play professional basketball or anything, but he was taller than Hermione, which is all that counted in her mind.
He was handsome…ish. He had decent facial features. No one would ever mistake him for a model, his nose was slightly too pointy (and crooked from repeated punches to the nose). He eyes were a dull grey, nothing particularily striking about them, simply grey. He did however have luscious looking lips.
And he wore his wizard robes quite well. His shoulders were well defined (she was a sucker for a nice set of shoulders – something she had always found Ron lacked).
He was, of course, a massive prat who loved to get her riled up for no reason other than to kill some time. He was egotistical and believed himself to be god’s gift to women. He was whiny and self absorbed – and why did she want to sleep with him again?

She looked at the beer in her hand and remembered her predicament – oh yes, to severely piss Ron off.

They sat in pure silence for what felt like an hour (Lester at the end of the bar wondered if all the alcohol had made the pair mute).

She was waiting for him to make a move, he was working out a way of making the move without getting slapped in the process (hey she had just been cheated on, he did have SOME compassion – just not very much).

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted him open his mouth and promptly close it again.
It was unnerving to see Malfoy in a state (why did she want to sleep with him?).
He seemed un-composed and unsure of himself – two words she never thought could be used to describe Malfoy.
For his part Malfoy wondered when he had turned into a bloody ninny. He didn’t fancy getting slapped so asking Granger for a quick shag in the bathroom was out. And asking her if she wanted to “go back to his place” seemed far to cliché.
He, of course, blamed the vast amounts of alcohol he had consumed thus far.
Alcohol, he determined, was a very good social lubricant. It could be used tactfully in awkward conversations to use as a distraction (he’d many-a-times gotten sloshed because of bad date conversation and a bottle of booze).
However seated next to Granger was possibly the oddest thing that he’d done in a long time. The more she drank, the longer the silence stretched on. The longer the silence stretched on, the more he drank.
It was a rather vicious cycle.
As he contemplated this, he completely missed Hermione swivelling in her stool to face him.
It was perhaps the fifth beer she had consumed. Perhaps she really did have a touch of Gryffindor courage. But whatever it was, she decided that now was the moment she gets her revenge on Ron.
Placing both palms on his left thigh (out of necessity for balance more than anything) she looked him straight in the eye.
“Malfoy,” she started out drawing a breath. “Will you please have sex with me tonight?”

He didn’t even respond. He simply grabbed her wrist and apparated them to his place.

“You could have warned me, you know,” Hermione mumbled as she stumbled upon landing.
Her stomach lurched rather unpleasantly and she took a calming breath.
She grabbed whatever happened to be nearest for support. The chair under her fingertips felt soft, and she wished desperately to lie down on it all of a sudden.
She felt him come up behind her. She looked up, and realized that although Malfoy would never win any height competitions, he was indeed rather tall when he stood directly over her.
“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” he whispered in a voice Hermione didn’t realize he possessed.
His eyes were lustful, full of yearning that Hermione hadn’t seen on Ron in months.
She could feel the heat rush to the apex of her thighs.
Feeling bold once again she reached up and kissed him.
He had a small cut that was healing on the right side of him bottom lip. It felt slightly rough, but was barely noticeable after a moment of kissing.
He slipped his tongue skilfully between her teeth. As he rubbed his tongue up the side of hers, he felt himself lurch.
He swayed slightly on the spot and automatically clamped his mouth down, biting his tongue in the process.
“Ow! Fucking shit.” He cried as he released her mouth.
He hadn’t even realized he’d encircled his arms around her waist, until he felt himself pull her with him when he swayed once again.
She felt her body fall with his as he tumbled to the ground. He was clearly more drunk than she had originally anticipated.

When he crashed to the floor with a loud “thump”, she immediately broke out into a fit of giggles.
She hadn’t even registered their vertical positions.
He looked at her incredulously. The pain in his tongue was subsiding but instead of tending to his needs, she was laying on top of him laughing.
At him.
This was not acceptable.
In what he believed was a debonair move (in reality it was clumsy and uncoordinated, but neither would remember that the next morning) he tightened his grip around her waist and flipped her onto her back.
She squealed at the action, but once on her back gazed up at him with a small smile. A simple enough smile that instantly hardened him.
Her eyes were half lidded and her mouth slightly parted. Her dimples appeared ever so lightly across her cheeks.
He settled himself between her legs and rolled his hips gently into her crotch, brushing his hard cock against her. She responded with a growl and wrapped her legs around him.
He lowered his face to hers and feverishly kissed her. He kissed as though she were air and he were a dying man in space.
He kissed and tried to convey every burning desire he’d felt for her since they’d begun working together.
He kissed and wanted to make sure she remembered his name each time she kissed another man (he did not delude himself enough to believe there was something permanent in tonight).
For her part she poured every hated emotion towards Ron in each kiss. Each stroke of her tongue against Malfoy’s was a bitter reminder that her and the man she once loved would never be together forever.
But as his hands left her waist and travelled, ever so gently, up to her neck, enticing a shiver in her she hadn’t felt in ages, she slowly realized she would never have sex with Ron again.
And that thought excited her.
Here was a man who was clearly aroused by her – a man whom she found arousing.
And as his mouth left hers, she moaned in displeasure, but felt her breath hitch as he latched onto a sensitive spot behind her ear (one Ron was never able to find).
She closed her eyes contently as she slowly traced her fingers up and down his spine – running them over his delicious looking shoulders.
She hadn’t even realized his left hand had reached her breast until he gave a little squeeze.
Through the fabric of her shirt Hermione felt a tingle spread throughout her entire body.
She arched her back into his palm, and sighed contently. As his hand moved to the hem of her shirt, Hermione realized another sensation was taking over.
The world behind her eyes was starting to spin.
She opened them quickly focusing on the ceiling as she tried to calm herself down – not only from Malfoy’s wonderful ministrations, but now from the inevitable onslaught of drunk “spins”.
She closed her eyes tightly and prayed for the spins to stop, as Malfoy’s hand inched its way under her shirt. His hand felt wonderful against the skin of her stomach and she truly did not want Malfoy to stop.
But dear god the spins were getting bad.
As her world lurched from left to right in her mind, Malfoy relished the small love mark he’d left just below her left ear. Small enough to be tasteful, large enough to be notices, high enough so it can’t be covered up – perfect.

He noticed her eyes shut tightly and stopped himself cold – had he been so drunk as to not realize he’d been hurting her?

“Granger?” He mumbled removing his hand from under her shirt.
“Granger, are you ok?” The genuine concern in his voice shocked her slightly.

“I’m spinning.” She mumbled as she opened her eyes. They were unfocused and drunk looking.

“I’m sorry?” he questioned.

“The world. It’s spinning –“

“Well I knew my skills were admirable, but we haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet,” he mumbled perplexed.

“Because of the alcohol you ponce!”
Realization suddenly dawned on him.

“-Oh.”

He carefully lifted himself off her, sitting on the ground to her right.
He gently grabbed her arm and helped her into a sitting position.
She closed her eyes and swayed softly on the spot.

“I’m sorry Malfoy, I can’t. I’m too drunk.”

Expecting him to kick her out of his place, he surprised her greatly by grabbing her arm again and helping her to her feet.
He stumbled slightly as he stood; wishing he’d had less to drink as well.
“Ok Granger. We sleep and then continue where we left off tomorrow morning,” he announced with a slur.

“You want me to sleep over?” she asked quietly as she leaned into him.
“Well, I can’t exactly take you home myself in this state. And I do expect proper compensation tomorrow morning,” he chuckled as he led her to the bedroom of his flat.
She wrapped her arm around his waist and mumbled something about slags never spending the night.
“But you, Granger, are anything but a slag,” he said they stumbled ungracefully into bed. She contently closed her eyes. She suffered those few moments of a spinning world before a drunken induced sleep overtook her.
His plans to freshen up before bed failed as soon as his head hit the pillow.
He too suffered the brief spins before allowing sleep to take him.
He hadn’t even realized his arm was still draped around her waist.

A/N - Next chapter = more smut. And I couldn't figure out how to italicize the firecal conversation - hope there was no confusion.
Anyone catch the jab at famous people naming their kids silly names?
A/N2 - I tried to fix a couple spelling errors I noticed. Part two will be loaded by the weekend.