Waking Up In Vegas

A/N: Just a fun little blurb you guys might enjoy :) Just assume the war is over and the world is all better.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the song "Waking Up In Vegas" by Katy Perry nor do I make any money by putting it here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-pUaogoX5o&feature=fvst


************************************

Cracking an eye open through the crust that had formed over her lashes, Hermione squinted around her and groaned. What had happened?


Rubbing the crusties away, she knew sitting up wouldn’t be a good idea so she slowly peeked one eye open, peering against the bright sun. She held up a hand and caught the ball of heat with it, blocking the worst from her view. She opened her eyes the smallest amount possible, that miniscule movement making her head pound. The first thing she saw was blue, a deep baby blue. Odd…


Sky. It was the sky.


Unexpectedly her stomach lurched and she was sick all over the sand. The sand? Sand. Why the fuck was she on the sand? Moaning, she pushed herself up on an elbow and looked around. She was sick again.


Where the bleeding hell was she?


She coughed against the burn in her throat and sat up fully, her body swaying. Was she honestly still drunk? How much did she have to drink last night? She never had more than three and she stopped by eleven to ensure no hangover the next morning. This would certainly classify as her first.


She groaned again. She’d told them this was a bad idea. She didn’t need a party. She was turning twenty, all she wanted was a nice quiet night at home. But no, they’d had to drag her to Las Vegas for “a night on the town”. And where were they anyway?


A single figure lay next to her, a jacket thrown over his head. Either Ron or Harry and the figure was taller, so she figured Ron.


“Ron,” she croaked. Maybe he could tell her why they were laying in an empty field and where they could find Harry so they could get the hell out of here and she could pretend this had never happened. “Ron, wake up.” Her voice cracked and he didn’t respond so she leaned over and tugged on his ankle.


“Ron, come on, get up. We need to get out of here.”


He groaned, his voice deeper than usual.


“Ron, seriously, let’s go.” She scooted to his head and ripped off the jacket.


And screamed.


The noise split her head in two but she couldn’t help it. She screamed and screamed and when the man rolled over and looked at her, he screamed too.


What the FUCK had happened?


“Granger, what the fuck?”


“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” she asked, her voice shaking. “Why are you here? Where’s Harry and Ron?”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where are we?”


“I have no clue, but we have to get out of here…”


You gotta help me out,
It's all a blur last night


“Granger, what did we do last night?”


Hermione was too scared to think about it. “I don’t know, gods, my head hurts…”


“You’re telling me. You lost Potter and Weasley?”


“Yeah, they should be here…”


“Well, they’re not. Why are you wearing my shirt?” he asked disgustedly. Hermione looked down. Yep, it was most definitely not her shirt. A black button up in the softest material she’d ever felt. She looked around for her jeans and shirt she’d come in. They were nowhere to be found and a quick survey told her her underwear was gone as well.


“I’m not sure but I’m going to have to ask you to let me borrow it for the time being until I can locate my own.”


“Fair enough.”


Hermione looked at his outfit and burst into laughter. “What are you wearing?”


It was a white shirt with a terrible rendition of Elvis Presley and bright neon words spelling out “Welcome to Las Vegas!”. He groaned and his hands went to his head which she guessed was as sore as her own. In a flash she remembered falling into a rack of the same shirts and pulling one off at random, thrusting it at Malfoy. “Draco! You HAVE to get this! You’d look so smmmmexy!” Massive giggling ensued. She’d called him Draco? She’d giggled? Urgh, what had they done?


We need a taxi 'cause you're hung-over and I'm broke.


“Well, sitting here all day isn’t going to do us any good. We should find a taxi, I don’t think either of us are sober enough to Aparate.”


He grunted in what she assumed was consent. If not, well, he could rot there. Whatever. Gods, her head hurt!


Hermione pushed herself to her feet and stumbled. Malfoy snorted but she didn’t care. She patted down the shirt and gasped.


OH. SHIT.


I lost my fake ID,


“Malfoy! Do you have my wallet?”


“What? No, of course I don’t, why the fuck would I?”


“Well, gee, I don’t know, seeing as how I’m wearing your shirt and nothing else I figured you might have my things!”


“Granger, will you please keep your voice down?” ”Shhh, keep your voice down, we’ll get caught!” Great, now she was getting useless flashes. Fuck.


“Well, we need to find my things because my ID is in there, if it’s found...shit, we need to find it and Harry and Ron. What happened last night?”


“Fuck if I know.”


Hermione looked around and saw a road not far, a little way to her left she saw the huge glittery buildings which had gotten her here in the first place. She started walking (always a little to the right) and heard Malfoy curse behind her.


“Granger, slow the fuck down!”


Hermione had a thousand insults she wished to hurl at him but her stomach was lurching again and the heat was unbearable. It was September for crying out loud!


When he caught up they walked to the road and followed it a ways until they could flag down a taxi. They climbed into the blissfully cool back seat and Hermione laid down with a groan.


“Move your fat arse, Granger!”


He pushed her over and cursed, pulling down the tails of the shirt which had ridden up. Embarrassed at her thoughtlessness, she pulled them down, her face scarlet.


“Oh, please, not like I haven’t seen everything under there, trust me,” Malfoy muttered. “Just figured you wouldn’t want to give the driver a heart attack.”


Hermione thought back and realized that they had indeed done…well…that.


Several times.


She groaned again.


“Calm down, not like we weren’t headed down that road anyway.”


“What?”


“Oh, please, I’ve seen you eyeing me in Auror training.”


Hermione lifted herself up on her elbow enough to see him wriggling his eyebrows and scoffed at it. She most certainly had not. He was fooling himself, the little prick.


“You know, I don’t recall inviting you to my birthday party.”


“Oh, you were pretty well hammered by that time. It was only 9:30, Granger! You need to learn to pace yourself.”


“Yes, well, unlike some of us I don’t do this on a daily basis.”


“That was obvious. Complete lightweight.”


Hermione closed her eyes and focused on not vomiting again. She heard Malfoy give the driver the name of some motel but she couldn’t hear it over the radio the driver had going. She drifted off and next thing she knew, Malfoy was shaking her shoulder and tugging her out of the taxi. Hermione looked up and gasped.The Caesar’s Palace?


“Malfoy, this isn’t my hotel! We checked in to-,”


“Yes, I saw the hovel you drones picked but you decided to stay in my suite last night seeing as I was practically fucking you on the poker table.”


She blushed again and followed him into the hotel. They entered a lavish entry hall and he pulled her to the elevators while people stared unabashedly at their disheveled appearance. Some looked affronted, others amused as if they remembered doing the same thing. Hermione ducked her head and was grateful when the elevator was blessedly empty. Malfoy started digging in his pockets and swore.


But you lost the motel key.


“Granger! The key, I don’t have the key!”


“What?”


“Bloody fucking hell!” he snapped, slamming the button for the main floor. The elevator took them to their floor and then back down, Malfoy cursing the whole way. He glared at her.


Spare me your freakin' dirty looks,
Now, don't blame me.


“Don’t you look at me like that! How is this my fault?”


“Because you’re the one who insisted we leave my very comfortable suite and hit the town!”


“Oh, and I suppose I had to drag you the entire way, did I?” ”Hermione!” he called while she pulled on his hand so hard she thought it might fall out of its socket. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”


“Oh no,” she moaned, sinking to the floor.


“My point exactly. Now get up, don’t want you showing that pretty little pussy to any old man who might stumble in here.” Making an insulted noise, she stood and stumbled into Malfoy when the world tilted. He didn’t bitch like she figured he would, he just straightened her and tucked his hands back in his pockets. When the door opened he took her elbow and steered her to the front desk where he sweet talked a young woman into giving him another room key. Once they finally made it to the room, Hermione laughed hysterically. She didn’t know what else to do! The place was a complete disaster; the curtains hanging off their rods revealing a beautiful view of Vegas, food all over, the couch tipped over, lingerie that most certainly wasn’t hers draped here and there, boxers hung from a chandelier, one of her shoes rested on top on the plasma television which was hanging off its stand on the wall, an orange was nestled in the hand of an elegant statue and upon further exploration, a candle was in the toilet, three rolls of toilet paper were draped over the shower rod, toothpaste spelled out the words “Hermione and Draco are sexy bitches!” plus some extra words she couldn’t make out. Liquor was spilled on every possible surface, a Playboy magazine was in the fridge, half a cheesecake was on the bed side table, all of the blankets were on the floor, a can of whipped cream was peeking out from a pillow, a Diet Coke was upended in a fishbowl, a broken flower vase littered dirt all over the floor. Malfoy met up with her in the bedroom and she tossed the whipped cream at him.


“Had a little fun, did we?”


He looked stunned. “More than I figured. Merlin’s balls, what the fuck were we up to?”


“Well, by the soreness of my vagina I’d say a lot of sex,” she stated bluntly then clapped her hands over her mouth in astonishment. Malfoy just laughed at her.


“You should have heard some of the things coming out of your mouth last night.” “Malfoy, if you don’t fuck my wet pussy this instant I swear to Merlin I will tear off your dick and use it myself!”


“Oh, gods,” she rubbed her face. “This is why I don’t do shit like this!”


“Oh, come on, it was a good time.”


“Which I don’t remember!”


“Well, maybe it’ll come back. I’d kind of like to find my own wallet, so let’s search this place because I don’t know where my wand is either and if we don’t get this shit picked up we’re going to be in a shitload of trouble.”


Hermione started looking, finally coming up with one shoe, her undies and a sock. That was it. No wallets, no wands, nothing.


“Mother fucking hell!” she heard Malfoy thunder from the living room as she pulled on her underwear and pants. “Granger, I’m going to fucking murder you!”


“What is wrong now?”


“Get your arse out here!”


Hermione buttoned up and stumbled out into the room, walking over to where Malfoy was standing. A glass tabled was shattered and in the middle of the wreckage was the head of a Greek goddess with a S.P.E.W button stuck to her forehead. Hermione tampered down the chuckle bubbling up to the surface.


“How do you know I did that?”


“IT’S GOT A FUCKING SPEW BUTTON ON IT!”


“It’s not spew it’s S.P.E.W! And that doesn’t necessarily mean I did it!”


“Well, lucky for you I remember you doing it! Damnit! How am I supposed to pay for this?”


You want to cash out and get the hell out of town
Don't be a baby,
Remember what you told me-


“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it at the time, in fact I distinctly remember you urging me to chuck it as hard as I could!”


“Fuck this,” he said and started to walk off.


“And let’s not forget that you were the one who got me that drunk in the first place!”


Shut up and put your money where your mouth is,

Hermione remembered him coming up behind her at a Texas Hold ‘Em table, Ron and Harry on either side, urging her to bet more, she had a great hand. She hemmed and hawed, talking about percentages of wins and house advantage. Malfoy had clapped his hand on her shoulder and told her those exact words. So she had, she’d taken the chance. And she’d won. Big time. He’d handed her a drink and made Ron vacate his seat so he could help her on the next hand. They’d played the table for a while until he’d dragged her to Blackjack and Craps. Every time she won he urged a shot on her, still making her nurse the fruity drinks he bought for her. He’d had his own share of whiskey on the rocks, winning almost as much a she. Hermione wondered vaguely where those chips were now.


That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.


She shouted to him. A resounding “Fuck you!” returned and she grinned. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. She sank down on the couch and heard a crunch. She swept some potato chips off the cushion and leaned back, willing her head to still. Was she really still drunk? It seemed so. When he plopped down beside her he said;

“Wonder if Scarhead and Weasel know where my shit is.”


Hermione just smiled.


Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now,
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.


“Think they’re back at the hotel we got?”


“Likely.”


“Want to head there, then?”


“Suppose so.”


When they left, Draco flipped the placard to say “Do Not Disturb” and Hermione snorted.


“Probably should have flipped that last night.”


“Well, I tried to but you wouldn’t let me. Said you wouldn’t mind if the maid joined.”


“No way!”


“Way.”


Hermione couldn’t believe her behavior! When they made their way out to the sun she had to shield her eyes from the intense glare.


Why are these lights so bright?


Malfoy dragged her forward into a cab and she marveled at the air conditioning. Thank gods Muggles had come this far in technology. She scrubbed her face with her hands and something hard caught her eyebrow. She pulled her hand away from her face and looked down at it. For the second time that morning, she screamed.


Oh, did we get hitched last night, dressed up like Elvis?
And why am I wearing your class ring?


The driver swerved and both the men cursed as Hermione continued to scream.


“Granger! Shut the fuck up! What is wrong with you?”


“Malfoy...Malfoy…” she said shakily, holding the ring up to his face. He blanched and looked down at his own ring. It was her class ring, a lion wrapped around the letter ‘G’, a ruby settled in the middle. The ring currently residing on the fourth finger on her left hand had a snake slithered around the letter ‘S’, an emerald settled in the lower curve of the ‘S’.


“Wha-what did we, what did we do?” she stammered. He just swallowed and shook his head.


“I-I don’t know…I only remember up till we left. We went to a bar, that’s all, I swear!”


“Well, we obviously did more than that! Oh, gods!” she leaned back against the seat and felt like she was going to cry. Suddenly, all this didn’t seem so funny anymore.


“Fuck, we need to find Potter and Weasley, maybe they’ll know,” Malfoy said, running his hands through his oily hair.


Hermione said nothing, only tugged at the ring. It didn’t budge.


“Malfoy, I can’t get it off. Malfoy, seriously…it’s like, stuck,” she said, pulling at the ring with all her might until her hand slipped and her elbow caught Malfoy in the chest.


“Watch it Granger! Or should I say Malfoy now?”


“This isn’t funny! Help me!”


Malfoy took her hand and pulled. “OW!” she cried. “That hurts!” She was about to berate him more but the look on his face scared her. He took to pulling on his own ring before cursing so loud the cab driver swerved again.


“Can you two keep it down back there? It’s not as though you’re the only people who have gotten hitched blazed out of your minds!”


“We’ll just have to find out where we went and get it annulled, they can do that-,”


“No, Granger, they can’t,” Malfoy said weakly.


“Malfoy, it’s not like in the wizarding world,” she said in a low voice so the driver wouldn’t hear her. “The Muggle laws aren’t so strict for this kind of thing-,”


“Yes, well, we were not married by Muggle laws!” he protested in whispers.


“How do you know? Do you remember?”


“Not yet but have you noticed you can’t remove that ring? That’s because it’s been sealed with a Wizard’s Marriage Seal!”


“What is that?” she asked weakly.


“It’s a way to make sure a couple can’t get a divorce! Fuck Granger! If we ever try to marry someone else or even cheat on each other we’ll die!”


“DIE?”


The car swerved and hit the curb, knocking Hermione back into the window as she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Her head cracked against the windshield and she cried out, falling down onto the floorboards.


“That’s it! Out! Get out of my cab!”


“What the fuck is your problem?” Malfoy yelled back, pulling Hermione back onto to seat. “You could have killed us! Look what you did to my wife!” He pointed to a bump which was already starting to form on her forehead.


“I’ve had enough! Out! Or I call the cops!” the driver screeched in his foreign accent. Malfoy kicked the door open and pulled Hermione out and onto the sidewalk which heaved beneath her, her head aching at alarming heights. She grabbed it as she stumbled into Malfoy who cursed and steadied her.


“Granger look at me, take your hands down,” he said, pulling at her hands. She squinted against the blinding sun and hissed at the pain in her head. She felt his hands on her chin, tilting it.


“Fucking idiot,” he muttered. “Come on, we’ll get you some aspirin or something. Fuck it, I’ll just owl my mum for some Pain Potion and a portkey, get us the fuck out of here.”


Don't call your mother,
'Cause now we're partners in crime.


“No, Malfoy, you’re not going to go running to mummy! We’ll figure this out on our own. We got us into this situation, we’ll get us out.”


“Granger, don’t you get it? We’re married! Actually, really, truly married! That’s the only thing that can seal a ring to your finger! There is no finding our way out of this!”


Hermione grabbed her head again. “Stop screaming, will you? I’ve got a killer headache.”


He muttered something and put his hand on her back, propelling her through the throng of people wandering up and down the hot, busy street. Hermione knew she must look like hell but taking a shower was going to be rather hard seeing as how one of them broke off the tap at the hotel.


They walked for what seemed like hours before he was leading her into a cool hotel. It wasn’t nearly as lavish or extravagant as his, but Hermione had liked it for its quaint cleanliness.


“Excuse me, miss,” she said when she reached the front desk. The plump woman turned to her and gasped.


“Oh my goodness, my dear! Are you alright? Do I need to call for an ambulance?”


“What? Oh, no, no I’m fine, just the crazy taxi drivers,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel.


“They’ll kill someone, I tell you. Driving around like maniacs!”


“Yes, well, I booked a room here last night, two beds, under Potter?”


“Let me look that up, dear, one moment,” she said and slid on a pair of glasses dangling from a decorative chair around her neck.


“Two beds, Granger? Who were you planning on sleeping with?”


“Oh, shove it. You know very well the boys planned on sleeping in the same bed.”


“Ah, should have known those two were-,”


“Shut up!” she snapped. The woman found the information and smiled up at her.


“I take it you’re Miss Granger?”


“Yes, and I was wondering if you could tell me what room we’re in.”


“Of course, if I could just see your I.D please.”


“Er, well, see, I kind of had a long night and I can’t find my wallet, which had my I.D in it.”


“Oh, dear, well that’s unfortunate but I can’t reveal that information without some sort of identification.”


“You can’t just tell her what room she was in?” Malfoy asked.


“No, I’m afraid not. We’re under strict orders-,”


Malfoy fumed and ranted, pled and cajoled, but the woman would not budge. Finally, mortified by his obscene display, Hermione dragged him back outside where they leaned against the wall, the shade sneaking up their toes, threatening to drench them in more scorching sunshine.


Remember what you told me:
Shut up and put your money where your mouth is,
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now,
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas.


Hermione supposed they did deserve what was happening. There was no excuse for their atrocious behavior last night. Snippets of the night had started coming back to her; she now remembered why the tap in the bathroom was broken. Malfoy had thought they should take a shower to get rid of the whip cream and chocolate (yes, she didn’t know where it had come from) off their bodies and had attempted to carry her in while she giggled hysterically. He’d tripped over the bath mat and dropped her. She felt the bruise on her hip and remembered their screeching laughter at the hilarity of the situation.


“So, now what?” Malfoy asked.


“I don’t know.”


She didn’t know why she was so angry at him, she supposed he hadn’t really forced her to do anything, but his insistence to drink more and more throughout the night, even when she was already trashed out of her mind, was cause for some annoyance.


You got me into this,


“You know,” she napped. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t kept shoving drinks into my hand last night. You knew I was drunk, why would you keep giving them to me?”


“Because you kept asking for them! Merlin, woman! You can’t blame this on me!”


“Oh, yeah, because I begged you to give me a shot on every hand of Blackjack I won!”


“Well, you weren’t telling me not to.”


“You should have known better than to keep intoxicating an already sloshed woman!”


“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be able to read your mind? We haven’t been married that long, dear.”


“Please,” she begged, her hand going to the now very large bump on her head which was aching like none other. “Don’t talk about that.”


“Well, you better get used to it. There are only three types of marriages in the wizarding world and apparently our drunken selves decided to go for the mother load.”


“I’ll speak to the Wizengamot, they’ll do something-,”


“Oh, yes, I’m sure you can persuade those old dingbats to change a law which has been in place since the Dark Ages!”


“Well, they can’t believe we would seriously make that kind of commitment at god knows what hour of the night with that much alcohol in our system!”


“They don’t care where or when you make the contract, they just care about it being carried out. Hate to tell you, but your boyfriend is going to be pissed.”


“What boyfriend?”


“Oh, don’t tell me the Weasel hasn’t asked for you yet?”


“Well, no, we haven’t gotten to that yet…”


He laughed so hard he doubled over and she shoved him, sending him to the ground. She stomped off but had to stop as she swayed dangerously in the middle of the parking lot. Gods, her head hurt…


“Granger? Granger? Hermione!”


Her vision went black as a pair of arms came around her.


**************************************


“Hermione?”


She opened her eyes unwillingly and squinted up at a concerned face, a concerned face which she did not think belonged in the picture.


“Malfoy?”


“You know, you should probably drop the last name bit as yours is the same. It would sound a bit odd if we just call each other ‘Malfoy’ all the time.”


Hermione sat up and realized she was on a couch.


“What happened?”


“You fainted in the parking lot. The woman from the front desk says it happens all the time, people drink too much alcohol and not enough water and the heat beats them. Here, she said you need to drink this,” he handed her a glass of water and helped her sit up.


“Why are you being so nice?” she asked after taking a sip of the refreshing water. She gulped it greedily after the first taste.


“Slow down with that, you’ll make yourself sick.”


“You didn’t answer my question.”


“I’m your husband now, aren’t I?”


“One stupid drunken mistake does not mean you have to change yourself.”


“What if I don’t think it was a mistake?”


Information overload, situation lost control.


The glass slid from her hands and hit the carpet with a dull thud, water spraying everywhere. She heard Malfoy say something but she was standing, pushing past him, her mind whirling. What the fuck had she done? One night of so called fun and she’d fucked up her life for good.


Hermione sprinted out of the hotel, bumping into an old woman who protested vehemently, and down the street. She ran as hard as she could, trying to ignore the sound of yelling behind her. Tears filled her eyes as she realized the situation was real, very, very real. She’d been dragged to Las Vegas by her best friends for a bit of birthday fun and she would be leaving married, with no clue how she’d gotten that way.


“Hermione, stop! Dammit! STOP!”


She did finally, too exhausted and hot to carry on. People on the street were staring at her as she leaned against a stone wall, sobbing.


“Hermione, calm down, alright? We’ll figure this out-,”


“Don’t call me Hermione!” she shouted, maybe a little louder than the situation deemed. But she didn’t care right now. All she cared about was the fact that the man before her had fucked up her perfectly planned life. “I may be your wife but that doesn’t mean you know me! I want nothing to do with you! Now just leave me alone so I can try to put my life back together which you so sweetly tore apart!”


“Fuck that! I didn’t drag you down the aisle! You came willingly and, drunk or not, a part of you had to want to! No matter how inebriated you are, you aren’t going to do something you are completely adverse to. Look, I know you’re upset, but we’re in this together now. We’ll find Potter and Weasley, we’ll figure this out, alright? Until then we need to go back to the hotel. You need to eat, we need a shower. Maybe they’ll find us there.”


“We can’t take a shower.”


“What?” he looked at her as if she’d gone insane. And maybe she had.


“You broke the tap last night. You dropped me on it.”


They looked at each other seriously for a moment before they both broke into peals of laughter. It may have been a shitty situation now, but last night had been a blast.


But then he was kissing her and Hermione remembered why she’d fallen so easily into his bed as his lips worked expertly against hers. All too soon she felt that stirring deep in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t believe it. She wanted him again.


He pulled away and cupped her face, staring into her eyes. “You taste like vomit.”


“So do you.”


Send out an S.O.S.


They smiled again and kissed until Hermione thought she might melt from the heat. She allowed Malfoy to drag her into yet another taxi after having to promise him she wouldn’t scream on the car ride there. They made their way up to the trashed room where Malfoy got on the phone to order room service, asking for it to be left outside the door. Hermione grinned at this and made her way through the disaster to the bathroom. She simply pulled the tap off and threw it behind her into the mess before tugging off the toilet paper and thrashed shower curtain and rod. She grinned as she scooped a half eaten turkey sandwich out of the tub along with a high heel, a condom packet and a handful of Cheetos. She turned on the water and watched as it gushed in every which way. Plugging the drain, she peeled off her odd assortment of clothes and got in, dumping some bubble bath in that they hadn’t spilled over the now sticky floor. She let the water ease away the tension. She would figure this mess out. Everything happened for a reason. There had to be one for this and if it was Malfoy…well, she supposed she could do worse. He’d done a complete three-sixty when the war had ended. He’d made a formal apology to Harry and had made his way into Auror training with them. He actually wasn’t so bad now that his despicable father was wasting away in Azkaban next to his mother. He waited anxiously for her release in four more years.


The man of her thoughts appeared in the doorway, jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. She remembered the way he looked last night in those jeans and the black button-up she’d been wearing open at the collar. He’d looked so devilishly handsome she hadn’t been able to do anything but succumb. And now as he stood before her, his beautiful chest bared to her perusal, she knew a life of looking at that couldn’t be so horrible. No, definitely not, she thought as he stalked towards her, his blue eyes dark with desire.


He knelt at the edge of the tube and brushed his fingers over the bump on her forehead. Suddenly, the pain eased and she raised her hand quickly to the area to find the bump gone.


“How did you do that?” she asked. His wand was nowhere to be found. He grinned wolfishly at her.


“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”


Feeling saucier than she ever had, she looked at him through heavy lids. “Might some of them entail husbandly duties?”


His grin turned to a gaze of desire. He leaned forward and stilled centimeters from her lips. She didn’t know what she was doing, what she had gotten herself into, but right now, with the bubbles caressing her skin and his hands going to her hair, she didn’t care. She didn’t know what had happened overnight to change their feelings so completely, but she knew this was what she wanted.


He lifted her from the tub and wrapped a thick towel from the broken rack behind them around her. She was blown away when he picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and just looked at her, slowly pulling the towel away.


“I think you deserve a little more than a drunken shag. As your husband, I fully intend on fulfilling my duties to you in every way.”


His voice made her shiver. She still didn’t know how she felt about being married to Draco Malfoy, but it looked like they had a lifetime to figure it out. She certainly hadn’t planned on being married at 20 but…everything happened for a reason. Right?


When he kissed her again she believed it. No one could kiss like this and not be made for each other. He lay alongside her body and used his free hand to explore her, learning every dip and curve she was sure he had skimmed over the night before.


“Malfoy…” she said weakly.


“I think this situation calls for first names, my dear.”


“D-Draco…I-I just wanted to let you know that, well, you would be my first, er…”


He pulled away and looked into her eyes.


“You’re kidding me, right?”


Biting her lip, she hoped he wasn’t mad.


“Merlin! I took your virginity?”


She nodded. She didn’t remember the exact moment of, she could only recall bits and pieces of their very busy night and that wasn’t one. A part of her was saddened that it hadn’t been a special moment, but the other was just glad she had gotten that particular barrier out of the way so they didn’t have to deal with it any longer. Although she could tell now that she was very sore. Had it been that painful? Or had they really had sex that much last night?


“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said, conviction in his voice. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t-,”


“No, no I didn’t mean to stop you or anything I just, er, thought you should know…”


“Know that I robbed you of that precious memory? Gee, thanks,” he said and sat back, scrubbing his face with his hands.


“It’s not like that! It’s not important, really, I just wanted you to know that, as my husband, you’re the only one who’s ever touched me.”


He got a dark, ominous and somewhat predatory look in his eye at her words. “I’ll be the only one to ever touch you, Hermione. You are mine, whether you like it or not. As per our marriage, I don’t share.”


She nodded her consent, wondering for the hundredth time what she was getting herself into. He dove onto her, taking her lips passionately and aligning himself with her body so that she was arching up to his heat, his utter masculinity. No wonder her inebriated self decided she had to have this man, he was utterly gorgeous. His lips did things to hers she couldn’t even fathom and his hands wreaked havoc on her already electrified body. He bit the juncture between her shoulder and neck and she gasped, moaned. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his hand began to creep to that delicious part of her weeping body. When he caressed her she groaned and pressed into his smooth fingers, begging for friction, begging for his touch. She was wild, she couldn’t get enough. Since when had she been so wanton?


“Draco,” she breathed. “Please…”


He obliged, sliding a long finger into her as he took her lips with a new ferocity born on frantic. She couldn’t lie still, her body undulated against him, craving his touch, craving that crazed sensation he erupted inside her as no one had.


“Fuck, Hermione,” he growled. “So tight, so hot…”


His words made her shiver and she dragged his lips against hers again, crushing his mouth into her, delving into his hot cavern and showing him exactly the way he was making her feel. He moaned and the reverberations echoed inside her very being and when he slid another finger into her and pumped furiously, her head fell back and she arched into his fingers as her orgasm whipped through her, taking her on a wave of bliss and utter satisfaction. Too bad that when she came down she wasn’t nearly satisfied enough. She shoved against him and he toppled backwards with a laugh and a grin. She crawled on top of him and had a flashback of doing the exact same thing with a purple boa wrapped around her throat. She giggled and bit down on one of his bands of muscle on his stomach while her hand worked off his belt and the button on his jeans. He cursed and his hands clutched her still wet hair, gripping tight as she moved down, pulling the material down with her. Her lips and teeth took everything they could, licking up the erotic taste of Draco Malfoy, her husband. She grinned again, thinking of how many years they had to explore this insane unity and all the nights that lay ahead of endless pleasure exactly like this. When she came to his prominent manhood settled among a nest of blonde curls her eyes widened slightly and he chuckled.


“I suppose I’m not at my best when I’ve had too much Jack. Impressed?”


Just in case she had forgotten who she had married, that arrogant statement reminded her fully. Indeed, she maybe was a little impressed by the sheer size and masculinity he exuded but she would feed herself to a Blast-Ended-Skrewt before she let him know that.


“It’s alright, I suppose,” she said nonchalantly. He grumbled and she smiled before taking him into her mouth and making him curse.


“Sweet, Hades, don’t stop,” he pled, his mouth hanging open when she looked up at him, still latched onto the top of his manhood. Rubbing her tongue against him, she took him up in one hand and matched rhythm, sucking him in as far as she could and pulling back up, increasing the pressure and making his breath hitched.


“Gods wounds, where did you learn to do that?” he groaned, his hips jerking into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat and gagging her a little. But she just took him deeper and contemplated his question. She wasn’t really sure. It wasn’t as if she’d done this many times before, but she supposed it was a skill like any other and one she enjoyed doing. She was just about to show him what else she could do before he was shoving her onto her back on the soft bed as big as a pond. His wicked grin sent shivers down her spine and she cried out as two fingers plunged into her mercilessly, pumping her until she was ready to scream. And scream she did when his lips found her clit and sucked. She rode the throes of her orgasm, completely lost in the sensations this man could drive her to. Before she knew it he was shoving into her, thick and hard and so fulfilling. She groaned as he pushed her back up, not giving her a second to think, all she could do was feel and react and hang on to the man above her as he pumped into her, fast, hard, unrelenting. Her leg was on her chest, making the angle suffocating and exquisite. She would have cried out had she the breath but it was all she could do not to shatter into a thousand pieces right there. He folded his arms under her back and pressed her chest tightly against his while his hips whipped against her, making her emit a high keening sound from deep within her. He lathed kisses along her jawbone, her neck and shoulder, before burying his head into her shoulder and groaning, his hips never stopping, never slowing. She felt that exquisite torture building, building, rising up within her.


“Come with me,” he gasped, kissing her again, drawing her out in that long ride of endless pleasure. She did and they fell together, capturing each other in whorls of delight and contentment. When she could catch her breath, Hermione realized the feelings flowing through her at an abnormal rate were as incredibly exciting as they were terrifying. Draco had collapsed on top of her, his weight a delicious addition to the lethargy the rest of her body and mind was feeling. She played with his soft, if slightly oily, hair and felt his lips graze her shoulder lazily. She sighed and he turned his head to her, looking at her with those deep blue eyes.


“So, wife,” he drawled, a hand coming up to massage her breast. She purred and lifted her chest to his touch, hoping he didn’t stop. “What do you think a life of this would be like?”


“I don’t think I’ll live much longer if it’s at all like this.”


They laughed and he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.


“So, what’s it like being married to a Mudblood?” Hermione asked lazily, drawing circles on his ripped chest. Gods, why hadn’t she dated men more before? They were such beautiful creatures.


She didn’t notice the change in him until he rolled away and padded across the floor, found his jeans and dragged them on. Suddenly self conscious, Hermione tugged the sheet up from the bottom of the bed over her naked body. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know this man at all, this man who had changed sides so fast no one had seen it coming. This man who had quietly worked his way into good standing while his parents rotted away in Azkaban. This man who was now her husband, thanks to a very, very drunken night.


“Draco?” she finally managed hesitantly.


“Don’t say that word,” he said darkly, his back to her. She could see the sleek muscles beneath his alabaster skin and it made her stomach quiver knowing how much power and pleasure they could hold. “I’m not that man anymore. Have I really not changed at all in your eyes?”


“Well, of course you have!” she said. “It’s just, I didn’t think it was a big deal-,”


“It is.”


She fell silent. What was she supposed to say now?


“Hermione, you don’t understand,” he sighed dragging a hand through his hair. “I’ve worked so hard, you know? And you never even really noticed, I don’t think anyone has. I risked everything, gladly, I might add, to help you guys and I still feel the hate when people don’t think I’m looking. That word makes me sick, it reminds me of all the things I’ve done. I’m not proud of my past. I’d just hoped if you could give me a chance, even a drunken chance, maybe I could feel like a real man again.”


Hermione was stunned. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” she snapped.


He turned back to her. “In a way, yes. I didn’t exactly mean for it to go this far,” he lifted his finger where her gold and ruby ring glinted on his third finger. “But I asked Potter and Weasley to bring you here. Thought I might loosen you up after a few drinks, get you to see the man I am now, and not just the one I used to be.”


She was caught on a thin wire of being extremely angry and somewhat giddy at the thought of him doing all this just to get her to notice him.


“So, where are Ron and Harry? Are they hiding out?” she asked.


“Well, see, I didn’t really plan on drinking that much last night and er, well, we lost them sometime after the wedding…”


“Wait, they were at the wedding?” she nearly squealed. Oh, gods, this was embarrassing!


“Yeah, they carried you down the aisle when you tripped over your gown.”


“I HAD A GOWN?”


She could tell he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t say so much a gown as a…”


“What?”


“Well, it was one of the dancer’s outfits from a show we watched. When I asked you to marry me you got on stage and asked the nearest woman to let you borrow her dress. She was reluctant until you started the waterworks. I don’t really think you want to know what happened after that.”


Hermione groaned. “Just tell me.”


“Well, you ah, you changed, right there. On stage.”


“WHAT?”


She worried he might crack a rib trying to retain his mirth. Right now, she didn’t give a damn. Apparently, Vegas brought out her bad side.


“So you’re, er, not mad?”


Get some cash out,


She grinned at him. “Well, my dear husband, I sure hope you can find that wallet of yours.”


He looked weary. “Why?”


We’re gonna tear up the town.


“Because the weekend’s not over.”


He complained as she shoved clothes in his hands and pulled on a haphazard outfit of her own. Vegas was laid out before them, just waiting. She dragged him down to the casino and shoved him against a poker table, kissing him hard until she was aching for more.


“Win big, love,” she smiled shoving him into a chair and nodded at the dealer to deal him in.


“But-,”


Don’t be a baby, remember what you told me,
Shut up and put your money where your mouth is
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes, now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas


**********************************


A/N: Hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! I heard that song a while ago and knew I had to mess with our favorite lovers. Don’t forget to check out my other stories, The Silence and Haunted.


Love you all! Please email me if you don't have an account!


XOXO


RynStar15

yourcookiedoughbaby@yahoo.com