Night Changes

"What are you hiding, Granger?" Floch said, narrowing his eyes as Hermione subconsciously leaned back in her seat.

He had caught her so off guard, swiftly walking to their table and questioning her without a second's hesitation.

He was obviously drunk so she tried not to take it personally… and it so happened that he wasn't the only one to harbor such feelings- in fact, the feeling was quite common.

And to some degree… she couldn't exactly blame them.

So in response, she attempted to compose herself and tried to come up with an answer that didn't completely strip her of her dignity. Unfortunately, she just couldn't muster up the words.

"I- uh- well…"

"Stop that, Floch," Armin steely interrupted.

"You might be bringing back bad memories," he not so subtly whispered. Though… she couldn't find it in her to be mad at him. He was a bit tipsy after all.

Floch's eyes flickered to Armin in faint acknowledgment before steely landing on Hermione once again.

"I'd just like to know why she's so against it. Hmmm," he tapped a mocking finger on his chin, "Could it be that she's afraid of something? Afraid of slipping up- of… saying the wrong thing," he raised an accusatory brow.

From her peripheral vision, she could see Mikasa stiffen in her seat, and even Eren was a bit on edge.

"So what is it, witch? What's your big secret?" He slightly slurred.

"Floch!" Armin abruptly stood up, slamming his hand on the table while Connie, Jean, and Sasha echoed similar verbal sentiments.

"I-"

She stilled, glancing around. She found that the entire surrounding area had gone quiet, waiting for her response. She brought her forehead down to the table with an arm wrapped around the crown of her head.

She burrowed deeper into her arm-made fence to hide the embarrassment that was so clearly written on her face.

Ever since she'd first had dinner with the Scouts- all of them- she had been scrutinized for every little thing.

Most especially? Her rejection of alcohol.

But it just couldn't be helped- she was far too embarrassing when drunk, excruciatingly so.

But her ability to go home was on the line- she would need their collective trust, or else any favorable decision made towards her would be met with justifiable outrage.

Merlin's fucking beard, she lamented, knowing what she had to do.

It had been a good run, three months of resistance was pretty good for an outsider. Though, Armin and the rest of her friend's support was a huge help as well.

She sighed into her arm. It was true- she'd been stalling for far too long. Trying to prolong the feeling of embarrassment she'd inevitably feel afterward. She sighed once again, she was really going to have to sacrifice her pride for this.

Merlin, do I have to?

She reached an arm out and placed it on the table, open-palmed and defeated. She still didn't look up but she replied, "Just give me the damn ale and you'll get what you've been asking for..." she hesitated, "Just don't fucking speak of this shit-" she brought her head up and eyed everyone around her, "ever again."

"Woah, Hermione cursed. That's new."

Very much not so, Connie.

"Y-you don't have to, Hermione. Floch's just being an asshole," Armin reassured.

She stared up at him, "No- I should. Just to clear up this whole mess. I know people are still suspicious of me... and this… this will probably put an end to that."

He placed his palm over her open one- without hesitation- the ale making him bold, "If you say so," Ocean eyes stared back at her through hooded lids. Thank Merlin her blush was hidden by her dark brown skin.

As the night dragged on (and as she grew deeper into her cups) she began to sway to a song in her head.

Do you remember the time?

When we fell in love?

She hummed, eyes closed, rolling her hips on the bench.

Do you remember the time? When we first met, girl?

She caressed her neck, imagining it was a… certain someone else's instead. She brushed her hair back, exposing her neck to the world, and she could feel small beads of sweat as her hands made a pass.

You know what? It is getting kind of hot in here... She thought as she began lifting her sweater to pull over her head.

So detached from reality, she couldn't hear the nervous objections and pleading requests for her to put the sweater back on.

So inside her own head she couldn't realize that the purple scar given to her by Dolohov was now visible above her top's neckline, nor the previously revealed scars on her arm and neck.

Left in just a tank top with no bra, she just caressed her body in accordance with the song.

In her blissful ignorance, all she could do was roll her head in imagined ecstasy.

Feeling frustrated that she could only repeat the chorus over and over again, she Acciod her Discman and played the song, uncaring of who would hear- or who would watch.

I don't know, bet you wanna try

Every time you see

She stood, almost swayed, from the bench-

"No."

Mikasa pulled her down while simultaneously stuffing Hermione back in her sweater.

Hermione spluttered, confused by Mikasa's actions. "M-Mikasa, wha-"

"No," she shook her head.

"But Mikasa-"

"-Mm mm," Mikasa shook her head in a firm stance of opposition.

Hermione, in a drunken state, began to fret.

"You can't do this to me," Hermione shook the arm she was latched onto, "You can't take this away from me!"

"Her-"

"I shan't have my liberties impeded on- infringed! I am a free witch! I shall dance wherever and whenever I please!" She jumped up from the bench and skipped down the row of benches.

Do you remember, back in the fall?

We'd be together all day long

She danced with no mental restrictions, no restraints, and no logical regulation.

She could faintly hear what sounded like cheers and whoops as she swayed her hips to the song.

Eyes heavy, Hermione teased her hands up the sides of her thighs, to the curves of her breasts, up her neck to eventually hold her hair up and away from her neck.

In each other's eyes, we'd stare

She let out a yelp as she felt someone grab her by the waist. And with a surprising amount of force, she felt them drag her towards the door.

"Time for bed, Mond," a voice she'd recognized as Armin's whispered in her ear.

"But Me- Armin!" She held onto him tightly in an attempt to make them stay.

"What about the dancing?" She pouted, genuinely distressed at the thought of not being able to continue.

She watched as the flush from the alcohol darkened on his cheeks, but he just began playing with her hair in an attempt to soothe her, "We can dance in your room, come on."

She held her stance and her eyebrow lifted in suspicion, "Are you sure?"

He sighed fondly, "Very, Mond. Come now, I think we've both had enough to drink tonight."

Merlin, am I really drunk? How did I allow myself to get so damn smashed? "Have we really?" She asked in candor.

He chuckled, "Yes, really," he gently pinched her cheek, "And I think you've managed to thoroughly convince them of your innocence… as well as leave them completely stunned-"

Despite herself, she giggled, "-stunned-"

"-so leaving is quite manageable and highly advised-"

She temporarily sobered.

"-Wait," he stopped squishing her cheek, "I need to bring my Discman. We'll need music when we dance, won't we?"

He was already halfway to their table before she could even finish her sentence, "Of course," he quickly grabbed her Discman then tugged her towards the door, "C'mon, let's hurry."

Hermione giggled at the urgency in his voice and tugged at his arm to follow hers in return.

And as they rushed past the other inhabitants of the mess hall, she didn't catch him send Floch and any others in their way a warning glare. Though, he did make a show of taking her back to her quarters for more "dignified", "official" reasons such as "keeping the peace" and "detaining a wild hostage".

Their rushed walking turned into running as they made it to the corridors of the base. It was sloppy, sure- but nonetheless thrilling.

As they made it closer to her room, their wide smiles became hushed laughs and their attraction towards one another was made glaringly, unavoidably apparent.

They were left breathless, grinning as she closed the door behind them. The room was silent except for the occasional chuckle in between breaths, Hermione aimed to remedy that problem.

Turning on some music, Jazz, not only in an attempt to leave them calm, but to see the satisfied look on Armin's face.

As Louis' signature sound played, she danced her way over to him, swaying with each trill of the trumpet.

When she reached him, she asked for permission with her eyes- which he granted with a soft nod and a gentle smile.

She slid one palm up his arm to rest around his shoulder while the other hand met his in a hold. And her cheek rested on his chest as she felt him sigh against her.

He put a hand around her waist in response, and let his cheek rest in her curls. It was reminiscent, yet more intimate than the way they'd held each other when they'd first tried slow dancing.

They rocked into each other, hands tightening and heads nuzzling in an attempt to become impossibly closer.

Usually, only Armin would be tipsy- sometimes drunk- but with a sober Hermione to be his logical guide, nothing foolish nor foolhardy occurred between them.

Now that barrier was gone, and neither of the two had enough wits combined to say no to any of their desires.

Hermione was entranced. She never knew she could feel so content- so at ease- so right with something in her life.

If sober Hermione were to see herself, she'd probably give herself a good, stern talking to- but because she wasn't- drunk Hermione was left to bask in the warmth of his body and the tenderness of his hold.

"You're much better at this type of dancing," she remarked breathily.

He pulled her closer in an attempt to hide his bashful look, "It's probably because it's easier," he mumbled into her thick curls.

"I mean... I suppose so," she spoke softly but lifted her head off his chest to look him in the eyes. "But I just think you're quite good- yes, very good indeed."

She knew people who couldn't even find their rhythm to a slow dance- who would step on the feet of their partners but could fly with the grace of a bird. So to her, he truly was good at the dancing, and besides- she was not at the liberty of being able to lie at the moment anyways.

"Thank you, Mondlein," he rasped softly. She felt her heart stutter and her face warm as they held each other's gaze. She burrowed her face into his chest to ease the symptoms of her yearning.

Mondlein? Moon... something?

That was new. Though, she could recall him saying that weeks ago- when she was bedridden…

The suffix was familiar though- used in the common word Fräulein- it's meaning however…

She'd ask about it later... preferably when she was sober.

"It's the truth, Meer," she mumbled into the base of his neck.

They stayed that way for a while, letting the music wash over them, letting the time pass them by.

Finally, there came a time when she was left so sleepy from all the drinking and dancing that she began to go limp against him- her weight on his chest becoming a telltale sign of her exhaustion.

She could practically hear the smile in his tut.

"Come, my dear. I think It's finally time you go to bed," he ran his hands up and down her arms to wake her enough to head to bed.

She leaned into him further, his words barely registering in her mind. The result of her alcohol-induced daze being a brain uninhibited by logic, "Stay."

She took a deep breath to compose herself, "Stay with me- for the night."

Armin ran his fingers over her curls, the intrigue quite obvious in his voice, "... What... What do you mean?"

"Stay with me. Sleep with me er- I mean bei mir schlafen," she reassured.

He inhaled a sharp breath, but his fingers never stopped their soothing caress, "Are you sure?"

She may not have been the most reliable source, but she could swear his voice became a bit coarser.

She nodded against him, "Yes. Yes, of course."

He thought for a moment, his movements sluggish as he moved towards her bedroom, "Then let's go-"

She held him in place, with whatever strength she had left, "-We should put on our night clothes before we go."

His brows raised in surprise, "... If you want to change- I'll stay here while you-"

"No, it's okay. Here's fine," and she began pulling off her sweater.

"H-Hermione..." he trailed off.

"Hm?" She said, already out of her sweater and working on her pants.

"N-nothing."

Cheeks still tinted, he looked down at her as he began unbuckling his belt.

She watched through hooded lids as he distractedly unbuttoned his shirt, Ocean eyes watching as she neatly discarded her sweater and jeans.

Left in her tank top and knickers, with him just in his briefs- Hermione's heart raced and suddenly, she felt awake.

She knew- being that he was a military man- that he would be fit to some extent, but she was taken aback by just how toned he actually was.

I should've done this months ago...

She immediately slid her hands down his shoulders and over the muscles of his upper arms. In return he placed a firm hold on her bare waist, enjoying the way the flesh molded around his fingers.

"What happened to putting on our night clothes?" He whispered in her ear.

"For some, these are their nightclothes. And besides- we don't have to, do we?"

In an almost hyper-fixated trance, she let her forehead fall against his chest as she traced a finger down the muscles of his abdomen to play with the hem of his briefs.

Oh my-!

Suddenly, she flinched away from his form, the realization of her nonconsensual touches dawning on her.

Embarrassed, she hid behind her hair, "Merlin, I'm so sorry- I should've asked- I-"

He stepped into her, bodies now flush against each other and she could feel the proof of his excitement press against her.

"-It's okay, Mondlein," he brushed the hair back from her face to fully see her. "I- I liked it," he flushed pink despite the hungry look in his eyes.

There goes that name again…

"Still, I should've asked," she shook her head bashfully, faintly aware of how the alcohol was still affecting her actions.

"Then I should've asked too..." he let his hands slide gently off her frame. She couldn't help but mourn over the loss of his touch.

"Do you want to stop then?"

She shook her head again, blood rushing to her cheeks, "Not particularly. No," she mumbled shyly.

"Then we won't..." he took her left hand with both of his, letting his fingers climb up her scarred arm in reverence.

He caressed the skin, neither hiding from it nor disgusted by it, and she felt herself fall for him even deeper.

Her breath quickened as he brought her arm to his lips to kiss each letter before placing it gently to her side.

"You're perfect," he whispered, looking into her eyes as if he was willing her to believe him… as if he were willing her to believe those words as well.

Her breath hitched. He doesn't actually believe that, does he? I'm- I'm far from perfect. Everyone is…

And yet, she still couldn't stop the stutter in her heart and the heat that bubbled in her chest.

Armin then placed his hands on her waist, giving her a soft look of appraisal before sliding one hand up to stop right below the skin of her breast. She shuddered as his thumb rubbed slow circles into the skin.

"I really don't think we should be doing this," he whispered under his breath, yet he continued to let his hands wander all over her body.

"Mm," she acknowledged but was far too entranced by his touches to fully agree.

Instead, she entwined their hands, calmly leading him to her bed.

On their sides, lightly clad, and legs entangled, they nuzzled into each other lazily- adjusting till they found the most comfortable position.

They both sighed. Melting into one another, finding solace in each other's touch.

Hermione breathed in his scent until she felt her head become heavy with the weight of all of her indecent fantasies. She wished she could articulate them all, but found that expressing a much tamer desire would be much more attainable.

"I wish I could kiss you Goodnight," she said in hushed tones.

He stilled, then relaxed into their embrace.

"You can... you can if you want," he encouraged, subconsciously using their combined abandon to his advantage.

She sighed in frustration, brows furrowed, "But that would make things more complicated..."

He lifted his head to kiss the lines of worry off her face, then began soothingly stroking her curls away from her face.

"...It would..." he said truthfully, though one could tell- he couldn't care if he tried.

Compelled by his laxity, she ran her fingers through his hair. "I still want to, you know," she murmured.

"I still…" She tenderly brought their foreheads together, their lips just a hair's breadth apart.

"Should we, mein Meer? Should we do it?" She brushed the loose hair away from his cheek, "Would that be okay?"

Armin feathered his hands up and down her spine, fingers lingering on the small of her back, "More than okay," he whispered.

Inching ever closer, their lips brushed against each other's in hesitation.

Hermione swooned, and Hermione had never swooned- or at least, not like this.

The kiss was shy, filled with all the warmth and care they'd grown and yet suppressed over the past few months.

It was drunken, a kiss interrupted by hushed giggles and whispered nothings.

It was a seemingly endless kiss, deeper than the Mariana and clearer than the Aegean Sea.

It was soft and it was tender, but that would all shift soon...

In the innocent attempt to be as close to him as possible, Hermione's hands slid down his chest to wrap around his waist. But her actions left a much more sinful impression on Armin's body and mind.

Armin deepened their kiss- almost desperately- and Hermione could feel her core thrum in response.

Unable to resist temptation, she ghosted her hands down the firm muscles of his back, tracing every dip and curve along the way. Fortunately for her, Armin quickly caught along, eagerly learning her body, walking his fingers down her spine till they heavily laid just above her arse.

Hermione sought to relieve the growing ache he'd been responsible for creating and instinctively began grinding into him at an excruciating pace.

His excitement was made clear to her then, a growing stiffness answering to the pace of her hips.

She heard Armin whimper into her mouth and felt his hips lightly match the pace of her own. And not long after, he pulled her tighter and she felt his smile grow into their kiss.

Hm?

She was caught by surprise, breath hitching as Armin moved away from her lips to kiss down her jaw and nip at the delicate skin of her neck.

Hermione shuddered at the overstimulation, dragging her blunt nails down his chest to release some of the pent-up tension created from his ministrations.

He immediately stopped, letting out a shaky breath into the crook of her neck. "We- Do-"

She shivered as he huffed into her neck one more time.

"Should we continue?"

Hermione understood exactly what he meant and she licked her lips at the thought.

Ultimately and unfortunately, she decided against it. That would be the point of no return- and she didn't think she was quite ready for that now anyway.

She shook her head, "No, no- we should just go to sleep- like I promised."

He tried not to look disappointed but she could see it in his stormy eyes. She couldn't blame him though- she was disappointed too.

"Okay, Mondlein," he gave her a peck on the lips but she couldn't resist the invitation and let the kiss linger a bit longer.

Their affections culminated in lazy, bruising kisses and soft sighs of pleasure. That was- until he parted from her lips to fall on his back right next to her.

Her eyes darted towards him and she noticed a certain something tent within his briefs.

Hermione giggled into the back of her hand- feeling high off the alcohol and snogging.

She turned her head to face him, her smile wide, "Will you be okay," she glanced at his hardness to provide context.

He coughed, looking away to hide the embarrassment on his face. Though, he didn't bother covering his bulge.

"U-um yes, it's okay. I should be fine soon," he mumbled.

She curled up into his side, "Are you sure?"

He didn't answer for a while, "No, actually."

"I would help you with that, but I'm not sure we're there yet," she bit her lip nervously.

He rolled his head so his face was flush against her cloud of curls. "I understand. I wouldn't ask that of you anyway," he entwined their hands, "Let's just go to sleep together- as promised."

"Mm... as promised," she nodded sleepily in agreement.

She gave his hand a soft squeeze, "Gute nacht, mein Meer."

He squeezed her hand back, "Good night, my Moon," and the sound of Jazz washed over them as they fell asleep.