Rioja
"What… on Earth… is all of that?"
Hermione shut Draco's door behind her. He gestured proudly to the dining room table to the right and declared,
"It's wine."
"It's a dozen bottles of wine," Hermione said in horror, and Draco smirked.
"Yes. There are nice fruity reds, good dry Merlots, crisp whites and whites with apple flavour, and… why do you look like someone's been murdered on this table?"
Hermione laughed a little and picked up a bottle of Pinot Noir, shaking her head.
"We're both lucky it's Friday and neither of us has to work tomorrow."
"Are we?" Draco picked up his own bottle of wine, a Spanish Rioja, and he uncorked it using his wand. He did the same to Hermione's bottle and held his up. "Cheers."
She watched in fascinated shock as he tipped the bottle back and drank straight from it. She laughed a little and demanded,
"I was promised Tikka Masala."
"Oh. Yes. Well… I decided I didn't want Indian food," Draco said imperiously. He walked into his crisp, silver-toned kitchen, and Hermione followed. He held his hand out to a bowl on the counter, which appeared to be spaghetti bolognese, and he said proudly, "Made it myself."
"Why are you in such a good mood?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, opening a cupboard and taking out a wine glass. She poured herself a healthy helping of Pinot Noir and started to sip it as she pointed out, "You seemed dour earlier today. And how the blazes do you know how to cook spaghetti?"
Draco rolled his eyes and said, "I may have grown up with a House-Elf, but I had to take the same Charms exams you did. We all learnt to cook, at least a little, didn't we? Nothing too complicated about noodles and meat sauce."
Hermione shook her head and sipped deeply from her wine. "I'm afraid to eat it."
"I'll test it." Draco opened a drawer and took out a large spoon and a fork. He pulled a china bowl from a cupboard and spooned himself some spaghetti, and he twirled it round his fork before chewing, swallowing, and making a vaguely sexual sound.
"Mmph," he said. "That is the most delicious… oh, you have to try it."
"Why are you in such a good mood?" Hermione asked again as Draco spooned her some food. She finished off her glass of wine and poured herself another, watching as Draco chugged with gusto from his own bottle. He set the bottle down and turned away to let out a quiet little belch. Hermione studied his face as she twirled a few forkfuls of spaghetti and ate them. She leaned on the counter, sipped her Pinot Noir steadily, and waited for an answer. Finally Draco said,
"I realised who the voice was. The one that spoke to me before… saying that I could finish what we started."
Hermione scowled. "You thought it was Voldemort, or Bellatrix Lestrange."
"No, it was… it was Snape. Severus Snape." Draco chugged again from his wine and smiled just a little bit. He shook his head. "I never saw it coming. The fact that he had promised to save my soul from committing murder, the way he'd double-crossed the Dark Lord. I never saw any of it. I didn't see until he was already gone."
"None of us did," Hermione admitted, finishing off her second glass of Pinot Noir. She poured a third glass, took a few more bites of spaghetti, and asked, "How do you know it was him whispering?"
Draco smiled just a little and drank some more wine. "Even in whispers, certain voices are distinct, if you know what I mean. I listened to the recording five times. And then I heard a second whisper behind him, someone I didn't recognise. I listened five times, but I couldn't place the voice."
"What did the voice say?" Hermione asked, drinking far too quickly from her third glass of wine. Draco huffed and repeated,
"We died for him, but you can live for the others."
"Regulus," Hermione breathed, and Draco scowled.
"Regulus Black? My… my cousin?"
"Yes." Hermione nodded quickly. "He gave his life because he found one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He'd been a Death Eater. Severus Snape… he died because Voldemort thought he'd get the Elder Wand that way. Snape spent years as a Double Agent, acting for both the Order and the Death Eaters. And you… you, Draco…"
She was feeling the wine heavily now, and as she stood up straight, she wobbled a bit. She finished off her third glass of wine and poured another, and she pointed out,
"You're just like them. You've done terrible things, awful things, Draco, but you're sorry, aren't you? You're not wicked anymore, are you?"
"Well. I'm trying." Draco brought the bottle of wine to his lips and drank so deeply that Hermione thought he'd be sick. He set the wine bottle down on the counter, and it clanked in a way that told Hermione it was empty. Draco looked a little bleary-eyed as he ate some spaghetti, and he finally said in a soft voice,
"It gave me a little bit of hope, that's all. Hearing those whispers… Dumbledore's message. Never thought that man would make me happy, but…"
"You and I can change things," Hermione said, sounding too eager even to her own ears. She gulped at her glass of wine, feeling nauseated and ignoring it. She set down the empty fourth glass and took Draco by the shoulders, shaking him a little. Her voice was blurry now as she said, "Together, we can keep all this from happening again. We can change people's hearts on this, Draco."
"Ron Weasley? You think… you think he's amenable to holding hands and singing joyous songs of friendship?"
Hermione giggled then, rather uncontrollably, and she found herself collapsing against Draco's chest. For some reason, the thought of Ron and Draco holding hands and singing was the most hilarious thought she'd ever had. She felt her face being tipped up, felt Draco's lips press against hers, and he informed her in a slurred voice,
"You've never seen the upstairs bit of this house."
"Oh, I'll fall on the steps," Hermione laughed, shaking her head. The wine was hitting her hard now; she'd had far too much in far too little time. She stumbled over to the counter and shoveled some more spaghetti into her mouth, and then she grabbed the bottle of Pinot Noir and drank from it the way Draco had done. She heard him laugh, and when she set it down, she swiped the back of her wrist over her lips. She pointed an accusatory finger at him and said,
"You brought me here to get me drunk and get in my knickers."
"I didn't 'bring you here,' Draco said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You came all on your own."
"Yes, but I thought there would be Tikka Masala," Hermione argued, pointing to the half-empty bowl on the counter. "Instead I got mediocre spaghetti."
"Mediocre?" Draco snarled a laugh then and pushed her playfully against the damask wallpaper. "I'll show you mediocre."
"That's a terrible comeback," Hermione said with a grin, but Draco shut her up with a harsh kiss. His fingers worked frantically at the hem of her knee-length pencil skirt, dragging it up and sending a shiver down Hermione's spine as he touched the inside of her thigh. He tasted like wine, like spaghetti sauce. He was delicious. He was heavy against her, though he was a lean wizard, and Hermione found herself snarling her fingers into his perfectly combed hair. It needed to be mussed, she thought. She needed to see him messy.
"Draco," she whispered, when at last he pulled away for breath. He blinked a few times and sounded very drunk as he told her,
"I've never… this is rather embarrassing, but… I'm… a virgin."
"Oh. So am I," Hermione shrugged. "Ron and I never got round to it. Just loads of kissing and touching. He quite liked when I touched his cock, but he seemed utterly terrified of my own parts."
"I really don't want to hear about Weasley right now," Draco said matter-of-factly. Hermione just nodded and started to unbutton the black shirt he wore beneath his outer robe. Draco covered her fingers with his and shook his head a little.
"I thought… I thought… being drunk would help," he slurred. "Thought I'd bring myself to do it more easily that way."
Hermione tipped her head, which triggered a wave of dizzy nausea. "Do you need to bring yourself to do it?"
"No, I don't," he said, and his breath quickened a little. His hand was still up her skirt, his fingers caressing the inside of her thigh. He pushed against her, and she felt the insistent push of his erection on her abdomen. She gasped a little, and Draco mumbled, "Feels wrong like this. I want to… be able to… the details, you know?"
"Mmm-hmm," Hermione agreed, though all of a sudden her body was screaming at her to unbutton Draco's trousers. He leaned forward and pushed her hair away, touching his lips beneath her ear. She felt his wand drift down over her ribcage, felt it pull up at the hem of her skirt, and then he whispered into her ear,
"Gaudens Maxima."
Hermione was overwhelmed then by a sudden climax, completely unforeseen and more powerful than any she'd ever experienced. She clutched at Draco's arms, staring straight into his bleary blue eyes as her body tightened and went hot. She was contracting, clenching, and his knuckles brushed along the soaked crotch of her knickers as it happened. Her cheeks and ears went hot, and all she could find the voice to say was,
"Draco. Draco…"
He kissed her, so carefully that she didn't recognise him for a moment. This was the boy who had snarled at her that she was a Mudblood? This was the boy who had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, who had been ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore?
No, she thought, her fingers flying on instinct to his trousers as her climax faded. She unbuttoned the placket there and rifled around his tight black underwear as she thought that the wicked boy she'd once known was gone. If Severus Snape and Regulus Black could be redeemed Death Eaters, why not Draco Malfoy? That other boy was gone; the wizard before her was funny and intelligent. He listened to whispers. He worked in quiet solitude. He lived in quiet solitude. And he was very, very handsome just now.
"Draco," she mumbled again, feeling more drunk than she'd been in a good long while. Her hands were clumsy as she pulled him out, and she gasped a little.
"What?" he demanded, seeming offended at her reaction as she wrapped her hands around his rigid shaft.
"You're bigger than… him," Hermione said, feeling her cheeks go hot, and Draco practically cackled with glee.
"Bigger than Weasley. Right. File that away for when I need a good pick-me-up."
"Stop," Hermione scolded him, but she couldn't help giving him a crooked little smile. She stared down at his cock, at its swollen purplish head and its stick-straight shaft, at the way a single vein was visible along the length.
"You study everything, don't you?" Draco's voice wasn't unkind anymore, and his hand went back to her chest the way it had done earlier in his office. This time, he slid one hand up her silk shirt and cupped her breast, playing with her nipple through the thin material of her bra.
"I want…" Hermione shut her eyes, feeling dizzy as her thumb dragged over the tip of Draco's cock. He hissed and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, letting out a helpless sort of sound when she touched the spot on the bottom, where the shaft met the tip. Hermione tried to find breath, and she whispered again, "I want… this."
"I think we should be sober," Draco mumbled, and Hermione knew he was right. They'd both have all sorts of regrets if they each lost their virginity piss drunk on whole bottles of wine, stomachs full of Draco's mediocre spaghetti. Draco shifted a little, reaching between them, and he encouraged her to play with him a little more. His wand went between the two of them, and he whispered, "Lubrico."
"I'll bet that spell gets used quite a lot in the boys' dormitories at Hogwarts," Hermione mused, feeling the oil-like slick that materialised beneath her hand. She could pump her fist on him now without too much friction, and Draco seemed to enjoy that quite a lot. He leaned against the kitchen wall, bracing himself with both hands as he asked breathlessly,
"Do you want to… you know… again?"
"N-No; I'm good." Hermione could hardly breathe, could hardly stand, and she realised her body was shrieking at her to yank her knickers down and let him shove himself into her body. But she was so drunk, more drunk by the moment, and everything was going blurry before her. He was right; they couldn't take this too far after this much wine.
The old Draco wouldn't have cared, she thought very distantly. Then she quickened her hand on him, focusing on his tip. She swirled her palm around him and then pumped back down, tightening the pressure a little, and suddenly Draco slapped the wall.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione. Oh. Oh…"
He kissed her so hard then that her head banged back against the wallpaper. Their teeth clacked and their tongues were clumsy, and all of a sudden, Hermione felt her hand covered in a warm fluid. She glanced down to see that Draco had come all over both of them; it had landed in spurts on the front of her skirt and top, and it was dribbling down his trouser leg. Her hand was a disaster, and his cock was coated in it. Draco huffed in frustration and mumbled,
"Sorry. I… sorry."
He was drunk, too. She could see that plainly as he reached for his wand and looked very uncertain.
"Draco, I think we're both a little too drunk to be casting spells on… you know… those body parts," Hermione said. "How about good old-fashioned soap and water?"
"Right." Draco stumbled with her over to the sink, and Hermione washed her messy hand and then used a rag to scrub with a bar of soap at her skirt and top. She was wet and smelled of lavender afterward, but she didn't mind. Draco managed to wash himself up and tuck his softened cock back into his cleaned-up trousers. He struggled with the buttons, and Hermione moved to help him. She couldn't do them up, either, so they both laughed a little, and then Hermione pulled her hands away and shrugged.
"It doesn't matter, does it?"
"What doesn't matter?" Draco asked, sounding completely sloshed now. Hermione tried to tell him that the buttons didn't matter, but instead something made her say,
"It doesn't matter… there will be other times, sober times."
"Oh." Draco lowered his eyes and nodded. "I hope so. I like you more than I thought I'd like you. I like you a lot. I'm rambling."
"You're drunk, and so am I, and I should get home before anything ridiculous happens," Hermione said, "like me going upstairs and spending the night in the bed of Draco Malfoy, of all people."
"Of all people," he repeated, and Hermione gulped.
"I didn't mean -"
"Yes, you did," he nodded, "but it's all right, because you've forgiven me, and I'll appear on the front page of the Daily Prophet shaking your hand and grinning like a fool if that's what you want. If that's what… what your movement needs."
"The movement," Hermione corrected, blinking slowly. "It isn't mine; it's everybody's."
Draco nodded and bent to kiss her cheek as he told her, "You're all alone, just like me. You're all alone because there isn't a single witch or wizard who's even just a little bit like you."
"Oh." Hermione didn't know what to say to that. Finally she mumbled, "I've got Muggle money; I'll get a black cab back to my parents' house. Don't feel safe Apparating like this."
"You could stay," Draco slurred, but Hermione gave him a meaningful look.
"We stayed downstairs for a reason."
He nodded finally and walked with uneven steps out to the foyer with her. He dragged his fingers over her hair and whispered,
"I'm sorry there was no Tikka Masala. Sorry the spaghetti was shit."
"It wasn't bad at all, actually." Hermione glanced into the dining room. "Don't drink all that wine tonight."
"Fine." He smirked and gave her a long, serious look, and he said again, "I like you more than I ever thought I could, Hermione Granger. And I am sorry."
"You can stop apologising now," she insisted, reaching up to hold his face. She glanced down at his trousers, still unbuttoned, and shivered as she remembered the way he'd made her finish against the wall with a spell, the way his manhood had felt in her hand. She shut her eyes and he kissed her, lightly at first and then more deeply. Hermione finally pulled away and mumbled,
"Another time. Sober. I want it."
Half his mouth turned up, and he nodded. "I want you, too, Granger. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Draco." She nearly fell going down his steps and she heard a sound of concern from him in the doorway, but she put a hand up to signal that she was all right. She walked through his gate and stood on the sidewalk, her arm in the air to hail a cab. She stared back up at Draco, who looked like he was on the verge of falling over, and she smiled a little as a black cab pulled up.
Author's Note: Well, well, well. So it was Snape and Regulus (probably) talking directly to Draco. And Dumbledore, too. Seems to be a movement on the other side of the Veil to encourage Draco and Hermione in terms of reconciliation efforts, no? Thanks for reading, and a HUGE HUGE HUGE thanks to those who have reviewed.