Periwinkle and Fuchsia

I haven’t written a Dramione one-shot in a while and searching on tumblr and finding pictures and .gifs have inspired me again. Thought I would share a few that I have recently written and am quite proud of. Don’t worry, I am working on a new chapter of “Along the Road.”

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Warning: Underage drinking and slight petting.

Draco didn’t want to attend the Yule Ball, no matter how much fun Goyle and Crabbe said it would be, yet here he was. Goyle had managed to fill a flask of fire whiskey and had hidden it in his robes and now Draco felt slightly tipsy while listening to Pansy rattle on about what they were going to be doing over the winter holidays.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with two delicate fingers, wishing his night would just end. Potter and Weasley walked by him, followed by the Patil twins who looked just as excited to be here with the two of them as he was with Pansy. Draco noticed their third wheel, Granger, was missing from their sides, which was unusual considering she spent every moment of her life next to them.

 

“Draco,” Pansy questioned on, “have you even listened to a word I just said?” Draco huffed and felt Pansy’s hand on his shoulder. “Draco!”

“What!” he hissed. Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Pans, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and I don’t really want to be here, that’s all.”

Pansy was about to say something when a look crossed over her face that Draco hadn’t seen in a while – surprise. The fourteen year old man turned and his eyes soon showed as much surprise as Pansy’s. There, on the arm of Bulgarian seeker and the Durmstrang champion, was Granger. No, Hermione Granger.

Dressed in a gown of fuchsia, Granger had a smile on her face that looked real, not painted on. Her dark curls were pinned upon her head though some spiralled down and rested upon her shoulders. Krum looked stern and in control as he led Granger through the crowd of people. “Well,” said Pansy, “doesn’t she look like an awkward little thing in that dress? Not a bad colour. Mudbloods got a sense of fashion.”

Draco sneered and pushed Pansy’s hand off his shoulder and held his hand out to Goyle. “Give me the flask,” he ordered and Goyle quickly handed the flask to Draco who stashed it in his robes and soon left the loud hall.

The quietness of the outside reached Draco’s ears and was well received by the young Slytherin. The only soft noises he could hear were couples who had snuck off for some snogging in the bushes, which Draco was glad Pansy wasn’t up for. “That’ll ruin my hair,” she had said pointedly.

Draco huffed and soon found a secluded stone bench and sat down, shaking his hair out of the style he had spent half an hour doing. Pansy had wanted him to look his perfect self when they arrived in the hall and he had done just that – be perfect. Now, as his hair fell from the tightness he had cast and softly fell onto his forehead and down his neck, he felt that he could breathe again.

Reaching into his robes, the young man unscrewed the cap, and sniffed. Yep, still strong. He checked around himself before sneaking a quick swig, knowing full well the consequence of his actions should he be caught. The warm liquid flowed through his body into his gut as he let his mind rest.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” a voice came and Draco quickly hid the flask in his robes. His eyes flicked to the left and saw fuchsia robes herself standing in the snow, alone and with what looked like remnants of tears on her cheeks. He knew that she had seen the flask and was in no mood for her goody-goody ways.

Effortlessly and with no mirth or hatred in his voice, Draco simply replied, “Your date will be looking for you.” Shrugging her shoulders, the Gryffindor girl walked the short distance between them and sat down on the bench, leaving enough room between them so it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I only said it,” she said, mentioning to his robes, “because I had an Uncle who died. Drank to much and damaged his liver.”

“Yes well, he was a Muggle, I’m a wizard.” She smiled gently and clasped her hands together, resting them in her lap. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I thought you were going to wear periwinkle.” She smiled again, remembering her first choice of gown when shopping with Ginny earlier in the year. The periwinkle blue gown she had originally found was beautiful and suited her perfectly but the fuchsia made her look more grown up.

Suddenly she rose her eyes to his, questioning him, “How did you know that?”

He blushed a little and tried to hide his face in the shadows. “I was shopping in Diagon Alley that weekend. Saw you and Weasley-girl choosing dresses. Joked with Pansy that you would never wear it.” He eyed her current attire and rose an eyebrow. “Proved me wrong.”

She grinned and turned to him. “Malfoy, can I ask you something without you getting angry or making it about blood?”

Unsure of how he should answer, he stayed quiet which Hermione took as a yes. “If you never knew that I was…muggleborn, would you have acted this way?”

“What way?” he asked, knowing full well what she was asking.

“Disconnected, hatred towards me because I am not full blooded.”

“I don’t hate you…well, I don’t think its hate. And to answer your question, no, I don’t think so.”

“So we could have been friends?” she asked, smiling gently and he noticed her cheeks grow pink.

“Who knows Granger. Maybe we would have been friends. Maybe I would have even taken you here tonight.” He wished he could take back the words but found that her simple nodding at his admission made him content.

“So, can I have some?” she asked pointedly. He rose a brow in response, confused. She pointed to his robe. “A drink?” Shock and bewilderment crossed his features and Hermione giggled behind her hand. “I’ve had it before, its okay. And I only want a sip. After that, I’ll go back inside, you can go back to hating me and we’ll act like nothing happened.”

He grinned gently at her and retrieved the flask from his coat. He unscrewed the top, eyed her and took a small swig himself before he handed it to her. As she took it from him their fingers touched and Draco felt the soft tingles from the contact. She clasped the flask in her hand and brought it to her lips.

Draco watched as she lifted the flask and the cool metal touched her supple lips and then watched as said lips opened and the flask was tilted up to let the fire whiskey enter her mouth. He watched as her eyes closed and her face seemed to take on the emotion of relaxation and pleasure and he chuckled silently to himself.

She handed him the flask back and stood, brushing the small flakes of snow off her dress. “Thank-you for the drink, Malfoy,” she said, smiling to him and turning. Draco jumped to his feet and grabbed her arm, making her turn in surprise. “Malfoy, what are you-”

Her words were cut off as his lips pressed to hers in a heated and passionate kiss. Hermione moaned as his hands touched her sides, gripped at her hips and pulled her against him. She lifted her hands to his chest and held onto him as his mouth overtook hers, his tongue battled her own and his hands did amazing things to her sides.

What felt like forever, but was only over a minute, passed before Draco removed his lips from hers and gently rested his forehead against her own. Their heavy breathing mimicked each others and while Draco’s hands stayed on her hips, Hermione’s were pressed between their bodies. “Granger,” he whispered, opening his eyes and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “you should get back to Krum.”

Nodding gently, Hermione leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Goodnight Draco,” she whispered back, as he let her hips go and she dropped her hands.

They shared one last look between each other before the brunette turned and made her way back inside. A few minutes passed and Draco straightened out his dress robes before deciding to return to the great hall and Pansy.

The flask lay forgotten in the snow.

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