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The Closet Relativity Theory	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14961 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
The Closet Relativity Theory
By Mr. Benzedrine
For LightofEvolution
Because, my beautiful, you deserve your time. And it will come. One setback will not let you fall short of becoming what I know you will become. And you will be wonderful. And never lose your hope. Because I haven't. (hearts)
Summary:
Draco Malfoy gets locked a closet with Hermione Granger at a party. But is that all to the story? Comedy, Romance, Mystery and so much smut to come. Dramione 3 part series. Rated M FOR A REASON.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story. Unless you include friendships, because I'm rich in those.
As always, thank you to the wonderful waymay for proofing and feeding me plot bunnies to sink my teeth into. Like Bunnicula. ;D Waymay has a new Dramione/Blamione titled "Background" that I AM DYINGGGGGGG about. I love it so much, so, please, give it a read! I've read it all the way through (hehe) and can attest it is quite an amazing story indeed.
Also, check out LightofEvolution's works "High on Magic" and "Branches".
~A.
This beautiful bit of work was inspired by LightofEvolution's writing prompt:
"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."
-Albert Einstein
I asked her if I could write her a one-shot, because she's been having some hurdles to overcome lately. And she deserves her happy ending. ;D
Part One: An Unexpected Party
I'm not a crybaby
I'm the crybaby
A caterpillar that got stuck
Mr. Moth come quick with any luck
A long walk to a dark ha-ha-house
A roman candle heart keep us far apart
I'm cocktail party doing all right
Hate me baby, maybe I'm a piece of art
Oh my friends all lie and say
They only want the best wishes from me
Oh 3-2-1, we go live
"Tiffany Blews" by Fall Out Boy
*(*)*
"Well… this is… a tad awkward."
"Wonderful deduction."
They stared at each other in the darkened closet; their only source of light peeked from underneath the door, where their friends could be heard outside, sniggering. Draco watched as Hermione Granger fidgeted nervously with her strapless dress, wriggling it up higher to keep anything from popping out. Her brown ringlets fell loosely around her shoulders, caging her face in a halo of bushy curls. Draco fidgeted with his tie, hooking his pointer finger through the knot, loosening it, and then tightening it once more.
How had they ended up here?
It wasn't as if they were children. They were beyond infantile games. So, how in Salazar's name had Draco Malfoy allowed his friends to convince him to play such a juvenile game as spin-the-firewhiskey-bottle?
On second thought, he knew exactly how. Because his friends were snakes. Snakes in the grass, looking to strike at anyone's weakness.
And Draco Malfoy's currently stared him down with a crease in her brow.
"Well, Malfoy. We're here. Now what?"
"Now what?" Draco quirked a dangerous eyebrow. "You sure you want me to answer that?" He stepped forward, into her personal bubble, inhaling the scent of lavender and green tea. He listened to her jagged breathing as he leaned in, dangerously close -could literally feel the heat pulsating off her skin. He was tired of the games. The pretenses. Six months. Six bloody months and not a word.
He dragged his lips over hers, testing -taunting.
"It's called seven minutes in heaven, right?" He rested the fingerpads of his left hand around the curve of her arm, trailing them up her shoulder, the curve in her neck, brushing his thumb against her jaw. "Personally, I think this is my very own Hell, made just for me."
She sighed airily, staring into his eyes. "Why would you say such a thing?"
Draco's smirk widened. "I think you and I both know the answer to that." His free hand snaked its way down her side, resting gently on her hip.
Four Hours Ago
"Oh, come on, Zabini! That's expensive scotch, that is!" Draco grumbled loudly as he watched his friend untuck a bottle of Lucius Malfoy's aged scotch from the wet bar in the Parlor Room of the Malfoy Manor. To his disgruntlement, Blaise popped off the stopper and poured out six glasses: one for himself, Draco, Goyle, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo. It was supposed to be a small get together while his parents away.
So, when the magical chime echoed through the house, alerting them to visitors, it took Draco Malfoy by surprise. He cocked his head in the direction of the front door, his eyebrow already poised like a dragon ready to swoop in and fry up unwelcome guests in his den. He crisply snatched the glass of scotch from his friend's hand before starting in the direction of the hallway -Blaise cut him off.
"That'll be the caterer, most likely."
"Caterer?" Draco whipped his head back around. "I didn't order any food."
"I did," said Pansy simply, shrugging her delicate shoulders.
"You what?" His eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?"
"Felt a bit peckish, I imagine." She crossed the floor and patted him on the cheek. "I'll just go sort it out, then." She shot her friends a flirtatious wink and excused herself from the room.
It should have been his first clue, but Draco's mind wasn't focused today. His eyes kept glancing over to the morning paper every few minutes or so, though he tried to resist it. Why did he care if 'War Heroine returns from her six month stay overseas'? Pah. As if he would be interested in hearing about it. She meant nothing to him. Nothing.
With Pansy gone, Blaise took the reins, yet again, and plucked up the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. "Interesting turn of events, eh?"
"Hardly. Why does the Prophet feel the need to chime in about every detail of the Golden Trio's life? Godric, it's ridiculous."
Blaise exchanged smirks with Theo. "I was talking about the Chudley Cannons winning yesterday's match."
Embarrassment shrouded him, and Draco snorted into his glass of scotch in response.
Another chime.
Theodore Nott reached into his pockets, glanced at his timepiece, and smirked widely. "Right on schedule."
"What's on schedule?"
"Hmm?" Theo flashed a set of pearly white teeth. "Oh, never you mind, Draco. I'll be back in two ticks." He gave a sarcastically formal bow and took his leave.
Draco glanced between Blaise and Goyle, who were looking any which way but at him. "Spill it. What's going-?"
A third chime echoed loudly through the Parlor.
Goyle gave an apologetic grin and muttered, "Decorations, I imagine," before he scurried off, sniggering into hand.
Draco's eyes zoomed in on Blaise, who sipped leisurely from his glass of scotch while staring up at a Malfoy family portrait. "They got your nose wrong, I think. Yours is a bit more pointed."
"What's going on?"
"Going? Nothing. Coming…" Blaise grinned.
"What's coming, then?"
"You, if you're lucky."
"Zabini…" Draco growled. "I don't like being toyed with."
"It's a party, Draco. Relax." The Slytherin-alumnus threw his arm around his blond-haired friend. "Think of it as… a reunion."
"A reunion?" Draco's mouth fell slack, and his eyes turned to slits. "I don't want a bloody reunion. A reunion with whom?"
"With our Hogwarts alumni, of course!" Blaise withdrew his arm and clapped his hands together excitedly. "Five years out the gate. Worth celebrating, isn't it?"
"No." The blond blinked. "Not really. -And besides, when were you going to let me in on this little debauchery? Considering you decided to hold it in my home."
"Eh, semantics. So we're holding it in your home, so what? Your parents are out on holiday. It's the perfect occasion to sow our oats and be wild!"
Draco looked unconvinced as he nursed his scotch. "One would think the Master of the home would have some say in someone throwing a party in it…"
"And I'm telling you now." Blaise plucked his glass of scotch off the table and clinked it against Draco's. "What do you say, Malfoy? Care for a bit of fun?"
"No."
"Well, too late! The guests will be arriving…" He turned around and glanced at the grandfather clock near the fireplace. "Oh. In about an hour?"
"An hour?" Draco shook his head. "No. I won't have it."
"Why not?" Blaise looked at his friend with honest bewilderment. "I've never known you to turn down a perfectly good party -especially one thrown in your honor."
"Yes, but it's not in my honor, is it? Why do I want to fraternize with a bunch of ex-classmates I don't care about?"
"Why else do men do anything, Draco? For the clunge, that's why." Blaise shook his pointer finger absentmindedly, lost in his imagination. "And there will be loads of it, I guarantee you. Plenty of pretty ladies ripe for the picking, just waiting for us to get our immaculate mitts on them. -I know you're a bit stingy in the cock-giving department-"
Draco flinched. "-Could you not talk like you're still fifteen with a walking erection everywhere you go?"
"-But," Blaise continued, ignoring his friend, "I know just the snatch that'll make you rethink the entire party in a new light." He snatched up the newspaper and thrust it in front of Draco's face. "Her name rhymes with… well, I'm not sure what it could rhyme with, really…"
Draco grabbed the top of the newspaper and shoved it down, out of his eye line, his eyes wide and horrified. "You're entirely off, Zabini."
"Am I?" Blaise turned the paper towards him and eyed over the picture of a certain curly-haired brunette putting a hand up over her face to avoid the flash of a camera. "Oh, well, if you aren't interested, maybe I should just sort her out myself."
In a blur, Draco snatched the paper away from Blaise and folded it gently under his arm. "As if she would even consider a cur like you."
Blaise grinned ear to ear. "Look who suddenly got possessive."
"Not possessive. Simply realistic. She's not some sickle-store tramp who just finds herself in cupboards with random blokes."
"Ah, but there will be alcohol -lots of it. And music. And, perhaps, just a bit more deconstruction of inhibitions. A lot can change in five years. Or six months." Blaise's brown eyes flickered down to the newspaper lodged between Draco's arm and side. "Let yourself live a little. You're too serious. Just like your father."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
Suddenly, a small cough broke the two men from their bickering, and they turned their heads to discover Daphne Greengrass, completely forgotten about in the corner of the room. She narrowed her eyes, rose to stand from her small corner chair, and said, "No one ever remembers me!" before storming off in the direction of thefloo.
A decorated ballroom, a live band, fifty pounds of food, and a shite load of obnoxious Hogwarts-colored party decorations later, Draco stood in the corner of the party, nursing a new glass (this time, of firewhiskey) and dressed in a fine charcoal blazer and onyx trousers. Around his neck, he wore his favorite emerald tie. His hair was brushed back, out of his eyes, though he fashioned it shorter on the sides these days. He was the spitting image of perfection, yet his eyes wore dark circles of contempt as they gazed out at the party goers, each dressed in a version of their house colors.
His Slytherin friends had done a number in the short amount of time allotted, and because all of his friends were obnoxiously wealthy, the paid a great sum of money to put the finest touches on the evening's festivities. Some newer, hipper version of a band, much like the Weird Sisters, danced and thrashed on a stage at the far end of the grand hall. Most of the guests were jumping and dancing to the upbeat sounds of guitar, bass, and drums, but not Draco. No, he made sure to stay as far away as possible from the partygoers. Ever since the War, he enjoyed keeping to himself, and only throwing parties when it was convenient for him. This… this did none of that. Half of the room didn't give a flying-fuckaroo about him, and about one-fourth wished him dead. The faded Dark Mark on his left forearm saw to that. Sure, there was that remaining one-fourth who seemed to enjoy his presence, but Draco trusted very few after the War, suspecting some to only enjoy him for his fame (or, to put it better, infamy). Tonight's endeavours were supposed to be an intimate gathering of his closest friends -now, he was forced to 'enjoy' their traitorous actions with crowds and a not-looking-forward-to cleanup.
He removed his pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. No, that couldn't be right, could it? Thirty minutes? The party had only been going for thirty minutes? "Salazar's testicles, could this night get any worse?"
As if the universe saw fit to answer him, he spotted a familiar color of red hair and freckles flicker near the entryway, accompanied by raven-colored tresses and a shimmer of brunette. Oh, fucking Merlin's hat, the Golden Trio were here. Wasn't that just peachy? He tried to pry his eyes away to other, more important affairs, but they kept coming back to the witch tucked between two obnoxious oafs Draco detested, and his heart gave a small leap as he realized- she came. She actually came to this ridiculous, thrown together soiree. That any of the three would dare step foot in his (parents') home after what they endured years ago… it took courage. Gryffindor courage. Well, they were Gryffindors, weren't they?
He supposed he should say hello… this was, after all, his home they were intruding into. Even if they were invited. Without his consent. Besides, what good was being in the presence of a Weasley or a Potter if one couldn't have a bit of fun at their expense? She certainly had nothing to do with his reason for pushing himself off the wall and sauntering his way through the crowd, firewhiskey still tucked gingerly in his fingers, and weaving a path towards them. At the last moment, he grasped a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and carried it along with him, right up to the trio.
It was Weasley to notice first, a skeptical eyebrow raised in Draco's presence. He nudged Potter in the arm, whose green eyes looked over to his friend before taking notice of the Slytherin-alumnus in his presence. She was the last one to see him, instead focused on staring off into the crowd of dancing wizards and witches. But when Draco cleared his throat, she, too, turned her gaze on him, blinking rapidly while brushing the hem of her dress skirting.
"Malfoy," Potter said curtly, but politely, nodding his head. "Erm… hello."
Draco couldn't help the smirk on his lips. Oh, but Scar-head made this too easy for him. "Hello? Is that the way you greet all your hosts when you attend high-end parties? Then again, I suppose you'd have to be invited to some cultured affairs to know how to conduct yourself. For example…" He extended the hand, which held the champagne, out towards the curly-headed witch, whose eyes widened as she reached out and took the glass. "I, as the host of tonight's… reunion, welcome you." His eyes caught with hers -half a moment, but it was enough to put a fire in his belly that the firewhiskey could never reproduce.
"How's this for a greeting? Piss off." Ron Weasley narrowed his eyes, grabbing the drink out of his friend's hand. "Is this drugged or something?"
"Oh, Ron, honestly." For the first time in six months, Draco heard the sound of Hermione Granger's voice. It was electrifying, like static gathered at the bottom of his socks, sending jolts through his spine. "You're no better than he is if you stoop to his level." Her eyes found his again, weighting his feet to the ground like cinder blocks. "Honestly, Malfoy, I'd have thought you'd evolved a smidgen. In fact, I dare say the last time we met, you were a bit more polite. Did you degenerate, somehow?"
Draco clammed up quicker than a child eating a sour lemon, his cheeks frosting with pink. For half a moment, he couldn't speak. No matter how hard he tried, the words simply wouldn't come. And then -they fell out all at once. "I suppose being in the presence of lesser sorts can degenerate anyone given the opportunity." Fuck. Wait. That came out completely wrong. Her soft, earth-toned eyes hardened, and she crisply took the champagne from Weasley's hand, downed it all, and shoved it back into Draco's hand, empty.
"See? Not poisoned. Now, can we move on?" She glanced back at her counterparts, and then over to Draco. "Pleasant seeing you again, Malfoy." And with that, she stomped away, Potter and Weasley exchanging glances before following behind her.
Six months. He hadn't spoken a word to her in the six months since she left, and some of the first words he said just had to find their way through his smartass filter. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.
He checked his pocket watch again. Five minutes? That was all the time that passed since their arrival?
Fuck. This evening was going to take an eternity.
Alcohol. It was Draco's only saving grace for the evening as he watched on as his Manor was savagely bombarded by those from his graduating year. He drank his fair share of firewhiskey, butterbeer, and scotch as his eyes drifted around the ballroom, avoiding a particular set of frizzy curls in the process. Until he realized she was avoiding his gaze. And that didn't set right with the platinum-blond. Had six months turned her into someone who couldn't stomach to look at him? Well, it wasn't as if he cared. Far from it. No, he just didn't like the idea of being irresistible to anyone. He fidgeted nervously with his tie, adjusting and readjusting as the alcohol began to prickle his ears with heat.
"The quim of your choice ignoring you this evening?" said a dry, amused voice from the side. Draco turned his head and glared at Blaise, eyes turning to slits yet again.
"I haven't a clue what you mean."
"Right. Sure you don't. -You know," Blaise sidestepped closer, "I was chatting up Loony Lovegood about ten minutes ago. Want to know what she told me?"
"That you have perrywinkles in your hair or something?" Draco drawled in response.
"She says Granger's single. Like, entirely single. Has been since she left."
"Fascinating." He rolled his eyes. "Have at her, then." He gestured out to the dance floor, where Granger could be seen bouncing to the swift beat of a cheerful sounding song. "I'll cheer you on as you crash and burn."
Blaise's eyes flickered between Draco and Granger. "Oh. She's ignoring you? Can't say I blame her, much."
"You know, for a friend, you are almost at Potter level of annoyance."
"But not Weasley?"
"Oh, Godric no. No one can be on that level but the weasel himself."
Despite his disgruntlement, Draco found himself laughing right along with his friend.
"A few of us are meeting up in half an hour."
"Meeting up?" Draco quirked a curious eyebrow, gesturing to the grand ballroom filled with at least two hundred gyrating wizards and witches. "This public display of obnoxiousness not to your fancy anymore?"
"Chill, Draco," came the confident voice of Theo Nott. "When did you get such a right stick up your arse?"
"Since you decided to let strangers into my home without my notice."
"Hardly strangers," Theo noted, "We all went to school together…"
Draco glanced down at his left arm, pensive. He stepped away from his friends, muttering something about needing something better than the piss of alcohol they were serving, and cleared his way through the crowds out into the hallway, where he ran smack-dab into Padma Patil sucking face with -
"Oh, I did not need to see that on a weak stomach..." Draco pretended to grimace as Padma and Ron Weasley broke away from eating each other's faces long enough to shoot agitated glances in his direction.
"Bugger off, Malfoy. No one asked you to watch."
Draco glanced between the two and smirked. "It's my home, Weasley. And believe me, I didn't want to watch- sort of like watching a trainwreck, isn't it? I'm surprised she has any face left -you looked like you were trying to eat it." He folded his arms over his chest. "Patil, I'd watch out for that one. He's a bit of a player, if memory serves."
Weasley scowled, but Draco didn't give him time to say much as he took off past them, in the direction of the staircase leading up to the East Wing. He was just about to place his hand on the banister when he caught sight of someone at the top - a tightness pressed against his chest, and his fingers gripped around the wood of the banister with knuckle-whitening strength. How had she gotten all the way out here in such a short amount of time? He could have sworn she was just back there, still at the party…
Draco cleared his throat, not one to be run off by some bushy-haired ex-coworker. Even if that woman had the softest, chocolate covered eyes this side of Britain…
The sound his throat made as he coughed caused her head to turn in his direction, and, once again, their eyes met.
"Erm… hello," he said, nodding once. His foot stayed at the bottom step, poised to move, but somehow unable to find the will to.
Granger stared down at him from the top of the stairs, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly. "You're not being a very good host, are you?" Around her small frame, she wore a burgundy strapless dress with pleated skirting, which was decorated with pencil thin gold stripes. Gryffindor. Of course. Like the rest of the dolts back in the ballroom, she wore her House colors. But Merlin… she wore them well. Somehow, she'd managed to climb the staircase in a pair of black stilettos. Impressive.
"Excuse me?"
"Well," she said, taking a step down the staircase, hand poised on the railing, "You chastised Harry to no end this evening, following up by a brag of being such a marvelous host." Another step down the stairs. "And here you are, out here, not playing up to your Slytherin charms of having to be the center of attention."
Draco smirked, meeting her step down the staircase with a step up of his own. "That hurt, Granger. See?" He motioned to his perfectly angled cheekbone. "I'm fair skinned -that quip might leave a bruise."
"Poor you." Another step down.
"Poor you." Another step up. "Let the papers have at you when they see what you've done to my perfect face."
"If a face has a bruise, it's hardly perfect, is it?"
His smirk widened, impressed by her ability to quip back as he took another step towards her, up the stairs. There were so many things he wanted to say -some of them sarcastic, some of them entirely serious, but all-in-all, none of them conveyed the correct emotions. So, he settled on silence. When they were but five steps away from each other, he halted, his alcoholic intake picking this exact moment to make his head spin. He leaned against the bannister with his side, smirk wiping away from his features like a dry-erase marker to a whiteboard. The stairs… goddamn stairs. Why were there so many? Did the designer of this house never take into account the elderly or disorderly drunken?
"Are you alright?" she asked, taking those five stairs in a matter of moments to stand beside him. "You look a bit pale."
Snarkily, Draco closed his eyes and replied, "Hi. I'm a Malfoy."
"You know what I mean." She reached out, hand slipping up to his forehead. Touch. She was touching him. And it only took six months. "You're not feverish…"
"I'm fine, Granger," he said, instinctively batting her hand away. Damn. But her touch had felt so good. "Just a bit… poached."
"You've been drinking?"
"It's a party." He shook his head, attempting to stay alcohol's kiss. If he'd known he would be talking to her, he wouldn't have drank so much. "In my room, there's some sobering tablets." He gestured upwards, towards the upper halls. "Be a good little lion and fetch some for me?"
"Lions don't fetch," she said, scowling as he peeked at her through hooded slits.
"And yet," he said, ice in his tone, "I can already hear your little paws climbing that staircase…" He rubbed his numb face and squeezed his eyes shut. Just because he was in her presence didn't mean he would go easy on her. She didn't deserve it, in any case. Or maybe she did. He was much too drunk to ponder on it. Granger's high heels could be heard clomping up the staircase, and he just had to add, "You remember which one it is, yes? My bedroom?"
She didn't answer him.
Time slithered on like an infant snake in the grass -slowly, gathering its bearings. Eventually, she came back; her heeled pumps stomped down the staircase and approached him. He was seated now, thanking his lucky stars no one else had decided to take a tour of the Manor the way she had.
"Here." Granger thrust her hand out in front of his nose, revealing two glossy tablets. Draco smirked in appreciation, muttered a thank you, and plucked them from her hand before popping them into his mouth. They fizzed doing down his throat, and a swelling feeling in his brain told him the tablets were, in fact, working. He blinked a few times, shook his head to clear his thoughts, and opened his eyes completely to meet her withering stare.
Draco raised a cool eyebrow and sneered, "Yes? Something I can help you with?"
"Why are you acting this way?" she asked, crossing her arms. The golden flecks of her irises danced in the light of the chandelier dangling from the high vaulted ceiling off to their side.
"Acting what way? Like I'm at a party?"
"Like an arse."
Both of his eyebrows raised this time, and he chuckled. "Oh. Oh, it's the arse part that bothers you, does it? Funny. Last time we spoke, you didn't seem to mind it so much…"
Granger opened her pretty little lips to speak, but someone called up from the bottom of the staircase. "Oy! Draco! You comin' or what?" Blaise. Of course. It was Blaise.
"Coming? You're going somewhere?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow between the two. Draco pried his eyes down to Blaise, who grinned back up at him, deception and the devil's intentions lodged in his brown orbs.
"You can come with us, Granger, if you'd like. We're just going somewhere a bit more private. Draco hates crowds, as you know."
Oh, how Draco wished his eyes could cast Avadas, because Blaise would be dead twice -one for each eye. How dare he make it sound like sneaking off from his own party was his idea? How dare he ask her to tag along? How dare he?
"I don't think-"
"Loony's coming," Blaise offered. "And Potter."
"Harry?" She blinked twice. "Harry's joining you snakes in your pit?"
"Gee, you're just so original with your analogies," Draco drawled.
She shot daggers in his direction in the form of her glare. "And your little lion quip wasn't overplayed?" Her head turned in the direction of Blaise. "Well, I'm beyond old house rivalries. Sure. I'll join you." She stepped down the staircase and scooped up a clutch from the bottom of the stairs. "Going to the powder room -be back in two shakes."
"Take your time," Blaise waved her off, and was surprised when he turned around to find Draco down the staircase and glaring at him from only inches away. "What?"
"You invited her?"
"Well, yeah. You can't just throw a makeshift reunion together and then not invite the Golden Trio, can you?"
"You know damn well what I mean."
"Oh? To the afterparty?" Blaise nearly sniggered into his hand. "You don't have to go, you know." He looked rather amused with himself.
Draco snorted a sarcastic laugh and stared off in the direction Granger left. "Yeah, as if I'm going to trust you not to drink everything in my father's liquor cabinet. I have to keep an eye on you, Zabini. You're such a child."
"So, babysitter Malfoy, then?"
"Consider your arse watched." Wait. "That came out wrong."
The small 'afterparty' took place during the party consisted of about ten people, which, to Draco, might have been worse than the 200-some-odd people having the time of their lives in his parents' ballroom. She had nothing to do with his apprehension, of course. It had everything to do with those in attendance: Blaise, Pansy, Potter, Padma, Weasley, Theo, Luna, Draco (naturally), Daphne (somehow, she managed to be noticed), and… her. Once again, Draco found himself looking everywhere but at the stunning brunette, who examined family portraits on the wall of his father's study, which was now where they all currently resided.
Blaise, like clockwork, went to Lucius's other stash of alcohol, tucked neatly away in the large, mahogany desk towards the center of the room, just offset of the fireplace. Draco stalked across the room in no time flat, snatching a bottle of expensive bourbon from Blaise's prying fingers and settled, instead, on an older batch of expensive firewhiskey that he could easily replace later. His friend gave him a disheartened look as Draco tucked the bourbon back into the desk drawer, but settled on the firewhiskey with excitement.
Together, they conjured up enough shot glasses for everyone while Draco wondered just how Blaise convinced Golden Boy and Golden Boy's sidekick to tag along in this escapade. He'd witnessed Hermione's -oh, Merlin, that name did something to the inside of his stomach, twisting it in knots - invitation, so perhaps he goaded the others by insisting she already agreed to it as well? No doubt, it would be a very Slytherin thing to do. And if there was one thing Slytherins took pride in, it was being cunning. Potter would show up to keep Hermione out of harm's way, and Weasley would show up because he was a jealous hack, and she… she showed up because her friends were promised to be in attendance.
Draco, secretly, wished it was for another reason.
"So we're slumming it this evening?" Pansy smirked, trailing her eyes over to the crowd of mixed alumni. Not a single Hufflepuff in attendance. As per the usual. "Remind me again, boys, why we're chumming it up with Gryffindors?"
"Oh, come on, Pans," Blaise cooed in her ear, "We're not at Hogwarts anymore. We're all just… witches and wizards! Here to have a fun time and get a bit naughty." He flashed the room a wink and, with a flick of his wand, levitated the shots of firewhiskey around the room. "To drunken merriment!"
"To pantsing you when you're too tossed!" Theo chimed in.
Potter nearly choked on his shot as he brought the liquor to his lips, and said with a wry grin, "I second that one!"
"Here, here!" Pansy snickered. "But only because Zabini without any pants on does sound nice."
Everyone threw back their shots, Draco and Granger included. His eyes found their way to her face to watch her kick back the alcohol and grimace at the burn in her slender throat.
"If you're planning on being pantsed, Blaise," Said Loony, drawing the attention in the room, "I would recommend keeping a fair amount of sugar cubes in your pockets to drive away the Boldermagigs."
"Alright, I'll bite," said Weasley, grinning, "What's a Boldermagig, Luna?"
"You don't know?" She smiled, her blue eyes glistening around the room, ever so eager to tell them. "They are these little blue and pink goblins that come out at night and filch your knickers while you're not looking. It's why I choose not to wear any, on most occasions."
Blaise and Theo dropped their jaws at the confession, while Potter glanced down at the floor, ears tinged pink, and Weasley turned as red as a tomato. Draco chuckled into his shoulder. Oh, how 'Loony' was such a fitting description for the witch.
"So… um... " Blaise cleared his throat. "I don't think that dress can hold sugar cubes, can it?"
The blonde glanced down to her small, navy blue jumper. "No. No pockets, you see." She patted her hips delicately and smiled with innocence.
Blaise looked like he might cum in his pants right then and there as he bit the back of his hand and cleared his throat. "Luna… tell me more about these Boldermag… er… what were they called again?"
"Boldermagigs."
"Yes. Those." He slithered his way across the room and perched a spot next to her, primed and leaning in with interest. "I want to hear all about them."
Draco rolled his eyes and noticed something -suddenly, there was a pair of brown eyes on him. And she was approaching. Merlin, fuck. What should he do? Should he say something? The last two times he'd spoken this evening, he'd botched it up pretty damn bad. Should he remain silent? Would that be too obvious? Should he ignore her? He didn't want to…
"We meet again," she said, clinking her empty shot glass against his.
"Looks like it," he said dryly, his lips curling up nearly in a smile -but he caught himself last moment and turned it into a smirk instead. "I'll be honest, this wasn't what I had in mind when Blaise said he wanted to branch off, away from the party."
Granger nodded, looking out at the mixture of wizards and witches conversing. They stood in silence, together, for a time. Minutes ticked on. Finally, she glanced back down at her shot glass and offered it out to him. "Another, barkeep?"
"Do I look like a barkeep to you?" he smirked, glancing down at his attire, though he took the glass all the same. She was speaking to him, and that was something, wasn't it? "What's your poison?"
"Is there anything else besides the firewhiskey?" she asked. "It burns going down."
"All of it burns going down." He nudged for her to follow and walked back over to his father's desk, careful in his movements as to not attract Blaise's attention back over to the expensive alcohols tucked away. Luckily, Loony was a great distraction. Draco fished out a small flask and offered it out to her.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"Fairy Ale. Tastes alright. Very rare." He grinned as he watched her unscrew the top, tilt it back, and sip. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed three gulps full before prying her lips from the flask. "Doth it pleaseth you?" He shot her a wry smirk.
"It's delicious…" She smiled. And then frowned. "Oh, and it must be very expensive." She thrust the flask out between them. "Oh, I couldn't possibly.."
"But you've already," he noted, "And besides -I could hardly care less." He lied. His father would be irate. But… somehow… right now, it didn't matter. He'd deal with the consequences later.
It didn't take long for Blaise, however, to take notice, and he swooped in like a hawk between the two. How'd he get to the desk so fast?
"Is… Is that... ?" Blaise glared at the flask. "Oh, come on, Draco! I've been begging you for months to try that!"
"And I've been telling you for months to shove it."
Like a toddler throwing a fit, Blaise stomped a foot on the ground - the reverberation shook the desk, and the empty bottle of firewhiskey, perched precariously on the edge, tipped over and fell off. It landed with a plink to the floor below as it slowly spun around the room -landing in front of Padma Patil.
She smiled. "You know what this reminds me of, Ron?" She looked to the room. "Oh come on, surely someone must know."
It was Hermione to chime in. "Oh! Haha." She giggled into her hand. "Spin the bottle."
Potter chuckled. "Oh man, that brings back memories, doesn't it?"
"Excuse me," Pansy threw up a hand, "What is 'spin the bottle'?"
"You've never played?"
"No. Obviously."
"It's a muggle game," Hermione explained, "Everyone sits in the middle of the floor and you spin a bottle in the center of the circle. Whoever spins and whoever the bottle lands on… well, it gets a bit hazy, doesn't it?"
"Hazy?" Piped in Theo.
"Well, some people play to kiss… others go in closets and…" A brilliant shade of magenta flourished over her cheeks. "It's silly, really."
"Hardly silly," said Blaise, exchanging glances with his Slytherin brethren. When his eyes fell on the platinum-blond, Draco had a moment of panic, and his mouth fell open in a dramatic, yet comical 'no!' -"I'm game if everyone else is."
No.
"How does it work, Granger?"
NO.
"Oh, um…" She blushed further, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she stepped forward, the flask still clutched between her slender fingers. "Well, we'd need everyone in the center of the room."
Blaise whipped his head around to the room. "Well? Come on. The lady says the center of the room -get to it."
Draco cleared his throat, nervously approaching the circle of adults as they stood around his father's expensive rug and formed a ring. Somehow, she ended up on the opposite side of him, perfectly in his view and unable to escape it. Damn.
"And then everyone takes a seat, yes?" Pansy chirped. When Draco shot her a colorful glare, she merely shrugged and bunched up the skirting of her dress before taking a seat and beckoning everyone else to follow suit.
"This reminds me of that other game… what's it called? Seven minutes in heaven?" Padma snapped her fingers in excitement. "Oh, let's combine the games, if we're playing!"
"Wait," Potter put a hand up, "I -well, no offence, but I'm not really keen on locking lips with any of you." He glanced over to Hermione. "No offence, Mione."
"None taken, Harry." She smiled shyly.
Draco couldn't help but snigger, "Oh. Look at that. Potter's actually afraid of something."
"Am not." Potter narrowed his eyes. "Just… what if I land on a bloke or something. You want to be stuck in a closet with me for seven minutes, Malfoy?"
Quirking an eyebrow, Draco smirked and replied, "You wish you could spend seven minutes in a closet with me. Might learn a thing or two, Potter."
"I've never known Gryffindors to shy away from a challenge," Blaise was quick to respond, trying to break up the fight, already eyeing Luna with feverish intent. There was no doubt in Draco's mind why he wanted to play the game. "Why don't we make it interesting, then?"
"Interesting? How?" asked Weasley.
"We'll spell the bottle to only land on the opposite sex of the spinner. Sound fair? Nobody says you have to do it, Weasley. But for those of us who are unafraid of a little face to face time…" He eyed Padma over and pretended to feign interest. "I'm sure some of us would be glad to take these beautiful ladies off your hands."
"Fuck it." Ron thrust his hand out. "Gimme the damn bottle."
"Haha," Pansy giggled, "Let's make it even more interesting."
"Oh no…" Draco grumbled. He noticed the way Granger's eyes danced over his direction, but he set his eyes to the floor, determined not to look her in the face. Merlin, he felt seventeen all over again. Only instead of playing Eros and Psyche, he was stuck playing a muggle version of could-be-paired-up-with-potential-disaster. Opting out now, however, would brand him a coward. He'd done enough cowardly things to sate his lifetime. So, Draco closed his eyes and waited for Pansy to continue her suggestion.
"Oh yes." The Slytherin witch clapped her hands together excitedly. "While everyone else waits outside for the 'couple in question' to finish, we should play truth or dare!"
"How old are you? Five?" asked Draco.
Pansy stuck out her tongue. "If you're not up for a challenge…"
Pah. "Don't flatter yourself, Pansy, into thinking any of this is 'challenging'. A bit juvenile…"
"So it's settled then." Blaise reached out and grabbed the bottle, turning it in a quick spin. "So it just spins like this, yeah? And then…" He stopped it mid move, landing it on Luna. "It lands on your partner…" He gave a flirtatious wink as he stood up and offered out his hand to the blonde witch. "Something like this, yeah?"
"Hey, wait a moment…" Theo muttered.
"Yes," Luna smiled happily, extending her hand so that the wizard could pull her to her feet.
"Now… a closet… oh. This one here?"
"The game hasn't even started yet," said Theo, a bit louder. His mouth went slack as Blaise dragged Loony off in the direction of a single door at the West end of the room. "Oy! I thought you were showing us an example!"
"That's my father's potion closet!" Draco shouted, but it was too late -Blaise had tugged Loony in and shut the door behind him. "Someone put a bloody timer on. You're never going to convince him to come out of there otherwise."
Theo crossed his arms, thoroughly miffed.
It was Hermione to flick her wand, drawing a countdown clock in red, wispy smoke. With a snap of her fingers, the 7:00 flicked down to 6:59, counting down the seconds until they would, no doubt, need to pry Blaise off of Loony Lovegood.
Fuck, could this night get any worse?
"Right. So, truth or dare, yes?"
Ugh. Of course it could.
There's obviously a history here between our two main characters. But what is it!? Find out next chapter! Also, look forward to some much deserved smut. XD Please leave a review with your thoughts? It would mean the world to me, as well as a follow or a favorite! XD
Until next time.
~A.
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The Closet Relativity Theory