This was for the interhouse fest 2015 on LiveJournal. The prompt was: A party gets out of hand.

This is 8th year post-war, and all the deaths up until Voldemort's death, happened. Sorry. And a big thank-you so much to my girl Jade, for swooping in last minute and giving this a look over – you are the best. :-)




The ice cold summer wind blowing across the surface of the Black Lake drowned out all nearby noise; the sweeping of the wind was the only sound in the vicinity in an otherwise silent landscape. The weather was wetter and colder in Scotland than the rest of the United Kingdom, throughout every season. It was just a fact – something everyone knew, and took for granted. Perhaps this was why the Founders chose to build Hogwarts in this region; the practice of magic came easier here, making it the perfect location for beginners. For miles around, the area was thick in spells that both concealed and augmented magic; the blanket of power smothered everything, and nothing here was non-magical, not even the weather.

But it made the area darker and more foreboding, instead of inviting as it was meant to.

The morose atmosphere was reflected in the faces of four students sitting by the lake. It seemed the perfect place for Blaise Zabini to let loose without anyone overhearing – on the edge of the Black Lake and far, far away from any pointy, dangerous objects that might be flung in his direction if his friends decided he wasn't worth being seen with anymore. He worried over that – what they would do, what they would say. This was not your typical kind of "coming out" speech. He sat next to his friends, glaring down at the drink in his hand (a bottle of the finest Dragon Barrel Brandy, from his favourite year), as he told his friends the truth.

"Well, shit." Theodore Nott's sarcastic comment broke the silence – they'd been quiet for a while. "Are you sure, mate?"

Was he sure? Fuck, Blaise had gone over this in his head so many times, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. But recent revelations called into question his sanity, as well as whether or not his friends were ever going to talk to him again, so he'd researched it. Hell, he'd even gone into "Muggle-land" (as he not-so-fondly called that world), and searched there. His good-for-nothing father had been Muggle-born – an Italian Muggle-born, who'd taken off the moment his mother had told him she was pregnant. That was why Nastya Zabini had always had such a strong hatred for Muggles, and not because of the pure-blood shite she'd been spouting for years.

The fucking woman hadn't seen fit to tell him any of this though, so he'd spent his life being a first-class prat thanks to that stupid cow.

"She tried to say she had had me overseas," Blaise said. "Fed me some bullshit story about a whirlwind romance in Verona."

"How do you know she was lying?" Theo asked.

"I always know when that ruddy woman is lying."

"But with this, how can you be sure?"

The dark boy sighed, frustrated. "Her breath hitches, she won't look me in the eye, will repeat herself incessantly, and is either talking my ear off about something completely unrelated, or having trouble forming a simple, declarative sentence – whether she's drunk or not."

"It doesn't mean anything," Gregory Goyle said quickly. "I mean, we're still mates."

Blaise offered him up a half-hearted smile before throwing back his head, and downing the rest of the bottle in his hands. He licked his lips, staring down at his drink, and thinking – he didn't want to think, he wanted to celebrate, and in the most drunken way possible. Even if it got him detention, and even if his mother never spoke to him again; this was important. Smirking, he stood up, scanned the surface of the lake, and threw the bottle; it flew across the air as if in slow motion, never making a splash as a long tentacle broke the surface of the water and slithered around it, much like a snake. He exhaled deeply as the giant squid dragged it down to the watery depths.

"Happy now?" Theo asked.

Blaise shrugged, he glanced at Draco; the Malfoy heir was eerily silent. He hadn't said a word since Blaise had dropped the bombshell on them. His friend had a contemplative look on his face, and even though this was not out of character for Draco, it was still worrying. The blond was watching the motions of the wind sweeping across the surface of the Black Lake, his eyes glazed over. Nothing in his body language, nor his expression, gave away his thoughts.

"Anything from you there, mate?" Theo nudged Draco. "Care to weigh in?"

Draco blinked heavily, glanced at Theo, and then shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters."

"What are you talking about?"


"You can tell us," Greg said softly. "I mean, we are all still mates, right?"

Draco glanced over at him. The stocky boy still hadn't gotten over Vincent's death, and neither had Draco, really. Nobody outside the four of them seemed to even be thinking of him anymore – not even Crabbe Sr., who was rotting in Azkaban, and from what Greg had told Draco, was beyond caring about his dead son. Dying in the manner he had, Vincent was cast aside by his family so easily. That, among other things, was why Greg had decided to let his pure-blood prejudices go. Draco agreed with him, but hadn't come out and said it. His own reasons were a little more complicated.

"It's the same thing, over and over again," Draco said, looking back out over the lake. "Our fathers followed the Dark Lord and were killed, imprisoned, or forced to pretend to be innocent." His father was a right bastard, either way. "Thenwe serve him, and history just repeats itself. We've shed our fair share of blood, and for what, some tosser who wasn't even what he claimed to be?" He tried to smile as he looked at Blaise, noting the dark boy was apprehensive about his reaction. "None of that shit matters anymore."

"Merlin's hairy balls." Theo's eyes widened. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Draco Malfoy?"

His snarky voice didn't lessen the feeling of weightlessness that Blaise felt. What a fucking waste of time his life had been. He shook his head.

Draco pulled out a bottle from his own bag, and lifted it into the air. "Here's to leaving behind parental fuckers, and pure-blood bullshit."

Blaise watched him. "Hm. You talk big. Care to put your Galleons where your snout is?"

Greg laughed, snorting.

Blaise waggled his eyebrows at Draco. "Are you a betting man?"

Draco frowned at him. "What are you going to do?"


"Celebrate not being a pure-blood?"

"And we'll need some non-Slytherin blood," Blaise said, emphasising blood like it was an aphrodisiac.

"Look mate," Theo said, pulling a face at that mental image. "If you want to hang around a bunch of people who hate you for a night, there are easier ways to get your dick hexed off."

"Yeah, you could date a Weasley." Draco laughed.

Blaise smirked. "You're coming too."

Draco lost his smug attitude, and glared at his best friend. "No."

"Fuck, yes."

"Fuck, no."

"Oh come on, let's see how many people are willing to party with some ex-Death Eaters."

"I said no."

"You're ruining my buzz."

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Fuck you, you are."

"Fuck you, I'm not."

"I hate to interrupt this – whatever this is – but who are you even going to invite?" Theo asked.

"Pretty girls," Greg said, grinning. "Lots of them."

"Yes, no-one ugly." Blaise pulled a face. "But no-one better looking than me."

"No-one's better looking than you." Theo rolled his eyes.

"So…ugly people too, then?" Greg asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Only so I look good next to them."

Draco scoffed. "So you're inviting the whole school." His friend's vanity was a long-standing joke amongst everyone who knew him. Even people who didn't know him knew he was up himself.

Blaise ignored him. He was thinking, again. "No, not the whole school. Just everyone in our year, since so many came back."

Everyone who didn't die, minus a few stragglers.

"So, what's that bet you were talking about?" Theo asked.

Blaise smirked. "Oh no, you have to agree to it before I tell you what it is."

Draco scoffed. "No, thanks."

"Yeah, that's no incentive," Theo added. "Give us a reason."

"If anyone backs out, they owe the others a hundred galleons."

Greg paled. "I don't have a hundred galleons."

"Get laid," Blaise said. "We all get laid by someone not from our house."

They all perked up, but Greg was still uncertain. "Nobody's going to want to sleep with me."

"Don't sell yourself short," Theo said, clapping him on the back. "Just find a girl who's shy and already almost drunk, and tell her all about your shoddy childhood – girls get all weepy eyed over a damaged boy they think they can save."


Draco scoffed. "I don't need this–"

"When was the last time you shagged a non-Slytherin girl?" Blaise interrupted. "Or have you even?"

Draco groaned. "Fine, I'm doing this."

"Yeah," Theo agreed. "I know a certain Hufflepuff who's been curious about my todger." He chuckled. "I think I'll show her what she's been talking about."

"Get up." Blaise stood, and started smacking their arms. "Come on!"

He wanted to get invitations sorted out and a site for the party decided, and they were going to help him.

"Bugger off, mother!" Draco whined. That earned him a belt around the head, and he reluctantly stood up. It wasn't that he didn't want to get laid, but he wasn't very confident about this. Still, he had his own non-Slytherin girl in mind, and this was either going to be interesting or incredibly painful.



"Come one, come all!"

Draco didn't know this version of Blaise Zabini. The calm, detached, vain Slytherin had morphed since their talk at the Black Lake yesterday, and it was kind of freaking him out. Maybe finding out he was a half-blood and not pure-blood had unhinged him. Was that even possible?

"Too theatrical," Theo told him, and Blaise nodded quickly – as though they were master and student. "This is supposed to be hush-hush, after all."

"I don't know why," Greg said. Whatever happened to that expression "the more the merrier"? The more girls that came to this, the more likely there'd be one that would stoop to sleeping with him.

"The Golden Trio!" Blaise ignored him, having spotted more of their fellow classmates.

"Oh, here we go," Greg mumbled.

Blaise rifled through his bag for a moment, waving down Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger frantically. They came, albeit suspiciously.

"What's this?" Harry asked, taking the roll of parchment as Blaise handed him his invitation.

Blaise pointed at him imperiously. "You are cordially invited to my... uh, what is it Muggles call it, again?"

"Binge," Draco muttered.

"Yes, that."

Ron snorted. "Really?"

Blaise turned to look at him, fighting to keep a sneer off his face. "Yes, even you, carrot top." He tossed the ginger his own rolled up invitation and, surprised, Ron fumbled before managing to catch it. "Oh." Blaise grinned, pretending to only just now notice Hermione. "Yes, you must come too, Hermione Granger." His arm went around her shoulders, an invitation slid into her hands, and he winked at her. "It would not be a party without you, bella ragazza."

"What did he just call you, Hermione?" Her ginger friend gripped his invite tightly, fuming.

"I don't speak Italian," she said.

"It means 'beautiful girl'," Draco said.

She cocked her head to look at him. He stared back at her calmly; she felt a tremble of excitement run through her body at his piercing gaze. What was he looking at? She resisted the urge to look behind her – maybe one of his giggling fan girls was standing behind her and he was giving them the 'come hither' look, not her. Yes, that was it – he wasn't trying to undress her with his eyes. Nope…

She felt oddly disappointed.

Hermione shook that off, and turned back to Blaise. "Where exactly is this party you're inviting us to, going to be held?"

"Not in the dungeons," he said hurriedly, correctly interpreting her concerned expression. "At the lake."

"Black Lake?"

"Mm-hm. One last big bang for the students in our year only, and it's a secret from the rest of the school." He waggled a finger at Harry. "So no telling your weaselette."

"Is he even dating her still?" Theo asked.

Four Slytherins stared at Harry expectantly. "Uh…no," he said, a little overwhelmed under the weight of the four-way gaze. "She's–"

"Okay!" Blaise said, now waggling his finger in Ron's face. "No telling your sister, then – or anyone else who's not our classmates. Check your invites for the details."

"Hang on," Hermione said. "How are you going to keep it secret from the faculty if it's out in the open, at night, and in an area you'll have to light up magically to see anything?"

"Note the date," Blaise said, and she opened the parchment to read her invite. "Three days before we go home, the temporary Head Mistress is being honoured that night; she's going to be fully instated as the official Head Mistress of Hogwarts."

"Finally," Harry said brusquely, his eyes busy reading his invitation.

"Yes, and as a result, the faculty will be preoccupied in Hogsmeade for the celebrations during the night, so we'll have plenty of time to get naughty."

Ron checked his invitation, frowning as he tried not to blush at Zabini's implication. He was going to have to drink a bit to do anything of that, if his disastrous attempts with Hermione were anything to go by. Maybe he'd go for a Hufflepuff this time – he'd heard from Luna just how brazen they could be, though how she knew that, he didn't understand (she was dating Neville, after all). "This just addresses me as 'dear invitee'."

The dark boy shrugged his shoulders. "That's because I don't remember your name, carrot top."

"It's Ron Weasley," Greg said, helpfully.

"Okay." Blaise waved his wand at the parchment. "Now it knows you, too."

They seemed agreeable enough. He nodded to himself and started to move away – Greg immediately followed, but Theo turned to Draco, confused. "I didn't know you knew Italian."

Draco ignored him and glanced at Hermione – she was looking at him quizzically, trying to size him up. He smiled inwardly as he turned to leave with his friends. Interesting.



Six days, fourteen hours, eight minutes, and thirty-two seconds later, a set of steel grey eyes met brown, unable to turn away. She looked divine in that dress – the area by the Black Lake had warming charms all over it, so she was able to get away with wearing something so revealing. It was Muggle attire, not Wizarding, so it complimented her curves rather than hiding them, and the soft, unguarded expression on her face when she looked at him gave him a jolt of confidence – not to mention a jolt elsewhere.

Draco Malfoy had been watching Hermione Granger since that first day on the Hogwarts Express when they were both eleven years old. Her bushy hair was such a stark contrast to his own that it spun him about. Oddly, it hadn't deterred his interest in her – he'd often fantasised about throwing her down on his Persian imported Silk Isfahan Rug, and shagging her into the fucking thing until her bum was raw from the friction. She was the object of his lust from the moment he began having wet dreams.

And this party was his last chance to make that dream a reality. The sun had recently set, and the magical lights were mesmerising – all thoughts of the perfect scenery flew out the proverbial window however, when Hermione smiled at him, and he found himself smiling back.

Nearby, Pansy Parkinson watched the exchange with a frown. She had a paper cup in one hand (it was either Firewhisky or Mead she was drinking – she wasn't very good with liquor), and was sitting on Theodore Nott's lap as he eyed off a Hufflepuff from afar. Her name escaped Pansy, but the girl was cute at least.

She nudged Theo roughly. "Why is he suddenly so interested in her?"

He looked up at her, and then over at Draco. "What are you talking about, Draco's been eye-fucking Granger all year."

Pansy pouted, but she wasn't actually jealous. She'd stopped looking at him like a piece of meat a while back, but it still bothered her that he was making googly eyes at Granger.

"Where is the drinks?" The grating, slurred voice of Ron Weasley reached her ears, and she looked over as he searched the cooler two feet from her. There were about a dozen of the strange devices Blaise had obtained (that he said were called coolers), littered around here – there were mostly drinks, but some food, in them. She wondered where he'd gotten the idea for that from.

"How many have you had, Weasel?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Five million." He hiccupped.

"Don't mix your drinks, you wanker!" Theo snapped. Ron didn't seem to agree, so he sighed. "Have some cognac – at least mix that shite you've been drinking with something good."

"Cog-a-nac? What the bloody hell is a cog-a-frac?"


"Don't even care, you tosser. Answer the fucking question."

"Eau de vi."


Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really understand that? Theo was just having him on, right? But Ron grabbed the bottle Theo was pointing at and moved away, zigzagging as he went. He was too drunk to know he didn't know, that had to be it (and people called her a lightweight). She watched, her eyes inevitably moving to Harry Potter as Ron settled on the ground near his friend – the next moment, some Hufflepuff girl jumped the ginger, and they started snogging instead of drinking (not as pretty as the girl Theo had been eyeing off, Pansy at least remembered this one was called Susan Bones). Pansy watched the boy-who-lived, wistfully. He was in deep conversation with Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw, and the girl was snaking her hand surreptitiously toward his crotch.

"Looks like he's busy," Theo said, noting who she was staring at.


"You need to go get laid."


"Okay, so what about Potter?"

Pansy blanched. "Why would I touch him?"

"You said at the beginning of the year he was fit."

She blushed. "N-no, I said kinda… oh shut it." She glared at him as he laughed. "And who do you have your eyes on, then?" She already knew, but he hadn't noticed this. Theo pointed, and she let out a mirthless laugh. "Really, Nott, you're going for that?" She wiped at her eyes dramatically as he glared at her. "Fine, whatever floats your boat. Later, you bloody wanker."

She hopped off of him and strode away. Pansy passed by Blaise, who was half undressed, and sucking face with some Gryffindor girl – the identical twin of that Ravenclaw girl, she forgot her name – and was shocked to see Gregory Goyle being consoled by a concerned looking (but pretty) Ravenclaw named Sue Li. How the fuck had he managed that?

She shook her head and stalked past her friends – Daphne had some guy wrapped her finger and her mouth, and the rest of the Slytherin girls were either also embroiled or looking like they were about to be. Even Millicent. The problem was that there was only one guy Pansy wanted, and he was currently being seduced by that Ravenclaw hussy. She grabbed another drink and looked around for a place to plonk her arse on, and be miserably alone for the rest of the night.

"I saw you watching Harry."

In all her meanderings, she hadn't noticed Granger standing nearby. "What?"

Hermione smiled. "He really has no idea where Lisa's hand is about to go – even after being with Ginny he's still so oblivious. If you wanted to, you could swoop in there and cut her off."

Pansy grinned despite herself. "Really? The Golden Girl has some Slytherin in her after all?"

Hermione glanced at Draco who looked bemused at her attempting conversation with his friend. "In me? Maybe soon." Pansy's eyes widened in shock at the notorious bookworm's candour. "But I'm serious – you should totally go for it. Lisa's someone Harry will regret being with if he lets her woo him tonight."

The Slytherin girl cleared her throat. "And why is that?"

"Because she's just after what's in his pants, and morning-after bragging rights for bagging The Chosen One."

"And how do you know I'm not?"

"Because you're jealous, and you're standing here bemoaning rather than being all over him and batting your eyelashes at him like it's a competition."

"Hm." Pansy had to hand it to her, she was insightful. She followed Granger's line of sight as the Gryffindor let her eyes wander to Draco again. The girl needed to take her own advice. "Granger," she said, reluctantly. Draco owed her for this. "Stop eye-fucking Draco, and just shag him already."

She walked away to do just as Hermione had told her to do, smirking as Granger gaped at her, feeling dirty for that comment but happy nonetheless.

Hermione looked up, into those molten eyes and wondered where her Gryffindor courage was. Was she drunk? She felt drunk. She wasn't thinking straight enough to be sober. That had to be it. Alcohol didn't make her brave, it made her horny.

"You're taking the piss, aren't you?"

She broke eye contact with Draco at the sound of their host's voice. Blaise looked slightly alarmed.

"Okay," he said, pointing his finger in Parvati Patil's smiling face. "You're on. Listen up, everybody!"

Anyone sound of mind to hear and understand him, looked over at him.

"I've just been dared, and you're all going to bear witness; Draco, Theo, and Greg, get your arses over here! I'm not doing this alone."

Hermione glanced over at Pansy only to note she was snogging her best friend – she moved fast. She decided to leave her boys, and moved over toward where a small crowd was now gathering around the four Slytherin boys.

"What is going on?" Terry Boot asked, and she shrugged.

"They're going starkers." Neville was next to her in a second, looking out of breath. He chuckled, and Hermione's eyes widened, settling on Draco.

"Come on, take it off!" Hannah Abbott yelled. She winked at Theo who flushed slightly.

"Okay," he said, turning to Draco, Blaise, and Greg. "Let's do this."

Greg was the only one who looked terrified – sure, he'd lost weight in the war and wasn't as flabby as he used to be, but that didn't mean he wanted to show everyone!

"Here." Blaise handed him a drink. "Liquid courage."

Oh, what the hell. It wasn't like he was doing this alone, and it was their last ever week at Hogwarts – it would be nice to be remembered as something other than the son of a convicted Death Eater. So he threw his head back, guzzled what tasted like Sherry, and tossed the empty cup over his shoulder. Yeah, he felt better. Grinning from ear-to-ear, he joined his friends by the edge of the Black Lake. It made sense that they'd do this here – their lives had changed here (not just because of Blaise's recent, family situation), and for the better. It was still scary, but maybe that drink had had some kind of confidence potion in it because he was very suddenly excited to do this.

"How drunk are they, do you think?" Hermione asked.

Neville shrugged. "Does it matter? This is going to be so funny."

She smiled.

"It's fucking cold out here."

"Don't chicken out now, Malfoy," Hermione said, smirking when he met her eye.

He growled, but said nothing.

"Pussies," Blaise said. He was unbuttoning his shirt, and his friends were just waiting.

That spurred them on.

The mantra "Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!" followed them as the Slytherin boys slowly bared their skin. A group of girls were giggling, whispering, and pointing, another cluster were singing what sounded like a song about mud wrestling and naked bodies, Harry (who had sauntered over but was holding onto Pansy fiercely) was laughing so hard he almost knocked the bemused girl to the ground, and even the other Slytherins were laughing at their expense. Terry Boot stuck his fingers in the corners of his mouth and let off a high-pitched whistle.

All awhile, Parvati was gazing at Blaise appreciatively – her sister whispered in her ear and she nodded fervently.

As for herself, Hermione was having trouble keeping calm; she kept her eyes firmly trained on Draco as he started undressing, unable to stop the blush darkening her skin, and not caring that he knew she was ogling him. She licked her lips distractedly, humming. Her eyes started at his chest as his shirt fell away; pale muscles reflected moonlight and rippled as he moved languidly. Then he was removing his belt and she bit her lip, watching with rapt attention as he undid the button of his trousers and unzipped it with what she could only describe as practised finesse. The sinuous muscles of his body became more defined as she committed them to memory; he slipped off the last of his clothes in one fell swoop and she looked up at his eyes, realising he'd been watching her, not what he was doing. The cat-calling and wolf-whistling of the crowd sounded miles away as she looked him over again. He was perfect – perfectly shaped, perfectly proportioned, and perfectly divine – every single inch of him.

Inevitably, her eyes found his again, and he was smirking now.

Neville waved a hand in her face. "Uh, Hermione?"

She pushed his arm out of the way, and ignored him.

Draco gathered up his clothes and Hermione realised that she'd forgotten that Blaise, Theo, and Greg were naked now too – she didn't bother looking at them as Draco sauntered toward her. The sound of a nearby, girlish giggle didn't distract her from holding out her hands as he offered his things to her.

"Look after this, will you."

That was not a question, but she nodded her head automatically anyway.

Draco waved his hands in front of his body and smirked at her. "For your viewing pleasure..."

Before she could respond properly, he was walking away. She decided she quite liked the view he gave, walking away; the flexing was more pronounced, and the strut more graceful. She blushed heavily as he finally broke into a run to catch up with his mates – according to the whispers now going around the gathered crowd, Parvati's dare dictated they run starkers along the edge of the lake for ten to fifteen minutes. They weren't allowed to dress until the person they'd left their clothes with let them. Hermione wasn't sure she even wanted to give Draco his back at all.

She glanced over at Parvati and Padma, and a part of her mind registered that both girls were ogling Blaise. She quickly returned to watching Draco.

"Now, this is a party," Ron said, from somewhere near Hermione's right side. He wolf-whistled – he was still drunk, so it was half whistle and half blow – and did an exaggerated wiggle with his hips. "Come on Malfoy, show us some moves!"

Harry's laughter as Draco flipped him off was infectious and Hermione joined in, unconsciously holding his clothes to her chest.

The laughing and whistling had become so loud that, at first, nobody noticed the change in the atmosphere. Enrapt as she was in the visual proof of the genetics that made Draco so limber, even Hermione didn't see the oncoming shadows. It seemed the celebration to honour Minerva McGonagall was over earlier than expected, and several teachers had noticed the commotion near the Black Lake.

"Scatter!" Seamus Finnegan's voice rang out in that thick Irish accent of his. "Teachers, incoming!" he added to the confused looks he received.

Those who weren't still entangled ran immediately – ranging from dressed to half-dressed – while Hermione, the Patil twins, Hannah Abbott, and Sue Li all froze on the spot, uncertain what to do as they held the clothes for the currently naked Slytherin streakers. The boys were a little further away and could probably dart away in time, but they would have to do so naked. Taking the initiative, Hermione used her wand to cast a Notice-Me-Not spell on the small area and took off toward Draco – the girls followed.

The Professors were advancing quickly, having realised what was going on but somehow, Hermione found she didn't care – they only had a few days left where they could get detention, and she wasn't Head Girl, so that couldn't be revoked. And as eight year students, they couldn't even lose house points. The rule breaker in her wasn't even worried about having to face McGonagall eventually as the woman was smart enough to figure out who had come here. She just wanted one of her Hogwarts years to end on a happy note.

"Looks like we're cutting this short," Blaise said, accepting his clothes from Parvati as Theo collected his from Hannah, and Greg blushed as Sue Li handed him his with a wink. Draco gave Hermione a meaningful look but she held onto his stubbornly.

"You've proven yourself," Parvati assured Blaise, and Padma watched him intently, smiling mischievously. "Padma and I are both very impressed."

Padma laughed as he grinned. "All right," he said. "See you, other people I no longer care to spend the rest of the night with, later!" He quickly pulled on his trousers and chased after the twins.

Draco shook his head. Maybe this new, morphed Blaise was more entertaining than he thought.

"Well, we know he'll be having twice as fun tonight," Theo said, and took Hannah's hand. "Let's see if we can outrun McGonagall, shall we?"

"That is our cue too," Sue said, grabbing Greg's hand as the magically enhanced voice of Professor McGonagall echoed over the lake, telling all students to return to the edge of the Black Lake immediately. She sounded as stern and intimidating as ever, but she was mental if she thought they were going to behave tonight – this strange, alcohol influenced night. Maybe they might regret it in the morning, but they needed to do this, no matter what the old bat did to them. War did funny things to people.

"Come on." A still very naked Draco Malfoy took Hermione by the hand and decided not to run after his mates – he led her instead, toward the woods.

"We can skirt the edges of the forest until we're on the other side of Hogwarts and make our way back to the dormitories from there," Hermione suggested, trying to ignore the fact that he was still naked, and the moonlight seemed to be following him – much like a lover that didn't want to let go.

"I have a better idea." Draco pulled her further into the forest – only a few minutes, and keeping the looming silhouette of the castle in sight – then turned around to face her. Why did the moon love him so much? He took both of their wands from her gently and waved his at her – Hermione's dress (along with the clothes of his she'd been holding) vanished, leaving her completely naked, and she scowled at him.

"Oi! That dress wasn't cheap!"

"I'll buy you a whole wardrobe to replace it," he said, shrugging, "now, come here."

He gave her their wands to hold then ran his hands down her sides, and she was reminded of herself less than ten minutes ago when she ogled him as he undressed. Draco leant in to kiss her sternum, then her clavicle, and shoulder; he cupped her breasts and she inhaled deeply, surprisingly calmed by this. She closed her eyes as he slowly made his way down her body, shuffling to part her legs as she stood before him; Draco knelt down, drinking in the sight before dipping his head between her legs to taste her. Hermione gripped his hair, tugging slightly when his tongue played with her clit. She let out a deep moan that almost made him come on the spot. But they needed to be quiet, and he had no doubt that the Professors chasing the party goers weren't far away.

Draco stood, releasing her and her eyes shot open. Her annoyed expression made him chuckle, and he held out his hand for his wand just as they heard the awkward sounds of someone trudging through the forest nearby. He cast a strong Disillusionment Charm over them both; she shivered at the cold and wet feeling that trickled down her back and threw her arms around him, holding him close for warmth. The light of the Lumos spell passed over them seconds later, not even hesitating as the clearly outlined figure of Professor Sprout scampered past, looking for whoever she'd spotted. Hermione waited, pressed up against Draco; his fingers were drawing lazily up and down her spine, and if she wasn't so bloody horny (and standing rather than lying down), she'd have fallen asleep.

A few minutes later, it sounded like Professor Sprout had found someone, and another teacher had come to escort them back; another minute passed and the only sounds in the vicinity were those that belonged in a forest.

Hermione sighed, relieved. She didn't want to stop what they were doing.

"Remove the spell," she said. She wanted to be able to see him. A moment later, she felt the tell-tale heat trickling down her back, and his smirking face came into view. "Oh shut it, and just shag me already."

"Yes, ma'am."

Draco kissed her, letting his hand fall between her legs as she returned the favour. He didn't need too much more encouragement – Draco Jr. was very eager to get started. He let out a chuckle as she grinded against him.

"Draco." She gasped. "Draco! I…uh…just fuck me…please!" She let out a whimper as she pulled his hand away. She was ready, and just wanted to do this already!

Dutifully, he lifted her up, and held her against the tree behind her; it didn't have the abrasive barks like a lot of trees, so he hoped it wasn't too bad against her back – not that she seemed to care. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and held on for dear life as he positioned himself and started working his way into her. Draco pressed his forehead to hers, watching the way her eyes widened, her mouth hung open, and her breathing quickened, at his intrusion. She was perfect. He paused once he was all the way in, looking for signs in her eyes to keep going. She smiled and nodded, accepting his kiss again as he started moving, thrusting slowly at first, and then swallowing her cries as he picked up the pace.

Every thrust had her moaning softly, every squeeze of her legs around his waist made him growl, and Draco struggled not to lose control. He attempted to draw it out by slowing down and rotating his hips leisurely, then absentmindedly flicked her clit; he wanted to make sure she came, because no matter what he did to prolong it, he was definitely close. But she was just too fucking beautiful, clenching around him, gripping his body fiercely and moaning wantonly. Draco released her mouth and buried his head in her shoulder, trying to focus. Her keening increased and she grabbed his hair roughly, throwing her head back against the tree. He took the opportunity to lower his mouth to her breasts, suckling on her nipples as she cried.

Hermione shifted her pelvis, instinctively looking for that perfect angle as Draco fucked into her into the tree. He wasn't going slowly anymore. Her legs lost their strength and she fell forward into his arms, unable to do anything but hold on as he pounded away. Draco lifted her left leg up, pulling her body up with it and somehow, in this position, managed to hook it over her shoulder. He covered her mouth with his automatically as she screamed, the new angle hitting her so hard she struggled to breathe.

It was only a minute later that the burning, twisting of her abdomen preceded his own orgasm, and they both came within seconds of each other.

Boneless, Hermione just sagged against him as he slowly lowered them both – he couldn't hold her up anymore. Her eyes closed, she didn't complain when he manoeuvred them so that she was straddling him and his back was against the tree this time; he was still inside her, and she smiled at this. Neither of them wanted to move.

Draco was pretty sure he'd drifted off, even if only for a moment. Honestly, he wasn't all that widely experienced when it came to penetrative sex – his forte was the foreplay – but he felt so proud of himself in that moment, like everything he'd done in his life had culminated in this moment. Hermione was his third, where "going all the way" was concerned, and he'd wanted her to be his last for a long time now.

He didn't want to move, but they couldn't stay out here all night. Hermione shivered in his arms and, reluctantly, he lifted her off of him and stood up.

"Hm." She swallowed heavily, suddenly nervous.


"Uh, where's my wand?"


They spent a few minutes searching – Draco found his first, and used it to find hers.

"Uh, thanks, I guess. I suppose we should head back."

Draco nodded. Well, this had gotten awkward fast. There were better ways to handle this – besides, he wasn't finished with her yet.

Hermione smacked him as he swept her up into his arms. "Oi!"

He chuckled, ignoring the slew of colourful words that tumbled out of her mouth. She froze however, when she realised he was carting her toward Hogwarts; neither of them had a stitch of clothing on (though he'd been careful to bring their wands along), and she couldn't even bring herself to close her eyes as they passed the threshold into the quiet, seemingly empty school. Without shoes on, his footfalls went unheard, and nothing was stirring, not even a ghost, as Draco held her closer to his chest. He strode quickly, determinedly heading toward the dormitories the eighth year students had been sharing since the beginning of term – they were still Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff students, but McGonagall had made a point to keep them separate from the other years. The extra space had been added post-war.

When they reached the portrait door, Hermione finally found her voice. "What if someone's inside and they see us?"

He just kissed her forehead, and pushed the door open with his foot. Thankfully, silence and emptiness greeted them, and Draco rushed them up to the boys' dormitories.

"I'm serious, Malfoy." Hermione whined as he dropped her unceremoniously in his bed, and drew the curtains for privacy. She didn't mind being found out, but caught in flagrante? No, thank-you.

He shook his head at her. "The teachers are still chasing down the others right now, so we have time. Stop complaining, Granger." He climbed on top of her, and started kissing every inch of skin he could reach as she instinctively moaned and arched into him. "We have all night."