This was my 2014 HP Smutty-Claus Fic Exchange Fest (smutty-claus . livejournal . com) entry. This fanfic is finished. It is a multi-chaptered fic, but I'll put up a new chappie every few days until done.
My prompt for the fest was: pairing wakes up in bed together with no recollection of how they got there and have to work it out together, and some sort of Christmas party (or just a party in general) but with a twist, and comedy-fluff-sexy fun.
To my fest exchange partner, Shy-Of-Reality: I really had fun writing this fic for you - hope you enjoy it!
To the Smutty-Claus Mod: You put the 'awe' in awesome. Love this fest! Thanks for hosting it again this year!
DISCLAIMER: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
TIMELINE: 2010 (canon up to the "Half-Blood Prince" novel, but completely A/U after)
CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name): Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy
SUMMARY: Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning...
RATING: NC-17 (MA)
WARNINGS: One-off that leads to lots of sex (explicit), Sex Pollen fic (magical creature mating-can you guess which kind?), Characters a bit OOC for the sake of the plot
This fic uses the British-English spellings for words.
Fluni = Slang for the drug, Flunitrazepam (common brand name Rohypnol, nickname 'roofies'), which is a sedative, often called the 'date rape drug'.
Draco joined the Order after Dumbledore's death. After the war, he & Hermione are Aurors.
TURNING THE PAGE
A woodpecker on steroids had taken up residence inside Hermione's skull, and he was hard at work drilling a new home. All his banging around, in fact, was making her quite woozy. Her head spun and her stomach rolled.
Bugger, she sighed, as she groggily pushed the too-warm blankets off her chest and sat up. She'd drunk entirely too much last night at Ron and Pansy's wedding reception, hadn't she?
While her best friends had been closing one chapter of their lives as separate individuals to open up a new one of togetherness, she'd lamented that page turning by drinking several shots of top-shelf Firewhisky...which accounted for the giant, uncomfortable hang-over—a sensation she was intimately acquainted with the morning after every one of her friend's weddings that she'd attended over the years.
The last time she'd overindulged like this, she'd ended up in bed with that git, Blaise Zabini, and it had taken two additional years of having him for a boyfriend after that for her to realise what a tremendous mistake it was attempting to make a real relationship out of a drunken one-off.
No good beginnings ever came from desperation, loneliness, and faulty judgement calls. That was, in fact, the recipe for a rather bad ending.
Bah, enough with the depressing thoughts! The real questions were: where was she this time and what had happened the night before, and why in Merlin's good name did she feel as if the whole world was gently swaying up and down?
Bleary-eyed and woolly-headed, she blinked multiple times to make the room come into focus. Black and white walls, charcoal grey carpeting, large nautical-styled windows to the left that looked out over the ocean.
Nope, not her bedroom.
Clothes were strewn haphazardly over the few pieces of furniture in the vicinity, as if they'd been tossed aside in a hurry without care. Yes, that was definitely her horrid-looking bridesmaid's dress lying in a pool of puffy crinoline and magenta and lime green satin on the floor. One of her Dior pumps was visible near the open door, clearly the first of her outfit to be shucked, but where the other might be, she had no clue.
Christ on a cracker, what had she done, and with whom!?
It hurt too much to think, she realised as her head began throbbing in time to her heartbeat. Maybe she shouldn't do that for a bit, and just allow herself to take in the situation and the surroundings without judgment.
First things first, she needed to find out if she was currently sharing this extravagantly large bed with someone, and if so, who that might be. Gripping her pounding head, she slowly turned to look over her shoulder, hoping not to encounter anything shocking.
She supposed she should have qualified what determined the definition of 'shocking' before she'd looked. If 'shocking' was finding a naked man she recognised instantly by his distinctive cap of white-blond hair, face down and sprawled out in a deep snooze lying next to her, then she'd hit the mother lode. She was decidedly shocked.
And distressed, alarmed, amazed, and reeling in disbelief, too.
What in the seven hells was a nude Draco Malfoy doing in bed with her? And why were there scratches all up and down his back and shoulders and arms? And what was with the very clear love bite that decorated the visible side of his throat? And why did his arse have small, fingertip-shaped bruises on them? And why was he clutching her French-lace knickers to his nose as he slept?
She looked down at her own state of nudity...and at her own set of bruises on her hips...and at her bare-lipped pussy, which hadn't been shaved when she'd left for the wedding yesterday afternoon...and at the deeply embedded teeth imprint around her left nipple...and at the giant, loose diamond (was that thing real?!) winking at her from the cavern of her bellybutton where she'd apparently had it pierced.
With trembling fingers, she reached and felt between her legs for the distinctive moisture that would signal...
She was wet and sore—very much so on both counts. There was no doubt about it: she'd definitely shagged her co-worker the night before.
But how...and why?
TO BE CONTINUED...