"Merlin, this is a nightmare…" Draco muttered into the pillow, half his words muffled. He hadn't drank that much in a loooong time, first off, and secondly, he wasn't really sure who he'd ended up with. That saying, the more you drank, the prettier they got? Well, Draco knew first-hand it was true. Because it happened a lot more than he cared to admit.
Moving as slowly as he possibly could, cringing as the bed squealed with each small movement, he let out a sharp exhale as his feet touched the ground. Luckily, for luck was rarely on his side, the floor boards didn't creak and give him away.
Picking up garments as he made his way about the room, he swiftly dressed, trying to catch a peek at the woman he'd fallen into bed with. It was hard, to see behind the mass of hair, and to make it worse, she had the blankets pulled up to her chin. He frowned as she moved a little, picking up a shoe and then the other, which was precariously close to the bed.
A headache was pounding its way into his brain, settling at his temples. Frowning more deeply, he plucked the shoe from beside the bed, and exhaled with relief…
Light brown eyes suddenly watched him with barely coherent understanding. Draco could pinpoint the exact moment the woman realized that she was looking at someone, as she sat up quickly, the sheet pulled up around, covering creamy skin.
"Granger?" Draco's voice was strangled, barely audible as she pointed at him, one hand tightly clenching the sheet to her chest.
"You're in my room!" Her mouth fell open as she looked over him, then the empty spot in the bed beside her. "And, you're, you're—" she was trying to say 'naked', but somehow the words wouldn't come out. And he did have his boxers on, and his button up shirt was covering his broad pale skin, but Hermione just couldn't get over it. "What are you doing in here?" The more she talked, the higher her voice got, octave by octave.
Closing his eyes in pain, Draco held up a hand. "Where is the alcohol. I need alcohol to deal with this. Please just point me to the alcohol."
He was pathetic enough that Hermione opened and closed her mouth only once before straightening her back, pointing shakily to the kitchen. "Cupboard above the sink, behind-behind the flour." She swallowed hard as she watched him walk before she stumbled up, tangled in sheets as she slammed the door shut. She dressed in her comfiest, most unsexy pajamas she could find, brushing her teeth, and failing to tame her hair. Finally, she felt ready enough to face Malfoy.
Half hoping he'd be gone, she found him at the kitchen, nursing the bottle of rum she kept stashed in her kitchen. It was significantly lower than when she'd last looked at it. Draco looked up at her with a grimace as he passed a shot glass already full towards her. Hermione swallowed hard as she sat at the table, taking the glass in trembling hands.
"Last night-" she started, somehow unable to finish (or comprehend, for that matter) the sentence.
"Was a mistake," he finished for her, taking another drink of the rum.
"Yeah," Hermione said on an exhale, drinking the rum in a slow steady pull until it was gone. "I guess this would be a bad time to tell you that what I remember, which is not very much, admittedly, was good."
Draco raised an eyebrow, refilling her glass as he refilled his own. Craning his neck, he glanced at the clock on the wall. After finishing the shot in silence, he gave her a vaguely embarrassed smirk. "Don't suppose you're free for the next few hours?"
Hermione blushed, looking down to her still half full shot glass. Tilting her head back, she gulped it down as she gasped a little at the burn. She returned his smirk with a shaky smile. "Nothing that can't be put off."
Her head resting on his chest, his breathing slow and relaxed as he dozed, Hermione thought silently to herself. Perhaps some mistakes were meant to be made, she finally decided, rolling over to curl up closer to Draco.