Dramione- someone spiked the fruit punch and now I can’t stop telling you how I feel ❤️
A/N: This is an AU in which Voldemort never existed and blood prejudice is heavily looked down upon. This is also super long but I got carried away. Thank you for the prompt, Meggie. I hope you enjoy it!! 🥰
Hermione had somehow made it to someone’s room and curled into a ball on their bed, feeling the cool and smooth silk against her cheek. She let out a content sigh as she let her mind wander. Harry had convinced her to attend the Slytherin’s end-of-the-year party and drank a little bit too much of the fruit punch.
“Come on, Hermione,” Harry pleaded, turning his bright, green eyes at her. “Have some fun and come out tonight. I promise you that if there is trouble, you won’t be implicated in any way.”
Hermione sighed and nodded her acquiesce. “If I don’t become Head Girl because of this next year, Potter, I’ll have your head on a pike.”
Harry grinned at her. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
It wasn’t that Hermione didn’t like parties; it was just that she had more important things in mind besides getting drunk off of butterbeer and smuggled firewhisky. She needed to become Head Girl and then Minister for Magic. Of course, there were other steps that needed to be taken before she got to Minister, however, she couldn’t really get there if she was caught at an illegal party, right?
Hermione had allowed herself one cup of fruit punch (it was only for the night and Ginny had insinuated that she was a coward for not joining in on the festivities) and before she knew it, she had six cups and the world begun spinning. She also began saying things she knew she wouldn’t have said sober and made the decision to escape before she damaged anyone’s feelings (particularly Ron, with his nasty habit of sucking Lavender’s face off everywhere).
“Merlin, Granger, is that you?” A familiar voice asked.
Hermione whined as the bed dipped. Someone rolled her over and poked her cheek. She batted their hand away.
“What are you doing in my bed, Granger?”
“Go away, Malfoy,” she grumbled.
She heard him sigh heavily. “This is my room and you are on my bed.”
Hermione cracked one eye open and took him in. His gray eyes shined with concern and she resisted the urge to touch his jaw which looked sharp enough to carve her heart out with. She smiled giddily. “It’s truly unfair how handsome you’ve become.”
Draco returned her smile tenfold. “Are you going to recite poems to me about my dashing looks?”
She snorted and rolled over again. “Absolutely not. You’re already an arrogant prat who knows how handsome he is. No need for me to inflate your ego.”
“But a compliment from the Hermione Granger? It’s as rare as those crumple-horned snorkacks that Lovegood’s always going on about.”
“Those don’t exist, you idiot!”
There were a few minutes of silence as Hermione listened to Draco shuffling around.
“Are you going to stay here all night?”
She groaned in response before rolling over again to face him. “I don’t think I could make it back to the Gryffindor Tower in this state, Malfoy, and I don’t know where Harry went.”
“How much did you have to drink?!”
“I dunno. Maybe six cups of the punch?”
“Salazar, Granger! Didn’t anyone tell you that those are laced with potions? They put veritaserum and compulsion potions in it to make parties more interesting.”
“I wish you were nicer to me,” Hermione stated suddenly, a small pout at her lips as she sat up, tucking her knees below her chin and staring at him.
“I’ve liked you since fourth year when you stole me away from Viktor to dance during the Yule Ball, but you’re still mean to me.”
Draco spluttered and Hermione continued on.
“Why don’t you like me?” She whined.
Draco huffed at that. “I’m not allowed to like you. Your two bodyguards cornered me the next day and threatened me for dancing with you.”
“Harry wouldn’t — “ she cut herself off. “Harry would. Dammit.”
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse.”
“I like you a lot, Draco,” she declared, reaching a hand out towards him and linking her pinky with his. He stared at the contact, a small smile playing at his lips. “I like that you’re kind of mean to me and won’t let me bulldoze you over when we argue about Transfiguration theories and that you’re fit from Quidditch practices and that you give me that smile that not even Parkinson or Greengrass gets even though I’m pretty sure they’re both trying to get you to date either one or the both of them at once. I like you. Even if you can be mean enough to not like me back.”
“I like you, too, Granger.”
She unlinked their pinkies. “But I can’t like you if you’re too scared of Harry and Ron to even approach me. Everyone else is afraid of them except for McLaggen but he’s a plague and isn’t -- ”
Draco spluttered again and interrupted her. “I’m not scared but we were fourth years and I —“
Draco scowled. “I don’t understand why I like you witch.”
She looked up at him innocently and grinned. “So you like me?”
“Yes,” he answered exasperatedly. “I like you. I like you a lot. Enough to let your bodyguards come at me if you decide you want to give us a go when you’re sober in the morning, okay?”
Draco’s question was answered with a light, fluttering snore and he sighed once more as he looked at the tiny, sleeping witch. Carefully, he arranged Hermione onto his bed and tucked her in before conjuring a separate bed for him to sleep on.
“Bloody menace,” he muttered to himself, but he couldn’t help the small smile on his face as he fell asleep.
