FIC: Cure for a Headache [Draco/Hermione]
Dec. 29th, 2012 08:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Cure for a Headache
Author/Artist:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
y3llowdaisi3s
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Prompt: 2011 Prompt: Two characters had rather too much to drink at a holiday party. Cue the next morning when they wake up in bed together....
Word Count/: ~1100
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *Umm, mentions of sex? Nothing too explecit*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: EWE? AU
Summary: Hermione has just woken up from a night of - she’s not even sure - with a huge headache.
Her head hurt. She wanted to groan but making noise hurt. Her throat was dry, her body was sore, she felt like she ran a marathon in the middle of the Sahara desert without stopping for water, once.
But she could tell she was laying in a bed.
A pretty soft bed.
And if her body wasn’t in such pain, she’d say she was laying on a cloud.
But the pain wouldn’t let her think such things.
A cloud wouldn’t let her hurt so much.
So she groaned. Or at least she tried to. It sounded more like a mangled cat dying. Like how all of the plates - Hermione recalled they were mostly pink, and the thought made her headache worse - on Umbridge’s walls sounded when Hermione pointed her wand at them.
Except she wasn’t dying. At least, she didn’t think she was. She assessed her body. She could feel all her extremities. The smell of hot dirty sex was clear. There was no copper tangy smell, so there was no blood. She didn’t feel anything other than sweat coming off her skin. The pain in her head made her believe she was very much alive.
Her groan/death-cat-sound was echoed back though, and if she wasn’t in pain, she would have jumped up in panic. Instead she carefully turned her head and tried to will her eyelids to open. It didn’t work out, the lights were too bright - it’s morning already? So she let them stay closed and groaned.
The groan was louder now and Hermione felt a heavy weight on her back. Her bare back. There were no clothes on her body, she realized, and again, if the pain would go away she would have shouted.
Instead she tried to will the pain away. The weight wrapped around her side, digging into her ribs. Fingers. A hand. An arm.
Whose arm?
She tried very hard to open her eyes, but the light made the pain in her head even worse.
Another groan.
Echoed back by the arm. Well, not the arm, but the person who the arm belonged to.
Hermione took a quick peek, opening one eyelid, the one closer to the cloud-like bed/pillow/whatever-made-the-headache-a-little-bearable and saw white, and then quickly closed her eye. Well, it was more pale than white. It looked like the hard expanse of a male chest and from the brief look, it was a rather nice chest at that.
Why was she naked, snuggling closer into the male chest? Well, she could easily answer the snuggling closer. He was pulling her closer. The naked though. She wasn’t so sure.
What happened last night?
Hermione wanted to panic, but it made her head hurt worse. Her head was spinning and she just wanted to tell it to shut up. She wanted to go back to sleep and maybe the headache would go away. She didn’t care that she was naked in some man’s arms in some strange bed.
She did care, but she cared more about the pain, and until that went away, the rest was just an inconvenience.
“Stop thinking,” the male murmured into her hair.
She wanted to respond, ‘I’m trying,’ but her lips could not open. Her mouth was dry and she very much wanted a glass of water but she didn’t think she could really move to retrieve one.
The only movement she had made was the one time she turned her head. She could barely even open her eyes, there was no way she could get off the cloud to get some water. She didn’t even know where the cloud was.
Her only actual movement was from when he physically pulled her to him, moved her on the cloud-like bed. She couldn’t really move on her own, unless she wanted to sound like a dying cat again.
And when there was a really nice male in bed with her, she didn’t want to sound so unattractive. It was bad enough that he would more than likely be surprised by her rat’s nest of hair.
How did this happen?
“Party, drinks, new year’s,” he muttered, pulling her closer into his chest, snuggling his face into her rat’s nest of hair.
She hoped he didn’t choke.
Hermione tried to remember the night before. There was a New Year’s party in the Room of Requirement for all the eighth years. She went alone, or rather, the fifth wheel to the two couples: Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Luna. She recalled staying by the refreshment table and drinking while watching all her friends pair off on the dance floor. A voice drawled asking her to dance. She let him pull her to the dance floor where they proceeded to bump and grind. Hermione recalled the shock look on Ron’s face and the knowing one on Harry’s. Ginny and Luna looked more than happy with the turn of events. So she let the night of would-be debauchery continue. And here she was.
She danced, she drank, she snogged, and based on the soreness of her body, she shagged.
The drawl of his voice and the pale skin she saw when she peeked was plenty of information for her to draw conclusions.
She was in bed with Draco Malfoy.
Naked.
In a bed that felt like a cloud. Why did it feel like a cloud?
“Manor,” he muttered, pulling her ontop of him, wrapping both arms around her. He was using her as a body pillow and Hermione wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.
She figured she should try to open her eyes soon. Give him a piece of her mind. She felt the rigid planes of his abs and she groaned. Not out of pain this time, but at the fact that she didn’t remember last night very well.
Again, the soreness of her body made her think it must’ve been a good night.
Even if it was with Malfoy.
She knew he had changed. The looks from her friends - minus Ron of course - didn’t make her pause at the thought of being with him. He and Harry had formed a truce, one where Hermione suspected she had a part of because Harry had been hinting at all the similarities she shared with the ferret. So she wouldn’t regret anything. One friend’s support would suffice for now. She knew Malfoy getting along with Ron was a stretch, but really, if he shagged as well as her body felt now, it was worth it.
“Want a repeat?” he asked, nipping at her neck, trailing his fingers up her very naked sides to caress her breasts.
She moaned. Not groaned. Her head still hurt, but she once read a decent shag was a good way to get rid of headaches.
“Sure,” she replied, kissing her way up his neck, capturing his lips, grinding her body on his.
She’d think more when the headache was gone.
Author/Artist:
y3llowdaisi3sPairing(s): Draco/Hermione
Prompt: 2011 Prompt: Two characters had rather too much to drink at a holiday party. Cue the next morning when they wake up in bed together....
Word Count/: ~1100
Rating: PG-13
Contains (Highlight to view): *Umm, mentions of sex? Nothing too explecit*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: EWE? AU
Summary: Hermione has just woken up from a night of - she’s not even sure - with a huge headache.
Her head hurt. She wanted to groan but making noise hurt. Her throat was dry, her body was sore, she felt like she ran a marathon in the middle of the Sahara desert without stopping for water, once.
But she could tell she was laying in a bed.
A pretty soft bed.
And if her body wasn’t in such pain, she’d say she was laying on a cloud.
But the pain wouldn’t let her think such things.
A cloud wouldn’t let her hurt so much.
So she groaned. Or at least she tried to. It sounded more like a mangled cat dying. Like how all of the plates - Hermione recalled they were mostly pink, and the thought made her headache worse - on Umbridge’s walls sounded when Hermione pointed her wand at them.
Except she wasn’t dying. At least, she didn’t think she was. She assessed her body. She could feel all her extremities. The smell of hot dirty sex was clear. There was no copper tangy smell, so there was no blood. She didn’t feel anything other than sweat coming off her skin. The pain in her head made her believe she was very much alive.
Her groan/death-cat-sound was echoed back though, and if she wasn’t in pain, she would have jumped up in panic. Instead she carefully turned her head and tried to will her eyelids to open. It didn’t work out, the lights were too bright - it’s morning already? So she let them stay closed and groaned.
The groan was louder now and Hermione felt a heavy weight on her back. Her bare back. There were no clothes on her body, she realized, and again, if the pain would go away she would have shouted.
Instead she tried to will the pain away. The weight wrapped around her side, digging into her ribs. Fingers. A hand. An arm.
Whose arm?
She tried very hard to open her eyes, but the light made the pain in her head even worse.
Another groan.
Echoed back by the arm. Well, not the arm, but the person who the arm belonged to.
Hermione took a quick peek, opening one eyelid, the one closer to the cloud-like bed/pillow/whatever-made-the-headache-a-little-bearable and saw white, and then quickly closed her eye. Well, it was more pale than white. It looked like the hard expanse of a male chest and from the brief look, it was a rather nice chest at that.
Why was she naked, snuggling closer into the male chest? Well, she could easily answer the snuggling closer. He was pulling her closer. The naked though. She wasn’t so sure.
What happened last night?
Hermione wanted to panic, but it made her head hurt worse. Her head was spinning and she just wanted to tell it to shut up. She wanted to go back to sleep and maybe the headache would go away. She didn’t care that she was naked in some man’s arms in some strange bed.
She did care, but she cared more about the pain, and until that went away, the rest was just an inconvenience.
“Stop thinking,” the male murmured into her hair.
She wanted to respond, ‘I’m trying,’ but her lips could not open. Her mouth was dry and she very much wanted a glass of water but she didn’t think she could really move to retrieve one.
The only movement she had made was the one time she turned her head. She could barely even open her eyes, there was no way she could get off the cloud to get some water. She didn’t even know where the cloud was.
Her only actual movement was from when he physically pulled her to him, moved her on the cloud-like bed. She couldn’t really move on her own, unless she wanted to sound like a dying cat again.
And when there was a really nice male in bed with her, she didn’t want to sound so unattractive. It was bad enough that he would more than likely be surprised by her rat’s nest of hair.
How did this happen?
“Party, drinks, new year’s,” he muttered, pulling her closer into his chest, snuggling his face into her rat’s nest of hair.
She hoped he didn’t choke.
Hermione tried to remember the night before. There was a New Year’s party in the Room of Requirement for all the eighth years. She went alone, or rather, the fifth wheel to the two couples: Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Luna. She recalled staying by the refreshment table and drinking while watching all her friends pair off on the dance floor. A voice drawled asking her to dance. She let him pull her to the dance floor where they proceeded to bump and grind. Hermione recalled the shock look on Ron’s face and the knowing one on Harry’s. Ginny and Luna looked more than happy with the turn of events. So she let the night of would-be debauchery continue. And here she was.
She danced, she drank, she snogged, and based on the soreness of her body, she shagged.
The drawl of his voice and the pale skin she saw when she peeked was plenty of information for her to draw conclusions.
She was in bed with Draco Malfoy.
Naked.
In a bed that felt like a cloud. Why did it feel like a cloud?
“Manor,” he muttered, pulling her ontop of him, wrapping both arms around her. He was using her as a body pillow and Hermione wasn’t sure how she should feel about that.
She figured she should try to open her eyes soon. Give him a piece of her mind. She felt the rigid planes of his abs and she groaned. Not out of pain this time, but at the fact that she didn’t remember last night very well.
Again, the soreness of her body made her think it must’ve been a good night.
Even if it was with Malfoy.
She knew he had changed. The looks from her friends - minus Ron of course - didn’t make her pause at the thought of being with him. He and Harry had formed a truce, one where Hermione suspected she had a part of because Harry had been hinting at all the similarities she shared with the ferret. So she wouldn’t regret anything. One friend’s support would suffice for now. She knew Malfoy getting along with Ron was a stretch, but really, if he shagged as well as her body felt now, it was worth it.
“Want a repeat?” he asked, nipping at her neck, trailing his fingers up her very naked sides to caress her breasts.
She moaned. Not groaned. Her head still hurt, but she once read a decent shag was a good way to get rid of headaches.
“Sure,” she replied, kissing her way up his neck, capturing his lips, grinding her body on his.
She’d think more when the headache was gone.
