Dramione Blurbs & Prompts

Recovery

When the tongue prodding her mouth slips between her lips, she lets them. The man tastes of firewhiskey, his hands heavy on her hips as he holds her in place against the wall of the club. She's thankful she wore jeans, the denim stopping his hands from exploring any further.

Hermione winds her fingers into his hair, pulls hard, and then man groans into her mouth. The wall vibrates behind her, making their bodies bounce slightly, the floor sticky beneath her shoes. She inhales, smells the scent of expensive tobacco, and suddenly it's all wrong. Placing her hands on his chest, Hermione shoves at the stranger hard. Caught of guard, he stumbles backwards, his back hitting the wall opposite them. She strides away as he calls for her, ignoring his voice.

Draco smelled of expensive mint, not tobacco. He didn't smoke.

Spying Ginny at the bar, Hermione slid into the seat next to her, waving down the bartender who placed a shot in front of the red head. Ginny held up two fingers, the music blaring, signifying she wanted another shot, and the bartender nodded, disappearing for a moment.

"How was he?" Ginny shouted, and Hermione shrugged, reaching for the shot glass that appeared before them.

"He was alright!" He wasn't Draco.

Ginny flashes her a smile, raises her glasses. The two witches clink their glasses, before downing the shots in one go.

They dance for hours, Hermione and Ginny taking turns swinging one another around the dance floor. A few men press up against them, hands on their hips and in their hair and they let them, Hermione relishing in the way it feels to be touched, pretending it's him touching her.

Ginny spends the night, crowding in Hermione's bed, asleep the instant her head touches the pillow. Hermione does her best to rest, she's still drunk, her legs wobbly as she goes into her kitchen to fetch herself some water. She takes a sip greedily, gulping the cool liquid, surprised to find water on her cheeks that isn't from her cup.

The tears are cold, icy on her skin, and she covers her mouth with her hand, bites into the skin. Scarlet is on her teeth as she sinks to the floor, legs too shaky to hold her.

She had considered calling him many times, the thought flashing through her mind once again. Dragging her knees to her chest, Hermione chased the idea away. She had vowed she'd never beg him to come back, never beg him to love her again. But she had never said she was above kissing strangers, or crying for him on the floor of her kitchen, anything to distract the hollowness in her heart.