A/N: I was cataloging my fics last night (as you do) & realized that I've only written one Draco/Hermione story by myself. I thought this was very odd, considering how favourably the last one was received, so I've decided to write another one.

I fully acknowledge that the events in this story are slightly far-fetched & "Muggle", which I do tend to shy away from. But I was sitting at home, listening to Ke$ha (don't judge) & her song "Blow" came on & I was inspired. So this is what came out of it.

As per usual, this is unbeta'd, so do try not to be snide little wankers about it, okay?

A Night of Dancing

Hermione felt empowered.

Perhaps it was the darkness of the club. Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine that swirled in her system. Perhaps it was the slinky red dress Ginny had all but forced her into. But as she walked between the tables toward the dance floor, she felt the beat of the music throb deliciously through her veins. She felt the eyes of many a man upon her barely-covered body.

It felt incredible.

The series of events that had taken her to that posh new wizarding club in central London were inconsequential. She never went to clubs but that Friday night, as she had nearly tripped into Grimmauld Place after an exhausting week of boring diplomatic meetings and page after page of preternaturally tedious paperwork, she had been susceptible to anything.

Including the none-too-gentle pressuring of one persuasive Ginny Weasley.

The music filled her and as she stepped onto the dance floor, she didn't care about the decorum and prudish lectures on personal responsibility she often rambled. She wanted to let go; to just let the rhythm take over her body. She was single, after all. She was beholden to no one.

As she started to move, she let herself lose her mind and let loose.

Ginny was at her side and together they moved, feeling the heat of the press of bodies and neither caring. This was what they wanted; needed, even. The fact that they were well-known faces in the wizarding world was irrelevant. For that night, they were a pair of twentysomethings having a good time together.

Hermione felt a droplet of sweat slide down her temple. She didn't know why, but it was such a sensual feeling. Her body writhed with the music, her mind letting herself be filled and her body respond. She had always thought that popular dance had disintegrated to nothing but an upright expression of that which was best done behind closed doors, but as the bass used her body as tuning fork, she suddenly wondered what was wrong with that, really.

Then she felt hands on her hips and a long, lean body press against her back.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been appalled. How dare anyone assume they could invade her personal space, moulding themselves to her? But tonight she just hoped they could keep up.

The person behind her – presumably male – fell into her rhythm beautifully. She rolled her hips, letting her arms coil behind her to wrap around his neck. His breath was hot on her neck, lips grazing her skin and setting it alight. His hands ran up her sides, guiding her until they were in perfect synch.

The darkness was heightening all of her senses. His cologne was intoxicating. He smelled dark – like sandalwood and myrrh – and she let herself be swept up in the scent of him. His touch had her body tingling. At that moment, she didn't care if he was heinous, or if she knew him.

He was exactly what she needed.

She went to turn, to look at him, but he stopped her. For a split-second, her instincts kicked in and suspicion gripped her. But then his lips were by her ear.

"Just dance," he breathed and she felt her breath hitch. His voice was deep, masculine and held a hypnotic quality that sent quivers through her.

Ginny was still at her side, but the redhead was paying far too much attention to the man she was dancing with to be aware of Hermione. Hermione couldn't help a small smile. Harry had suddenly appeared – a miracle in and of itself considering how much he hated dancing – but the fact that he was keeping up with Ginny's admittedly-superior dancing skills had Hermione on the verge of giggling.

That man could be motivated to do anything where Ginny was involved.

This brought her back to her mystery man and how incredibly right it felt to be so wanton with someone she had just met; with someone she hadn't even seen. But being just a little bit wrong felt so good that she once again gave in to the music once more.

After all, it was just a night of dancing.

The heat started to make everything more intimate. She could feel his natural reaction to their closeness against her lower back. She smirked and pressed back even harder, revelling in his gasp. His grip on her waist tightened and she felt his lips against her ear again.

"Careful, Granger."

Hermione froze. She knew that voice. Knew it almost as well as she knew her own. It was a voice that used to taunt her through the halls of her adolescents; a voice that mocked her with such regularity that it was almost second nature for her to equate it with deep feelings of insecurity.

It was, however, also a voice that had stimulated countless sexual fantasies. She spun around to face him, falling into a pair of sly grey eyes.

Draco Malfoy, still as handsome as ever with his aristocratic angles and sinfully-soft blond hair, stood gazing back at her.

And as the bass vibrated around them, Hermione let herself go and pressed her lips to his in a feverish, passionate kiss.

His arms wrapped around her body and she melted into him. The quintessential bad boy, lips tasting like brandy and – surprisingly – cherries, was kissing her as if he wanted to crawl inside her. And as she responded with equal heat, she was suddenly awash with ideas of other, decidedly less appropriate ways he could be inside her.

Draco seemed to have the same idea because all of a sudden there was silence. The jarring change had Hermione pulling away with a sweeping breath, finding herself surrounded by rich tapestries and damask curtains.

Malfoy Manor.

She didn't have another second to think as she was pressed against the post of the impossibly-large bed and once again she gave in to it. She was certain she could grow to regret it in the morning. A one-night-stand with the proud, arrogant Malfoy would doubtless have its own set of consequences. But as his lips descended upon her neck, she officially turned her brain off and let her body take over.

The strap of her dress slid down her shoulder. His hand pushed it further, fingers hooking into the other strap and pushing it down her other shoulder, his lips moving down over her collarbone. The fabric dipped lower, revealing more of her breasts and the top of her black lace bustier.

She heard him groan audibly.

The dress fell from her body and she felt his hands span over her hips, his fingers making contact with bare skin. She was aware of how she looked. Black lace bustier, Brazilian cut black silk panties, stockings and garters – she was centrefold material.

The look of hunger in his eyes said it all as he pulled back to look at her.

Deciding that any words exchanged between them would end the night before it even started, Hermione grabbed his collar and pulled him back to her lips, kissing him deeply as her hands tore his shirt from his body. Her hands devoured his body, nails running down the toned musculature of his torso.

His body was like velvet-covered steel.

She swallowed his groans and smirked against his lips. She had never felt so in control; so powerful. The fact that she was this way with a man who had made her life so difficult in the past somehow, perversely, made the feeling sweeter.

Her hands made quick work of his belt, whipping it out of his trousers with a snap. She threw it in an unknown corner before attacking his lips again, fingers nimbly undoing buttons and zippers before snaking in to take hold of the very nice sized bulge she had been feeling against her body for what felt like hours now.

He exhaled loudly, body rigid as they paused. Foreheads pressed together, she looked deep in his eyes, letting him know in a glance that she knew exactly what she was doing on every level there was. His searing silver-slate gaze told her that he was well-aware of the position they were in as well.

The moment gone, he kissed her again and it was her turn to gasp as he unclasped the bustier, throwing it over his shoulder. Lips nipping down her skin, she gave a cry as his lips latched onto her nipple, tongue swirling around the taut, sensitive nub. Wet heat pooled to her loins and she let go of his pulsing erection to grip his hair, the feeling of his silky locks between her fingers fulfilling their own type of fantasy.

She had always wondered how it would feel to slide her hand through his hair.

Rolling away from post, Hermione sat heavily on the bed, the feeling of cool satin under her flushed skin. He stood before her, pure masculinity emanating from every pore. Then his lips were on hers again and her back hit the sheets, his body pressing her into the soft mattress.

His hands pushed her underwear to the floor and she felt his heavy cock against her intimately. She wanted it so badly. She wanted to feel it inside her, moving with the sensual rhythm she knew they could achieve together.

If there was any way to gauge the proficiency of a man in bed, it was his dancing, and Hermione was certain Draco would be one hell of a shag.

She rolled him onto his back, sitting on his torso and looking down at him. Her hair fell in wild ringlets around her shoulders. The feeling of it tickling her skin only heightened the sensitivity that sang on her skin. Leaning down and catching his lips yet again, she lowered herself onto his cock, gasping and throwing her head back as she felt him slide deep within her body.

"Fuck…" he groaned, but she put a finger to his lips. Tonight was about taking what she wanted; leaving nothing. And she wanted him. Starting to work her hips, she ran her hands up her own body, skin slicked with sweat from both their dancing and the frenzy of their foreplay.

She kept a slow, lazy pace, delighting in the feel of his not-unimpressive member sliding intimately along her inner walls every time she rode him. Rolling her hips harder, she felt her breath hitch, her eyelids sliding closed. Somewhere deep in her mind she let the deep pulse of non-existent music push her faster, working her hips as if she were dancing.

His hands slid up her thighs, splaying over her lower back as he started to thrust with her. Her eyes flew open, feeling the new angle in every fibre of her being. He sat up, arms wrapping around her body, fingers running up her back to play with the ends of her hair.

She moaned as he pulled gently on a lock of hair, letting her head fall back as his lips latched onto her neck. She could feel her body start to heat up, pressure building in her lower abdomen, creeping up through her veins. She moved harder against him, panting as she felt the familiar tingling start to spread through her.

Then his hands were back on her hips and he thrust up hard.

She screamed, fingers digging into the tensed muscles of his back. Her body was exploding, her centre clutching him greedily as she flew headfirst into the most intense orgasm she had experienced. She couldn't breathe. Stars burst in front of her eyes.

Somewhere, far away, she heard him cry her name, his fingers tangled in her hair as he went rigid. She felt him pulse within her, knowing that he, too, had succumb to the intensity of their coupling.

They sat there, limbs wrapped around each other as they caught their breath. Hermione could feel his heart pounding against his chest, her own hammering right along with him. The cool night sent a shiver through her, their sweat fusing them together.

Almost reluctantly, Hermione pulled back slightly, looking at him. He eyed her cautiously and for the first time she wondered if he had been just as uncertain as she was to whether this had been a good idea.

In the darkness, they stared at each other.

"Well," she finally said, "I suppose…that was unexpected."

He gave a small smirk.

"Which part?"

She allowed herself a small laugh.

"Yeah, alright," she said. She made to get off him, but his arms around her body kept her settled.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked softly, looking up into her eyes.

She arched an eyebrow.

"C'mon, Draco. This was never meant to be more than just a…whatever it was."

"An incredibly mind-shattering shag?"

Her brow furrowed.

"Well…yes."

He gave another smirk.

"So you admit it was mind-shattering for you too."

She rolled her eyes.

"Let me up, Malfoy," she said, once again trying to get off his lap.

"And if I don't?"

She sighed.

"What could possibly be gained by keeping me here?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. More mindless shagging. Wasting away in bed with you isn't exactly a fate worse than death."

"You'd get sick of me in five minutes."

"I'd like the opportunity to discover that for myself, if you don't mind."

She looked into his eyes and for the first time since she's met him, she found complete and utter sincerity there.

"You're…you're serious?"

He gave a small chuckle.

"Granger, when I saw you walk into that club wearing that torturously sexy little dress, I knew that fate had somehow given me a chance to prove to you that I am no longer an utter bastard." He leaned up slightly, his lips inches from hers. "And I'm willing to take any punishment you'd like to dole out in retribution."

She felt his cock stirring against her stomach and a slow smile started to spread across her face, an idea forming.

"That's awfully accommodating of you," she said huskily, her hand snaking between them and wrapping her hand around him.

"Oh, I don't know," he groaned, falling back against the bed. "If tonight's any indication, I have a feeling I'll be able to suffer through it without much complaint."

"And…you said you're willing to take out any form of punishment I may devise?" she asked, her hand pumping just a little harder, her grip just a little tighter.

"God…yes…" he moaned.

"Alright," she said, jumping out of his lap and making a mad dash for her clothes. "Then I'll tell you what. The next time I go dancing is the next time we'll get to do this again."

The look on Draco's face had Hermione laughing from the moment her bare feet touched the landing at Grimmauld Place all the way to her room.

She knew there would be hell to pay if she ever saw him again, which she was sure she would considering the brush-off she had just given. But she knew in her heart that they would probably find their way back into bed again.

After all, she could always use another night of dancing.

Thanks for reading!

~ angelically-devilish ~