Drunk Drabble - YES IT REALLY IS

Word: Octopus

THANKS LADY MIYA

Premise: Hermione is stuck in the 40s/50s. Duh, how the else am I writing the fuck outta them?

Disclaimer: This might be shit.

Disclaimer 2: I don't own this. Bow down to the Queen JKR.

XXXX

One foot in front of the other, one in front of the other … that's right; left, right, left, right … shit!

Hermione cringed as her foot gave out in the soft sand and she stumbled awkwardly. Where was that idiot Dark Lord wannabe?

She looked across the shoreline and shuddered as the wind whipped up around her, causing her hair to fly in every direction. Annoyed, she tried to pull her hair back but only succeeded in rubbing her hands rather ineffectively all over her face. Awkward.

Damn Voldemort. What was she even doing out here in these cold winds? The pub was nice and warm, and now for some reason she was out here looking for that moody fucker. Why did he go wandering off anyway? One minute they were chatting to a guy who may have possibly been Cedric Diggory's grandfather, the next thing she was alone in the pub … no Voldemort in sight.

She continued walking down the beach, ignoring the sloppy swinging of her arms or the way her legs seemed to cross over one another awkwardly as she walked. Stupid Tom Riddle!

After what seemed like forever, she finally saw a lone figure about 30 metres away who was obviously playing with magic, if the sparks were anything to go by. Hermione quickened her pace. Didn't he know that they were in a muggle fishing village?! What was he doing?! Trying to tell the world that there was a wizard standing moodily on the beach?

She finally stopped a few metres from him and watched as the animated snake twisted around under his wand. How typical to choose a snake, she thought.

"And just what are you doing?" Her voice sounded weird and biting.

He ignored her for a few moments before finally turning and looking at her, cocking an eyebrow once he took her in.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Don't tell me you left Octopus hands to his own devices?"

"Excuse me?"

"As well-acquainted as I'm sure he is with his own hand …"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was confused. Octopus hands?

Tom scoffed and turned towards her. "You know what I'm talking about."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Actually I don't. What do you mean by Octopus?"

Tom sneered and rolled his eyes. Hermione was sure she saw him mouth 'fucking unbelievable'.

"You know Caddaric was providing very useful advice about navigating the fen!" she replied in exasperation.

"Navigating the fen?" Tom replied sarcastically and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, navigating the fen. He's an expert, you know."

"Oh, of course I know. I had the pleasure of listening to it for the last two hours."

Hermione scoffed. "Are you jealous?"

Tom glanced at her before turning back to the ocean, but not before she caught him rolling his eyes again.

Maybe it was the copious amounts of red wine she had just consumed but she couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped … through her nose.

"You're jealous," she affirmed.

"Whatever, Edwards—"

"Jealous!"

"Clever tonight aren't—"

Hermione coughed loudly. "Jealous!" She coughed again.

Tom turned towards her. "The definition of jealous is that I'd actually have to want something the other person has."

Hermione laughed bitterly and looked out towards to ocean. Damn alcohol making her feel like everything was so funny when it wasn't really. Everything was actually a mess. A mess of confusion and feelings that weren't right . Everything looks so black, she thought as she tried to focus on the surf that was clinging to the shore. Her eyes swung to the wizard standing before her. Why was she even trying? Who cared? His moods were worse than a hungry Ron. Not that she expected any less. Scoffing loudly she shook her head and started walking backwards.

"Where are you going?" he asked quickly, turning to give her a sharp look.

"Back to the pub. It's warm in there. Besides, Caddaric promised to draw some maps for me," she replied, walking backwards, still facing him.

Tom turned to face her, and her eyes widened at his expression. Still, she continued walking backwards, only faltering slightly as he lifted his wand.

"Incarcerous," he muttered so quietly that she only just heard him over the surf.

Don't wince.

She let out a deep breath as her body twisted awkwardly and she felt herself falling back onto the sand. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ground with a very anticlimactic thud. Pressing her lips together she controlled the urge to tear Tom Riddle a new arse. She wanted to look anywhere else as he came into her line of sight, standing over her.

"How powerful of you, Riddle," she sneered.

Riddle stared down at her, before dropping down to his knees, straddling her waist. "I am good with my wand," he drawled and smirked as he dragged the tip over her shoulders and down her chest; his concentration heavy.

Hermione scoffed. "Whatever you say."

She ignored the wicked glint in his dark eyes, but she couldn't stop her eyes from widening in surprise when she felt the ropes disappear and his wand disappear under the hem-line of her shirt, lightly tracing her skin. She was also busy pretending to ignore the way his legs tightened at her sides.

"If you don't mind, Riddle, I have to get back to the pub. I have important business to attend to." She knew this would annoy him further.

Surprise, surprise. She didn't think it was possible, but his eyes darkened further.

"The only … business … you have is to ensure ridiculous Hufflepuffs are not involved in our plans."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have issues, Riddle?"

"No."

"Hmm."

Riddle leaned down, his hands dropping down, so he was practically surrounding her.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

Riddle cocked an eyebrow. "Sure about what?"

"That no one's ever pointed out you have issues?"

"..."

"Hmm."

He didn't respond, instead she watched as his eyes travelled across her face and she felt it heat under his scrutiny; the alcohol making her feel like she was aware of every detail on his face, from his ridiculously long eyelashes to the almost translucent quality of his skin.

""You are the first," he muttered.

"Really?"

"Yes. And do you know what they say?"

"What?"

"There's a first for everything."

Hermione inelegantly snorted. "You are a walking cli—"

But she was cut off, because suddenly his lips were on hers, and the forties and fens suddenly seemed like the least of her worries.

XXX

Thank you for reading! I drank a whole bottle of wine before writing this. Sorry if there are mistakes as I'm writing and just posting without checking. Thanks Lady Miya for the prompt of Octopus.

Sorry if it's crap.

And yeah I haven't been writing much lately, I went back to uni for my Masters this semester so I've been busy.

THANKS FOR READING!