F A N F I C T I O N > M I S C . F A N D O M S
Heartbeat by Amberina
Exactly twenty-four hours after Voldemort was vanquished (for good, they hoped, but who could really tell anymore?), Harry and Hermione sat in a club in Hogsmeade, drinking more than they've ever drunk before. Not that alcohol was the only thing swirling through their blood.
No, particles of many other substances floated through their systems as well -- mixing with magic and glitter and maybe a little lust but they weren't ready to acknowledge that yet.
Hermione nodded her head with the song playing, too far gone to be able to think of anything but the beat and how bloody wonderful she felt. She was too far gone to even remember the events of the last couple of weeks, too far gone to remember Ron's body (so broken by the time it fell to the ground.)
Harry, on the other hand, could never forget. Even though he'd taken more than Hermione would even dare to take, he couldn't get the imprint of the scene out of his head.
He rested his head in his hands. Here he was, the hero. The hero sitting in club, glitter all over his face and eyeliner rimming his eyes, thinking about how he let his best friend die and trying very hard to not focus on Hermione's nearly-exposed chest.
How very heroic of him.
The glitter and sweat on her sparkled under the lights.and he tried so hard not to become mesmerized as she moved in her seat, so perfectly to the beat.
Ron would kill him, Harry thought, if only Ron wasn't so very dead himself.
Three seconds later, and before Harry could stop himself, he seized Hermione by the shoulders. Her eyes lit up with surprise at first and then she began to laugh, her laugh seeming to go with the music. Seeming to be part of the music.
He pressed his lips against her neck and she continued to laugh. He doubted she was even half-aware of what was happening.
When he pulled his lips away, they were encrusted with a mix of glitter and sweat and Hermione. A swipe of his tongue brought back the taste of her skin, salty and sweet and he couldn't take this anymore.
He let her go, and she dropped back against the counter, and goofy smile on her face. She'd had far more than she should have, he could tell.
He got up and began to walk away. At first he could hear her call his name faintly, but it just became part of the music. Part of the beat.
The beat matched the rhythm of his heart, and he prayed that it would stop.