Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all that is related to that realm is owned by J.K. Rowling. I am simply providing a plot.

A/N: This is a bit of fun for me, I have written very little of anything but am jumping on the band wagon of the ever fabulous Dramione. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

There is no substitute for the warm caress of the person you love. That is, if you happen to appreciate it. Hermione Granger was in no state of mind to linger on the importance of such things. She was drunk, needy, and had no doubts that she wanted to caress the man on the opposite side of the room. If only it were possible.

It had been too long since Hermione, an independent and successful woman, had experienced any interaction with the male species in an intimate setting, shall we say. She certainly dealt with them professionally, given her role as Director of Muggle Relations at the Ministry. But, in a state of lowered inhibitions, she was feeling rather lonely and yearned to be desired. And, the only person she could desire without acting on such fleeting emotions was her childhood enemy, turned entrepreneur extraordinaire, one Draco Malfoy. If only she wasn't such a coward in the department of personal relations. Her Gryffindor traits seemed to have washed over that aspect of her character. She needed another drink.

The function was of particular importance, being the annual Ministry hosted ball held in the ever elaborate atrium of the Ministry's headquarters. Hermione had come alone, reluctantly. She was, after all, director of her department and was here to promote, network ,and generally act the part by being seen to advocate the social activities of the Ministry. Nevertheless, her social skills were being greatly hindered by her internal conflict and she found herself grabbing another glass of champagne from the passing floating tray.

She tried her hand at small talk with the directors of other departments and her colleagues. The Minister even approached her to greet her and thank her for her launch of the magazine, Understanding Muggles, and even invited her to the next meeting with the muggle Prime Minister. Yet, the whole time her eyes kept turning to the man who had captured her attention for the evening. She sculled her champagne, it made her throat tickle.

The now empty glass in her hand called for quick action. She walked over to the bar to set it down and picked up another flute. She would take it slow this time; she still had to floo home in one piece. The music progressed to a more contemporary jazz mood, and couples started to flock together for a spin on the dance floor in front of the great fountain. She hated happy couples and pretended to seem occupied with the nearby ice sculptures of unicorns raised on their hind legs flanking the entrance. It was part of the theme in promoting wizarding arts at the event. She considered the life of the ice-sculpture altruistic, unlike other forms of art; it was created to be marveled for a fleeting moment in time, awaiting its tragic ending. She sipped in admiration as the unicorns glistened like diamonds.

A hand wrapped itself around her waist, and someone drew in for a kiss on her cheek. "Hermione, I haven't seen you all night, you look exquisite," he whispered. Hermione turned her head to face the familiar warm eyes.

"Ron!" She smiled and hugged him with elation, "you're looking rather dashing yourself. Is Luna here?"

"She's catching up with some Ravenclaws. I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen you! How are you?"

"I'm good Ron, everything is going well." She figured the things that mattered were going well. She was reaching her professional goals and making a name for herself, separate from the infamous golden trio. Ron and Luna had been traveling for a year; he worked for The Quibbler, reporting on world Quidditch, while Luna researched unusual creatures for her book.

"Of course it is, I wouldn't expect anything less." She sipped her drink in a move to change the subject. Her head was starting to spin.

"You're coming to lunch on Sunday right? Harry will be back too. Like old times," Ron continued.

"Of course, Ron, I wouldn't miss it!" she reassured, wincing internally at the reference to 'old times' as Luna approached them.

"Hermione!" Luna gave her a warm hug. "Great to see you, love the new magazine. Who would have thought the Ministry could provide such enjoyable and useful reading material!"

"Thanks, Luna, happy to hear people are actually reading it. I'm relieved the project is up and running, finally." Her eyes were becoming harder to focus, she had to remain composed. "Ron, you have to dance with Luna, she has to show off that lovely gown. I'm just going to rush to the ladies, excuse me for a moment." She patted Ron on the shoulder, pushing him to go dance. He rolled his eyes jokingly at her demand and lovingly took Luna's arm and headed to join the other couples. Hermione's disgust at the dancing pairs did not help her current state as she tried to walk in a straight line towards the restrooms. She had to get a hold of herself, all the champagne was starting to hit her, and not lightly.

Hermione hastily made her way into one of the stalls in the ladies room, and turned to lean against the door as she shut herself in. She was feeling worse by the minute, how many did she have? She took deep breaths, her mouth felt dry, and she felt the earth spin on its axis. It was worse when she closed her eyes. She had to get home, before she couldn't control herself. Taking a deep breath as she stepped back out, keeping her head down so as not to draw the attention of the few witches seated at the vanity retouching their hair and make-up, she exited the restrooms.

She stood outside door for a moment, leaning against the wall for support, her hand over her forehead in an attempt to gain some self composure. She pushed off the wall and began to walk down the corridor back to the atrium. Few people passed by her but did not regard her state, just smiled. She tried to smile back, but she could only manage a smirk. Acknowledging others in her current state was not a priority as she concentrated on walking in such high heels. Despite her efforts, and the overbearing influene of Murphy's Law, she suddenly lost her balance, feeling her ankle twist in slow motion as she began to plummet toward the black surface of the corridor floor. She closed her eyes as she outstretched her arms in an attempt to ease her fall. But, they never made contact with the unforgiving surface as a pair of arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her back onto her feet with ease. A moment passed for her to register what had just occurred as she was being gently and safely directed onto the cold stone seat in a nearby alcove.

"That was a close call. Those shoes on this surface can cause some real damage," a deep, soothing baritone voice echoed around her, a hint of mirth present in his tone. Hermione, barely registering the man who had saved her: she was yet to look up, as she hunched over in uncontrollable dizziness. A delayed shot of pain stabbed through her leg. A groan escaped her lips.

"Are you ok?" the stranger's arm tightened around her, gesturing a response.

She shook her head, unable to string a sentence. She motioned toward her ankle, as it silently throbbed, eliciting chronic pain that surely would feel much worse had she not been in her current state. The arm around her pulled away as the stranger knelt to take a closer look.

"Looks like a sprain," he observed as he gently touched her ankle. He pulled out his wand and muttered a healing spell. Instant relief swept over her as she felt the muscles twitch around her shoe. "Best not to walk on it though, but it should be fine in a couple hours." he directed, softly tapping her ankle in a friendly gesture as he stood up and looked down at the distressed witch, yet to see her face.

Hermione, feeling obliged to acknowledge her rescuer, despite her tumultuous state, shifted her gaze from her lap as she lifted her head scanning over the person before her. She reached his face, her throat clamped, cheeks flushing in embarrassment, as she caught the ice drawn eyes of none other than Draco Malfoy staring down at her.

"Granger?" He seemed genuinely surprised as he scrutinized her features. She suddenly wished she had passed out in the toilet.

"Drunk and disorderly, that's me," she managed to respond in a barely audible tone. She played with her hands nervously. 'Get me out of here' was the only thought crossing her defeated and heightened state of embarrassment. A few drinks ago she was drooling over this man and now here he was, standing before her, having rescued the damsel in distress. How appropriate.

She heard him chuckle. "Drunk perhaps, disorderly? I doubt it. Nice shoes by the way. Think you can stand in them?" He ushered a hand to help her up. She was feeling rather dumbfounded at the gesture. Hesitantly, Hermione accepted, as he gently pulled to help her up. If only the room would stop spinning! She found herself at eye-level with the devilishly handsome man, which there appeared to be two of at this time. Her heels really were quite high, she realized.

"Thanks" she mumbled, avoiding his stare. He nodded curtly. "Think I might call it a night," she admitted. He was still holding her hand of which she was only vaguely aware. The close proximity of their faces was overwhelming to say the least.

"Don't think you're in a state to floo." His attentiveness was making her uncomfortable.

"I'm fine really, it'll be fine, really," She was making a fool of herself now. He eyed her humorously.

"Granger, don't be so embarrassed, everyone has a few too many drinks now and then. I'll go get your date to take you home." Could the situation get any worse? She pulled her hand away from his grasp and turned to move away from him.

"Really, Granger, your stubbornness is potentially harmful. Just wait a moment while I go find your partner. What's his name?" His said exasperated at her un-cooperation. It was a rare thing that someone did not cooperate with a Malfoy's request, especially one that was making an effort.

"I'm on my own," she mumbled.

"Right then, let's go to the fireplaces. Lean on my shoulder, you're not supposed to be walking on that." Accepting defeat, and the fact that this situation probably could not get any worse than it already was, unless Murphy wanted to make another appearance, she nodded and placed her arm on his shoulder as he circled his around her waist. They walked silently, Hermione limping as she leaned on Draco for support. This earned them a few glances from others as they passed through the atrium over to the few networked fireplaces near the ice-sculptures.

He directed her to stand in the fireplace, handing her the floo powder.

"You ready?" He asked. Hermione nodded.

"Granger residence," she articulated as best she could and glanced into the grey abyss focused on her as she flung the powder, green flames erupting around her. In no time she was stumbling out of her own fireplace in her apartment, collapsing on the couch in exhausted relief. Tomorrow, Hermione would exercise a cognitive dissonance to convince herself that the events of this evening had never happened. She passed out before she could plan any further.