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Chapter Text

1999

Hermione had done everything she was supposed to.

A year after the Battle of Hogwarts, she wanted to pick up the pieces of herself that she had scattered to survive the war.

The first step was to find her parents. She was able to track them to a little flower shop they had opened in Australia, and took a Portkey straight away.

The shop was by the beach, in a brick building with big arched windows.

Her heart raced as she entered the store. Her senses were flooded by the sweet smell of roses, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw dark brown curls.

Hermione's breath stopped. Her mother looked so happy, practically glowing as she turned around to greet another customer.

She felt her heart swell, she couldn't wait to feel her mother’s embrace once more.

Jean brought a bouquet out from the back, and as she stepped around the counter Hermione stilled.

She was pregnant, a full round belly hidden under her apron. The customer inquired about the pregnancy. She watched her mother's face light up as she explained they were expecting a little girl.

A little girl who they planned to name Hermione.

In an instant she felt her heart break. She turned on her heel and ran to the alley behind the shop.

Her breaths were short and fast, vision blurred by tears.

How could she restore their memories now? What would it do to this new life her parents were creating?

Hermione told herself it would be selfish to drag them into the broken world she lived in. Best for them to stay unaware and continue the life they had here.

She squeezed her nails into her palms until her breaths began to slow. Standing fast on her feet, she reached for the button in her pocket.

Hermione whizzed back to the Burrow, and did her best to let go of her childhood. She wanted to focus on her future, and her new relationship.

Tears were saved for hot showers, and the rare moments alone.

Harry, Ron, and the Weasleys were all she had left it felt like.

Spending time with them dulled the loss of her own family.

She and Ginny would help Molly in the kitchen most nights. The smell of garlic cooking in butter enveloping the space.

Being with them felt like a bandaid on an infected wound. They made her feel better, but the rot never stopped.

One night, after a particularly long family dinner, Ron told Hermione he was going to propose in one year.

It caught her completely off guard, they were happy but still so young. She suggested they get their own place to start, and could talk about an engagement once they were settled. He grumbled and agreed.

This felt right at the time, all their friends were moving forward with their lives and relationships. Ginny was younger than Hermione, and Molly didn’t seem to mind her staying with Harry at Grimmauld.

When Ron told his family they were moving out, Molly was thrilled. She smiled ear to ear, while singing praises for a happy life and babies.

With all the pain from the war lingering inside her, the excitement of a new life gave her focus. No time to dwell on the emptiness that had taken root inside of her.

After a few months, Arthur offered Hermione a job. An entry level position at the Ministry. He explained it would be office work, mostly.

She found herself losing time in the grind of it all. Each day held new stressors and lessons, it was exhausting but not challenging.

Ron said he wanted to pursue writing, to turn all of their ‘adventures’ into a novel.

Hermione supported the idea at first, she was always willing to proofread and help him with the story. Fact checks and spelling mistakes. It reminded her of their time at Hogwarts. Memories of how she would help him with his coursework. A simpler time to fall in love.

Unfortunately, his creative process could be thrown off by any little thing. He’d get frustrated and retreat to the living room, where he would zone out in front of the telly for hours. He loved watching the tapes Hermione kept from her time with her parents, and she wanted to share them. but things didn't feel right.

Between her job and keeping their home, she started to burn out. Moving mechanically through each day.

Months went by, Hermione would wake early to make breakfast and lunch before she headed to work. One for herself, and one for Ron.

Again and again, she would come home to find him on the sofa, telly on.

The ‘chapters’ he would ask her to read became more sloppy and less frequent.

A year had gone by and he had not found a job. And still, his novel was not being written.

Hermione felt like she had so much on her plate. It was hard to admit that she needed help, she needed him to be an equal partner.

However, he had brought up the proposal a fair amount of times. It gave her the worst feeling, a sensation she didn't want to face. Instead, she would brush it off as they couldn't afford it and were too busy to plan.

She hated to admit it, but she didn't want to marry him. Something in her gut screamed it was wrong.

On a Friday after work, she came home to Ron in his usual place on the sofa. His favourite film The Mask blared through the room.

Hermione couldn’t hold it in anymore and asked him if he could get a job while working on his novel. Even plucked up the courage to tell him her job barely covered their tiny flat and living expenses.

His whole face scrunched and turned red.

It was the first time Ron screamed at her.

She will never forget what it felt like when his full rage was turned on her.

Hermione couldn't fathom what she had done wrong.

Why was asking him for his half of the bills unfair? Why did it warrant such a visceral response from him? Was she that much of a threat?

It became a trend.

Hermione used to fight back and stand up for herself.

She knew she didn’t deserve this treatment, the way he lashed out at her over nothing.

But after hours and hours of hearing everything she had done wrong, all the times in their relationship that she had let him down... it started to eat away at her.

She began to believe him.

As more time passed by, it all got far worse.

Hermione felt as though Ron didn’t see her for who she was. He said he loved her, and yet he didn’t trust her. He would go through her letters, and intercept owls.

There would be nights when Ron would scream at her endlessly for a comment she would make, or an opinion she would share. Sometimes, even when she was simply being herself. It felt like she had to know what he was thinking, or else she could set him off.

His anger began to escalate, he would throw or break something in their home. Or punching the wall until his knuckles bled as his anger poured out of him.

It was like a theatrical show, where he never physically touched her, but instead destroyed things around her.

After a particularly long speech about how Hermione shouldn’t make friends with her male co-workers, Ron grabbed the sewing scissors from her mothers sewing kit and dragged the blade down his arm.

With every cut he would make, he looked her in the eyes and said, ‘this is your fault.’

The emptiness inside of her grew, and her trauma seeped into her dreams.

Her self-doubt plunged her into nightmares.

When the dream would turn from light to dark, Ron would be there, only he wasn’t on her side this time.

Hermione was completely alone.

She wanted to ask his family for help with Ron. She needed help to get him to see a Mind Healer, to work through his anger and depression.

Hermione had been trying for years, but he would always refuse. Saying he didn’t need help, he just needed her to do better.

When he was having a mood swing, either Hermione or Crookshanks took the blow of his anger.

Ron would scream at her cat for being a cat. She couldn’t stand it—how dare he speak to Crooks, an innocent creature, like he was at fault for Ron’s follies.

It was painful to have no one to turn to. Her friends wouldn't understand her pleas, often excusing Ron's behavior.

Hermione felt so stuck, like there was no way out. And she was only twenty-two! She and Ron had been living together since she was eighteen for fucks-sake!

It made her want to scream.

One night, she finally broke down and told Ron she was going for drinks with Ginny. Going out was hard, Ron would constantly be checking in on her with a charmed parchment he demanded she make for him. She had suggested a mobile phone, but he declined.

At one point Ginny took the charmed item away and threatened to burn it. Hermione paled, and felt so scared in that moment that she leapt forward and grabbed it from Ginny’s hands.

“You don’t understand Ginny, he would be so mad if I lost this,” she exhaled, and broke down in tears. She didn’t know how to explain her reaction. Should she ask her for advice? Should she finally reach out? “I’ve just had a lot to drink and should probably go home.”

“Aw, are you sure? It was so much fun to have you out.” Her voice was slightly strained, “Let's do it again next weekend okay?”

Ginny was so sweet.

Why wouldn’t Hermione trust her with this? ‘You’re not the angel everyone thinks you are,’ Ron’s voice rumbled, ‘You’re rotten Hermione. And only I will love you.” His words echoed through her head as she made her way back to the Apparition point.

Hermione couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through her head. She had been so close to opening up to Ginny about what she was going through.

Just on the cusp of finally letting some of her feelings out.

But would she lose them?

Would she lose the Weasleys if she confided in them about how Ron was treating her?

Between work, nightmares, and Ron’s outbursts, Hermione was barely sleeping.

Her life had become a routine. She would stay in her shell and do what she knew she had to in order to keep him happy.

More frequently she would have nightmares.

After jostling herself awake to escape Greyback or Bellatrix, she would find Ron pawing at her.

Hermione would try to feign sleep, but he would persist.

After her silent refusal he would whisper a threat into the night, that she ‘better fuck him soon’.

His touch became repulsive.

Ron was always right there, he never left their flat.

He would follow her into their wardrobe when she had to change for work. Taking advantage of her while she was in a state of undress.

A meaty hand cupping her breast roughly, causing her to flinch away. Getting dressed isn’t really a moment when she was prepared to be groped.

If she would bend down to pick something up, he would grab her arse and pull.

After days of preparing, it was time for Hermione to have sex with him.

It had been at least a month since the last time...

She came home drunk from another night with Ginny and was in a good mood.

Half way through she realised what was happening and wanted it to stop.

But she was afraid to say so.

Her body started to reject the feeling, and she became sick to her stomach the longer it went on.

His touch was never the same after that night.

Each time after that she would move robotically. Completely removing herself from her body in order to perform the act.

She would be on top, so she could take some semblance of control. Holding his hands to keep him from touching her.

Hermione had completely lost herself in the mix of it all. She was going through each day like a ghost, her form felt as if it were becoming more transparent.

Alcohol helped dull the feeling of emptiness, and the aching loneliness inside of her.

Ron absolutely hated when she drank, he would give her space when she did as it ‘made him sick’.

That was what she wanted.

‘Hate me, leave me,’ she would say in her head.

She started to frequent a Muggle pub by the Ministry, called Churchkey Pub. A cute little hole in the wall where Hermione found solace behind the red wooden door.

Shockingly, Daphne Greengrass was the bartender. And to Hermione’s surprise, a great listener.

Daphne would complain about how she had to leave her family during the war because her values did not align with theirs. Ignoring their letters and cutting herself off from it all.

How she had to work and assimilate into the Muggle world to avoid her relatives and most ex-Death Eaters. She detested working, but said the nights Hermione came in were better.

This lit a light in Hermione she hadn’t realised had gone out.

Someone was choosing to spend time with her, ask her about herself.

Care about her.

Ron was wrong, and she was only twenty-two!

Why did it feel like her life was over?

Spending time at Churchkey reminded Hermione that life was out there. A better life was out there.

She just had to figure out a way to get back to it.

2002

2003

2004

2005

“Hermione, it pains me so much to see you like this.” Daphne’s green eyes bored into her.

She raised her drink in protest. “Oh, pshh Daph I am fiiiine... Well not so much fine, but you always help.” Hermione could feel herself slur, but couldn’t be bothered to care.

“You just told me you had to take Ron into St. Mungos for an attempt on his life. This is not normal, Hermione!” Her friend was looking nearly as haggard as her. Maybe Hermione had been seeping too much of her poison into Daphne.

“I’m so—so sorry Daph, you’re right, I should go.” Her voice cracked as her tears began well.

Once they started it was hard to stop them. Hermione had to hide in the bath usually until they subsided for fear of Ron screaming about how much he hated to see her cry.

“No, Hermione. Please stay, I’m just scared for you. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve known. Always putting yourself last, ready and willing to do whatever it takes for those you love.” A look of disgust and then concern flashed on her face. “I just wish you demanded that for yourself... it’s hard to watch you lose your way in order to help him.”

After living with Ron’s mood swings for years, she had developed a super power for noticing any change in someone's facial expressions or tone of voice.

It was vital when she was around Ron. Hermione could prevent a huge meltdown and shame spiral by noticing when she triggered him.

She wasn’t sleeping much between her promotion to a full-time assistant for the head of the Magical Creatures Department, and taking care of Ron.

Hermione had hit a breaking point and opened up to Arthur about how she was struggling. And that she needed help with Ron’s mental state.

Arthur’s response was gruff. He accused her of no longer loving Ron. That love was selfless when your partner was in need.

Molly had looked at her like she was a disgrace. While Ginny stood silent.

It completely gutted her.

Hermione felt so done.

An empty shell, Apparated home that night and walked straight in on Ron with another woman in their bed.

She didn’t see her face, but was so thankful it was another body he was touching.

His voice was ringing through her ears that this was her fault as he chased her down the hall, that she had made him do it by not ‘loving him enough’.

Hermione summoned her things that she had packed away for a few weeks, he had never noticed. Grabbed Crooks and walked out the door with a smile on her face.

2006

Hermione sat at the bar.

Daphne wasn’t working tonight, so she brought the new book she bought from the Muggle smut section.

Daph had told her not to skip Churchkey tonight, that there was to be a special performance.

The only special performance Hermione was interested in at the moment resided in the pages of her book.

It reminded herself that there were men who treated women with kindness and respect.

Blissfully ignoring that most of her favourite fictional men were written by women.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her, and she practically jumped out of her skin.

Standing just behind her was Theodore Nott. Who quite literally just burst her bubble.

“Is that Prefect Hermione Granger? Come to drink her sorrows away like the rest of us?” A smirk showed on his dimples. He was dressed in a distressed tee and black trousers that probably cost more than her flat.

“Where? I don’t see her?” Hermione shrugged and fained looking over her shoulders. She looked up at him quizzically, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

Never would she have thought to run into a Pureblood wizard at a Muggle pub. Daphne was shocking enough. She closed her book with a blush growing on her cheeks and placed it in her bag.

“Well then, not Hermione Granger, you’re in for a show tonight.” He lifted himself on his toes and leaned in closer to her. “Three rehabilitated Death Eaters are about to blow your mind.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Hermione looked up from the bottom of her glass to see that Theo was holding an instrument case. Over his shoulder she saw Blaise setting up a drum set, still just as stoic and handsome. She noticed the name Dragon Hearts on the bass drum.

A familiar tall blond shape stepped out from behind the curtain and started to set up a microphone.

She felt herself still.

Hermione hadn’t seen Draco Malfoy since she spoke at his Wizengamot trial.

He looked just as handsome as she remembered, if not devastatingly more so, now that he was older.

His shoulders were broad, and his body filled out. She could see the muscles of his back move through his shirt.

As if he could hear her thoughts, cold grey eyes found hers.

Hermione felt a warm blush spread between her ears.

His hair was messy, possibly intentionally?

It was just as long as he had it in their third year. Truthfully, she always loved that hair, even when he taunted her. She blames Jack Dawson.

Malfoy was wearing a white button up, with most of the top buttons undone, showing his pale chest and icy lines of his Sectumsempra scars. His elegant neck was decorated with layered necklaces, his fingers decorated with rings. And as he rolled up his sleeves, Hermione could see the faded Dark Mark. It made her shiver.

Hermione had always struggled with nightmares. Even when she was small, there were moments in her dreams that would twist and distort, shifting from happy to frightening.

After the war the nightmares became so intense, the emotions would affect her for hours after waking.

Fenir Greyback or Bellatrix holding her down and torturing her.

One of Hermione's only reprieves from her nightmares, and feelings towards Ron, began innocently.

Dreams of Malfoy’s hands in potions. Or when he would take notes in class, and gentle caresses whilst passing ingredients.

The dreams were like whispers, flickering like a candle flame in the dark.

In time the dreams began to become more explicit, she would wake hot and eager for a taste of the forbidden.

Now that Ron was out of the picture, the nightmares took on a new rotation.

Ron would be living in her space again. He acted like nothing ever changed, that he loved her and would always be with her. She falls right back into who she was with him, letting him stay and take from her. Sometimes when he screams at her in the dream, she wakes just like she does when it’s Bellatrix cutting into her arm. The pain hurts the same.

Even though she had cut Ron out of her life, and more painfully his family, the dreams made her feel guilty.

It felt forbidden, the way she was drawn to Malfoy.

Hermione could never forget the look in his eyes when she spoke at his trials after the battle of Hogwarts.

It was as if a light went on behind them, for the first time it felt like Malfoy saw her as a person, not as a Mudblood. The dreams made her look at those small moments through a different lens.

During the battle she had seen a side to Malfoy that she didn't know existed, his wand work was flawless as he protected a group of Slytherins while they ran from a Death-Eater.

After that, it felt like she had a whole new perspective on who he was.

A boy who was born into a society of hate for those who were different from his legacy's ideal. Who was taught to spew that hate in order to gain approval.

She felt so sad for him, truly looking at his life without personal bias. Hermione saw that all those negative thoughts had filtered through him from the people he was closest to.

Malfoy hadn't earned her forgiveness, but she could no longer hold on to all her negative feelings towards him.

He was a scared boy, just like she had been a scared girl.

They were children who didn't choose their life paths, and found themselves on opposite sides.

His presence in her dreams became something she yearned for, for in those brief moments he would chase the pain away.

It was a secret she held close, a dream prince.

Hermione would wake and feel as if it was all real.

That he was truly there with her, and her feelings weren’t just in the astral plane.

She had to remind herself that the intimate moments they shared were one sided, and that she had a longing for someone who’s done nothing but publicly reject her.

Her eyes focused on him again.

Malfoy’s jaw was drawn so tight, it looked so sharp that he could pierce hearts with it. She felt as though she was drooling.

“Ah see, there’s Hermione,” Theo said, full grin on his face now. Blast, she forgot he was there. “Let me know what you think after the show, okay? I want complete honesty.” He waved his finger at her and poked her nose lightly. “I didn’t believe Daphne at first when she said you were a regular. And yet here you are, flesh and blood.” His hand fell and gave her arm a small pinch.

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile back.

Stupid boys with sweet smiles and dimples. He winked before tuning on his heel, and as he walked away she appreciated his behind. As any person should.

She ordered another drink, and a round for the band.

Eric, the only other bartender besides Daph, told her that it was taken care of. So with a smile and a nod she turned her full attention to the stage.

She was going to give Daphne grief for not warning her.

Though at that moment, Hermione realised they don’t talk about Daphne’s personal life much.

Daph had made it seem like she cut out all the Purebloods in her life, but regrettably Hermione now saw that she had never asked.

Daphne had been such a great friend.

Was Hermione a bad friend?

She had been doing so much work on herself... maybe the line had been muddled between being a good friend, and focussing on herself.

She shook her thoughts away for the moment, and made note to speak to her Mind Healer in their next session about these thoughts.

The boys were all set up, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how amazing they all looked.

The Slytherin’s she grew up with were long gone, Hermione only saw men on that stage.

Theo was almost as tall as Draco, his curly hair falling around his eyes like a stylish mop.

Blaise looked like he had been working out, his arms bulged with every move.

She watched as he raised the drumsticks above his head and started the count, Theo came in on bass, and Malfoy strummed the guitar effortlessly with his long fingers.

Hermione lost her breath when Draco started to sing.

Her jaw was on the floor, she could hardly contain her shock and adoration. They were playing rock music, but it was beautiful?

Hermione loved Muggle music and listened to her fair share of wizard artists as well.

But this?

It was like a medley of all her favourite genres.

She felt transported as she floated with every verse. Letting the music sway her body and wash over her.

Her mind was always so full of thoughts, a constant noise, but now? It was quiet, only the music was filling her.

It was like a trance.

Malfoy’s voice was soothing and calming, while Theo and Blaise harmonized during the chorus.

Hermione felt body chills.

Something itched at the back of her head when he played, she couldn’t put her finger on it.

It felt akin to nostalgia.

The song started to wind down and the mood shifted.

She saw Malfoy cross to the keyboard at the corner of the stage, how did she miss that?

Gods, he was so beautiful.

The angles of his face were illuminated by the rainbow reflections of the disco ball. His hands moved quickly and practiced. Hermione couldn’t even see the other two Slytherins.

Her heart jumped in her throat as he looked up at her and met her eyes.

He was singing to her.

Just for her it felt like.

When the song picked up, Malfoy kept his eyes on hers, drawing Hermione closer and closer to him.

A warm familiar feeling slowly radiated from her core.

Only to be jarred out of her fantasy after being bumped out of the way by some scantily clad Muggle girls.

This took Hermione out of her trance.

Taking a moment to look around the pub, she realised it was packed!

The Slytherins must have drawn the crowd since almost every other time she’d been here it had been quiet.

Hermione was out of her drink and decided to get another. She made her way back to the bar.

“One more please, Eric.”

“No problem,” he said. As he filled her glass he nodded to the stage, “I’ve got to get these lads back in here, this is the most I’ve served all month. Hey, you know them right? Daphne mentioned you all went to school together. Do you have their manager's number? I’ve got a friend who could help them get more shows.”

“Oh sort of, yeah, I can pass that along,” she said feeling slightly excited about having a reason to stick around to talk to Malfoy.

“They’ve got star power, that's for sure. Here you go.” He handed her a beer.

Hermione decided to find a corner away from the herd of screaming women to sit out the rest of their set.

The way Malfoy performed was hypnotic.

The crowd moved and danced with each song as if they’d known it for ages. She was impressed but not surprised.

Malfoy could always gather followers with his wit and charm.

It was like he was meant to be on stage.

“Thank you all so much,” he drawled, while his hand ran through his hair. “You’ve been an amazing audience. This song is our last, and it’s dedicated to the little lion in the corner.” His eyes flashed to Hermione, and a smile grew on his face she’d never seen.

It was dazzling; her whole body shook.

The crowd went wild as the song picked up, Hermione recognised the song. It was a cover of the muggle song Always by Blink 182.

All of the Slytherins were watching her now, clearly testing her music knowledge.

She did know it, of course, but they didn’t have to know that.

Come on, let me hold you, touch you. Feel you. Always. Kiss you, taste you, all night. Always.

Hermione hoped that the lyrics Draco was singing to her were true. That he wanted to taste her as much as she did him.

After the applause, the band walked off stage and the crowd started to disperse.

Hermione noticed the girls who pushed her were attempting to get backstage to see the band. A pang of jealousy ran through her.

Malfoy came out the opposite side of the stage, clearly avoiding the girls, and headed straight to the bar.

He passed Hermione as if she didn’t exist.

That hurt.

A wake of his smell pulled her in and she followed after him.

“Malfoy, that was amazing. I had no idea you could sing.” Her eyes felt like they were shining brighter than she wanted, but honest nonetheless.

“Well of course Granger, you know nothing about me.” She saw a smirk bloom on his face. "The real me.”

She shrugged.

“Well, either way, I’m impressed.” She looked about the bar. “Where are Theo and Blaise?”

Malfoy snorted slightly.

“Probably trying to get those slags to come home with us. Those two always succeed.” A flash of something dark spread through his eyes as he focused down on her. “Where is the ever dutiful Weaslebee? Figured if I ever ran into you again he would be in tow.”

“Oh, and you don't succeed?” Hermione raised a brow.

“I don’t need to try Granger. They come to me .” His eyes met hers, he had a little flush on his cheeks. “Don’t avoid my question, I've answered yours.”

What was he insinuating? Did he think she was hitting on him?

“I bet they do. Just like trouble seems to find you.” Hermione was finding her courage to push him back. “Ronald and I haven’t been together for some time...” Why was she telling him this?

Just as he was about to respond, Theo came and wrapped his arms around Hermione’s shoulders.

“There she is. What did you think, Granger?” He had a smear of lipstick on his cheek.

“Yes Granger, give us the truth,” Blaise said dripping with charm. And good to see you’re looking well.”

“You all are amazing musicians. And when you play together, it's hypnotic.” Her voice squeaked at the end. Ugh, no more alcohol, she thought.

“Oh wow, that’s some high praise coming from you,” Theo laughed.

She needed to change the subject, like now. “The bartender, Eric, wanted to know who your manager is. He said he knows some local pub owners who would love to have you play more shows.” Her eyes avoided Malfoy’s.

“Ah, a sad story really. We’ve had five managers and they all quit after a week with this one,” Blaise said, pinching Draco’s cheek.

“Piss off Blaise, none of them were good at their job anyway. We’re better off without one.” Draco looked as though he could burn the Forbidden Forest with his eyes.

“I’m sure when we find a terrifying vixen who won’t be shaken, Draco will happily fall in line.” Theodore's arms squeezed Hermione a little tighter and she saw Draco look from Theo to her quickly before turning away.

“No such person exists,” he exhaled, finishing his drink and motioning to the bartender for another. “Does anyone else want another round? Granger?” He spent time on pronouncing her name, she could feel each syllable deep inside her.

“Oh she will take another. This Gryffindor is going out with us tonight! She will learn what it’s like to party with the Slytherins! Right, Granger? Or can I call you Hermione?” Theo’s deep, lake blue eyes almost pierced through hers as he released her shoulders.

“Well I’ve got nothing else to do tonight.” She shrugged and hoped it came off cool and unbothered. “And yes Theo, you can definitely call me Hermione,” she said, a flush growing on her chest and cheeks. Malfoy scoffed and turned away.

“Alright, sounds like we need a round of shots, and then on to the next pub!” Blaise slapped his hands on the bar.

The girls who went backstage were hovering close by. Hermione couldn’t tell if they were waiting for the band, or scaling her up to battle for their attention.

When Eric returned, Malfoy passed out the shots. His fingers brushed against Hermione’s as he handed it to her.

The feeling of his touch was like lightning running through her veins.

Theo raised his shot and said, “Here’s to those we love, here’s those who love us, but the ones that we love will never love us, so fuck all of them and here’s to us!” They clinked glasses and threw them back.

Hermione felt the whisky burning all the way down, warming her from the inside.

“It’s no Firewhisky, but I’ll take it.” Malfoy licked his lips and Hermione ached to bite them.

“Wooo okay let’s go lads! And Hermione,” Blaise said with mischief in his eyes.

She slammed her shot glass down.

“All right you lot, pay the tab and clean up your instruments! I’m heading to the loo before we go,” Hermione said, wagging her finger like Theo did to her earlier in the night.

“Oh oh, yes mistress Hermione, I’ll do anything you say if you use that tone.” Theo pretended to bow down to her, as he looked her up and down. “Keep that up and we will all fall in line,” he finished with a wink.

“Good Gods, you’ve got a smooth tongue Theo.” She shook her head and sauntered towards the loo.

“You have no idea,” she heard Theo say when she sashayed away.

Closing the loo door behind her, she felt hopeful that this would turn into a good night. Gods, the first good night she’d had in... years?

As she sat down on the seat she heard the door open again. Feet shuffled in.

“They are so hot. I would love to wrap my legs around the lead singer,” one of the girls said.

“Okay, well I get the drummer. You know I like a man who knows how to keep tempo,” another of them chimed in.

“They all know how to keep tempo. You can be so daft,” another giggled.

“Too bad they won’t even look our way. That plain girl is taking all their attention. I thought after we offered up a good time they would take the bait. What’s so great about her?”

Hermione finished up and flushed, dramatically announcing her presence. The girls who had been talking about her were the ones who pushed her out of the way during the set. They were primping in front of the mirror, not shocked or embarrassed that she had heard their entire conversation.

She went to wash her hands when one of the girls turned to her.

“So, you know the band?” The tallest girl asked with a dry tone. She resembled a lamppost.

“Oh, um yeah we went to school together.” Hermione hated that she started to blush.

“Are any of them yours?” Another girl piped up. More of a shrubby shape.

“No, definitely not,” Hermione answered quickly.

“Well, it doesn’t look that way,” Lamppost said, eyes looking at her sideways.

“Ah, well, looks can be deceiving. Have a good night everyone.” Hermione sprinted out of there quickly, and ran straight into someone.

“Ouch, Granger, where’s the fire?” His smooth voice rang in her ears.

“Mph—sorry, Dra—Malfoy!” She was still pressed up against him, his hands steadied her. Her skin was burning hot where he touched her. She could feel his breath on her hair. If she looked up, their faces would be dangerously close. Would she try? Could she?

“Careful there,” he said, leaning down to look in her eyes.

One of his hands left her side and a finger came under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I don’t think I could control myself if I heard you use my name.” His voice was husky, his breath smelled of mints and whisky. Hermione felt utterly dizzy.

She did her best to look back up at him. “You’re always in control, Malfoy. Don’t pretend anything could change that.” She was daring him, the whisky in her belly fueled her courage.

“Ah, kitten. You really don’t know me at all.” She shut her eyes feeling as though he was going to press closer to her, when suddenly she was left cold as his body drifted away.

The girls had stepped out almost running into a stunned Hermione, just as she had done to Draco. The girls giggled and moved past her.

Hermione ran back in to splash cold water on her face.

When Hermione finally returned to the Slytherins they were all laughing. Draco’s genuine smile took her breath away, his canine teeth were so sharp, she shook her head and quickly recovered.

“Alright, where to next?” she asked with the most killer smile she could muster.

“Anywhere you want, gorgeous.” Theo stood up and swirled one of her curls between his fingers. I’ll give you anything if you keep smiling at me like that.”

Draco huffed and looked away, Hermione saw a bit of pink on his ears.

“Well I say we go to Diagon Alley. My new club just opened. Free liquor and tons of beautiful women,” Blaise said with a devilish grin. “Though none as gorgeous as you, Hermione.”

She brushed them away like gnats. “Oh pshhh quit that. Let’s get going.”

Draco stood up and looked at her like he approved of her batting them away.

“Uh oh Theo, I think we made the dragon jealous.” Blaise and Theo snickered together, as Draco gave them an icy look and placed his hand on the small of Hermione’s back to guide her out.

The lightning ran through her again.

She was all too aware now of how thin her T-shirt was and how his hand was burning right through it.