This one was inspired by the ten song drabble challenge I did a weeks days ago. That one's called "Fragments of Fiction." Check it out!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.

I answered the door, ready to glare at whoever was dirtying my doormat.

"Alright mate?"

I pressed my fingers to my temples at the onset of an instant migraine as Blaise Zabini swaggered into my flat and made himself at home on my chaise longue.

"What're you doing here?" I sighed and swung the door shut.

"I'm here to knock some sense into you." The Italian replied and bunged a paper bag on my coffee table. "And I brought company."

I glanced at the clock. 1:45 in the afternoon. "Zabini, I'm not drinking whatever's in that bag." I sat guardedly in the wingback across from the sofa.

"What?" Blaise cried defensively. "I'm just trying to help you mate."

I examined the man with a raised eyebrow. "I'd sooner like to be run over by a lorry than accept help from you." I deadpanned, borrowing a phrase I had heard Hermione say before.

Blaise slapped the paper sack affectionately. "Plenty of dutch courage for ya in here, mate."

"It's 1:45."

"And?"

"And I'm not going on my five o'clock date piss drunk, that's what."

Blaise smiled and replied slyly. "Your five o'clock date with Hermione Granger?"

"What?" I asked. "No. Shut up."

"Who then?"

"Some bird. I don't remember her name if I'm being honest."

"So you're going to spend the evening with some two knut slut instead of making amends with your girlfriend of five months?"

"Shut up, Zabini." I growled and moved towards the door. "Now get out of my house."

Blaise sighed and pulled a bottle opener from his pocket. He met me at the door and pressed the opener into my hand slowly. His eyes bored into mine, and despite how hard I tried to put on a mask of indifference, my smirk came out strained and turned down at the corners.

"Will you try one more time?" He asked, his usual goofy grin was replaced with a concerned frown.

"No." I replied, but my fingers curled around the bottle opener anyway. "She yelled at me and threw me out of her house, throwing hexes at my heels. She said she never wants to see me again. I messed up bad this time, there's no fixing this one."

"Women say stuff they don't mean all the time." Blaise countered. "I'm sure what she meant was "Oh please! Come after me, my Draco!" That's what they always mean."

I scowled and opened the door. "She doesn't sound like that. And she most definitely meant it. Hermione means everything she says."

"And what about the time she told you she'd never date you in a million years?" He persisted.

I leant against the door jamb. "That's an exception."

"And what about the time she told you she'd sooner kiss Goyle than you?"

"Okay fine. That's two exceptions."

Blaise pressed on despite my protests. "And the time she told she'd never forgive you for your childhood antics? And the time she said she wouldn't go the Ministry ball with you? And the time she said she wouldn't help you with your latest potion? And the time she—"

"That's enough!" I cut him off. "…So maybe she doesn't mean everything she says, but she meant it this time."

Blaise shook his head angrily and moved onto my doormat. "You're a coward. How do you know that? Hermione may think that she knows what she wants, but don't you know better? Don't you know that you're best for her?"

I grabbed the door and began to shut it in his face. "Blaise, she meant it. How could she not?"

He stuck his foot in the door. "Because it's Hermione sodding Granger. She never means anything rash when it comes to you. You're her weakness, why won't you use that?"

"See you on Sunday, Blaise." I shot back expressionlessly. I pushed his foot out of the way and locked the deadbolt roughly.

By three o'clock, I was collapsed face down on my chaise longue, Blaise's words running circles in my mind. You're her weakness. Don't you know that you're best for her?

Zabini's "company" lay untouched on the coffee table, but I still clutched the bottle opened in my hands. Maybe Blaise did know what he was talking about. He had been friends with Hermione longer than I had…maybe she told him that…

No. I couldn't think like that. That would only get me into trouble.

You're a coward…

I raised my head and looked at the paper sack. If I was in so much trouble, why not get legless while I was at it?

I reached my hand into the sack, expecting cheap wine, but my fingers closed around a small bottle instead. As I pulled out the bottle, the contents caught the afternoon light and sparkled blindingly. Confused, I squinted and brought it close to my face. It wasn't alcohol. Somehow, there was a spell caught inside the bottle. That was the only explanation. The glass vibrated ever so slightly, seeming to hum with excitement. Brilliantly coloured twinkles floated around the bottle, more concentrated on the bottom than at the top, ranging anywhere from silvers and golds to iridescent reds and glimmering cyans.

"What the—" I muttered, and looked for a label. On the bottom, next to a few serial numbers were the words "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Even more cautious than before, I looked at the bottle opener in my hand. Only one way to find out.

As soon as the cork left the mouth of the bottle, echoing voices filled the room.

"Blaise? What are you doing here?" I instantly recognised Hermione's voice, but it was soft and weak. She sounded really upset. I whipped my head around the room, but I was alone.

Blaise's booming voice filled my living room next. "I'm here to cheer you up, of course!"

My eyes narrowed as I focused on the little bottle. The sound was clearly coming from it.

"Listen, Blaise, while I appreciate the thought, I don't think I'm up for—" Hermione sounded hesitant.

"Oh hush, love. I brought company." Blaise replied happily.

"I'm not getting drunk at ten o'clock in the morning." I smiled at her exasperated tone.

Blaise laughed. "Relax, Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes. It's just Qibla Cola."

After a few clinking noises, Hermione spoke. Before, their voices had been sort of muffled, but now her voice came out of the bottle loud and clear. "This one's empty, Blaise."

"Ah, don't worry about that," he said. "I drank one before I showed up at your house."

"And you didn't think to throw it away?" Hermione asked, and a heavy thudding noise boomed around the room, and I covered my ears instinctually.

"NO!" Blaise yelled hastily. "I mean, no. Don't throw it away."

"Why?"

There was silence for a minute where Blaise seemed to flounder. "I just….wanted to….er…..throw it away at my flat! Yeah, that's it!" He sounded pleased, and Hermione was suspicious when she answered.

"Okay, you're weird. But thanks for the cola. I kinda needed something to take my mind…off things."

I smiled slightly as Blaise's total inability to lie on the spot. He had always been rubbish at that. I took their silence as an opportunity to study the bottle some more. There were fewer sparkles in it than before, and a tangy fruity smell filled the room. The bottle was a sound capturing device. It was really quite ingenious for a Weasley. Not that I would tell anyone.

After a few minutes of sipping sounds, Blaise broke the quiet. "How're you holding up?" He asked sympathetically.

There was a heavy silence. "Everything would be okay if it hadn't all….."

She drifted off, and Blaise chuckled bitterly before replying. "I believe the phrase is—ahem—'gone to hell on a hippogriff.'"

Hermione laughed weakly. "That's something Draco would say."

My throat constricted at the mention of my name, but I was more surprised by the tender way she said it. She sounded really torn up about the whole thing, didn't she?

"Hermione," Blaise started quietly, tentatively. "Has he come back to talk to you about…..things?"

She sighed. "Yes. And it hurt too much to talk to him. I don't want him standing all penitent on my doorstep when he acted like a real sod to my family and friends. I hate it when he gets like that, and he doesn't want to change at all! It was grating on my nerves, I got so tired of it!"

"That's how Draco is," Blaise laughed, but he whimpered quickly after that. I smiled. "Hermione must be glaring at him," I said to myself.

"Have you considered talking to him about it?"

"Yes," Hermione replied instantly, then sighed again. "No…I don't know."

"Do you have any regrets?" Blaise asked.

I held my breath for so long, I was starting to see dark spots before she answered. "I can't help but wonder what would happen….if he came back one more time."

My heart soared. My hope was racing on a broomstick, going faster and faster until I thought my brain would explode. Blaise's words from earlier returned to me again. Don't you know that you're best for her? I could go over and see her right now. I could talk to her one more time. I could get her to—

—wait, Blaise was talking from the bottle. I should listen again.

"—but just think about it, okay? He's really not that bad."

Hermione's voice was fond and low. "I know."

"That's my girl," Blaise said. "I've got to go now, will you be okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. See you later."

The sound of the door opening filled my room, and the hinges creaked loudly before Hermione spoke up. "Do you want to take these bottles back?"

Blaise laughed. "No, you can keep the empty bottle, why would I need them?"

"….Because you wanted to throw them—"

"Oh right!" Blaise exclaimed loudly. "Thanks for reminding me, see you soon!"

The door slammed shut and then Blaise's voice whispered loudly from the bottle. He must have held it up to his mouth. "You had better appreciate this Draco, because if Hermione finds out that I recorded that, she'll hex me back to Merlin's time."

I smiled and watched as the last of the sparkles twinkled out of the bottle and left an empty glass. I looked at the bottle opener in my hand and then put it in my pocket.

I was going to get my girl back.