Chapter One
Out. He needed out.
For the first time, in almost 29 days, he felt an urge to do something beyond laying in his own filth and dejection. That's not to say this was the first time in a month that he had left his pit of despair. It was far too difficult to maintain his Scum of the Earth title without showing his face to the malcontent masses routinely.
No, this was just the first time in weeks he felt the desire to take his self-flagellation tour on the road without the imposition of some duty to the family brand, or repentance to the whole of wizarding-kind. For the first time in recent memory, he was heading out into the bright shiny world willingly. Well, willing-ish.
He wanted out, but not necessarily in the state he was in. The specifics of that notion boiled down to the contents of his pockets, specifically the two flasks. One sloshing merrily with Ogden's Finest, while the second gurgled with Polyjuice a la Muggle.
Draco was well aware this fell in the dark grey area of morality, not to mention that it was probably a violation of his probation. But seeing as he rather not look at himself, he didn't feel inclined to force the same task on Wizarding London. His mother would have been disappointed in this line of thinking, though as he wasn't due for a visit today, he didn't see any reason to hesitate in corking this particular vintage of Postmaster Jack.
As his eyes followed the wiry hair forming across the back of his hand and up his arm, he sighed in relief at the sight of blank skin.
For a while he could be something different, just out of arm's length of the sin that was his own flesh.
xxxxx
Gently, she angled the broom handle toward the dusty textbook, tipping it gently toward the edge. For a second it wavered, seemingly resistant to her intentions, before tumbling down into her arms.
Or rather, almost tumbling into her arms. Shoving back an errant curl, Hermione examined the hidebound book as it levitated just slightly above the stack in her arms.
"It's Levi-o-sah," came a laughing voice from behind her. "Merlin woman, you're a witch! Try magic!"
"Ronald! You're back!" she grinned, putting the books down on a step stool. Pushing down the lecture on casting magic on magical books, and instead rushing in to the tall ginger for a hug.
"How was your trip!" She stepped back, inspecting him. His tall frame looked comically out of place in the tiny bookstore.
"Alright I guess." Ronald scratched the back of his neck, a sly smile starting to fill his face. "Didn't leave the room much, actually."
"Don't you pin that on me again, Ronald Weasley!" A more-strawberry-than-blond woman laughed, smacking him on the arm.
"Susan!" Hermione again stepped forward for a hug, hoping her split-second hesitation wasn't as glaring as she imagined it to be.
"Right terror, this one." Ronald grinned, wrapping an arm around the petite witch. "Kept me chained to the bedpost."
He was obviously speaking to Hermione, but his eyes were hooked on Susan. Hermione brushed aside the rising ache in her chest, choosing to smile merrily at the couple who had devolved the conversation into besotted bickering.
As they bantered, Hermione's heart clenched. Watching them was quite like watching someone else's memories of yourself through a pensieve. Except in this case, they weren't her memories.
'Which was your choice.' She reminded herself firmly.
"Merlin you two!" She chuckled, trying to hide the rising concoction of melancholy and irritation. "If I hadn't been at the wedding I'd say you've been married twenty years, not two weeks!"
Susan laughed in a way that probably chimed pleasantly to anyone else's ear. To Hermione it was more similar to the grating of glass.
"Sorry Mione," Ron looked anything but ashamed. "Anyways, we wanted to ask when you'll be off tomorrow. Sue and I are having some friends come 'round for a welcome home thing. She's promised me a roast."
The amount of satisfaction on Ronald Weasley's face at that moment was so blinding, Hermione itched to slap it off his face. No one deserved to be that content. But instead she found herself agreeing to attend.
"Merlin Ronnie! We were supposed to meet George ten minutes ago!" Sue started to drag 'Ronnie' out of the storefront, shouting over her shoulder "Lovely seeing you again Mione!"
"You too!" Hermione half-heartedly attempted to respond, while the vein in her forehead throbbed at hearing her moniker slip out of the (possibly) shrill woman's mouth. Just as she started to relax from the emotional invasion, a freckled face popped back through the door.
"Harry said you've been seeing someone! You should bring the bloke for us all to meet!"
Luckily Ronald seemed to miss the terrified expression on Hermione's face, as a stocky customer was pushing past. By the time her sight of the door was clear, Ron was gone.
'Bring the bloke.' She sank to the floor by the bookcase she had been organizing when this whole frightful experience began. 'Of course. What could go wrong.'