Hermione sipped on her firewhiskey and sighed. She felt buzzed from all of the liquor, but she supposed she should be used to feeling this way considering the bottle she poured from came from her very own nightstand.
All of the seventh year students (or eighth, considering they had all missed their seventh year but returned to complete their studies after the War) were chatting happily in the new combined common room made for 'house unity'. She scoffed as she thought that. All any of them really did was drink and try their chances at shagging someone from a different house.
The setting of it was nice enough, she supposed. It was larger than the Gryffindor common room, and much nicer with its decorations. Numerous couches and tables were set out throughout the room, as well as a pool table - Which Ginny was currently dancing on. The walls were adorned with tapestry of all the different houses, and the stairs on each side of the room led to their now combined dormitories - still seperate by male and female, but each student had their own private chamber and bathroom due to being of age and requiring more privacy.
Hermione was seated on one of the many couches, sandwiched between Ron and Harry. As usual.
"C'mon 'Mione, lighten up a little. We're celebrating!" Ron slurred, his fair skin flushed red from the countless drinks he'd undoubtedly had.
"And what exactly are we celebrating this time?" She said, cringing at how flat she sounded.
Ron looked confused for a second. "Dunno. We won the War?" He deduced.
Hermione shook her head, trying to swallow the anger that threatened to spill. "Wonderful. That was months ago now, Ron. And not all of us enjoy remembering it."
And that was true. Hermione didn't enjoy thinking about the scar that still burned underneath her long sleeves - something she always wore so she could attempt to forget about the constant reminder of that fucking War. Or her parents who -
No. She would not think of them. Never again.
Ron seemed to have still been speaking while she had her inner turmoil.
"- just think you could cheer up a bit, honestly. It's a party, not a bloody wake, 'Mione." He slurred.
Hermione downed her firewhiskey in one burning gulp. She smiled tightly. "You're right Ron. It is a party, my bad. Excuse me for a minute."
She was burning up, and needed to freshen up. She pushed herself of the couch, and was surprised to see the world spin for a minute. She made her way to her personal bathroom, and looked at herself on the mirror.
Her reflection was so different from a year ago, she always noted. She was much thinner, thanks to terrible habits she picked up to cope with her anxiety. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd rated a full meal. But her face had become much more womanly, all sharp cheekbones and a pouty mouth. Her eyes looked sultry and hypnotising, thanks to the cosmetic spells Ginny had taught her. And thank Merlin she learnt hair taming spells. Her hair now fell straight, smooth and glossy down to her waist. Her appearance definitely attracted a lot of unwanted attention now, but it felt invigorating to not be thought of as the "uptight bookworm", or even worse, "filthy mudblood".
She shook the thoughts from her head. She felt much too hot at that moment, and pulled off her knit cardigan. She had on simple dress, just white with a trim of lace on the edges. It was fairly loose, not hugging too tightly on her small curves. But the tops of her now much more prominent breasts were showing... She shook her head. Too uptight, Hermione. This is what makes you weak.
She left her cardigan in the bathroom, and walked out to the common room balcony for fresh air. She would never be weak again.
Her cigarette was only half done when she heard the balcony door open.
"Shit!" She muttered as she fumbled and nearly spilt her drink all over herself, trying to hide her cigarette.
Draco Malloy closed the door and almost dropped his drink when he saw her. He appraised her, taking her in as if he'd never seen her properly before. It definitely wasn't a 'I'm going to shag you senseless' look, but it was certainly appreciative. Then he noticed her cigarette.
"It couldn't be. Know-it-all Granger with a death-stick in her hand? By Merlin, how the world has changed." He drawled. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of him. The moonlight glistened on his platinum locks of hair, and his steely grey eyes seemed to bore into her soul. She must have drank too much.
She watched as he lit up a cigarette as well. "Bit hypocritical, don't you think?" She was leaning against the wrought iron fence of the balcony, and he lazily joined her.
He shrugged. "I don't pride myself on my moral code now, do I?" He jerked his head towards Ron and Harry, still seated inside. "Do they know about your naughty habits?"
Hermione laughed, and scolded herself internally. He is your enemy. "I'm starting to think they don't know me at all anymore."
He let out a low whistle as he exhaled smoke. "More to the golden girl of the school than meets the eye, is there?"
She laughed again, but this time it was humourless. "Don't pretend to care, Malfoy."
He shook his head at her, chuckling. "Oh, believe me I don't. You're just mildly holding my curiosity, no different to an interesting looking book in the library or a new item on the menu."
The old Hermione would have cringed away at the insult, but she wouldn't back down anymore. "Lucky that I'm not on the menu for you, Malfoy. I don't feed ferrets." She dropper her cigarette on his much too expensive looking shoe.
She was pleased to see the surprise on Draco's face at that. She entertained the flirting for a moment, but the second he wanted to throw an insult, Hermione wanted at his throat. No more pathetic -
"Oof! Watch where you're going - Granger?"
She had bumped straight into Millicent Bullstrode, a toad looking girl from Slytherin. She was more masculine built than any girl she has seen before, and her face was quite flat. Hermione stiffened, having had encounters with the no-good bully before.
The girl looked Hermione up and down. "No wonder Ron and Harry stuck along with you, darling. Clearly you've been giving them a hell of a ride all these years.
Hermione was embarassed, despite trying to stay strong. Now that she was back inside, all eyes were on the pair of girls. Even Draco had left the balcony and stood in the doorway, although his face was almost... concerned? He clearly knew what Bullstrode was like.
Hermione forced a smile. "Although that is far from the truth, Millicent, I guess it would enrage you to think of me holding their attention. I mean, it's clear that whenever someone looks at you, it's to decipher whether you are a Witch or some form of animal. Even Slytherins are above beastiality, or so I'd hope."
There was an intake of breath from everyone in the room. Millicent's face became so red it was almost comical.
She grabbed Hermione's arm and lifted it high, as if to show her mudblood scar to the party. "Don't forget your place, you wretched little mudblood. No one would dirty themselves with the likes of you!"
Hermione wrenched her arm from Millicent's clammy grip. She counted to three, but couldn't seem to hold down the rage that threatened to pour from her. How dare that brute touch her scar!
Before she could consider it, Hermione pulled back her right arm and launched her fist straight into Millicent's nose. She heard a crunch and bright red blood spurred from her face. She instantly tried to cover it with her hands, but it was already all over her face and horrid dress.
Everyone was staring at Hermione. Although Ron and Harry seemed happy, they still had an edge of concern on their expressions. Draco looked fascinated.
She wiped the blood from her knuckles on the skirt of her dress, and feigned confusion. "Well, would you look at that. Your blood's the same as mine, glad we cleared that up."
With that, Hermione stalked away from the party and into her dormitory without another word.