Astoria Greengrass was not, despite her appearances, a good girl.

That was the observation Hermione made after a night of drinking with the pretty blonde sitting next to her. She'd thought that a muggle bar would be, by all accounts, the very last place she'd see anyone she'd know and had counted on spending the night drowning her frustrations in the cheapest, strongest drinks this hole had to offer.

What she hadn't counted on was her.

She'd come up behind her, close enough that Hermione could feel her warmth emanating on her back and had asked in a breathy, raspy voice that had made her cheeks tingle, "Is this seat taken, Granger?"

Against her better judgement (which was somewhat drowned out by the whiskey) Hermione had gestured toward the stool next to hers with nothing more than a twitch of the lips. Astoria's smirk melted into a grin, as she bounced down and eagerly called for a drink from the bartender.

It was by Hermione's fourth and Astoria's second and a half that they even spoke. Astoria had been content to sit in silence, only occasionally humming when the liquid would go down her throat and sending Hermione a coy smirk or wink whenever she'd catch her staring. If she'd noticed the way the brunette nearly vibrated with curiosity, she hadn't given any sign.

"What are you doing here?" she'd finally asked, and she could swear she saw Astoria smile behind her glass.

"Funnily enough, I'd ask you the same question. Not exactly your scene, all this." she gestured around the bar with her glass, and then explained, "You may not believe this, but I'm quite the party girl. Unfortunately, the parties I'm expected to go to are almost unbearably boring and are less about fun than they are about politics. I'd much rather soothe a headache that was brought on by alcohol than one given to me by arrogant arseholes who speak in riddles. I like muggle London. It's, well — it's liberating, you know?"

That was not the answer Hermione had been expecting. She momentarily narrowed her eyes at the girl in suspicion but the giggles she got in response made her realise how ridiculous she was being and relaxed.

"And, well, let's just say it's a lot less trouble to snog your sort than it is mine."

"Snog?"

Astoria pursed her lips, as if thinking over her next sentence, before cautiously murmuring into Hermione's ear, "It usually doesn't stop at snogging, of course, but it typically does start there."

Hermione felt her eyes about to pop out of her head, as she tried to reconcile everything she knew about Astoria Greengrass — which was, admittedly, very little — with the brazen witch in front of her. She tried to recall what Astoria was like at Hogwarts, but all she got was a blurry image of a little girl who'd run down the halls with her green and silver tie around her head, an untucked shirt and muddy shoes.

And after Hogwarts there was —

Well. There was the battle. That image of Astoria was a lot clearer, she'd been one of the dozen or two Slytherins that had joined Slughorn in defending the Castle against Voldemort, and she'd done a bloody good job. It had been hard not to notice her, she'd looked like an avenging angel clad in green, her blonde hair held back tightly and her grey eyes so intense they'd seemed to glow.

She remembered having those eyes locked onto hers in the heat of the battle — she'd turned for a second, had been trying to find a glimpse of red hair or green eyes after losing track of them whilst fighting one of the endless Death Eaters, and had heard the beginning of an Avada behind her back, cut off by a shrieked Stupefy — she'd turned, shocked and felt her heart skip a beat in the way only a person who'd missed death very closely felt (a feeling she'd become well acquainted with after that past year) and they had stared at each other, both of their chest heaving with the force of their breaths.

"Why are you here?"

Hermione blinked, brought out of her thoughts. "Pardon?"

"Well, I told you mine. Your turn."

She tipped back her glass before answering, "I got into an argument — more of a fight, really — with Ron." Astoria gestured for her to continue. "He was being a git. Caught me in a compromising position with someone else and accused me of cheating."

Astoria's brows furrowed, "You were dating?"

"That's the thing," sighed Hermione, "We'd both been interested for a while before the battle, and then that all culminated in a kiss in the heat of the moment." She paused, before adding bitterly, "But that was months ago. He's spent all this time with his tongue down the throats of any willing witch and, once when he got absolutely hammered, a wizard — which, you know, was bloody insensitive of him — not the wizard part, the snogging in general — but I got over it. He didn't want to be with me like that, and so I thought I'd move on. Last week we're in some club, the both of us and Harry, and I kiss this wi — well, I kiss them and he has the gall to act betrayed!"

Hermione's tongue got looser with each drink the two girls were served— and she was already pretty chatty whilst sober — to the point that she simply continued, rambling and gesticulating wildly, going on about how I never even commented when the brainless twit whored around and that it's not like anyone other than me had really ever fancied him, honestly, he was always rather oddly gangly and did Astoria know that according to Lavender, the twit can barely manage to lift it up, honestly, no surprise when his head is so far up his — it was at this point that Astoria, who'd been nodding along and listening, sucked on her teeth and pushed for Hermione to maybe drink some water.

"Betcha his prick's just as ginger as his bloody nose, and probably smaller too." hissed Hermione, downing the water, "It's not like I care about him, missed a fucking Avada with that one, I did, maybe if he'd had more than two brain cells to rub together he'd realise how fucking hypocritical he's being, honestly, men and their bloody double standards — no, I don't want more water, thank you — he's allowed to shag any bloody chit he likes but I snog one witch and I'm suddenly a slag!" Astoria's skin had flushed prettily with the amount of strength needed to restrain herself from laughing, but her eyes widened momentarily at the admission.

She'd snogged a witch.

That, thought Astoria, is certainly promising for me.

. . . . . . . . .

"Thank you." murmured Hermione, later, clutching her head.

Astoria snorted, in a manner so un-ladylike it seemed somehow wrong coming from her. "For what, the sobering charm? Trust me, it was most certainly for wholly selfish reasons. You'd begun to describe what certain parts hypothetically looked like, and I don't care much for Weasley's penis, wether it's metaphorical or not." Hermione laughed, and then winced at her headache.

"No, I mean thank you. For, well, saving my life."

There was a pregnant pause, during which Astoria was gently running her fingers through Hermione's wild hair, her thin fingers gently massaging at her scalp. "You shouldn't have to thank me for that," she whispered, marvelling at both those wild curls and the way Hermione's eyelids fluttered at the contact. "What kind of person would I be if I hadn't?"

"Why'd you come to the battle, anyway?" grumbled Hermione, her brown eyes meeting Astoria's grey ones, quickly flicking around as if the answer to her question was etched on her pretty, doll-like face.

She shrugged in response, slightly uncomfortable with her scrutiny, "I wanted to, I suppose. You don't know me well, but I'm known as a bit of reckless rebel among the pureblood society. My mother would have me dressed in white lace for some gala and by the end of the day I was covered in grass stains and had discarded my shoes. I did what I wanted, I'd always had to get my way, and a world with — him in charge," Astoria swallowed at the thought, knuckles whitening, before smirking at Hermione, "Wouldn't be able to sneak out and party with muggles, now would I?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, a bit confused, before Astoria clarified, "I value freedom, more than anything. The ability to make my own choices. If I could barely stand a week at Hogwarts without getting a detention, then I certainly would not have thrived under You-Know-Who's regime. I won't say I fought only for myself, it was a win/win situation. Either I'd die in battle and be spared from a bleak future, or your lot — mine too, now — would win and I get to continue being the type of girl that old dames clutch their pearls whilst gossiping about."

"I suppose that's good for me," added Hermione, in a teasing tone. "A self-serving Slytherin though, how original."

"We cunning folk use any means to achieve our ends." agreed Astoria.

"And what is your end for tonight, Astoria?" she asked, licking her lips, whilst glancing at hers.

She seemed to mull over that, letting her eyes wander, "I'm not quite sure," she began, slowly, leaning in, "It's either having those pretty heels of yours up around my ears, or maybe that bushy head between my thighs?"

Hermione's reaction had been somewhat delayed, and Astoria was momentarily stricken with the thought she'd might have been too forward, or maybe had willed herself to think her attraction was mutual, but then Hermione's face flushed — she'd nearly missed it, as Hermione's skin was such a lovely dark shade — and then she seemed to lean forward towards Astoria.

"Well," whispered Hermione, "I've always been rather good with finding answers."

"I do remember you being quite the researcher back at Hogwarts." agreed Astoria, letting her eyes wander to that pretty mouth she'd been eyeing all evening.

"I'm quite good at hands-on work, too."

"I'll be the judge of that," started Astoria, standing up. She turned back to Hermione and held out a hand, "Though I'm sure, Ms Granger, that you'll get a solid O out of me."