Disclaimer (I used to really love these… I'm keeping them in. For out times' sake.): I have recently decided that I want Sark, Spike, and Draco to all be mine. But just because I've decided so doesn't mean that they aren't really still the property of JJ Abrams, Joss Whedon, and JKR.

Evil people. Didn't their mothers ever tell them to share?

Guess not.

A/N: And the revamping continues! As you can probably guess after reading this chapter, the POV changes from Draco to Hermione with every chapter and will do so for the entire fic. This revamping sort of got away from me and grew a life of its own, but whatever. I'd love your thoughts.

Up until that point, I had actually managed to somewhat enjoy myself. I hadn't been pleased when Eric shoved me into a wardrobe and told me that he was going to introduce me to every girl at this ridiculous party. At first I tried to push my way out, to escape, but instead of getting out, a strange girl got in, and after telling me her name and wishing me a happy birthday, she kissed me.

I felt frozen, unable to move, to process what the hell was going on, and before I could react, she left.

And then another girl followed.

And then another.

In the split second between the third girl and the fourth, my brain started working again.

Girls were kissing me.

Muggle girls were kissing me.

Part of me recoiled, feeling the need to take fifty baths and never ever talk to Eric ever ever again. I didn't need him. I could do something else, anything else to avoid the Manor and my mother and… This was the stupidest idea I'd ever had, stupider than any idea Potter had ever had, stupider than any idea Weasley – okay, maybe not Weasley, but…

Then the fourth girl appeared in front of me, putting her lips on mine like all the others, and when I opened my mouth to protest she slipped her tongue inside my mouth and suddenly those hands I had lifted to push her away were in her hair, on her neck, adjusting her head, and my brain was back to not working.

She pulled away after a few minutes, and when she opened the door to leave, the light of the room fell on her face as she shot me a grin. Dazed, I watched yet another girl step inside the wardrobe.

After that, I decided I didn't really care all that much. I didn't care what my father would say – he was in Azkaban anyway and I was really rather pissed at him and the world and just everyone and everything. I didn't care what my mother would say – I was pissed at her too with her moping and lack of doing anything anymore and never telling me anything that was going on. I just didn't care. As girl after girl appeared though, giving me kisses that varied from pecks on the cheek to full-blown proper snogging sessions (a few that seemed to drag on wonderfully long), I felt my anger slowly get replaced by amusement, pride, and carefree pleasure.

It was my sixteenth birthday, after all. If accidentally bumping into Eric after all these years led to nothing else past this night, it was worth it.

Then, after a particularly talented girl left me slightly breathless, I leaned against the side of wardrobe to watch a girl literally fall to her knees in front of me. My eyebrows rose of their own accord.

"Well this is new," I said, half to myself. Not that I was particularly against the prospect, but my mind reminded me that she was a Muggle after all. Anything more than a little heated groping while snogging was definitely crossing a line. I grimaced. "And rather unnecessary, I'd really rather you not—"

"Malfoy?!" the girl on her knees squeaked. And I recognized that squeaky voice.

"Granger?"

Although I was pretty confident that it was her, I simply could not wrap my head around the very thought. Potter's little mudblood, Gryffindor know-it-all herself, Hermione Granger was on her knees in front of me, at my birthday party, alone in a dark wardrobe that girls entered with the sole purpose of kissing me. My thoughts veered in multiple directions, not a small number centered around the detail that she was kneeling.

But instead of making any of the crude remarks or voicing the lewd ideas passing through my head, I asked the most pressing question in my mind at the moment, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Me?!" she shrieked, her voice somehow even higher than before. Then she got to her feet, closing the already-small distance between us with one step forward. A handful of my shirt ended up in one of her fists, and I blamed the instinct to put my hands on her hips on the fact that I'd spent the last hour making out with various strangers. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy? These are Muggles, and— Get your hands off me!"

I could feel my face heat up as I realized where my hands were. Grateful that she could not see it, I modified my grip to push her away, following and forcing her against the opposite side of the wardrobe. My hands then slid apart, one quickly trailing up her side and down to her forearm, the other grasping blindly for the wrist of the hand gripping my shirt. I squeezed it roughly, then pushed both of her wrists safely away from my body and against the wood behind her.

"I'm well aware who they are, Granger, but unless you want them to hear you shouting out words that can get the Ministry on our asses for breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, I suggest you shut your fat mouth."

Which was really a stupid thing to say, because then I was thinking about her mouth and wondering what those lips I could not see looked like, and even more, what they would feel like. Suddenly a breath of hot air hit my chin and I knew that she was looking up at me, that that was her breath and I pressed harder against her. Her sharp intake of breath only served to press her upper body closer to mine, which I doubted was her intention.

"Fine," she whispered harshly, her voice dropping much lower than it had been previously, "but get off of me."

"Are you going to attack me?"

"No," she growled, even as she struggled to free her hands. "Are you going to explain what the hell is going on?"

Releasing her hands, I took a step back, putting as much distance between us as the small space allowed. I tried to force my eyes to focus, but with the lack of light, I could only make out the barest outline of her figure. I tilted my head to the side as my gaze reached her head. Where did all of her hair go? "Did you cut your hair?"

"What? No, why would you even ask me that?"

"Because I can't see the giant mess around your head, genius," I spat back, not understanding why my cheeks felt flushed again. This was stupid.

"It's just up," she mumbled, and I could tell that she lifted one hand to touch her hair. Then she dropped her hand again, resting it on her hip. "What are you doing here?"

I kept my eyes on her outline, on that hand resting on the hip I'd touched just moments ago. In the past five years, I'd never even considered – okay, maybe not never… but I did not expect her to feel that way. Soft, but firm. Then my brain caught up to my ears, registering her words. Knowing she couldn't see me, I smirked.

"Didn't you hear?" I said in a low voice, hoping it would throw her off. I needed to level the playing field. "It's my birthday. All the girls are saying hi and making sure it's a good one."

She sputtered and I leaned back against the side of wardrobe, crossing my arms.

"I didn't mean in this wardrobe. I saw the other girl, I know what you're doing in here," her voice had darkened, but I would bet fifty galleons that she was blushing. Serves her right, asking stupid questions.

"Which begs the question of what you're doing in here," I said, interrupting her before she could push on. "Knowing what was going on in here and all…"

"Obviously I didn't know you were in here!"

"So it's only strangers that you're willing to put out for? Do you often snog strange blokes in wardrobes, Granger? Is this some Gryffindor tradition? Or a Muggle one? You know, I'd always thought you were more of a prude."

She sputtered again and I grinned.

"No! I would never- and it is not a Gryffindor thing nor a Muggle thing! I've never heard of this ridiculous- and I am not a prude just because I'm not a- You know what, Malfoy?" She threw her arms in the air. It was strange, hearing her ramble and seeing her fidget without being able to look at her face. I kind of wished I could see it. It was probably hilarious. "I don't care one whit what you think about me and I just want to know why you are hanging around with a bunch- with these people! Then I am leaving."

"I don't have to tell you anything," I said, uncrossing my arms and reaching for the far wardrobe door. "But unless you're going to kiss me, I think you should leave."

A strangled noise – half a growl, half a squeal – escaped from her mouth. I opened the door and was pleased to see the light from the room reveal her red face and burning eyes, mouth dropped open.

"Catch you later," I said, and pushed her out the wardrobe. She stumbled as people around laughed, tossing her head over her shoulder to shoot me a scathing look before another girl slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

"Hi," the girl said. From her voice, I imagined she had been laughing only moments ago. "I'm Emily. Did you and Mia have fun? I've never seen her so red before!"

"Mia?" I asked, yanking my thoughts from the Gryffindor witch to the words of the Muggle girl in front of me.

"Yeah, the girl you were just with? She's my friend."

"Oh." Mia? Since when did Hermione Granger go by that name?

"Anyway," the girl said slowly, and I realized that it had been silent for too long. "Happy birthday."

Then she stepped closer and gave me a kiss on the cheek before retreating again.

Another dozen girls later, Eric opened the other wardrobe door.

"You have been officially meeted-and-greeted by every girl here, mate," he said with a grin, arms open wide in celebration. I grinned back. "So now let's get the man of the day a drink."

I laughed and followed him, feeling more relaxed than I had in months. The confrontation with Granger nearly forgotten, barely simmering in the back of my mind, I figured that I wouldn't see her the rest of the night. Gryffindor courage or not, she'd probably ran out. Good riddance.

Twenty minutes and a couple of drinks later, I nearly groaned when she appeared again. Then I noticed how she squirmed and fidgeted and realized she wasn't any happier about her still being at this party than I was.

"I've talked Mia into staying!" a girl I did not know announced with pride, smiling widely. Cheers went up around the small group that had gathered together, congratulating the girl. Right, Emily. She'd been in the wardrobe earlier, and had called Granger that name – Mia – while talking to me.

Clarity struck as Emily came closer, stopping only when she reached Eric's side. Earlier this week he had mentioned a girl he met months ago, a girl that he'd become friends with and wanted me to meet. I hadn't really paid much attention to it, figuring I wouldn't be hanging around him long enough to actually do so.

This girl was that Mudblood know-it-all's friend. Somehow. That's how we ended up in this bloody mess. Of course this stupid coincidence would have to go and ruin my plans to just relax and forget about the rest of the world. Somebody up there thought this was hysterical, didn't they? Turning my face to the ceiling, I glared darkly. The universe hated me.

There was no way I would be spending my entire summer coexisting with her. But until I could find a way out of it, I had to act like nothing was wrong. Like those few minutes in the wardrobe were the first time we'd ever met. I schooled my face to not react as I looked her over. It was strange to see her in Muggle clothes. Then again, she probably thought the same about me. When my eyes traveled back to her face, they met with her glare. I shot her a smirk in reply.

Luckily, the others didn't notice the look pure hatred on her face. Instead Eric teased, "You remember this one, mate? She was in there a while and looked quite flushed at the end."

I raised my eyebrows at the reminder of how red Granger's face had been when I pushed her out of the wardrobe. Then I remembered how she had entered the wardrobe.

"Yeah, the one who went on her knees for me."

She was positively seething, and it was fantastic.

The others howled in laughter and her anger turned into embarrassment.

"I fell!" she protested, hugging her arms around her chest.

"It's all right, Mia, we know. We all saw you," Emily said, reaching out to put her hand on the arm of the bushy-haired witch. Quickly, she changed the subject, asking how everyone's summer holiday was going and if anyone had traveled and a dozen other questions I stopped listening to as I stared at the unexpected familiar member of the group.

I hadn't realized we lived so close to each other. I shifted my weight from foot to foot at the thought, at the implications. How often had we been on the same street and not known it? How many times had we happened to not bump into each other when we probably could have?

And of course the one time our paths did merge in this stupid town, it was amongst a group of Muggles. Having grown up my entire life ingrained with the idea that keeping the secrets of the wizarding world was the most imperative responsibility of all witches and wizards while out in society, the weight of this burden reminded me not to react as I instinctually wished.

Besides, Eric probably wouldn't appreciate that, especially since insulting my friend's friend's friend – who I wasn't supposed to know – would have absolutely no foundation in either Eric or Emily's eyes.

Not for the first time since meeting up with Eric again, I cursed my decision to escape the chaos and disappointment in my life via my old, long-lost Muggle friend. It certainly wasn't turning out the way I expected.