AN: warning - allusions of non-consent.

*kisses*

Chapter 2 - Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

"Blaise, darling, we've got to do something." Daphne nipped her new husband's neck, her hands roving his naked chest. He cracked an eye, intent on sleeping, but his wife had other plans.

"It's his problem." He wanted to sound gruff and apathetic, but it was difficult seeing Daphne's pale hand encircle him. She flashed him a smile while reclining on her side, her dark hair gliding across his lower abdomen.

"We created it." She licked her lips sensually, purring as his muscles contracted. "We should have informed him. You know what his father is like. Draco has to choose someone. Though, he'll choose a disgusting slag and we'll be forced to spend our evenings and holidays with the bitch so really, if you think about it, darling, we're doing this for us." Daphne stroked her husband lightly, her thumb finding the sensitive skin along the shaft.

"Can't think when you're doing that." Daphne squeezed gently before releasing him. "Why'd you stop?" Blaise sat up, his tanned chest drawing her eye as it always had.

"We have to choose her, Blaise." Blaise knew it was futile to argue if he had any intention of shagging his wife. He knew exactly what she was proposing and he didn't like it, not one bit.

"You want Granger." It wasn't a question, he knew Daphne better than that. She smiled broadly, climbing astride her husband.

"Why not then? She's bloody brilliant. She's lonely. She's got no one really besides her books of course. Did you see them then? It was so bloody hot. His hands just wrapped around her. She was totally pinned to that wall. Her breasts were completely..well something like this.." Daphne pressed against her husband's hard chest, her arms on either side of his head, her breasts flattened against him.

"His hands were on that cute little arse," Blaise played along, tanned hands against porcelain skin, gripping tightly, moaning.

"Her little blue dress hiked up, she's got legs for days, hot little thighs..." Daphne teased her husband, hovering above him enjoying the power.

"Alright, alright, you win." Blaise whimpered, impaling his wife before flipping her onto her back. "We'll never convince him. He thinks he hates her." Blaise managed to sputter between thrusts.

"You leave that to me, darling. Oh, harder." She gasped, gripping his hips, her nails imbedded in him, just the way he liked it.

"Does she ever talk about it?" Theo Nott sat up in his four poster bed, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on his night stand before using his wand to light the tip.

"Nasty habit you've got there." Declan snatched the smoke, inhaling deeply.

"Wonder where I picked it up? Must have been some Muggle boy." Theo teased, lighting another for himself.

"Half-blood thank you very much, you wanker."

"Does it matter? Really?" Theo bunched the dark green sheet across his hips, his eyes straying to the muscular naked form beside him.

"Not in the least." Declan blew smoke rings at the ceiling, a satisfied smile bringing out the dimple in his left cheek.

"You didn't answer me, Dec." Dandy sighed deeply, considering how much he should share with his nosy bedmate.

"I'm aware. Why so interested, Theodore."

"Don't call me Theodore. You said she's your best friend. At Hogwarts, she was besties with Potter and Weasley. I think I'd just like to know how it all happened." Declan grabbed his boxers from the floor, slipping them over his hips before pacing the ridiculously large bedroom.

"I remember, Theo. I might have been in Hufflepuff," Theo cringed, "and I might have been a few years ahead of all of you, but even I recall her closeness with those two. I was there, at the Battle of Hogwarts you know?" Theo shook his head, realising how little he truly knew when it came to Declan Rosier.

"She and Harry were, I don't know what they were doing exactly, but they threw something, looked like a wand actually and headed back toward the school when she collapsed. Harry had this sort of helplessness about him. He patted her back awkwardly before she shoved him off. There was this bit of indecisiveness about him, so I wandered over. She needed something and he obviously hadn't a bloody clue. I picked her up and carried her into the Great Hall. Weasley's mother or sister or something, I can't tell any of them apart, took her from me. She wouldn't look at him. Almost as if...if she didn't look at him, it wasn't real. She never cried. Still don't think she has, honestly.

Didn't see her again for years. I advertised for a flatmate when I was still working at the Ministry. She just sort of showed up, listing all these rules and regulations, inspecting every inch of my flat before deeming it appropriate. We just sort of segued into friends. She's very organised and fastidious. I like that about her. She doesn't have loud obnoxious parties or anyone over ever, really. Neither did I. We read. We cooked and then one day, I just couldn't take her bloody fashion sense anymore. I took her shopping, all the while ignoring her bitching. She bitches quite a lot." Theo snorted. The Gryffindor Princess drove him absolutely crazy with her incessant insistence on correcting everyone around her. Though, it still surprised him that Potter and Granger weren't close anymore.

"She's always been that way. Bloody little know it all."

"Theo, don't be a prick. It's all she has. We've lived together for what now? At least five years. Potter hasn't owled her once." The false statement rolled off Declan's lips easily, "She wasn't even invited to his wedding to whats-her-face. They claimed it was a 'small affair' but the Daily Prophet's photos said something completely different. I don't know what happened between them. Hermione simply refuses to speak of it. Personally, I believe it's a game of blame. He blames her for not being able to keep the stupid Weasley at the castle and she blames Potter for not protecting Ron once he discovered Ron had followed him to confront You-Know-Who. They both should be blaming Ron, but it's unkind to speak ill of the dead." Declan chain smoked, filling the air with clouds of smoke, still pacing shirtless in Theo's bedroom. He didn't enjoy lying, he never had, but these were extenuating circumstances and he was sure Theo would understand.

Theo actually felt a pang of regret for his blatant dismissal of Hermione Granger's existence. He didn't think himself to be a cruel being, yet his actions toward her spoke otherwise.

"Well, shit. I feel like an arse now." Theo threw on a pair of dark green lounge pants, lighting another cigarette.

"You are an arse, Theo."

"Yes! I'm well aware; I simply dislike feeling like one. She hasn't anyone then?" Theo's forehead creased, wondering what it would be like to be truly alone in the world. It filled him with a sense of dismay.

"She has me. She has Daphne now and Blaise, under protest of course. Her parents died a couple years ago, some sort of Muggle accident." Declan's finger caught in his dark curls.

"Muggle accident? Dec. You're mum's a bloody Muggle."

"I'm aware, but I'm simply not in the mood to explain Muggle contraptions to you currently. Let it go, Theo."

"Fine then. The Weasley's don't contact her either? Seems a bit rude." Theo opened the glass door leading to his modest garden.

"Oh, they did, for a bit anyway, before she moved in with me. Molly sends an owl once or twice a year now, but Hermione never replies. I think she can't bear it." Declan didn't wish to discuss Hermione Granger anymore. He felt almost as if he were betraying her confidence. As much as she put on a brave front, she was still an incredibly fragile girl.

"No more, Theo," Declan winked at the tall, pale gangly man across the room from him, "Come back to bed, we're not finished yet." Declan tossed his boxers onto the floor waiting impatiently for Theo to join him.

Harry Potter raged silently long after the couple had pulled away from each other, long after they'd disappeared into the night. She was his. Draco Malfoy didn't have the right to touch what was his. Hermione fought against it sure, but Harry knew eventually she'd see the light of reason and allow him to take her again. He'd been scheming behind all their backs. Hermione Granger might have been hailed the brightest witch of their age, but she didn't have anything on Harry Potter.

Harry was deluding himself of course, but he wasn't aware of it. He was a man on a mission and his end game included Hermione Granger. He'd become obsessed with her, showing up at odd hours of the night on the pretense of checking on her well being. It wasn't long before she became completely suspicious and warded her home against unwelcome visitors. Harry laughed in remembrance. As if a few simple wards could keep an Auror away? Ridiculous. Instead he slipped into her flat while she was sleeping, keeping careful watch over his best mate's girl, just as he had promised.

He wasn't going to let a simple matter of Draco Malfoy stand in his way. He wasn't going to let a sexually ambiguous wizard keep her scurried away from him either. He worked for the Ministry, the Minister was a close personal friend. It was inconceivable to him that Hermione hadn't even considered that little fact. Harry laughed once more, fingering the file inside his cloak pocket.

It was been surprisingly easy for Harry to knick the file right off Shacklebolt's desk. He hadn't bothered to consider why it had been there, that was something Hermione would have done. He had barely restrained himself from a well deserved cackle with glee when he discovered her file was filled with addresses. Vaguely he wondered why Shacklebolt would have this information. Was the Minister for Magic trying to pilfer Harry Potter's one true love? This would never do. He'd have to find her and confront her before things went any further. Hermione Granger needed to learn to whom she belonged.

"No, we can't just bloody Apparate to my flat, Malfoy. It's in Muggle London. There's an Apparition point a few blocks away. You shall not die if you actually use your limbs." Hermione huffed for what felt like the millionth time in the past half hour. Draco Malfoy trailed behind her, still surprised she agreed to his presence in her flat, but enjoying the way her slinky blue dress rode up her thighs.

*Granger's not bad to look at, as long as I don't remind myself it's her.*

"Come along, Malfoy. I'd like to get home sometime tonight. I don't know why you're insisting on seeing me home. I bloody well told you I'd owl you the address." Her eyes rolled, yet again.
Draco wanted to strangle her, or at the very least shake her a bit. Resisting the urges of violence, he caught up to her easily, snagging her hand. Hermione spun on her heel, hand raised to slap him. He caught it easily, the hint of a smile in his grey eyes. He wondered if he could get away with snogging her again; for experimental purposes of course.

"Please. Don't, Malfoy. Please." To a casual observer it simply seemed two individuals were standing under the street light in Muggle London, prepared to dance without music, but Draco knew better. He saw the fear in her amber eyes, the tremble of her bottom lip and even the tremor in her limbs. She was afraid, but it wasn't of him, even he could see that much.

"What are you afraid of, Granger?" Draco released one of her hands, still keeping a firm grip on her wrist. He was expecting a scoff and the customary defiance to light a fire in her eyes, but it didn't come. She stepped away from him, her eyes fastened on the Apparition point. He didn't think she'd answer him.

"Everything. Declan doesn't usually leave me to my own devices and well..."

"Who was it Granger? Who's done this to you?" He watched her chin fall forward, her eyes steady on the ground and it unnerved him a bit. He'd much prefer to see the angry witch from dinner than this quivering mess. He tossed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, as it was obvious she required some sort of comfort even if it was stemming from him.

"I-it's Harry. I don't know why I'm telling you this. It took me a year to confide in Declan and only bits and pieces..."

"Granger, we've all been whispering about it for years. When the Gryffindor Princess and the Golden Boy avoid each other at all costs, it's about to kick up a bit of gossip." Hermione was slightly confused by the kindness in his words, the gentleness of his touch as his hand roved her back in soothing circles.

"He doesn't avoid me. I avoid him. I work odd hours and do most of it from home if I can help it. I live with Dec in Muggle London and our flat was warded by the Minister himself." Her shoulders slouched with the quiet admission, her feet stumbling over themselves, desperate to put some space between them.

"What the bloody hell did he do to you, Granger?" Hermione's breath caught in her throat, unable to continue.

"I need a drink." Hermione stepped into an alley, pulling Draco with her. She withdrew her wand from the strap on her thigh, taking a deep breath.

"Wait. It's better this way, so I've heard." He couldn't explain why he felt the compulsion to hold her against him, but he did. He blamed the firewhisky. It was an easy excuse and if he told himself enough times, perhaps he would even believe it. Carefully, so as not to frighten her, inwardly cursing himself for the consideration, Draco Malfoy encircled Hermione Granger's waist in preparation for Side-Along-Apparition.

He vaguely remembered Daphne mentioning Granger's avoidance of it since someone splinched on her years ago. Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply. It had been an incredibly long time since anyone had touched her with tenderness, or at all for that matter. Declan's friendly hugs weren't the same as this. She thought of the street light at the end of her modest street, hidden from view by the largest of oak trees. She raised her wand, gasping as she found herself responding to the gentle lips of Draco Malfoy as the familiar tug in her center ripped them away.

It was the strangest sensation, but not altogether unpleasant, even Hermione had to admit. They were crushed together, almost as if they were one being. It wasn't the firewhisky, he thought, it's her. There's something about infuriating, irritating, fragile, little Granger, he couldn't nor did he want to resist. Hermione felt alive and hated herself for it. She pushed against the ruggedly masculine chest, wiggling free of his persistent kisses.

"Why do you keep doing that?!" Her words were louder than she intended and not as angry as she thought they should be.

"I..I don't know." Draco didn't know what it was about her. He avoided her out of habit, more than anything. He couldn't seem to come to terms with Hermione Granger as she was. He believed she'd always be that annoying, bushy-haired, know-it-all who always bested him, to his chagrin. He had never taken a moment to contemplate how the war affected her. Why would he really? He was Draco Malfoy after-all. He had been pardoned by the Ministry and while his mother had been missing, his life carried on much the way it had, without all the inconvenient hatred and death. Hermione Granger lost one of her best friends and her parents. Potter was apparently stalking her; she rarely smiled and never dated anyone.

*She really is alone.* Draco felt a pang of sadness for the girl he'd once detested. As hard as Lucius Malfoy had tried, ranting and raving and even threatening, Draco had never truly embraced his father's hatred. After Narcissa Malfoy had disappeared, he didn't have it within him anymore.

He held onto all their secret moments. Every time she held his hand, brushed his hair from his cheek, told him she loved him, begged him to make better choices than his father, pleaded with him to find his own way. He recalled them all and silently promised to uphold them.

Draco didn't know when he had resumed kissing Hermione, yet he knew he had when he heard the light whimper below him. He forced himself to open his eyes, a light groan escaping him at the sight of her mussed hair, flushed cheeks and swollen pink lips. Old feelings of self-loathing fought to break to the surface, remnants of his childhood, his inner voice eerily similar to the venom of his father, yet it was impossible to embrace them with her in his arms.

He was glad he had given her his cloak as it seemed the back of her dress was daringly high. Draco appreciated the wisps of lace considered knickers, which bared entirely too much skin. Hermione wasn't protesting the feel of his large hands on her arse, or even the kisses laid on the exposed flesh of her cleavage. She knew what they were doing was indecent, even if it was hidden by the dark of night and a billowing cloak and yet she didn't stop him. She'd never had a moment of unbridled passion with anyone and the fact it was Draco Malfoy eliciting such feelings in her made it that much more exciting.

He devoured her lips, under the street lamp, no longer caring if they were alone. She gripped his forearms when he slipped his hand between her thighs. He fingered the lace, resisting the urge to smirk upon discovering they were decidedly damp. He slipped past the lace, wondering if they matched her dress and groaned upon contact. Hermione gasped in his mouth, beads of sweat dripping down the back of her neck while Draco Malfoy stroked her sex under a street lamp in Muggle London.

"I want you." The words escaped against her jawline, surprising him as much as her. She shook her head negatively, attempting to disengage herself.

"You don't. You can't." Hermione pushed a trembling hand against his hard chest, forcing him to remove his hand from her knickers.

With a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, he caressed the hand on his chest, turning it gently, kissing the inside of her wrist, his eyes trained on her. Hermione shivered, her face partially hidden in the shadow. Her feet dragged her forward, until once again, she was moulded against Draco Malfoy.

"You're not the boss of me, woman." He flicked her earlobe with his tongue and she smiled. Hermione Granger smiled at him.

"You don't even like me." Draco knew her resistance was waning. Though when he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had to cajole a witch between the sheets.

"I disagree and the state of my trousers disagrees as well." He bit her neck then, sucking the spot hard until she melted in his arms and he knew he had won.

"He-Hermione?" Draco felt Hermione stiffen immediately, daggers flashing in her brown eyes. With reluctance he loosened his arms, prepared to disappear into the shadows if necessary, yet Hermione gripped his forearm almost painfully. He wasn't one to question the wants of any witch in his arms. Draco turned them slowly, surprised when green eyes narrowed in his direction. Draco laughed.

"Of course. This entire evening has been a shit show. Wouldn't be proper if Harry Fucking Potter didn't show up as well." Smirking at Harry, Draco brushed stray tendrils from Hermione's neck. "Not you, love. That's been bloody delightful." A perverse sort of satisfaction marred his features as Hermione's blush deepened.

"Third house on the right. Would you wait there for me?" Her voice was low and husky, yet he noticed the tremor. Draco pecked her cheek quickly before swaggering down the quiet street in search of Hermione's flat. He had half a mind to refuse but he wasn't about to duel with a bloody Auror.

Harry burned with rage, his hands shaking with the effort to resist the urge to blast Draco Malfoy into oblivion.

"How could you?!" Hermione clenched her wand tightly, her teeth grinding together in anger.

"How could I? Really, Harry? How dare you." Harry's eyes darkened with something Hermione regretted she was quite familiar. She backed away from him, her wand pointed at him. "S-Stay away from me, H-Harry."

"Stay away from you? Hermione, you know I can't do that. You belong to me, with me. I can't let you alone. You must come with me before Malfoy's completely tainted you." Hermione reached into her depths to keep hold of herself, but fear took over quickly. With a groan of frustration, she pressed the amethyst on the silver ring she wore on her forefinger. It burned slightly and Hermione hoped he would come. He'd always come before.

"Harry, I don't belong to you. I don't belong with you either. You've got to stop. I don't want to be with you, I've told you this. I had hoped you understood but apparently I was wrong. When Ron asked you to take care of me, this is not what he meant, Harry." Hermione was grasping at straws, willing Declan to hurry. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to hold him off.

"Ron wanted me to take care of you. He wouldn't want to see you with the likes of Malfoy. You deserve so much better than that, Hermione." Harry pleaded with his love, begging her to reconsider the error of her ways.

Hermione shook her head, backing away from him with her wand still trained on his chest. She could see the madness flickering in his green eyes and wanted no part of it.

"No, Harry no. This isn't what Ron would have wanted at all. He would want me to be happy." Hermione turned on her heel and ran toward her flat, only taking a few steps before spying Draco quickly returning.

"Ron would.." Harry sputtered, his mouth twisted in a vicious snarl.

"What would Ron think of YOU, Harry Potter?" Declan Rosier's hulking form stalked toward Harry, making Harry seem incredibly small. He wavered between chasing the fleeing witch or facing Declan, yet the choice was made for him when Draco Malfoy thrust Hermione behind him.

"This has nothing to do with you, Rosier." Harry sneered nastily, despising the wizard constantly interrupting his scant moments with Hermione Granger.

"You have no business here, Potter. Don't come back. I'm sure the Minister would be most displeased with his Head Auror if certain facts came to light." Declan allowed himself satisfaction while Harry Potter paled.

"This isn't over." Harry hissed, Disapparating. Declan sighed, large fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, Potter, I imagine it isn't." It was time Hermione Granger told him exactly what Harry Potter had done to her. He had enough of the cocky bastard interrupting his evenings and his life for that matter. Some secrets weren't meant to be kept.

"He's gone? You're sure? He's not coming back, is he?" Declan rolled his eyes while adding additional wards to their flat. Their Floo Network was already closed as well as Apparition. He had a devil of a time locking down what used to be his tranquil flat.

"Sweetie, calm down. Get yourself out of that fabulous dress, have a drink and then we need to talk." Hermione nodded, frazzled and nervous, but she desperately tried to unzip her dress with shaking fingers, the notion of magic slipping her mind.

"I can't. I can't. I can't get it off." Hermione kicked her shoes across the cold tile floor, slapping the dark wood door in front of her. Her shoulders slumped, a sob shaking her as she pressed her forehead against the wood grains. Declan was used to her outbursts, he knew she'd calm down eventually. He continued placing wards, watching Malfoy take in the scene around him. Draco Malfoy stepped toward Hermione, honestly terrified of her irrational outburst.

"What the hell did he do to you Granger?" His voice was rough. He despised this trembling weakling before him. He wanted to see Granger yelling, throwing things and hexing people. That's what she did. She didn't cry. He snarled in disgust, lowering the zipper on her dark blue dress while opening the door, and giving her a gentle shove. She was faster than he gave her credit and locked her hand around his wrist, dragging him into her bedroom.

She was the aggressor in this scenario and while Draco was surprised, he most definitely wasn't displeased to find himself pinned against the dark wood door. He opened his mouth to chastise her and it was covered with those soft lips he was unable to resist. He didn't know how it happened but Hermione's dress was missing and they were lying on her bed, her hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. She ripped the shirt open in her frustration and he chuckled at her impatience. In the process of rolling her rigid nipple between his fingertips before covering it with his mouth, there was a pounding at the door he was apt to ignore. Hermione attacked his lips with a fervor, straddling his lap, grinding into him. While Draco wasn't against a frenzied sort of shag, he knew she was burying herself in him. As much as he wanted to allow her such liberties, he didn't want to take advantage of the distressed witch even as he mentally cursed himself for such a thought.

"Granger..." Draco managed to murmur between kisses and caresses of supple skin, "Declan's at the door, love." He captured her hands and sat up, holding her still. Hermione's eyes were closed, her skin flushed a delightful shade of pink and he wasn't about to deny himself the pleasure of gazing upon her nudity.

She nodded slowly and climbed off his lap, keeping her back to him. He watched her rummage through the drawers of her bureau for a moment before quickly repairing his shirt. He opened the bedroom door with a sigh of regret and headed toward the living room.

"What the fuck Dec?" Draco settled onto the dark leather sofa, knowing he was being ambiguous. He tossed his Muggle blazer onto the arm of the sofa, waiting for Declan to finish the wards. Declan removed a purple jumper from a nearby hook, throwing it on over his t-shirt before pouring two tumblers of firewhisky. He sat next to Malfoy, clinking the glass on the mahogany coffee table.

"Don't know honestly. Potter shows up unannounced all the time. He's never been at our flat before though; mostly he sends owls and stalks her office. Terrifies her. He's done something to her and I aim to find out." Declan downed his drink, wishing he'd just brought over the bottle.

"She's never said? Seriously? A bit mental if you ask me." Draco downed his drink, coughing lightly at the familiar burn.

"No one ASKED you, Malfoy." Hermione slammed the bottle of firewhisky onto the table, squeezing between the two wizards. Draco and Declan shrugged at each other. Draco poured himself another drink, offering the bottle to Declan. Hermione snatched Draco's glass from his hand, swallowing the contents, choking, her eyes tearing, she poured another. Draco was prepared to argue with her, but Declan's wagging finger prevented him. He leaned back on the sofa, casually tossing his arm across the back.

In silence they watched Hermione Granger drink more than her fair share of firewhisky. They felt it would be unconscionable to discuss her in her presence, but the silence was irritating Malfoy.

"Rosier. Hmm, you're related to me, aren't you?" Draco decided the best course of action was to pretend Granger didn't exist. Declan sipped his drink, watching Hermione drown her upset and sorrow.

"We're all related, aren't we? Yes, vaguely, somehow through the Blacks. It's a bit murky considering all the disowning. Could you imagine? Disowning your child for loving a Muggle? Or a Muggle-born for that matter? Preposterous if you ask me." He twirled the silver ring on his thumb in circles.

"That how she called you then?" Declan nodded curtly, unwilling to expand further when Hermione broke into the awkward conversation. She had ripped the pins from her hair, assembling it into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her oversized green jumped slid off a creamy shoulder, a few freckles trailing into her hairline.

"He visited me. At my old flat. I was...I was living in Hogsmeade at the time. It was familiar and I wasn't ready to go home yet. It was all so fresh, so new, so bloody raw and I couldn't." Hermione drank from the bottle now, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "It had been awhile since I'd seen him. I shouldn't have let him in, looking back, I know that now. I didn't really recognise the wizard in front of me. He wasn't the same old, Harry. He was a new Harry. An angry Harry, hateful even. He kept...he kept..." Declan rubbed her back in small circles, encouraging her to continue. Draco was uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly friends with Granger, he wasn't sure he wanted to know intimate details of her inner pain.

"You don't have to.." He figured it was the gallant thing to do. Draco wanted to escape the madness, but he also desperately wished to snog her again, as awful as the thought was, he was being honest.

"I do." Hermione flung herself backward, trapping Draco's hand under her hair. He didn't mind it as much as he thought he should.

"Sweetie, you were saying?" Declan dragged his hand from behind her, snatching the bottle of firewhisky for a long draught. She took it back, finding herself calmer with it held on her lap. She drew her feet under her to keep them warm.

"He screamed at me. Blamed me. Said absolutely horrid things. As if I encouraged Ron to run off like a bloody arse. As if it were my fault Voldemort blasted him to bits! I wasn't bloody there. I told Ron not to go. He bloody stunned me. Ron! Of all people, stunned ME! McGonagall wouldn't let me go after them. What was I supposed to do? There was nothing I could do. Right?" The tears shone on her cheeks while she desperately swiveled between the men beside her.

"Sweetie, you would have died too. Then where would I be?" Declan felt a sense of relief. After all these years, she was finally releasing her inner demons.

"Weasley was always a bit of a git. Surprised he didn't off himself years before honestly. Don't look at me like that. You didn't know him Dec! He only passed his classes because of Granger. She was always letting him copy her parchment. Bloody useless he was." To his surprise, Hermione laughed. Great peals of laughter as she curled unto herself.

"She's done. No more firewhisky for her." Declan stole the bottle, downing an impressive amount before she took it back.

"Guests require libation as well." Hermione rolled her eyes, sloshing the contents onto his hand, falling into his side. Draco expected her to regain her balance but she didn't. She inhaled his dress shirt instead.

"You smell good." She flipped onto her back, propping her feet on Declan's lap, her hair coming loose from her bun, spreading across Draco's lap. He tensed, uncomfortable with this form of intimacy, in front of Declan no less, when she yanked his hand off the back of the couch, entwining their fingers. Declan, on the other hand, chuckled in amusement, used to her antics.

"I don't want to see him again, Dec. He's vile." Hermione hiccupped, covering her mouth with Draco's hand.

"Never did manage to tell us what he did, Sweetie." Declan tickled the bottom of her foot, distracting her.

"Stop it! I'll tell you. Swear. Give me a drink." Draco passed Hermione the firewhisky, snorting when she emptied it.

"Accio, firewhisky!" Declan waved his wand, his hand poised for the bottle floating directly toward him.

"Continue.."

"You have long fingers." Hermione touched the tip of each of Draco's fingers with her own while he shifted his position. "Don't know why I let him in. Sure, oldest friend, Golden whatever, pain in the arse, stubborn but I did. Now, Decky, you must promise, promise, promise you won't kill him."

"Don't like the sound of that, Granger." Draco forced her hands still, watching the grimace on her face upside down, resisting the urge to kiss her frown away. He hated the conflicting emotions she caused in him, yet he didn't have the strength to stop them.

"We'll see, Sweetie, we'll see." Declan leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowed in trepidation. He always suspected it was something more than simple anger which kept her from her former best friend's side.

"I think, now, he slipped some Sleeping Draught into my tea. We were having a perfect amicable conversation, well, after the yelling of course. He suggested a bit of tea and I do so love tea. You know this, Dec. He was watching me. Didn't like it. Not a bloody bit, so I drank my tea quickly, hoping it would hurry him off but it didn't. I was so sleepy." Hermione yawned, turning toward the sofa, nuzzling Draco's side.

"Not yet, Sweetie. Here. It's your turn to hold the bottle." Declan knew he was really pushing his luck, but he was furious. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but it was only a matter of time. Draco pushed Hermione a bit forward, making her sit up against his chest. Declan poured her a finger of firewhisky watching her inhale it.

"I didn't know what happened right away. I woke up in the morning, in my bed, but it was all wrong. My hair wasn't put up and you know I always put my hair up Decky. My bottoms were flannel but it was...it was..."

"Summertime." Declan interjected, his fist clenched, teeth grinding together. He recalled the numerous conversations they had shared concerning the dissolving of her friendship with The Chosen One.

"Exactly! Stupidly, I talked to Harry about it and let him explain it away, 'til I got sick. Ginny brought me. They said...they said...I was..but..impossible. Can't be..if you've never. Alright, well I had, once but it was simply awful and I refuse to count it. REFUSE. Horrid. I don't know how to do it, but I'm sure it's not supposed to be horrid. I told the Healer, she had to be mistaken!" Declan's chest was heaving. It was taking every ounce of his self control to remain seated. Draco paled considerably, fumbling for the bottle. He tossed the cap onto the floor, wishing he hadn't insisted on returning to Granger's flat.

"They did all these magical tests and other shite. Some Healer decided I blocked it out and blah blah blah. It went away. I didn't make it. It just did. They were all so bloody sorry. I wasn't sorry. Then the dreams started. It was Harry, Dec. Harry. My very best friend from the time I was eleven. My first real friend. He'd done it. Then he kept showing up and saying things." Her nose crinkled in distaste. "Oh but I love you Hermione. Cho doesn't mean a thing. It was good between us wasn't it? Ron would want me to take care of you. Had to leave. Luna told me about the advertisement and here I am, Decky. 'Cept. Now he knows where I live again. Don't much like that. Suppose I'll have to move. We've had a good run eh?" Hermione smiled brightly, her eyes drooping from the effects of copious amounts of alcohol.

Declan hoped she'd fall asleep soon. He had a Potter to kill.