Hi, me again. I feel it's necessary to point out to you that Neville did not give Hermione because he's romantically interested in her. It was strictly as friends. I mean we will get to all the romance drama at some point, but it was not Neville. :)

Narcissa had fallen in love with the mangy tabby she carried into the house, and promptly told her adult son to visit the nearest shop for kibble. Since they would be welcoming another addition into their family, and of course Hermione can keep him!

Hermione had never been so certain she was going to be murdered in her sleep, and she mouthed an apology to him, only for him to flash an obscene gesture at her.

Pansy hopped onto the kitchen counter, the heels of her boots knocking against the white paneling. "Shite, did I scuff it? Narcissa will kill me," she huffed, leaning down to rub the spot away. "So, cats, huh?" She grinned.

She shrugged, easing the little meowing kitten into the sink. Hermione opened the jumper Theo had given her, making a makeshift nook. "I suppose," she giggled, turning on the warm water in the opposite side of the sterling sink. "I was never able to have one; my mom was allergic."

Pansy snorted. "Then how do you know you like them?"

"I volunteered at a shelter at home. There wasn't much to do where I lived. The population is under ten thousand." Laughing at how Pansy's mouth fell open, she continued. "So, I helped with their animals through high school. Volunteer work on your record never looks bad, but.."

"You were really there for the fluff balls, weren't you?" Pansy peered into the sink. "Poor thing, I wonder how long he was alone."

"Too long," she muttered, running her fingers under the warm water before scratching his head. "When I came home, she always avoided me because there was cat hair everywhere."

Pansy nodded. "I would avoid you too,"

"You wear all black," Hermione deadpanned, flinching away when she reached out to flick her ear. "It's a fact!"

"Your tone was uncalled for. God, you should have seen Draco's reaction. And Theo's. Narcissa wasn't even surprised." She folded her arms across her stomach as she laughed. "I've never seen Draco's eyes get that wide."

An invisible weight felt as if it had been dropped onto her shoulders. It wasn't as if she needed Malfoy to like her, but if he could just not view her as such a pest, that would be great. "Was he angry?"

Pansy shook her head. "That's not the word I'd use at least. He wasn't shocked when he looked out the window. All he could see was Theo dragging a ladder around, and then he looked up, and you were just-" she dissolved into giggles. "I'd honestly say he was a bit impressed. He was ready to climb that tree and drag you down."

"He would have clawed that face of his," Hermione nodded towards the cat, massaging the tangled knots from his fur. "Well, it's nice to hear I didn't piss him off anymore than I already had, I suppose."

Her newfound friend rolled her eyes. "Please, if you had well, and truly infuriated him, I don't think he would have gone outside at all."

Soft meows sounded from beneath her hands. "You said I should have seen Theo's reaction?" Hermione asked then, blowing a piece of hair from her face harshly. "I would have waited for him, but he nearly fell."

"He's a lazy arse, and he sprinted across the lawn, so I'd say he was worried."

"At worst I would have broken my arm,"

"Or your neck," Pansy told her, and that was that.

She loved England.

Hermione believed love was too tame a word for it. Living in an entirely new place left her with a sort of itch beneath her skin. She wanted to break out of her shell, to drink in all of the sights the world had to offer her. She'd tagged along to the outdoor concert that Neville had told her about. And it was nice to see that he'd offered his number simply out of friendship.

She adored Luna from the moment she'd dragged Hermione into the middle of the park to sway along to the music. With her hair tied back loosely, and several bangles adorning her wrists, Luna Lovegood seemed to be the personification of freedom. She was airy, seemingly floating through life, and Hermione told her that she liked the namaste tattoo scrawled in cursive across her wrist.

Ginny Weasley was, well, Hermione believed her to be a lot of thing, but the first way to describe her was that she was a firecracker. She was rebellious, a fact all too clear from the dropping neckline of her shirt that laced together from either side. With fiery red hair, and an attitude that never quit, she was the life of the party. Dancing around Malfoy with a ridiculous grin on her face when he glared at her, and them leaving him once Hermione had shyly made her way to Luna's side.

It was rather clear there was a history between the redhead, and her house mate. She'd noted it when Pansy said Ginny had a tinder date, and Hermione was perfectly fine with never knowing any of that particular back story.

Three girls became four, and Hermione was certain she'd never belonged anywhere else. And when a rock song blared over the speakers, one that she knew word for word in her sleep, Hermione found herself on Ginny's shoulders, screaming the lyrics. Maybe it was the booze - she'd never been able to hold her liquor, but she'd never tried either - but it was something about being thousands of miles from home that made her feel light.

The first day she set foot on the campus of Oxford, the sunglasses didn't help at all. The sun was too fucking bright, and her head was pounding. And of bloody course she had Malfoy laughing at her at her side, telling her that little girl's shouldn't drink so much when they never had before. Especially with her awful luck, since they'd found paperwork for her to sign and she looked so uncouth.

She waited until after he handed her a packet of ibuprofen to tell him to go fuck himself.

As the sun cut across the kitchen, Draco Malfoy leaned against the counter bringing a cup of steaming tea to his lips. Until his mother swept, flounced was a better term, into the room and scared the shite out of him. His cermaic cup took a tumble, shattering against the floor, and Earl Grey seeped into the grooves of the tile.

"Good morning, Mother," he grumbled, moving towards the broom in the corner. "How are you feeling?"

She'd given them a scare in the weeks earlier. Father insisted she'd been too excited to meet Granger, over exerting herself in the last minute, completely unnecessary cleaning of the manor. Watching her collapse wasn't a memory he could forget, and she was just so...pale.

"Wonderful," she took the broom from him, hitting the back of his calves with it. "I wanted to discuss something with you before Hermione came down. Did you know she's going to teach me how to use her Keurig today?"

He eyed the black and silver machine in disdain. "I didn't know that. Though I don't know why you would drink coffee instead of tea, Mother."

She pinched his cheek. "Now, now, you must try new things, little dragon."

"Mother!" He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No matter how many awful tattoos you get, and no matter how many pairs of combat boots you purchase, you'll still be my little dragon, Draco." She scolded him, knocking him on the head with the broom handle.

"I'm twenty three years old," he groaned, setting the kettle on the stove top again.

"Back to what I was saying," she sighed. "Your father showed me something, and under no circumstances can you tell Hermione I shared this with you, or that," she bit her bottom lip. "Or that I made a copy of the paper." She pulled a folded slip of paper from her pocket. It was clear it had originally been a piece of notebook paper.

"And what is this?' He took it from her, unfolding it. "Jesus Christ, Mother, this looks personal. It doesn't look like it's any of your business."

"Lucius talked to her about it." She spoke over his disapproval. "And well, it turns out that before her mother passed away, she helped her make this list."

"What does this have to do with me?" He sighed, but he continued reading through the bullets, his lips curving into a smirk at number four: get a tattoo. No wonder she'd been so interested in his own. "I see that look in your eye - don't you dare -"

She put her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy,"

His mouth snapped shut at the warning, and he gritted his teeth.

"I'm not feeling well enough to do it, and your father will be leaving for another trip tomorrow. I would love to take Hermione, but Lucius would cancel his trip for worrying." She rolled her eyes at his huff. "She's certain you utterly loathe her, Draco. What has she done to you?"

He ran his fingers through his still damp hair. "She hasn't done anything, and it's not my problem if she's worried I dislike her. Why would I go out of my way to take her to do anything? She isn't my friend. Before you yell at me," he held his hands up. "I don't like change, or new people, and you're well aware of that. Why wouldn't you ask Pansy? Hermione could go with those girls, and she'd have a better time than she would with me."

"You need to smooth things over with her!" Narcissa told him quietly, her eyes darting towards the entryway every few seconds. "Please, just do this one thing for me. It's only riding the London Eye, Draco. It's a simple tourist attraction. She would never even think it was because of her bucket list."

His eyes widened. "It's also over an hour away. We just established that I don't like her, and you want me to spend what would be a minimum of three hours with her? That's not a sightseeing trip, Mother. That's a full scale adventure."

His mother shrugged, the perfect picture of daintiness. "You'll take her, or I'll show Hermione all of those dreadful photographs of you in the tub as a child."

"You wouldn't."

She liked how the weather changed moving towards the end of September. Earlier that day, she'd gone to the university to sign even more last minute paperwork, and Malfoy had been silent throughout the car ride.

Back in her bedroom, she turned the fairy lights on as she entered, throwing her bag onto her bed. Hermione pulled a book from the table beside the fully made bed, dragging sheets from it and creating a nook in the windowsill. The night sky outside of the tall glass window made for a nice backdrop. Peering up at the sky there was a miniscule pang in her heart.

She hadn't felt so guilty about leaving the United States in two weeks. After meeting everyone here, there hadn't been much time. She'd never been the type to pray, even though where she had grown up was lovingly dubbed as the 'bible belt'. So no, she couldn't say she prayed, but it was nice to think her mother could hear her.

Crookshanks jumped onto the pillows that laid in the windowsill, pawing at her legs whilst meowing loudly. "What is it?" Hermione laughed, balling up a blanket to sit in her lip. She patted it. "Come lay in my lap," she cooed, scratching behind his ears where he rolled onto his back. "Oh, no," she told him, tapping him on the nose. "The second I rub your belly you'll decide you don't like it anymore, and you'll scratch me."

If the long scratch running up my arm is any indication...

Her eyes flicked over Jane Eyre, the folded piece of notebook paper poking out from the back cover. She would get to it, Hermione told herself, but now wasn't the right time. Maybe she had enjoyed herself so much that she could forget, even if it was only for a little while. Opening that list was going to pour salt in slowly closing wounds no matter how long she waited.

Hermione recognized it was a tad cowardly.

Crookshanks rolled against her, purring, and pawing at the back of Wuthering Heights. She grinned, flipping the page as he fought for her attention. The kitten helped in the middle of the night when she was alone. It was hard as she attempted to sleep, remembering all of the things she'd like to tell her mother. Never failing her, Crooks weaseled his way against her chest and curled up there.

Crooks loved Draco, and if Hermione wasn't around, he followed him dutifully around the manor. Hermione thought it was precious. He'd told her to keep her door shut so as to keep that mangy cat in her bedroom.

He could pretend he hated his orange sidekick all he wanted, but Malfoy liked her cat far more than he liked her. More than once Hermione had peeked around a corner to see Draco crouched down and giving baby Crooks part of his food. It melted her heart, and she'd sprinted back down the corridor before he could see her spying.

They bickered constantly over anything. He always took too long in the bathroom in the mornings, and somehow he always beat her there. He'd sabotaged her keurig one morning because he didn't like the sound of it, and she'd snapped that his kettle fucking whistled and she never complained.

Just as his purring quieted, signalling that he'd fallen asleep in her lap, her cell phone rang in her pocket. Crooks shot up, his ears perking up as he looked at her as if she'd betrayed him. "I'm sorry," she muttered before she could remind herself she was talking to a cat. Neville's name flashed across her screen as she answered it, closing her book. "Hello?"

Loud music boomed in the background, and she scrambled to turn the volume down. "Hermione? Is Draco with you?" Theo's voice was slightly slurred.

"He's across the hallway," she replied, petting Crookshanks when he pawed at her stomach. "Have you called him?" There was an over dramatic sigh, and she laughed. "I often feel that way about Malfoy."

"Well, we're at The Shrieking Shack, and we're both pissed. Neville was supposed to drive us home, but no, that didn't happen. Could you come get us?"

Her eyes widened, but it's not like he could see her shaking her head. "I can't drive here, Theo. Not to mention everything is opposite for me; I wouldn't know where to start."

"Probably with putting the keys in the ignition."

"Oh, fuck off," she laughed, scooping Crooks into her arms and laying him in the window seat. "I'll just ask him if he can take the two of you home. I'll call you back." She pocketed her phone in the only pocket of her shorts that she slept in, and adjusted the long t shirt to show that she was wearing bottoms before knocking on his door softly.

"Come in,"

The doorknob was cool beneath her fingers as she turned it, pushing the door open. His eyes widened over the rim of his glasses as he looked at her. He was laid up in bed with his back to the headboard. Slamming his book shut, he took his glasses off. "What do you want?"

"I didn't know you wore glasses." Hermione told him, stepping inside, but she left the bedroom door wide open.

"They're reading glasses," he grumbled, setting a file on his bedside table. "What do you want? I assume you didn't come in here for my company."

She scoffed. "I would never."

"You shouldn't be so quick to judgement, Granger. I'm rather charming."

"Rubbish," she waved him off, shifting her weight while she stood, and crossing one leg over the other as she took a look around his room. Anything to keep her eyes from lingering on his naked chest, which by the way was also covered in tattoos. "Neville called me - well, Theo called from Neville's phone. They're too drunk to drive and need you to pick them up. They asked me, but clearly I can't drive."

He nodded, not moving from his spot. "Of course they're pissed." He rolled his eyes, bending to grab a jumper from the floor. "Let's go then." Malfoy told her, standing to his feet and tugging the shirt over his head. With his back to her, she saw how his back muscles contorted, and it was impossible not to look.

"Wait," she shook her head. "I'm not going."

"Why wouldn't you? They called you."

"Malfoy, I'm in my pajamas; I'm not going to a bar to pick them up. I look ridiculous."

He threw a balled up jumper at her. "Then put that over your clothes, and pull your shorts down some. If I have to cut my night short then so do you."

Her eyebrows knitted together as she looked at the heavy material in her hands. "You were reading!"

Draco smirked, bending down to look at her at eye level. "You're to tell me you weren't reading?"

She swallowed. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"I happen to think you like me." He told her, grabbing a set of keys from his dresser. "Come on then. The longer you stand there, the more likely they are to get into a pub fight before we get there."

"At least let me put on actual pants," Hermione protested. He clicked his tongue at her, grabbing her by the arm, and leading her down the corridor. "You're only doing this to irritate me, aren't' you?"

She considered herself lucky to grab her shoes before she was led out of the manor.

She wondered absently if The Shrieking Shack earned its name from the loud screaming that seemed to be pouring out to the pub. She glared at Malfoy when he told her to get out of his car. Dressed in shorts that she'd been able to tug lower given how big her jumper was, she didn't feel quite so exposed as he led her inside.

It was a mess right from the start. Losing Malfoy nearly immediately, she sighed and made her way to the counter. Stepping onto the edge of it, she sat on one of the stools.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender asked her. He was a short, stocky man.

"Uh, can I just get water? Bottled, if you have it?" Hermione clasped her hands together, finding that they were already clammy as the man nodded. He turned to open a mini fridge below the counter and tossed her a water bottle.

"Still sealed, love. Are you waiting for someone?"

She nodded, glancing around her. "Yeah, I was with someone, but we're only here to take some friends home,"

"Alright then," he left her sitting there.

Hermione's shoulders were hunched over as she tried to make herself not stand out. The crowds coupled with the fact that she was alone made her uncomfortable. She looked over the tops of patrons' heads, trying to spot any of the three people she knew here. Hermione twisted the cap off of the bottle, taking a long drink of water.

The tap of her shoulder nearly made her fall off of the stool. Certain it was going to be Malfoy, she whirled around, and jabbed him in the sternum. Only it wasn't him, and an older, brunette man looked at her curiously, with a smile on his face that didn't seem to fit there. "I'm so sorry." She yelled over the pounding bass. "I thought you were someone else."

He laughed. "It doesn't seem like you like them all too much then." The first thing she noticed was that he wasn't drunk, and the second thing she noticed was how dark his eyes were. A deep chocolate brown that would have seemed fathomless if it weren't for the amber colored flecks throughout his irises. "Antonin," he introduced, offering his hand.

She shook his hand. "Hermione."

"You're American, yes?"

She nodded, taking another look around the room before grabbing her water bottle, and putting the lid back on it. "Yeah. I'm just here for the year to study at Oxford."

Antonin leaned against the bar, waving to the bartender, and it was moments later that a glass of whiskey was slid across the counter. "Are you here with friends?"

Untwisting the lid of the water once more, she drank the rest of it, wiping the corner of her mouth. "I got lost while we were looking for them. I'm just tagging along."

He smiled again, and there was something off about it. Perhaps it was how there were no lines by the corners of his mouth to show that he smiled often. Or that he was a complete stranger and she was just casting her judgements onto him. "I'm sure they'll come looking for you soon."

Hermione should have listened to her instincts.

She sat mostly in silence while Antonin told her of all the sights she should see, but when he mentioned how there was a landmark, some statue not too far from where they were, she commented that she'd have to see it sometime. "I could show you now. It's a short walk from here." He took hold of her hand.

Hermione looked around, desperately hoping to see at least one of them. Where had they even gone? It had been nearly an hour, and she still hadn't seen them. If they were off in a dark corner with some girl, she was going to murder them.

'No, thank you." She ripped her hand away. Her head was pounding, and as she finally noticed something she should have noticed when it happened, panic clawed at her insides. Her movements were sluggish, and she felt dizzy, as if sleep was skirting around her as it waited to claim her. "You drugged me." She gasped.

His eyes narrowed, his grip on her forearm tightened. "Don't be ridiculous, Hermione." His voice was soft, going unheard by anyone.

Hermione couldn't pull her arm free. The bartender was down the counter, passing drinks to another man, paying no mind to a girl in her pajamas. As the man opposite her tugged her forward harshly, smashing her against him, Hermione let out the loudest scream she could manage.

Her ears were ringing as she stumbled away from him, the back of her heel meeting the ledge of the floor. She smashed her elbow - that same fucking elbow- against the wooden countertop, and she managed to hold herself upright. "Get the fuck away from me,"

Antonin opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't get the chance as someone knocked him out of the way.

"Granger, what did you scream my name for?" Draco crouched beside her, a still lit cigarette balanced between his fingers. "Hey," he snapped his fingers in front of her face, but she couldn't focus on him. "Did you take something?"

She pointed behind him, and Antonin's face had drained of color. "I think.." she trailed off, swallowing while trying to get the words out. "I think he might have put something in my drink. I screamed for you?"

He nodded, dropping his cigarette to the floor and smashing it beneath his boot. "You sure fucking did; I heard it from the back alley."

"I was terrified." She mumbled.

He looked over his shoulder. "If you try to run, I'm going to make this hurt more," he snarled, sliding his arms beneath her shoulders and the backs of her knees. Draco sat her on the countertop, steadying her before letting go. "Hey! Don't let her fall, will you?"

"Don't start a brawl in my pub, Malfoy!" Someone yelled, and there was a tumbler shattering against the floor, but the blond had already stepped away from her.

A hand pressed into the small of her back to steady her. "Easy there, love. I won't let you fall when you pass out."

She wanted to say if she passed out, but he must have seen this before. Naive girl gets drugged in a bar. Said girl screams for her prickly housemate.

Said housemate..

"What the fuck," she gasped, leaning two forward, and thank God for the hands that kept her from falling flat on her face. "Malfoy, oh, my God." She groaned as he stomped towards the dark haired man.

Popping his knuckles, he stepped into the swing. There was a sickening crunch as his fist met the man's nose, and she watched in horror - in awe? Perhaps both? - and the other man stumbled backwards.

Draco gripped the sides of his jacket, hauling him forward and headbutting him hard, before slinging him over the counter, and dragging him down over the glasses sitting there. The patrons has cleared out of his path, and several of them were cheering.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Theo stood in front of her, but she couldn't quite nod.

She thought absently that it was impressive that Antonin had been knocked unconscious before her. Moments after Draco stepped away from him, wiping blood from his knuckles, Hermione passed out. Slumping forward, Theo, or maybe Neville, caught her.

Everything hurt, but the first thing she noticed was that her throat was dry. Hermione coughed, propping herself up in her bed. She wasn't sure when she'd gotten home, and her head was pounding, and -

"You're awake."

She shrieked, yanking the blanket over herself as she stared at him. Malfoy sat in a chair he'd pulled out from under her desk, with his sock clad feet propped up on her bed. His boots were discarded in the floor. "Malfoy, why are you-"

"A long time ago, Pansy was drugged at a party. I remembered how disoriented she was, and I assumed you wouldn't want to be alone. How's your head?" He asked her, leaning over to swipe a white bottle that had a blue label wrapped around it, from her bedside table. "You hit it pretty hard when you took a dive from the counter. I thought Theo had a good hold on you."

"He didn't?" Hermione asked. The memories were still blurry, but she was sure someone had caught her.

"At first, but then the prick dropped you so it didn't do a whole lot of good. You hit your head pretty hard, but I thought you were fine."

"Oh," she mumbled, taking the two pills from his hand. "Thank you," she told him when he handed her a glass of water. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three hours," he shrugged. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were at The Shrieking - you shattered Antonin's nose, didn't you?" She remembered the blood that had gushed from his nose, and the awful crack that had gone along with it. "You beat the shit out of him."

Draco nodded, his fist tightening in his lap. "I did," he agreed, and she picked up his hand, looking over the stained blood.

"You haven't washed your hands?"

Another shrug. "I've been here the whole time. I carried you in, but Mum doesn't know anything."

"Thank you," she repeated. "You have a cut right here." Her finger hovered over the small gash. "You should take care of it,"

"It's probably from his tooth."

Hermione stared at him. "Why did you drag him across the counter? One punch would have been enough,"

His feet dropped off of her bed, and he leaned towards her, resting his elbows on his knees. "What I did still wasn't enough. He would have raped you. There's little doubt about that."

She hiccuped, and clenched the blanket. "Thank you - again I mean. I'm sorry I keep repeating myself."

He smirked. "I'm going to go clean my hands off now. If you need anything, and I sincerely hope you don't, let me know." He grabbed his boots, and locked the door on his way out.

Hnnnnng. I love my Draco so much and I just really enjoyed writing this chapter! I look forward to hearing what you think!