It always started with a drink. It didn't matter how drunk she was, or how obvious it was that she was already rolling, they always wanted to buy her a drink- and she let them. Who was she to say no to free drinks?

So, they go to the bar and he'd order some sort of beer and then turn to her with a questioning look.

"Gin and tonic," she told the bartender. "Light on the tonic."

The bartender nodded, and the new guy smirked- he knew an easy lay when he saw one.

Once they had their drinks, he would lead her to a secluded section of the bar and pretend he wanted to get to know her, asking the obvious questions: What's your name? Come here often? What do you do?

Tonight, she decided to answer.

"I'm a chemist," she tells the muggle.

She can tell immediately that he's doubting his initial judgments- smart girls aren't easy lays. She smiles seductively and knocks back the rest of her G&T, then quirks her head as the song changes.

"Come on," she holds her hand out. "Dance with me."

The muggle smiles and finishes his own drink, then allows her to lead him back to the dancefloor.

By the time last call goes out, she's drunk off her tits and horny as fuck, and he doesn't have any trouble convincing her to come home with him.

The sex is sloppy- is there any other kind when you're drunk? - but the muggle is surprisingly good, and Hermione can feel herself fading when they're done. She should reach for her bag and take a sobering potion, so she can go home, but she doesn't. Instead, she allows the fog of exhaustion to pull her in.

Obliviate… Avada Kedavra… Crucio!... Obliviate… Obliviate… Obliviate…

'Can I help you?' Monica Wilkins smiled warmly, standing at the cash register in the florist shop. 'Are you alright, dear?'

Hermione can only stare, it's like looking at a ghost.

'Dear?' Monica Wilkins frowns and makes to move towards her.

Hermione shakes her head and forces a smile. 'Sorry, you just looked familiar,' she lies. 'Caught me off guard, is all. I was hoping to order an arrangement for my mum.'

'Aren't you sweet,' Monica smiles. 'Well, let's see what we can do. What kind of flowers does she like?'

'She's rather partial to Hermione Roses.'

'A woman after my own heart,' Monica laughs. 'I have to say, those are my favourites too. Always thought Hermione would be a lovely name for a daughter.'

Hermione smiled tightly and nodded, unable to speak due to the lump in her throat.

While Monica is distracted, she magics the door shut and flips the sign to 'Closed', then raises her wand unsteadily and whispers the reversing spell.

'Hermione?!" her mothers gasps, looking around her in confusion. 'What- Where? Hermione, where are we?'

'Hi Mum,' she chokes back tears, willing herself to keep it together. 'How are you?'

'I'm bloody confused,' Jean Granger replies testily. 'What on earth is going on?'

'We should have a chat,' Hermione offered. 'Come on, this way.'

With a forced air of confidence, she leads her mother past a curtain behind the register and up a flight of stairs to the flat above the flower shop her parents have been running for the last year. With a flick of her wand, the door opens to reveal her father sitting at a kitchen table, hunched over a pile of paperwork.

'Monica, dear, would you mind fetching me the calculator?' Wendell Wilkins asks, not looking up. 'I seem to have confused this one.'

'Monica?' Hermione's mother turns to her questioningly. 'Who in the hell is Monica?!'

Before Wendell can respond, Hermione points her wand and mutters the same incantation as before. He drops the pencil he was holding and gasps, looking around in confusion.

'What the hell?' he frowns and looks up, noticing his daughter and wife. 'Hermione? Jean? What's going on?'

'We need to talk,' Hermione says seriously, gesturing for them all to sit. Without waiting, she takes the closest chair and begins to speak. 'This might take a while,' she prefaces. 'There's… there's quite a lot you need to know, and for it to make sense I have to start at the beginning.'

Her parents only watch her suspiciously.

'You remember my friend Harry, don't you?' When they nod tersely, she continues. 'What you have to understand about Harry, is that he's very special in our world. He's… he's our saviour.'

She tells them everything, then. Relating each and every adventure she's accompanied Harry on, trying to explain the situation that she'd found herself in. And then she tells them what she did to them, and their suspicion turns to anger.

'You have to understand, they would have killed you,' she tried to explain herself. 'This was the only way-'

'How dare you!' her father cries. 'I always knew that this magic shit would come to no good.'

The look of disgust on his face is enough to make Hermione reel back in shock, and when she looks over to find the same exact look on her mother's face, she doesn't know what to make of it. They'd always been so supportive, so loving and encouraging. They'd told her they were proud to have a witch in the family- they'd never been so proud of her in all their lives.

'I told you Jean, the moment that blasted letter arrived I told you!' Mr. Granger continued angrily. 'But no, you thought we should give it a chance. Well, here's what your chance got us- an ungrateful child that plays with our minds. What else have you taken away, I wonder?' He sneered at Hermione. 'How long have we been living this lovely little life you thought up?'

'I-I-' Hermione stammered, trying to wrap her mind around what was happening. This wasn't right. Her parents loved her, they were proud of her, they would understand what she'd done and why she'd done it. She'd just been trying to protect them!

'You think you've got the right to play God?' her father continued. 'Just because you've got some sort of demonic powers, you haven't got the right to go playing with people's minds. How dare you do this!'

'Please,' Hermione begged, turning to her mother in desperation. 'That's not how it was. I was trying to protect you!'

'The only thing we need protection from is you,' Jean spat. 'To think, we took care of you for all those years, let you live in our house and associate with our family. Have you been playing games with them too? Hm? Is this what you lot do with your 'precious gifts'?'

Her tone made it perfectly clear that she didn't think it was a gift at all.

'I've had enough of this!' Mr. Granger roared suddenly, getting to his feet. 'I'm going to do what I've wanted to since the day we found out what a demonic creature you are. You're not going to get to manipulate us anymore.'

He got to his feet and picked up the phone, dialing triple 0.

'What are you doing?' Hermione choked, fighting back desperate sobs. 'Please, stop!'

'Sit back down, or so help me!' Her father growled, a dangerous look in his eyes. 'Yes, I'd like to report a crime-'

Hermione didn't wait to hear what kind of crime he was going to accuse her of. Shaking from fear and shock, she turned on the spot and apparated back to her hotel room in Melbourne, where she collapsed on the bed and broke down in tears.

'Hey… Hey, are you alright?

Hermione's eyes snapped open at the feel of a hand shaking her, she rolled over and pinned her attacker's hands down above his head, straddling him and pressing an arm to his windpipe. When she reached for her wand, the man turned the tables and rolled on top of her, now it was her hands that were pinned.

"Hey!" the man snapped sleepily as she tried to free herself. He didn't sound like a Death Eater, there was nothing muffling his voice- no mask, then…

Slowly, the night started coming back to her- the bar, the muggle, the drinks- she looked up and stilled, realizing what was happening.

"Christ!" the muggle cursed and rolled off of her, releasing her hands. "What the fuck was that?"

Hermione didn't bother answering. Free from his hold, she quickly pulled a shirt over her head and got up, feeling around for the rest of her things.

"Hey, wait!" the muggle argued. "I didn't mean to be an arse. What are you doing?"

Hermione ignored him, having located her trousers and underpants. She found her purse and shoes a moment later and pulled out her wand. She wishes she'd found her bra, but she wasn't about to spend any more time looking for it, she'd just have to write it off as a loss. Behind her, she could hear the muggle getting out of bed, trying to follow her. Just as he reached the bedroom door, she rushed out the front and disapparated.

Back in her own flat, she crumpled. Dropping to the floor in the middle of the living room, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.

When the tears passed, she changed into her pyjamas- a pair of shorts and a plaid shirt- and flooed to Blaise's.

"Good Evening Miss." Mippy popped into the entry room upon her arrival.

"Hi Mippy." Hermione nodded in greeting, wondering if the elf ever slept- she always seemed to be up when Hermione arrived, no matter the hour.

"Is Miss wanting a candle?" the elf asked knowingly, conjuring one.

"Thank you," Hermione took it and waved her hand to light the wick. "Have a good night, Mippy."

The elf nodded and left Hermione to her own devices, disappearing with another pop.

In the library, Hermione selected one of the many ancient tomes she had set aside to study for her inventions and curled up in her chair. It was the least comfortable piece of furniture in the library, a highbacked piece that was about a hundred and fifty years old, stuffed with hay and broken springs that had a habit of digging into whoever chose to sit on them. She placed a pillow against one of the sharp wooden armrests and sat sideways, her knees pulled up to her chest. There was no way for her to fall asleep now, if she moved even slightly something would start digging into her body and force her awake. Rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, she opened her book and began to read.

The first time Draco had come in, Hermione honestly hadn't noticed him. She had been in the middle of charming a large section from the book she was reading to her research notebook, which was under lock and key in her lab. She only realized that he was there when she got up to leave, noting the quick flash of movement around the corner as she stood up and immediately recognizing his bleach blonde hair. The next time it happened, she continued to ignore him, but she could feel him watching her. Figuring he would get bored if she did nothing, she simply kept reading her book, forcing her face to remain impartial. He didn't get bored, though, and after three weeks, she couldn't help but say something. It was getting downright ridiculous.

She'd been surprised by how warmly he'd responded to her accusatory tone, simply chuckling fondly at her excuse for reading old textbooks as though they were the best of friends. For a moment, he'd sounded like- a sharp pain cut through her chest as she pushed away the thought. They were not friends. He was simply a guy who hung around with the same people she did. Forget him.

She'd scolded herself and returned to the page she was in the middle of, trying to focus her attention on the outdated reviving potion she was reading about. It was hard to focus, though, when she could still feel him watching her- now that she'd spoken to him, quite openly. He seemed to be waiting for something- waiting for her, she supposed, but why? They weren't friends.

He kept watching and she finally snapped, looking up from her book and meeting his questioning eyes.

"What? What is so fucking interesting about me that you feel the need to sit there and study me all the fucking time?!"

She'd expected him to back down after this, to apologize for bothering her and leave. Instead, he seemed to look at her even more closely, his head tilting to the side thoughtfully.

"You never used to be so vulgar," he observed. "It's odd hearing you curse."

"Shouldn't be too foreign," Hermione scoffed. "We both know I've cursed people before."

Even as she felt the words leave her mouth, Hermione instantly regretted them. She just had to open her big mouth, didn't she? God, all those brains people kept telling her she had, and she couldn't even find a way to filter one fucking thought. What good was that?

She could already feel her heart speeding up, her flippant comment bringing all kinds of horrid memories to the surface, but the most vivid was of her parents- the way they'd looked at her when she'd tried to restore their memories.

She didn't know if Draco had continued speaking, she didn't care. Without hesitating, she dropped the book onto the sofa and walked purposefully out of the room. Her mind was absolutely buzzing, running ten miles a minute, and hammering at her like a Beater at a Bludger. Without realizing it, she'd made her way through the house to Blaise's room, pausing outside his door for only a second before bursting inside.

"Wha-" he grumbled groggily at the sound of the door slamming open and rubbed his eyes, frowning. "What time is it?"

"Don't know," Hermione shrugged, shutting the door again behind her and lighting the end of her wand.

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked, sitting up a little in bed.

"Nothing."

Blaise glared at her, obviously not buying it, but she didn't care. Everything was too loud, too fast, too angry. Her mind wouldn't turn off- she needed it to turn off. Looking around the room for something to help, her eyes narrowed in on a bottle of pills. Recognizing the label as a muggle prescription, she snatched it up and perused the contents, hoping that they were downers.

"It's oxycodone," Blaise informed her sleepily. "Are you just here for drugs, because if so, I'd like to go back to sleep."

Hermione twisted the cap off the bottle and shook three pills into her hand, swallowing them dry, then stripped off her shirt and shorts and climbed into bed, straddling Blaise's hips.

"Not just for drugs," she muttered, leaning down and pressing her lips to his.

Not missing a beat, Blaise was quick to shrug off his sleep and toss Hermione on her back, sinfully making use of her body as the wave of euphoria took her, quieting her mind until there was nothing but black.

When the knock came at the lab, she expected to find Harry outside, wanting to check on her or tell her how much he cared, he'd been trying to reach out quite a bit lately with the holidays approaching. She was fully prepared to slam the door in his face the moment she opened it, but instead of her former best friend, she found Harmony- her store manager- nervously wringing her hands.

"There's a gentleman in the store asking for you," she explained without prompting. "I tried to put him off and told him to talk to Gertrude, but he was insistent. He said to tell you that a ferret wanted to see you?"

What the fuck was he doing here? Hermione frowned. How does he even know it's my shop?

Deciding that she didn't care about the answer to either question, she instructed Harmony to tell him to fuck off, then closed the door before she could argue, going back to work angrily.

When the knock came the fifth day, she was in the middle of mixing a highly explosive potion. The loud rap ruined her concentration and instead of adding a pin head's worth of skrewt oil, she accidentally added an entire dropper's worth, which proceeded to blow up in her face- literally.

Hermione let out a pained screech as the acidic mixture covered her and ran to the decontamination shower she'd installed for instances just like this. It didn't do much to help with the pain, but it kept her from getting permanent scars as the water was mixed with a healing potion. When the knock came again a few minutes later, obviously hesitant, Hermione stormed through the smoke, soaked to the bone and wrenched it open, releasing a cloud of green smoke into the corridor.

"What?!" she snapped, glaring through the smoke to see who was there.

"I- I'm sorry Miss Granger," Richie, the youngest of her employees stood trembling before her, his eyes watering from the smoke and a look of sheer terror on his face. "It's just, th-there's a bloke in the shop-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Hermione screeched, knowing full well who was looking for her. Why in the name of Morgana and all her children, was Draco Malfoy so set on driving her insane? He'd been there every single fucking day this week and she was moments away from apparating straight to Blaise's and Sectum Sempering him.

"I-I'm really sorry, Miss, but h-he said it was important, and-"

"You go tell him that he can bugger the fuck off and crawl back to whatever shitforsaken snake den he spawned from and leave me alone before I rip out his testicles and use them for brewing, understand?!"

Richie nodded his head frantically, turned tail and ran, whimpering a little as he went.

He'd continued coming into the shop and asking for her, even after she threatened to rip out his tonsils and feed them to Astoria's cat. In fact, the very next morning she'd found him trying to sweet talk Harmony before they were even open and had proceeded to deal with him the same way she used to deal with Ron- setting a flock of angry canaries on him, but he'd simply laughed and run off. She would give him this, he was certainly persistent. Why he insisted on trying to be friends with her, however, she had no idea. She'd decided that she would try ignoring him instead of violently cursing him out through her employees that week, and she thought it had been working until he strolled into the library and dropped into the chair across from her, not even bothering to pretend he was letting her be before diving right in.

"What are you doing reading an old potions book?"

"Research."

"For your shop?"

Hermione ignored him, trying to focus on the possible interactions between eye of hare and dirigible root.

"Why is it a secret?" Draco asked, obviously taking her silence as an invitation to continue talking. "Your shop. Blaise said that the ministry has bought patents for some of your stuff, why not tell people you're the one who did it?"

Because if I did, they'd never take it, Hermione thought to herself.

Who was going to risk trying a cure that was invented by a junkie? The work she did was saving lives, if she came clean, she'd be responsible for even more deaths than she already was. Nobody was going to buy their miracles from the girl they just saw passed out, naked on the cover of Witch Weekly. She couldn't tell Malfoy that, though, so she'd simply snarled at him that it didn't matter. She'd expected him to argue, to try and convince her that it did, but he'd simply shrugged and let it go. It was such an unexpected response that Hermione couldn't even bring herself to storm out in annoyance as she'd planned just a moment before. Instead, she stayed in her seat, giving him the chance to ask another question.

"What are you researching?"

She'd answered without even thinking about it, giving him the same vague answer that she gave her employees when they risked asking, or Daphne and Theo when they stopped by: "Hangover potions."

"I hate to tell you this," Draco smirked. "But they've already invented those. Been around quite a while, actually."

"I'm aware," Hermione snarled at him testily.

"You seem to have perfected them," he added. "I've seen all the varieties you've got in the shop. You've even got them narrowed down to specific types of alcohol."

Seemingly unable to stop herself, refusing to accept anything but perfection, she informed him that she still had one more she was working on.

"Ecstasy?" Draco guessed knowingly.

Hermione pursed her lips angrily. How the hell did he know that? She cast her mind back, trying to remember the last time she'd done a test, but came up blank. Not that she was surprised, that oxycodone she'd taken from Blaise last week had done quite a number on her, she had more than a few blank spots over the last few weeks, but she vaguely remembered a night a few weeks earlier that might have involved a test. She didn't remember Malfoy being there, but she supposed that didn't mean much, her memory wasn't exactly a girl's best friend. It remembered all the things she longed to forget, but left her high and dry when she could actually use it…

"Maybe I could help," Draco offered, startling Hermione from her thoughts and making her frown. "I've spent the last two years studying healing methods, perhaps I could offer some as unfounded insight to your cause."

What?! Malfoy was offering to help her get high? No, that did not compute. But she'd definitely heard him right, she was sober as all get out. He had to know why she was making the potions if he knew about them, it's not like it wasn't obvious, but why would he offer? As far as she knew, he'd been out finding himself, coming to grips with his own humanity or whatever bullshit Blaise had gone on about when she'd asked. He'd been studying healing and medicine, why would he willingly help her poison herself? Why do you care? The tiny junkie in the back of her mind spoke up. If he helps you and you get it right, you can roll right into the sunset. Wham bam, thank you Ma'am. With that thought, Hermione got to her feet and nodded. "I'll think about it," she told him, turning and leaving the library to go back to her flat. If he offered again, she'd give him a chance. If he didn't, well, who gave a fuck? She'd figure it out eventually, and then… Wham bam, thank you Ma'am, whispered the voice. They'd float right into the sunset, laughing all the way…