A/N: Considering how long I take between updates nowadays, I feel like I should do a recap of what happened in the previous chaps so that you guys don't have to reread them.

Quick recap: Hermione drags Draco to Ginny's wedding in order to try to make Ron jealous. Ron, however, seems to have thought up the same idea and brought along Lavender as his date. Drama ensues and Hermione, after a week of consoling herself, bumps into Parvati, who invites her to go to a bar for a night out. Unfortunately Hermione's a bit of a lightweight and proceeds to throw up on Draco and pass out...

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Chapter Seven

xx-xx

"Oh my," said a woman who was walking past.

Understatement of the century, Draco thought wryly.

He was surprised by how cool and level-headed he felt, despite the mess in his lap. Hermione's head lolled between his legs; if she were any other girl and if this were any other situation that statement would be a very welcome one, but no. Just seeing her made that small tidal wave of guilt crash in his gut again.

Had she, in her sorrow, decided to drown herself in alchohol? It was possible, but for some reason he thought it wasn't like her to resort to that sort of measure.

Draco gingerly lifted her head off him and made a face as the smell of the vomit assaulted his nostrils. Perhaps this was karma, punishing him for the bad things he'd done. Trust him to find a career with one of the highest risks of being thrown up on. He supposed that he could count himself lucky that Hermione's aim was fairly good, and none of it had landed on the furniture. He wasn't the best with cleaning spells, and from what he'd seen none of the other staff were much better.

He sighed and was about to reach for his wand when he heard someone say, "Scourgify!"

Instantly his clothes were back in pristine condition. "Thanks," he said as he looked up. Sympathetic brown eyes met his and he recognized the owner as the Patil sister who was Hermione's neighbor. "You don't happen to be with her, would you?"

"Unfortunately, yes," said Parvati. "I'm terribly sorry on her behalf... I'm sure she didn't mean to throw up on you."

"You mean you should be sorry for not looking after her," said Draco, a tad sharply.

Parvati noticed his tone and her picture-perfect smile twitched. "Well, yes. That too."

There was a pause, during which Draco gingerly lay Hermione's head on the couch. Without the vomit obstructing things, he could appreciate the softness of her hair and the smoothness of her skin - and the bags under her eyes, which even makeup couldn't completely hide. He stroked her cheek briefly and felt anger flare when he thought of how much she must had cried over that bastard.

But it was none of his business anymore. He stood up, sighing, and was about to leave when Parvati said, "Wait."

"What?" he said, turning his head slightly.

"With Hermione in that state, I don't feel confident about Apparating her back with me. Since you two seem pretty close... would you please let her rest here for tonight?" There was something in Parvati's face that told him she wasn't merely unloading her drunk friend onto him for her own convenience, and he wavered.

You shouldn't be doing this, his rational mind told him. The less time you spend with her, the better. What if she finds out what you did?

Oh, shut up, said the part of his brain which was feeling the effects of the couple of drinks he had downed earlier.

"... Alright," said Draco. "But don't expect me to do this again."

Parvati smiled coyly. "Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't think of it."

She helped him lift Hermione over his shoulder, where she lay flopped over like a ragdoll. Suddenly, Parvati giggled, and Draco gave her a questioning look.

"She's wearing cute knickers," she grinned. "Candy stripes."

For some reason Draco felt a slight blush come over his cheeks. Fortunately for him, the dim lighting hid his face and she didn't notice. He had seen plenty of 'sexy' underwear in his time, but 'cute' was another matter entirely. "Well, I'd better get her upstairs," he said, tipping Parvati a wink that was entirely professional. "Do keep enjoying yourself, Parvati. And... thank you for taking her out tonight. I think she really needed it."

Parvati gave him a genuine smile. "It's alright. We all know what she's been through. Lavender is my best friend, but even I don't approve of what she's done."

"I'll tell the bartender to send over a round of drinks for you and your friends," said Draco. "It's on the house."

She squealed and planted a kiss on the side of his face. "I trust Hermione will be safe with you tonight?" she smirked.

"Hah hah, very funny. I love it when people accuse me of being a rapist," he scowled. "Trust me, she's not exactly my type."

"If you say so," said Parvati, looking as if she didn't believe him at all.

"Yes, I do say so," he said, and headed towards the stairs.

"Don't forget about the drinks!" called Parvati from behind him, and he lifted a hand in response without turning around.

Draco had never had so much trouble going up those stairs as he did now. Provided, he had never had to carry someone akin to a dead body while he was ascending them, but it was taking all his strength to keep Hermione on his shoulder and not let her topple forwards down the stairs where she would undoubtedly sustain a horrific injury. By the time he finally reached the top, he was panting as he scrambled to fish out the keys from his pocket with his free hand.

It took a few moments of fumbling before he managed to get the door open. It was a small room, just enough to fit a couch and a desk, which was pretty much all he needed. He would escape to this room when he had paperwork to do and the music downstairs was way too loud for him to be able to accomplish anything within its immediate vicinity.

Fortunately the couch was right behind the door and he was able to finally lay Hermione down, much to the relief of his aching shoulder. Draco glanced around for something to cover her with, and, finding nothing, decided just to take off his robes and put it over her.

Merlin, what am I doing? he sighed inwardly. He gazed at her face and thought about what he had said to Parvati. It had not been a lie when he'd said that Hermione wasn't his type, but he hadn't mentioned that he was also starting to feel oddly protective of her. Maybe it was because he'd seen her go through so much, or the fact that he knew he was directly responsible for it. Certainly it couldn't be that he was starting to develop feelings for her. There was no way that would happen.

But despite telling himself that, he couldn't help but be annoyed at how helpless she was. She had passed out in a place where anyone could have taken advantage of her - though of course she had been lucky that she had chosen his bar. Not only did his bar generally attract decent folk, there was also the fact that he was the owner. He tried to imagine what could have happened if she was in a dingier place, and felt a queasy feeling rise in his stomach.

It doesn't matter if you think you like her, a nasty little part of his brain reminded him. If she ever finds out what you'd done, she would never forgive you - let alone love you.

Draco shook his head. There was no point thinking about it now; she would be out of his life soon enough. And probably back with Weasley. But of course that was none of his business.

He placed a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, and took her pulse to make sure she could be left alone. Then, without a backward glance, he opened the door and headed back into the bar.

xxx-xxx

It took quite a while longer for Hermione to wake up this time, and when she finally did, it was on a couch in someplace she didn't recognize. There was a set of robes draped over her like a blanket, and she put them on, shivering a little. She wandered over to the window behind a delicate mahogany desk, and was surprised to see the bustle of Diagon Alley below. Clearly, she was still at whatever bar she had gone to last night.

There was a dull throbbing in her skull that she hadn't noticed until now, and she grimaced, rubbing her temples. Hermione decided that she was lucky that it was all she had to show for what she drank last night. It was vague, but she could recall the countless colorful drinks that kept appearing on their table, and the taste left in her mouth told her that she wasn't merely a spectator. She checked her handbag for anything that would lessen the hangover but it was a mess. Coins from her purse had fallen out into the bottom, and had mixed with business cards, spare tampons and whatever else she'd thrown in there but had forgotten about. Hermione dug around for a while but to no avail.

Well, it made sense. She hadn't expected to get that drunk, or to wake up the next morning somewhere other than home.

And speaking of home, it was probably a good idea for her to get back to it. But first, she had to find whoever it was that had been so kind as to house her for the night.

She packed up her handbag, did one last check to make sure she had everything that she had left the house with, and then opened the door to the office. Going through the door led to her a flight of wooden stairs. Tentatively, Hermione went down, feeling for some reason like a burglar trying to escape. But surely there was no reason for her to think that way.

The bar that was at the bottom of the stairs was indeed the one she had gone to. However, whereas last night it had been full of people, music and life, it was now devoid of anyone. Except for the man standing behind the bar, deeply engrossed in some paperwork.

She got a little closer and almost dropped her bag when she realized that it was, in fact, Draco.

Should've known, a voice told her. You knew he owned a bar somewhere around here. And what bar owner in their right mind - who isn't secretly a rapist - would let a perfect stranger spend the night in his office?

Hermione wanted to slap herself. Was there no end to the list of compromising and unsavory situations that Malfoy would see her in? She had never even let Ron or Harry see her drunk - it was fairly easy, since she rarely drank anyway - but now not only had she been stone drunk in Malfoy's bar, she had passed out as well. Who knew what she might have done? Or... what he might have done to her?

She suppressed a shudder, and took a deep breath before gingerly approaching the bar. "G-good morning," she stammered.

"Oh, you're up," said Draco, looking up from whatever he was reading. "Finally."

"Well, excuse me for needing sleep," she retorted.

He brushed a hand through his hair, amused. "I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't die of alcohol poisoning in your sleep, considering how much you drank last night."

"Um... how much did I drink?" asked Hermione.

Draco glanced over at her and laughed at the worried expression on her face. Then, abruptly, his face straightened. "You puked on me. That's how much."

She gaped at him. "A-are you sure?"

"I'm not having a go at you, if that's what you mean. You can ask Parvati, she was there too."

"Oh Merlin. I'm so sorry," she groaned, putting her face into her hands. She could feel the heat of a blush spreading through her cheeks, and she shook her head. How could she have let herself go so easily? Now Parvati would probably be angry at her for ruining her night. And after she had been so kind as to invite her, too...

"... And then she had the nerve to offload you on me," Draco scowled as he tapped at his calculator. "I told her she should have been keeping an eye on you. You probably shouldn't drink with that bunch anymore if you don't want to pass out everytime."

Hermione stared.

"What?" he said, annoyed.

"Are you... worried about me?"

Draco's hand jerked, making the calculator clack loudly against the table. "No, I'm not bloody worried about you. I'm just telling you not to be a liability."

"Now now, Draco," she said, leaning across his table and smirking at him. "No need to be bashful. We're all adults here."

"You need to stop doing that," he said, glancing away.

"Doing what? Teasing you?"

He shrugged and looked her in the eye. "You wouldn't want to see my jinx repertoire, now would you?"

She simply grinned. "Well, why don't you show me. I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."

There was a flurry of movement, and the next moment Hermione found her face a centimeter from Draco's, his hand grasping her chin. "You need to stop being so bloody vulnerable in front of me all the time," he said, his eyelids half-mast.

Hermione opened her mouth, but no snarky remark came out. She could only stare into his eyes and count his blonde eyelashes as she tried to distract herself from the fact that this was happening at all. Her heart was thumping painfully against her ribcage; in fact, he could probably hear it too. How could he not? It sounded like cannon shots to her.

Then, suddenly, he broke into a smirk and let go of her. She stumbled backwards and almost fell on her backside but was saved from utter humiliation by a bar stool. "How was that? Pretty effective, wasn't it?" he said as he looked down again and continued working on his accounts.

"What the hell was that?" she screeched at him. "It wasn't a jinx, it was sexual harassment, you- you sexual deviant!"

"It's not sexual harassment if you liked it," said Draco mildly.

"I did not- why, I never-" she spluttered, flushing pink. "Argh! You're such a jerk!"

"Yes, I know. Now sod off," he said, waving a hand. "I expect you'll need quite a while to recover from this traumatic event."

He waited a while, pretending to look busy until she would inevitably storm out and slam the door. When a minute passed and he didn't hear any sign of movement, he looked back up and was amazed to see her still standing there, looking sheepish.

"I know you're trying to get rid of me, and I understand that, but..." Hermione tugged at her hair, embarrassed. "I feel bad for making you have to take care of me. And throwing up on you. I swear I didn't plan it."

Draco sighed. "Don't worry about it. Really. You can go home."

But he had already seen the determined gleam in her eyes. "Why don't I help you with your accounts?" she offered, and he rolled his eyes. "No, really. I remembered you were always pretty bad at maths."

"I was never bad at ma-"

By then she was already by his side, poring over his papers. "Hmm. You've miscalculated those wages. And also, you have to add this one, not subtract it."

He tried to snatch the papers away, but her hand was firm on them, so in an act of defiance he snatched the calculator instead. Not that it made any difference - he should have known that she wouldn't even need a calculator. Appearing not to have noticed it was gone, Hermione was intently adding up all the figures, muttering to herself under her breath as she did so.

"Hermione, stop," pleaded Draco, trying another tactic. "I should really do this myself."

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, not looking up. "You can have a look at it after I'm finished if you're worried about not knowing what's going on. And besides, I'm just doing it this one time. Did you think I was going to become your personal accountant or something?"

"I could do with an accountant, but that's beside the point. You don't have to do this! Don't you have work today?"

"No, I have fridays off," replied Hermione. "Now go sit down and stop bothering me."

"You're the one bothering me," Draco grumbled, but did as he was told. He sat at the bar a few seats from her and opened the day's copy of The Daily Prophet, peering at Hermione now and then to make sure she wasn't doing anything she wasn't supposed to.

By the time he had reached the business section, Hermione was done. She did one last check and triumphantly handed the accounts back to him to read. Draco scanned them and grudgingly admitted that she had done perfectly in twenty minutes something that would have taken him at least an hour.

"Your handwriting is sloppy," he said, desperately trying to come up with something that would make him feel superior again. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to write the number seven? Yours look like ones."

She scowled. "Shut up. They still look a hell of a lot better than yours."

Satisfied that he had won that small battle, Draco collected all the papers and tidied them into a neat pile. "Well, this makes us even."

"I... guess I'll go home, then," said Hermione awkwardly.

There was a moment's silence where neither of them looked each other in the eye. Hermione could feel the gravity again - the one that made her not want to leave his presence. She told herself it was because she hadn't talked to someone like Draco in quite some time and she appreciated his intelligence and wit, even though it was often at her expense. But wasn't she supposed to hate him? He had, after all, totally ruined her relationship with Ron.

And yet, it was clear that Draco did not want her here. She didn't blame him; after all, if someone had puked on her and then had to be looked after for the night, she wouldn't be terribly please with them either.

Hermione glanced up at him and jolted a little when she saw that he was watching her. "You're welcome to visit my bar again," he said, and then smirked. "Of course, as long as you hold in the contents of your stomach next time. At least in front of me."

"You can count on that," she said darkly. "There's no way I'm ever getting that drunk again." She started for the door and was halfway there when she remembered something. "Um, your robes," she said, about to take them off and hand them back.

Draco held up a hand. "Keep them. I'm sure you wouldn't want to flash your candy-striped knickers at everyone, now would you?"

Instantly, Hermione flushed a deep red. "You saw my knickers? What the hell were you doing to me in my sleep?"

"For your information, that was second-hand intelligence from Parvati," he said, grinning. "Did you really think I would want to see them? Honestly, you should know better."

"I don't know what to think," she said, rolling her eyes. She fastened the robes around herself again, and opened the door. "Well, thanks again. And see you around."

"Goodbye, Hermione," Draco replied simply.

xxx-xxx

Because she was so familiar with the building in which she lived, Hermione would usually Apparate directly onto her floor, mere metres away from her front door. Of course every apartment had protective magic that prevented people from Apparating into the home, so that was about as lazy as she could get. But today she felt like she should work off her mild hangover by walking up the stairs. Not to mention it had been quite some time since she had last bothered to exercise.

By the time Hermione had reached the final flight of steps before her own floor, she could sense that somebody else was there. She thought nothing of it until she went up and saw, with some degree of shock, that it was Ron. He was sitting on the ground with his back against her door, dozing. Clearly he had been unable to unlock the charms she had put on the lock.

How long has he been here? she thought. She moved tentatively closer and squatted next to him, wondering what she should do. The sight of his sleeping face made her crack a smile, but that soon vanished when she reminded herself of what had happened. The thought of letting him in was unappealing, but she couldn't bring herself to just leave him out here.

"Ron," she said, shaking him by the shoulders. "Wake up, Ron."

He groaned, eyelids flickering. When he saw who it was, his eyes snapped open and he quickly wiped his mouth. "'Mione!"

"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply. "If you had the audacity to think you could just come waltzing back here-"

"'Mione, I'm so sorry," said Ron loudly, interrupting her. He pulled her into an embrace and she let him, too surprised to resist. "I wasn't thinking. I was so angry when I found that asshole in our house that everything went red and all logic went flying out the door."

She pushed him away, despite realizing how much she had missed the comfort of his arms. "Malfoy explained the situation to me. It wasn't his fault, really - and if you'd bothered to listen to our explanation, things wouldn't have turned out that way."

"I-" he started, and then faltered. "I know... I shouldn't have doubted you like that. But imagine you were in my shoes. If you had come home to see me with a half-naked Lavender, what would you think?"

"The situation is different," Hermione shot at him. "You and Lavender have a history. In case you forgot, Ronald, Draco and I are not exactly on the best of terms."

Ron looked bemused. "Draco? Since when did you call-"

"Anyway, I would have given you the benefit of the doubt," she continued hotly, realizing her slip of the tongue but not really caring at this stage. "Though not that it matters anymore. You showing up at Ginny's wedding with Lavender told me that much at least."

He flushed. "She approached me! A-and... I was going to tell her to get lost, but then she said that it would make you jealous, so I... besides, Malfoy was your date. How do you explain that?"

Hermione thought she was about to cry. "Did it ever occur to you, Ron, that maybe I was trying to do the same thing? That Malfoy wasn't actually my date? You know, I only brought him to clear up the misunderstanding, but after Lavender's proclaimation... well, suffice to say he was just defending me at that point. It didn't help that you also didn't bother to correct her-"

"Like I said, I was just trying to-"

"Did it make you feel like you won, when you saw my face when-"

"No!" Ron roared suddenly, and she stared at him, sniffling. "No, Hermione, it didn't," he said, softly now, and she fancied that she could see a tear in his eye.

But it wasn't enough to shake her. Hermione was well aware that it was rather hypocritical of her, being so mad at Ron when she herself had brought along Draco as her fake date for the same purpose of making him jealous. She had also neglected to mention the amount of the time she had spent with Draco in between the initial misunderstanding and now. Although there was nothing particularly worth hiding, for some reason she wanted to keep those moments to herself.

On the other hand, she couldn't imagine that Lavender would have just quietly stayed home during that time, either. She doubted Ron would have really cheated on her, but... the thought still niggled uncomfortably in the back of her head.

And then, ironically, her brain dredged up the memory of how Draco had nearly kissed her only a short while ago - and how she hadn't pushed him away. Oh, she certainly was hypocrisy at its finest. Hermione felt a faint blush crawl onto her cheeks, and she shook her head, trying to clear the recollection from her head.

"Look, Ron," she said, feeling her hangover throbbing in her brain as she spoke. "I think that... maybe we should have a break. Just for a couple of weeks. Once we've both cooled our heads, we can talk about it again. I'm sure by then this will all seem awfully petty, but right now..."

To her surprise, he nodded slowly. "To be honest, I've thought about it myself as well. It's been hard this past week without you, but I think it's a good idea."

Hermione found herself slightly irked that he hadn't even tried to argue against her proposal, but at the same time she felt a huge weight fall off her chest. Now that they had had the obligatory encounter in the aftermath of the drama, she felt like there was no longer an impending doom looming in the horizon for her to face. "Well... that's settled, then," she said awkwardly, standing up on legs that had almost fallen asleep.

"Yeah," said Ron. "I'll just go grab some of my things then, shall I?"

"I'm sorry for kicking you out like this," she said. "It's just tha-"

"No, it's fine," he replied, smiling wanly. "I understand. The Burrow is another home for us, remember. It's not like I'm camping out somewhere, freezing my balls off."

Hermione grinned, and let him in. "Take my bag. You know, the charmed one. You can fit whatever you need in there."

He packed in silence while she stood around, trying not to get in his way. Within minutes, he was done, and slung the bag over his shoulder with a grimace. "See you later, 'Mione," Ron said, on his way out. "You know where to find me."

"Yeah. I'll... talk to you later." She gave him a tense smile, and watched as he Disapparated away.

Hermione shut the door and leaned back against it. The tears came, as she expected; but at the same time, her heart was singing to her that this was the best thing she had done for herself all week.

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