Happy New Year!

JKR owns Harry Potter names and references


Having grown tired of listening to the murmuring voices of two men bicker through a wall, Hermione stood and made her way to her own bedroom in preparation of another night's restless sleep. Clearly it was going to take more than five minutes for Zabini to get through to Malfoy.

As she changed into her sleep bottoms and a tank top, she thought about how the anniversary of the Hogwarts battle was weeks away. It had been eight years since she had lost her innocence- eight years since she had taken a life rather than save one. The first year anniversary had been easy for her. She still suffered, but by that stage she had become so dependent upon her nightly sleep potion that she had spent the afternoon, evening and next morning in a blissful stupor oblivious to the pain around her.

The second anniversary had been the same, and she had failed to attend any memorial services that had been held or any events organized by the remains of the Order. Looking back, she could tell Harry and Ron had been worried about her coping strategy, but they knew she could not sleep without dreaming of the atrocities she had seen. For two years they had let her develop a dependency upon her sleeping potions; but what they did not know was that she had frequently changed potions before settling on the strongest one prescribed by Healers.

She was Hermione Granger; in the aftermath of the war what she asked for, she got.

Both of her boys had suffered immensely after the war, but they had handled it in their own ways. Harry had Ginny and as an extension, the Weasley family. Ron had his family and despite the loss of one of the Weasley boys, the family unit grew stronger and closer. For Hermione however, the Weasley's could not act as surrogate parents. Her parents were still very much alive, and as much as she wished it, the Weasley's could not act in their place. It ate at her every day that she had wiped their memories.

She had done it for their safety and she knew it was the best she could have done, but truthfully, she had not expected to come out of the war alive. And there had been many close calls to prove to her that she was in the centre of all the danger. Yet despite Mrs. Weasley's coddling, Hermione suffered in silence and mourned the loss of her own parents. She would never go to Australia; it would be too painful for her to deal with. They would not recognize her, would not remember her. Memory charms were irreversible. They had to be, or her old Professor Lockhart would have recovered from his own untimely memory wipe.

As it was, on the third anniversary Harry and Ron had found her naked on the ground in her shower. She had hardly eaten the day of the third anniversary and so the potion that she had downed before her shower had worked in half the time it normally took. By the time they had found her, the water had run cold and her body was starting to suffer the effects of hypothermia.

When she had recovered the next afternoon, Harry and Ron had cornered her about her continued use of sleeping potions. Everyone had grieved and were moving on with their lives; everyone except Hermione they had said. It was time for her to move on and grieve in a better way than sleeping her life away they had told her.

And there, covering the surface of her vanity table was her small stock of sleeping potions. She had watched with wide eyes as Harry levitated them with a flick of his wand and directed them out of her bedroom door. She had scrambled out of her bed and despite her nausea, she had attempted to chase after him, screaming at him to stop.

Ron- her lovable dopey boyfriend- however had stepped in her way. He tried to be soothing. He tried to calm her and hold her, but Hermione was having none of it. He was blocking her way to Harry and she needed him out of the picture. With a strength she did not know she possessed, she had slammed him against the wall and ducked under his arms, grabbing one of his Bludger bats that was leaning against the hallway wall and taking off after Harry.

She had reached the bathroom just in time to see her best friend pouring the contents of her bottles down the drain. He maintained eye contact with her as she stood there gasping for breath and unable to move as the consequences of his actions made themselves clear in her head.

Those memories she had been avoiding for three years were going to come back and haunt her. The screams, the lights, the running. The pain. Bellatrix carving her arm and Dobby dying. The fight at Godric's Hollow. The bodies of the slain. Harry's limp body when she had thought him dead. All the things she had been doping her subconscious for were going to return.

It had been no more than five seconds since she had made eye contact with Harry before Ron had come barging up the hallway clearly no longer dazed from Hermione's assault. His presence was like a light switch, flicking her body back to life. Seeing Ron as the most immediate threat, she had swung the bat- it had been held slack in her hands unforgotten until that moment- up into the side of his head. It had met his head with such force that he had crumpled to the ground. As she had watched Ron's body fall with a sort of detached interest, glass shattering behind her had caused her to whirl around in panic, the bat raised high in defence. Harry had abandoned the glass vials upon seeing her attack on Ron, and the sounds of the glass shattering upon the marble bench top and tiled floors was a sort of symphony to Hermione's ears.

Everything had been moving in slow motion for Hermione that day. She had stood in the same spot staring at the shattered glass and light blue liquid fanning out over her bathroom floor for what seemed like eons. Harry's snap of disapparation went ignored and even the rumbling in her stomach had been ignored. She was only brought out of her numb shock when her hand had let go of the Bludger that it had been clutching. The sound of the wooden bat had startled her so much that she had blinked her eyes twice and looked around.

It wasn't until she realised Harry and Ron were both missing that the events if the past few minutes- because despite time not meaning anything, only a few minutes had flown by- had clicked together.

She had hit Ron. She had hit Ron hard enough for him to crumple to the ground. Suddenly the dawning realization that her boyfriend could seriously be hurt became too much for her and she had collapsed to the ground. She had hit her best friend with a bat because of her need for her sleeping potion? It wasn't hard for her to have got more, but the mere fact that she had reacted so strongly to seeing Harry pour the contents away had been a strong indicator to her that she had needed help.

It had taken her a few more minutes to pull herself together enough to floo to St Mungo's. Five minutes later and she had discovered all she had needed to know; Ron was alive, but he was seriously concussed and the Healer's were worried about brain bleeding. She had not spoken to Harry but rather a Healer who did not know her part in the injury. The story Harry had told the Healers suggested that Ron had fallen down a flight of stairs. Hermione knew better, and she knew Harry well enough to know that he would never talk to her again after this episode.

Once she had been sure of Ron's condition, she had approached the reception desk and asked for information on the Hospital's Drug Rehabilitation programs. Her assault on Ron would not go unpunished she knew, but with all things that Hermione Granger did, she started them early with a determination to succeed.

It took many months for her to get over the effects of the sleeping potions and she still struggled to fall asleep naturally sometimes, but Hermione refused to let her addiction control her life. It was during her time with the rehabilitation wing of St Mungo's that her interest in the field began to grow. The staff were wary of her initial interest, but given her persistence and inability to accept the answer 'no', Hermione eventually managed to start training as a Healer. It was her own personal goal to help others like her, even if they were few and far between in the Wizarding world given the stigma that was given to people who abused drugs.

She herself suffered from this stereotyping, but after being Harry Potter's friend for so many years, she ignored the media and the speculation about her ability to be an adequate Healer.

Her own rehabilitation changed her life.

And she was determined to help Draco Malfoy change his.


A knock on her bedroom door pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. Blaise was standing at the threshold regarding her with his dark eyes.

"Draco is pretty pissed Granger. But I think I've talked him into cooperating with you," he said as he made his way into her bedroom. Sitting next to her on the bed, he nudged her softly with his shoulder. "It's not going to be easy, but I'm sure Hogwarts Golden Girl will manage to deal with a 25 year old spoilt brat."

Hermione gave Zabini a small smile and rocked her body into his before standing up. She gestured for Zabini to follow her out of the room deciding that now was the perfect time to lay down some ground rules. Even if he was being coerced, his cooperation would make her job much easier, but she knew that only he could change on his own terms. She knew how hard it was going to be for him, but was determined that she would not rest until she succeeded.

Zabini followed her out of the room and the two of them made their way to Malfoy. The door was open for a change and Hermione knew that this was something she would need to drill into Malfoy.

No locked doors.

Walking into the room, Hermione noticed Malfoy's face contort into a sneer that would have done his eleven year old self proud. He was sitting up in the bed and had his arms around his legs. "I don't want to see you right now Mudblood."

Blaise- who had been trailing behind her until this point- came forwards and roughly cuffed Malfoy on the back of his head. "Draco! I've told you not to use that word. How thick do you need to be?"

Muttering darkly about traitors, Malfoy sunk back into the mattress and continued to glare at Hermione. After hitting him, Blaise stepped back and gestured for Hermione to do her thing.

"So Bla-" upon seeing the flash of Malfoy's eyes at her intended use of Zabini's first name, Hermione hurriedly backtracked and corrected herself. "Zabini has told me that you are willing to cooperate with me?"

Malfoy continued to glare at her and refused to acknowledge she had spoken. Sighing, Hermione warily ran her right hand down her face. Maybe cooperating merely meant ignoring her? Deciding to continue anyway despite Malfoy's lack of confirmation, Hermione approached the bed slowly as she said, "We have to establish some ground rules first alright? Now the best way for us to both be happy about these rules are for us to both have a say in them. So we can do this in one of two ways." Malfoy's glare was becoming chilling and Hermione resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her body. "First, I can write all the rules I think would work well for us, or you can help me come up with them right here and right now."

Malfoy continued his silence, but Hermione could see the intelligence behind his grey eyes and knew he was beginning to plot. Deciding to start with the second option, Hermione sat down in the seat located near the bed and pulled out a pad of Muggle paper and a Muggle pen from the chest of drawers. Noticing Zabini's interest in the items, Hermione held them up and said, "Muggle stuff."

Malfoy's scoff of disproval drew Hermione's attention away from the fascinated stare of the other Slytherin in the room. Taking a leaf out of his own book, Hermione ignored Malfoy's response and instead continued with her original objective. "So. I know that I would prefer for us to both contribute to these rules Malfoy, but if you don't want to have any say, then what I say goes. Now, my first rule is that there are to be no locked doors in this house. Besides from when either of us are sleeping or one of us are to use the bathroom, doors are to remain open at all times." As she said this, she gently printed the rule down on the paper.

Before she could even look up from writing down the number 2, Malfoy spoke. His voice was cold and he spoke in a sharp tone. "Fine then. But you are not allowed to come in and pester me at all times. I see enough of you as it is."

Raising her eyebrow at his demand, Hermione merely nodded and jotted down, "Housemates to leave each other alone." Maybe the continued years of drugs had addled with his brain if that was the best rule he could come up with. Neither of them would have associated with the other unless absolutely necessary without a rule anyway.

"Well, in that case, my next rule is that all communication- whether floo or owl- is to be done out in the open in the lounge room. Under no circumstances are you to have an owl in this room Malfoy."

To Hermione's surprise, it wasn't just Draco who reacted to this, Zabini did too. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been lounging against and stepped forward, however it was Malfoy's outrage that drowned out any words that Zabini may have said.

"I think th-"

"What? That's pathetic Granger. This is not a police State. I have a right to owl communication; you can't stop me!"

"And if you had of heard me properly instead of paying all your attention on trying to blow up my wall with your glare-" Hermione had to pause for a short moment to shoot a warning look at a sniggering Zabini, "-you would have heard me say you can have owls... Just read them and send them in the lounge room."

"But that's completely unfair! I have a right to-" Draco didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Hermione stood up and put her hands on her hips as she looked down at him laying in bed coldly.

"I'm not stupid Malfoy. I know that some dealers supply via owl post. I will not, under any circumstances, have drugs in my house."

Silence reigned for a short moment while Hermione glared at Malfoy.

Blaise had settled himself back against the wall watching the show waiting to step in if needed. Draco on the other hand quirked an eyebrow at the woman who was staring at him and raised himself into a sitting position. Shifting to get comfortable, he briefly inspected his fingernails before bestowing upon the Muggle Born words that would undoubtedly set him free from her clutches.

With malice dripping from every word, Draco drawled, "Scared Mudblood? Scared you'll give into temptation? Scared that you'll lose control?" Taking a moment to pause, Draco took a good look at the woman in front of him. He knew his words were affecting her. He just had to drive the final nail in. Like this. "Who knows, maybe you will actually kill the Weasel this time."

WHAP!

Draco's face twisted to the side at the force of Hermione Granger's palm to the side of his face.

The woman was seething. Never in all the times she had interacted with him had he ever made her this angry. The emotion she had felt that time in third year when she had slapped him was nothing compared to the emotion that was currently drowning her vision in red. Her chest heaved with barely contained aggression as she stared down at the blonde haired man defiling her spare bed. From the corner of her eye she was made aware of movement but she dismissed it as all her attention was focused on Draco Malfoy.

With a low voice, Hermione Granger sealed Draco Malfoy's fate. "How dare you say that to me. I don't like you Malfoy, and I don't even know why I offered to help you. But this, right here, is the end." Her words were short and sharp and her limbs shook from the barely restrained magic that was itching to unleash itself on the man in front of her. "Get out of my house now before I do something I will truly regret."

Suddenly, Hermione let out a yelp of protest as a pair of arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her shoulders. During her tirade at Draco, Zabini had noticed something was not right with the Witch. Her body was vibrating and the air above her skin was beginning to glow a soft red colour signifying only one thing; a build up of magic. With Draco's words and the anger they had sparked, the Witch was too focused on Draco to notice her own body's signals.

By wrapping his arms around her, he managed to distract her enough for her anger to slightly ebb away into distress. Zabini knew Hermione Granger was a powerful Witch, but he did not want a demonstration of just how powerful while surrounded by four walls and a roof. He wasn't entirely sure what Draco had meant when he had talked about a weasel dying, but he knew that it was a deliberate attempt to provoke the Witch.

Draco Malfoy had always been a cunning Slytherin, and he knew just which buttons to press to get what he wanted. And in this case, he wanted out.

Despite her forgiving nature and her empathy towards others, Zabini knew that this time Draco had over stepped the boundary. There was nothing he would be able to do to convince the Witch to help Draco anymore.

When all was said and done, Draco Malfoy was as good as dead the moment he hammered in that final nail.