Yes, I did have most of it written, but I obsess about things and go back over and over changing stuff, so I decided I needed to get it online and move on with the story! The updates will be slower now, it's entering unchartered territory!

I know how tragedy can hurt people, but I never wanted Hermione to be some helpless woman, so I'm glad you recognise that. She's making damaging choices, don't we all sometimes?

Chapter 20 Actions

The eyes she'd been searching followed her as she made her slightly stumbling way to the small, hidden terrace that most people didn't know was there. Stupid, idiot girl, the man holding on to her was slobbering all over her and he clearly had no qualms about the fact that she was half cut.

Fucking dress, fucking singing, fucking heels. All he'd wanted was a night away from sympathetic looks, instead he'd found himself acting like some kind of stalker. And he knew she knew, he'd seen her cast around for him when she was on the stage. The girl had instincts, he shouldn't forget that.

Not that her instincts were helping her out much right now. He'd seen her neck drink after drink and was fairly sure she was high as a kite on top of the booze. It's seemed she'd broken out in force tonight, great timing Hermione, just great.

He'd followed her out the door, jostled by a young wizard who turned around angry, and left subdued after meeting his eyes.

The air hit him with a welcome force, fresh and tangy from the river close by. This had always been his favourite time in London, 3 in the morning when the children were tucked up in bed and the weird and the wonderful came out to play. He'd spent countless hours in the last year walking the Embankment, pondering his life and his choices, trying to find a way to fit it all together into a happy ending, now he knew he wasn't going to get one.

Hermione's confidence was waning. The wall felt rough on her back, and not in a good way. Blaise's lips were trailing wet kisses down her neck in a move that usually had her begging for more. But the ground felt unsteady and this all felt rushed and she wasn't really sure who she was. Something was seriously wrong, there was something off in her mind and she knew it wasn't just the usual. She was beginning to feel weight pressing down on her, trying to tether her limbs. The word around her was blurring and pitching and the man in front of her didn't seem to see, or care, that she wasn't responding.

She pushed tentatively, but he didn't move away. Her reactions were slow now and she stood still for a while, eyes wondering the river view as he carried on what he obviously thought were irresistible moves.



For a full minute she stood outside herself and watched them together, saw them as others might. A drunk, uninterested girl being groped and pawed. Panic and bile rose up in her throat and she managed to push more forcefully this time.

"Blaise, no, stop... stop." Nothing, not a hint that he'd heard except the slight tightening of his grip on her waist.

She moved her hands up to his chest and really shoved now. "Get off me." She was loud, she knew, she'd be causing a scene if there was anyone there to witness it.

Blaise finally stood back, eyes dark and emotionless.

"Now now Granger, never took you for a prick tease. Don't start something you can 't finish little girl."

It was strange but it was those two little words, little girl, more than the unwanted attention, more than his imposing presence and more than the fact that he was taking another step towards her that really hit her. She felt the tears begin to fall.

"Don't call me that." The words came out as almost a whisper, but loud enough for him to hear. He smirked again, this time it gave her tingles of a different kind. The world was still spinning but the voice inside her telling her she was in trouble was louder and louder by the second.

He stepped towards her again and she tensed herself to fight him, not really sure if she could, but damn she'd go down trying. The last remaining sensible thought in her head asked her what the hell she'd been thinking, she didn't know this man, he wasn't the answer, and look where it had brought her; to a cold terrace where no one would hear her above the music inside, facing a man who seemed intent on some kind of harm, and all alone.

Blaise moved forward again. Any trace of the charming man she'd been dancing with earlier had faded, in its place there was a bleak look in his eyes, one that told her appealing to his better nature wasn't going to do her any favours.

She tried for authority but the words wouldn't come. For the first time, in a life full of battles and horror she found herself immobile with fear, struck dumb with terror by nothing but a man, trembling like a terrified child, and feeling like one.

Another step closer, another soulless smirk, and this time he was reaching for her, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, like an animal coming in for the kill. She closed her eyes, Merlin help her she closed her eyes, that terrified child had chosen to hide under the covers till the monster went away.

Braced for the touch that never came. She felt a woosh of air, heard the voice.

"Back the fuck off." And then it all went black.



All that remained was flashed of reality; the bright night sky, white pain on a hallway wall, not hers. Her head was swirling and lolling like a rag doll. She could hear the odd snippet of concerned conversation but couldn't make out the voices, couldn't make out anything.

"What the hell's happened..?"

"Merlin knows, lots of drugs, lots of vodka, but I think it's something more..."

"... was Blaise, maybe the drink..."

"...get her in the bathroom, cold shower should..."

She tried to fights against strong arms as they picked her up and carried her away, tried to protest against the sudden movement, but it was to no avail, nothing in her was working, her hands wouldn't obey her commands and her tongue refused to form the words she needed to speak.

Leave me alone, let me stay alone, don't need this, don't need you.

The shock of the cold water in her face and over her clothes jolted her awake fully and without a chance to fight it she emptied her guts on the shower floor, falling to her knees despite the hands which reached for her as she slumped to the ground.

"Fucking hell, she's a mess. I'm not staying for this." That was a voice she could recognise, her addled called out to him and for the first time her voice followed;

"Sirius..." her head rose to catch his eye and the nausea came back with a vengeance. There was nothing but disdain.

Well, maybe this would get rid of their little problem, there was no love left in those eyes... only anger.