Hermione's chest felt light and she was having difficulty breathing properly… but somehow in a nice way. It was exhilarating being so detached from her mind. Her body was doing what it wanted and it felt good.

With a deep sigh, Hermione relaxed into Draco's chest, content in the firm and warm embrace… but then she froze.

Draco! Hermione's brain suddenly screamed at her. She tore herself away from him and flinched at his expression. It was unfamiliar and wrong. But most of all, it was too intense.

Lost for words, Hermione started to step away from him. She felt sick. She couldn't believe that she had done that. Kissed someone who wasn't her boyfriend… kissed Draco Malfoy...

She had to get out of there.

So without a word, Hermione Apparated away, leaving Draco standing in the middle of the common room, dazed and alone.

…

It was good that they no longer needed to use traditional Apparition to transport themselves places, as Hermione had disregarded all of the rules in her flustered state.

Appearing in the middle of Hogsmeade, Hermione didn't understand where she was at first. She had just needed to get out, and this must have been the first place she had thought of.

The heat of the day had long disappeared and Hermione shivered in her uniform in the open air. She quickly transfigured her shirt and skirt into a more suitable jumper and trousers. The immediate relief was soon replaced by the same discomfort that had led Hermione to Apparate there.

"I just don't want to think!" she ground out, with a stop of her foot.

The crash of The Three Broomsticks door opening and a group of people spilling out startled her. But it gave her an idea. What do people do when they don't want to think?

Hermione walked determinedly across the street towards the bar. Tonight, for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was aiming to get absolutely smashed.

…

Around six hundred miles away, Harry was way ahead of her. He wasn't certain how long his eyesight had been swimming for, but he definitely knew that it was because of the muggle alcohol Ron had brought in.

Hours ago, Harry had told Regulus about the past two decades as best he could. It had been hard for all three teens and between Harry and Ron, they just about managed to cover everything. The alcohol had helped though. As had smashing up Orion and Walburga Black's wedding china. That had especially helped.

They had left the kitchen in absolute turmoil and retired to the living room about an hour ago. Harry couldn't remember what they were talking about anymore, but Regulus would not shut up. However, he could barely hear him over Ron's snoring.

"What?" Harry called for the fifth time. When Regulus began to repeat what he said, Harry sighed in frustration and cast a silencio on Ron. "Finally," he sighed.

"Should have done it earlier," Regulus said, visibly sliding down his seat.

"Why didn't you?"

Regulus shrugged. "You might have found it very Death Eater-y of me."

Harry waved his hand. "No waaaaaaay. You tried to do a good thing. We forgive you, mate." He burped.

"Still got the mark though." Then, Regulus began to claw at him arm, as if he could scratch the now grey skull and snake from his skin.

Harry tried to stand, but instead got his feet tangled on the edge of the Persian rug in front of the couch. "Woah," he said, slumping back down onto the couch. "None of that. Not everyone with the mark was one of them."

Regulus snorted. "Yeah, I know, Severus. What a dick. Of course he had to be a brilliant double, tri-triple agent or whatever."

Harry burped again. "He really was a dick, wasn't he?"

"Even to his friends," Regulus said while nodding.

Harry's next burp made him feel a little ill. "I think I'm gonna have to go to bed," he said, successfully standing up this time. The floor was spinning and it looked like liquid. It was definitely time for bed.

"See you tomorrow, then."

"Nigh'," Harry said. He was at the door when Regulus spoke again.

"Can we tell Kreacher 'bout my res-res-re-cu-rek-shon tomor…? Cause I'm fucking starving." Regulus' eyes had been closed for the whole statement and he was almost horizontal in his seat.

Harry laughed. "Yeah."

In his state, Harry failed to notice that his attempt to close the door softly was unsuccessful. However, the two now snoring boys inside remained undisturbed.

…

Hermione hopped up onto one of the bar stools near the door and waved to Rosmerta, who was further down the bar.

"Hermione!" Rosmerta approached her with a smile. "What a pleasure to see your lovely face in here. What can I get you?"

"It's nice to see you too. Can I have a red wine, please?" Hermione shook her head. "Actually, no, can I have the bottle?"

Rosmerta's eyebrows rose. "How many glasses?"

"One," Hermione said without meeting Rosmerta's eyes.

Rosmerta probably wasn't judging her but Hermione couldn't help but think she was. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. She took a look around the bar. It was pretty quiet. However, one quick sweep was enough to notice a familiar shade of red hair. Hermione froze for a moment, but when she saw that it was George Weasley on his own, she relaxed.

"Actually, Rosmerta," Hermione said, turning back to the bar. "Make that two glasses."

"Right away. You have a good night, beautiful."

Hermione smiled and took the bottle and glasses. "Thank you. Just open a tab for me tonight, please."

Rosmerta winked.

The glasses and bottle clinked as Hermione slid off the stool. She kept her head down as she headed to the back of the bar through the maze of mostly empty tables and chairs. Nobody acknowledged her.

"Fancy some company?" she said as she reached George's booth.

George visibly jumped at her appearance. "Shit, Hermione, I wouldn't need company if I'd died of fright, which I almost bloody did."

Hermione smiled and slid into the seat in front of him. She put down the two glasses and began to pour a generous amount of wine into each. She saw George look down the bar.

"You here on your own?"

Hermione nodded. "No idea why," she said. But then she shook her head. "No, that's not true. I do have an idea but I don't really want to talk about it."

George raised his eyebrows and picked up the wine glass. "Thanks," he muttered, and took a sip. "What can we talk about then?"

"What are you doing way out here so late?"

George flinched. "Can we not talk about that either, actually?"

"Of course," Hermione replied. She smiled and took a sip of her wine. It was smooth and tart.

George leaned forward and Hermione was immediately wary of the new glow in his eyes.

"If neither of us feel like talking, why don't we play a game?"

"What kind of game?" Hermione asked warily.

George leaned back and smirked. "A drinking one."

Hermione opened her mouth to decline but instead paused. Why not? she asked herself. Tonight was the night to try a drinking game. Plus, she was no longer drinking alone; she was safer in George's company.

"Sure," she said, shuffling in her seat and smiling. "Let's do it."

…

Draco was pacing.

He was also simultaneously running his hands through his hair, making it look almost Potter-like. But Draco did not know that yet.

There were thirteen steps from the fireplace to the dorms staircase, and seven from there to the bay windows. Draco was counting while pacing. His brain wasn't busy enough to drown out his thoughts, but he still tried to ignore the guilt that was gnawing away at his stomach.

That horrible feeling had overcome him as soon as his frustration has disappeared after Hermione's Disapparition. He didn't often feel that way. How did normal people cope with guilt?

Draco was on step number eighteen from the bay windows to the portrait hole, when a noise at the dorm staircase interrupted him.

"Do I want to know why you are counting aloud like a madman?"

Draco shot a look over his shoulder and saw Blaise standing on the bottom step, tying up his dressing gown.

"Worried about me?" Draco asked.

Blaise walked slowly to the sofa next to Draco and sat down. "Have you even slept in your dorm bed yet?"

Draco frowned. He hadn't. He turned to face Blaise. "What are you trying to imply?"

"I'm not trying to imply anything. I'm directly implying that something is going on with you."

The two boys stared at each other for a few seconds.

"Why should I tell you anything?" Draco asked.

It was very uncharacteristic for Blaise to show concern. Sure, they had been friends for a few years, but not this kind of friends. Draco was honestly confused.

Blaise sighed. "We're not kids in Slytherin anymore, Draco. We're allowed to show concern and be actual friends in the real world."

Draco blinked. Blaise's directness caught him off-guard. It was such a… Gryffindor trait and that was something Draco really wasn't used to. Thinking in Houses was still automatic for Draco and he knew he had stop, but after so many years of being taught to do that, it was challenging.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"True friends believe anything," Blaise replied, teasingly.

"I kissed Hermione," Draco blurted out.

Draco froze, anticipating Blaise's reaction. But when Blaise sighed and leaned back into the couch, Draco relaxed. Not the reaction he had expected, but a better one than he had imagined.

"To be honest," Blaise said after a moment. "The only thing I'm surprised about is that you're not in the hospital wing."

"Will she still do something?" Draco asked, genuinely worried. He had experienced the wrath of Hermione Granger many times in his life and Draco definitely did not want to ever again. Did she hate him for what he'd done?

"Not if you keep it a secret, I suppose."

Draco exhaled sharply. "It's not like I can tell anyone; people would actually kill me for this. And that's not even including Weasley."

"Says something about their relationship doesn't it?" Blaise said quietly.

Draco frowned. Even when he thought he'd hated Hermione, he had known that she was way too good for Ron Weasley. But despite that he had always assumed that their relationship would work anyway. The thought of their possible failing relationship coming to an end made Draco's chest glow in hope.

"Oh fucking hell, Draco, you really like her."

"Huh? What?" Draco looked back at Blaise, who was staring at him with a look of disgust.

"If you could see your face right now, even you would slap yourself. You fucking sap." Blaise stood up and shook his head. "Look, I'm only going to say this once so listen: Draco, be careful."

Draco opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but Blaise held his hand up.

"This is the start of a possible truly awful situation, so whatever you do from literally this second will determine just how badly it goes. So just don't do anything stupid, Draco."

"What counts as stupid?" Draco asked.

The raise of Blaise's eyebrows told Draco that asking questions like that one counts as stupid.

Draco nodded. "Sure, don't be stupid. I can do that."

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Merlin, this is going to be hard work."

Draco would quickly come to realise what Blaise meant.

…

"Down in one you baby!" was what Hermione thought she had said. However, it had sounded more like: "Own in wa oo baby!"

George seemed to understand her as he followed her instructions and emptied the rest of the white alcohol in his glass into his mouth. Hermione laughed as he gagged.

"What the fuck did you order?" he choked out.

Hermione's shrug was very exaggerated. "I remember seeing them do shots of this on Eastenders… vakka… no, vokka? Don't remember."

George coughed. "Merlin. Your turn."

He poured a generous amount of vodka into Hermione's short tumbler. The Three Broomsticks didn't have shot glasses, apparently.

"Okay," George said when he finished. "Have you ever… cheated on someone?! Oh wait… that's a terrible one, you've only really dated Ron..."

But Hermione had already downed the three finger vodka. She really should have seen this one coming.

"Hermione?"

She silently began to pour his drink.

"That one kinda needs an explanation."

Hermione put the bottle back down on the table. George's face was blurry. His blue eyes were awfully sparkly in this light… She blinked. She was so not ready to tell that story yet. And definitely not drunkenly to Ron's brother.

"I… I…" Hermione looked down into her empty glass.

"Look," George said with a sigh. "I'm not judging and I won't tell, promise. Just, if that's because you came here tonight, I think you need to talk about it. Plus, there's a chance I might not remember it."

Hermione looked up to see him wink. She smiled and let out a shaky breath. George reached across the table and took her hands. His rough looking hands were surprisingly soft. Hermione sighed.

"I'm going to break up with Ron," she muttered in one breath.

Wait what? Hermione couldn't believe what she had said herself. She hadn't thought about it before, but as soon as she heard it aloud, Hermione knew that it was the right decision. It was not because of Draco. Not entirely.

What had happened earlier was now a secret Hermione was going to take to the grave. The backlash was something she could not put herself nor even Draco through. And it would absolutely break Ron's heart – which Hermione could not stand to ever do.

Breaking up with him might seem like the end of the world for him, but Ron would get over it and they could go back to being friends. But telling him that she cheated on him with Draco Malfoy would make him never speak to her again.

Hermione couldn't tell whether she had sobered up insanely quickly, or if she was still drunk and all of these decisions seemed rational through vodka goggles. Regardless, she had stunned George into silence.

"Geor…" she started, but he leaned across the table and cut her off.

"I don't think you should have told me that," he whispered.

He sat back against the booth and let go of her hands. Hermione felt colder all over as the warmth of his contact left.

"I need another drink," George continued as he quickly downed the drink Hermione had poured for him. He spluttered. "Maybe I don't," he coughed. "Merlin, that's wrank."

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly. She wasn't sure if she was apologising for choosing such a lethal drink, or for what she had said – or both.

George sighed heavily. "Right, Hermione, I'm going to forget what you told me about my brother if you stop feeling so guilty for whatever it is. Who gives a fuck? Life happens and we've all been through enough together to support each other no matter what."

Hermione let out a deep breath. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt, but his words were helpful nonetheless. If she didn't tell and if Draco kept his mouth shut, no one would get hurt. She decided in that drunken moment, George was completely right.

"Who gives a fuck?" she repeated, with a small smile growing on her face.

George smirked and began to pour two more drinks. "That's it, girl."

…

Hannah was beginning to get very worried. She had just come back upstairs from the common room, and had seen Hermione's things still scattered where she had been sitting now five hours ago. Hannah had passed Draco and Blaise on the way downstairs, and Hermione had not been with them. So where was she?

By the looks of her scattered things, it was as if she had just disappeared. Hannah knew that Hermione was a grown woman and had the right to a private life, but Hannah was still worried. If they had learned anything while being at Hogwarts, it was that anything could happen.

But there was no possible way she could check the whole bloody castle. Hannah knew she was likely overreacting, and she wasn't going to organise a manhunt on a hunch. If only there was a quick way to see if Hermione was somewhere in the castle…

A figurative lightbulb appeared above Hannah's head. The presence and welfare of the students was one of Helga Hufflepuff's main priorities; therefore, surely Hannah's magic would be able to connect to that and she could perform a spell to find Hermione?

Hannah stood up from the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and raised her hands. Instead of doing an incantation, Hannah tried to feel for Hermione by extending her mind. It was strange but Hannah knew what she was doing was right.

This was confirmed when she opened her eyes and a small blue wisp of light appeared in front of her; but it immediately faded away. Too started by its manifestation, Hannah didn't realise what it meant until a few moments later. Hermione wasn't in Hogwarts. Again.

That's it, Hannah thought determinedly. She was getting outside help this time.

…

Regulus woke up groggily, and very thirsty. But he remained lying down (or whatever semi-horizontal position this was) for a while; both his stomach and head were spinning. He took deep breaths to try and make it go away. I will not vomit, he told himself sternly. Gentlemen do not vomit on their living room floor.

It subsided after what Regulus decided was too long, so he sat up slowly. His neck was aching from being cramped and draped across the chair. Ron was still snoring silently. It was also still dark out, so Regulus assumed that he hadn't actually slept for long. He guessed that it was around two in the morning.

Regulus groaned. No wonder he hadn't slept for long; this chair had made him feel pains in places he didn't know could feel pain. He stood up and stretched his whole body out, letting his joints and back crack satisfyingly.

He let out a huge sigh. Had he really been dead for twenty years? Looking down at himself, Regulus couldn't see anything which suggested he'd been a corpse. Maybe he was in a perpetual state of shock, but Regulus just didn't feel resurrected. He scoffed. What a thing to feel; but then again, the world of magic was astounding to even those who lived in it.

Regulus shook his head and began to make his way down to the kitchen. It wasn't the missing twenty years of his life which shook him up; it was the people that he would never see again. He closed the door softly behind him and cast a lumos to lighten the dark hall.

From what Harry had said, it was as if Regulus had missed the most difficult part and then returned when it was good again. He physically ached with sadness at the reminder of his brother's wasted life. Regulus wasn't the one who deserved the second chance at life. Especially so when it felt as though he'd simply had a long nap.

There was a potion for him to take because of all the lake water that had been in his lungs, but other than that and a slight burn in his chest if he overexerted himself, it was exactly as if he'd woken up from a nap. They said that future time travel didn't exist – but if that wasn't what this was, Regulus would eat his own cloak.

He had a feeling that he would need to change very quickly if he was to make it in this new world. Then, just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Regulus turned around and almost had a heart attack in his own hall. He yelled in fright and jumped back against the wall at the sudden appearance of a small young blonde girl at the entrance to the kitchen.

She turned around and jumped back herself. "Oh!" she said in the most adorable voice Regulus had ever heard in his life. "I'm sorry! This is where Harry Potter lives, right?"

Regulus gaped at her. He had known he'd be right about change, but boy did he underestimate how weird this new world was and just how soon he would need to adapt to it.

…

Hannah felt uncomfortable. This had been a terrible decision. All she'd wanted to do was help Hermione, and in her mind finding Harry was the best chance at that. Hermione had mentioned Grimmauld Place earlier when she had explained the Horcruxes and just how much Harry had had to do to defeat You Know Who. Therefore, Hannah had tried to Apparate directly to 12 Grimmauld Place to find Harry and get him to help Hermione with her. For some reason, Hannah knew not to get Ron for this particular task.

And now she had the feeling that she had gotten the house entirely wrong, because this poor strange boy was looking at her as if it was the first time he'd ever seen magic. How was she supposed to apologise to this poor muggle without explaining anything but also making sure he didn't think he was mad?

"I'm really sorry but do you know if I am in Grimmauld Place? You see, I'm looking for my friend and it's rather important."

Hannah became increasingly more worried as he continued to stare at her. She began to talk again, but he suddenly shook his head and stepped forward.

"Sorry, where are my manners. Yes, this is Grimmauld Place and yes Harry Potter is here. I'm Regulus, and you are?"

Hannah was stunned by his sudden charm. He had been a mute seconds earlier. She bit her lip as she realised what name he had just said.

"Regulus Black?" she asked incredulously, ignoring both his question and his outstretched hand.

His face suddenly became stony in the dim hall. "I see my brother's reputation proceeds me."

Hannah vigorously shook her head. She didn't want him to think that she thought of him like that. "No, no, no. I didn't know your brother. I never met him. I just knew how important he was to Harry and now that you're here, it must mean so much too."

When he looked up and smiled at that, Hannah almost melted. She fought the urge to fan herself at her heated face. No one said the Blacks were this gorgeous. Or had they? Hannah couldn't think.

"I appreciate that. But I think I should know your name, especially considering you're the stranger in my house in the middle of the night." Regulus smirked at her and Hannah felt her knees wobble.

"Oh god, sorry! I'm Hannah! Hannah Abbott!" Her heart was racing.

Regulus continued to smile at her and he held his hand out to her again. "Nice to meet you Hannah, Hannah Abbott."

Hannah took his hand warily. Then as soon as their skin made contact, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she shivered. She was definitely not getting a bad vibe from him; it was just intense.

She dropped his hand and cleared her throat. If she was going to get out of here without jumping his bones, Hannah would need to keep it cool. Plus, she was here for Hermione, which had to take priority.

"Very nice to meet you too, Regulus Black. Is Harry here? Because it is actually important that I see him."

If Regulus was taken aback by her sudden coolness, he didn't show it. He simply waved his hand behind him and began to walk upstairs.

"Of course. Follow me."

Hannah was hesitant for a moment. She was about to follow a strange recently dead Death Eater up some dark stairs in an unknown place. She sighed and began to follow him. She knew she could take him anyway.

A/N: Still going. Bear with. Shit's going down.