Aloha! Here it is, the shortly-awaited party chapter! I don't know what you guys were expecting, but here's hoping this either surprises you for a good reason, or it makes you happy for some other reason. A little angst, a little resolution. Enjoy!

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I have to admit, I'm nervous, sitting in my underwear, staring at that green dress, a brush in my hand. I'm nervous about wearing something like that, and I'm nervous about Draco. I was a little offended to have been his last resort, but I'm also at that stage where I'll run into a dark alleyway to be near him – so that's a nice and healthy development to our non-relationship.

There's time, at least, to calm down.

I throw my laptop onto my bed and start up Netflix for something funny to watch, then change my mind and switch to music; a great playlist that I set up a couple of months ago when I had an evening I didn't care about. Before long, I'm singing and shaving my legs and feeling a little closer to a million dollars than I would have ever done before.

Legs. Done. Hair. Done. Make-up. Done.

I mean, I say done, but I don't really mean that I have actually made any real or redeeming effort. A dab of colour on the lids, a silky curl in my hair. And then I wait.

Draco arrives at seven-thirty, almost on the dot, banging on my door in a slightly jaunty fashion. I take a breath, then open the door, finding myself at a loss in seeing him. He looks different from how I have seen him lately – apparently, I got used to casual Draco who doesn't fix-up his hair, or wear ironed shirts and dark dress-shoes. Apparently, I got used to the Draco that could fit comfortably into my world, and not the person whose world I would inhabit tonight.

He's wearing a sharp suit, with a green pocket-square, somewhat predictably, and a black bow-tie.

He looks wonderful, but also somewhat uncanny. There's something about him that's different.

"You clean up well," I say, smiling at last and opening the door for him to step inside. He does so, albeit hesitantly – though I have no idea why.

"Looks like I was right," he murmurs, glancing at my dress. "You have excellent taste."

"Something I never thought I would hear you say," I comment. He laughs, and I feel a little more at ease. There's a breath there, a pause, where we are just standing, and it almost errs on the side of awkwardness. I have to break the silence: "Shall we go then?"

Draco nods. "Yeah, yes. Sorry." And he walks right out of the door again, into the cool night air.

The sun is just setting by the time we get to the venue, an old hall just outside of town. It throws the light orange and gold, and the windows glitter back at us, blinding and beautiful. Draco takes my arm and leads me down the drive, a gravel path, talking aimlessly the whole way.

"So, what do I need to know for this?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Just that I'm amazing." I push his shoulder playfully. "Nothing special really. Be yourself, and people will love you. This is an opportunity for you to have fun, and eat weird fancy food."

Not for the first time tonight, I'm wondering why I am here at all. I mean, he didn't have to bring someone. Why me? Why did he bother? It's not as though we are dating, and he could have brought someone that he actually wanted to date. But no. He brought me.

Food for thought.

Speaking of food, there are small entrees as we enter the main event in all of its glimmering glory; there are waiters standing around with silvery trays of food and what I'm assuming is champagne. People stand in groups, under the decorated trees, and in amongst the short-cut grass. Tall, beautiful women, and chattering, attractive men. How are they all so good-looking? Even the old guys look decent enough.

"Draco Malfoy," calls a voice to the left of us, and a large-bellied man steps from the dim shadows, holding out his hand.

Malfoy smiles. "Dennis. Great to see you."

"Likewise, likewise," Dennis says, sloshing his drink. Apparently, he's had a couple already. "And who is the lovely lady accompanying you tonight?"

Draco glances at me, as if he had forgotten me momentarily – and after I spent so much time worrying about being here and what I looked like. Kinda sucks, if I'm being totally honest. He places a hand on the small of my back, covered by the silk of the dress. My skin is crawling, for god knows whatever reason.

"This is my friend, Hermione," Draco answers. "We went to school together and reconnected recently at a mutual friend's wedding." Romantic. He turns to me. "Dennis is a friend of my father's."

"Lovely to meet you," I tell him, smiling and reaching out a hand. Dennis leans down and presses a kiss to my knuckles. I cringe, hating it, but continue to be outwardly pleasant. I feel trapped beside Draco, not knowing these people, not knowing what I'm supposed to do or say. I've never stopped to wonder what it's like to feel claustrophobic in an open space, but now I know the sensation and hope it never returns.

"And the same to you," Dennis croons. I see him glance down at my chest.

Draco isn't looking. He interrupts us: "Sorry, Dennis, I've just seen Marcus. Do you mind?"

"Not at all, not at all," Dennis says, and he allows us past him, deeper into the belly of the beast that is the party. Draco grabs us two glasses of champagne on the way through, handing one to me with a secret smile that looks a little more like the him I normally know.

"Who is this one?" I whisper to him, watching as he waves to a man who is quickly approaching us.

Draco leans down, his hand still on my back. "He's the boss of the other business. We need to impress him."

"What does that –?" I start.

"Marcus," Draco greets the other man jovially, gripping his hand tight. I sip my drink, relishing in the sweetness of it – and also the alcoholic nature. Dammit I need it, which I hate to admit, given that Draco has basically just told me that this is the guy that we need to like us – not just him, but us – for his company to do well, or something to that effect. He's relying on me.

"Draco Malfoy," Marcus replies, grinning back at Draco with straight, white teeth.

I have to admit, he's very attractive. Sharp jawline, dark eyes, and very smooth skin. He's got a good face. He's looking at me, perplexed. I'm not sure I like the attention, even from someone so pretty.

They seem to talk for ages, and I stand there, slowly drinking my champagne, feeling the bubbles go to my head almost immediately. Draco is talking about work and Marcus is responding in kind, and I have no way of interjecting into the conversation. Draco's hand is still on my back, perhaps meant to be comforting, but instead unsettling. I try looking around me for something, not really listening to the conversation anymore, but finding patterns in the lights wrapped around the trees, thinking about what a great time of day this is. Golden hour is pretty much integral to a scene in a fantastical story, and here I am, in it and not going on an adventure but standing in a field, a sea of strangers surrounding me, totally alone.

I steal food from passing plates, vaguely hoping that I might see someone I know, but knowing that I won't. Draco is laughing at something Marcus has said, but I can tell that it's fake.

"Hermione," Draco says my name in conversation, and I think for a moment that he is talking to me. I'm incorrect. "Yes, I brought her here tonight."

"Do you mind if I steal her?" Marcus asks, smiling down at me. Can't help but feel just a little bit threatened. Not really the place for it. Certainly not a good call to 'steal' a person, either. I'm not property, and I do not intend to be taken by a man.

Draco hums, not quite paying attention, then he realises. "No, no, not at all. I will find Millicent – I know she's around here, somewhere."

Marcus smiles, a little unkindly. "I saw her by the drinks table last."

The two men shake hands again and Draco stalks off in another direction, not bothering to look at me once before doing so. I have to say I'm at least a little bit hurt by his antics, and suddenly feel awfully naked here standing in front of Marcus in this dress, without Draco's protection. Not that Draco is exactly foreboding – and I'm not saying that he can't be physically domineering – but I just… I liked having him there, as a comfort.

I have to be a little braver now, that's all.

"So, Hermione, what is it that you are here with Mr. Malfoy, then?" Marcus asks, leaning down ever so slightly, as if my being smaller than him somehow makes me delicate and childlike. Suffice to say, I don't like it.

I smile, like I ought to. "I'm sorry, I don't understand your question." Despite being an English teacher – yes, the irony is not lost on me.

"Well, not to be indelicate, but are you two together? Dating? Friends?" He pauses. "I know he said friend, but do I detect something there?"

"No, we're just friends."

"Do you have a boyfriend then?"

I am glad that men have such interesting conversations with women. If this is how all men talk to women they are interested in, then I will be alone forever. And that is purely by choice.

"I do not," I reply simply. "Why?"

Marcus shrugs. "Just wondered. You're not involved with anyone, then? You're a pretty girl. One would think you could be with anyone you wanted."

"Thanks," I say, feeling uncomfortable.

"Come on, let's get a drink." Looks as though he's noticed my glass is empty. I can't exactly say no, can I? I'm here to help Draco impress this guy, right? Ergo, I follow on with Marcus, allowing him to place my glass on a passing empty tray and for him to be the second man tonight to place a hand on my back. While it was perplexing earlier, this is even worse, and I miss Draco so much more.

Marcus flirts somewhat shamelessly, asking questions merely so he can compliment me on my talents – and then to ask about my other talents, no doubt wondering if they extend to the social qualities he respects as opposed to the ones that I have. He touches my skin and brushes hair from my face, though not in a way that reminds me of a rom-com. I have no idea where Draco has gone off to; I can't see him in amongst this crowd of well-dressed people. I'm stuck with Marcus. He tries to make me laugh, plies me with champagne, and keeps asking the same questions – his conversation is limited to sleezy, though one would imagine different given his youthful appearance and equally apparent charm.

I should know. Never judge a book by its cover.

After maybe an hour of Marcus dragging me around the garden, after an hour of him talking to me on his own, Draco catches up to us again. He stands oddly, a third wheel in a bicycle I did not want to be a part of. Marcus has one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and the other is pouring champagne down his throat. I notice that Draco isn't drinking. Perhaps it is a calculated move.

I'm angry at him, though.

"Hermione," he breathes, smiling widely. I attempt to extricate myself from Marcus, who doesn't budge. Draco takes in what must be my slightly frazzled exterior, flushed cheeks, and he might know that I feel at least very much heading in the direction of intoxicated. "Have you eaten?"

"Some," I say, unhelpfully. There is a flash of an old and memorable irritation on his face. I'm annoying him.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Plenty."

He laughs, but it's short and without real humour. He's faking it, again. Why is he falsifying himself here, tonight? What is it about this place that makes him think he cannot be himself? He is so astonishingly different from that night we spent with his friends – when he was tender, but comfortable, laughing and joking, and just a bit normal. Now… Not so much.

I thought that maybe this night would remind of the wedding, two months ago now. It doesn't. The glittering lights that might have been beautiful that night are now glaring and uncomfortable, and I have a headache but I'm not sure when it started. At least at the wedding I could find some solace in being alone, but here I am trapped, and even Draco feels like a stranger to me, which is so different from how things have been as of late. Maybe I rely on him a little more than I thought I did. Maybe I'm just a little bit more in love with him than I realised.

Let's be honest, that's a dangerous thought to entertain.

"Hermione," Marcus interrupts, "you must tell me. Are we going to make out or not, or has all of this been a colossal waste of time?"

Draco is staring between us, gobsmacked. I would be too.

I turn to Marcus and lie through my teeth: "I'm sorry. You are lovely, and I've had a wonderful time, but please forgive me. I, uh, I like someone else."

"But you said…"

"He doesn't know," I cut him off. "Again, I am sorry."

Marcus grins at me, then takes back his arm, leans in very close and says, "If you ever change your mind, Draco has my number."

Draco looks utterly appalled at the idea of being the middle-man in such a deal. Perhaps even more so when Marcus presses a hot, wet kiss to my cheek, shakes Draco's hand again, and bids us adieu by stumbling off into the night. I wipe my face immediately, disgusted. Then I look up, and Draco is watching me watch him, the both of us opposing pieces on a chessboard, waiting for the other to say something damning and get out whatever tension is resting between us. Surely he can sense it too?

"What time is it?" I blurt out.

He checks his watch. "Almost twelve."

Three hours. He left me alone with another man for three hours.

"Christ," I say instead, deflating a little. "What time does this thing end?"

"Depends on how old you are," he replies, shrugging, his hands in his pockets, totally noncommittal. "A few of the elders are leaving now, there will be others that go home at 2am, or later."

"Oh."

Is he suggesting that he wants to stay another two hours? It's not that I don't normally love spending time with him, but this evening has been a bit of a disaster to put it mildly. He ignored me, then vanished and left me with his creepy boss, and now he's not really engaging in conversation at all. What is with him?

"So, you and Marcus, huh?"

"Don't be stupid," I quip back. Draco is teasing me, but I can feel the malice still. But why? "He's not my type."

"As opposed to this other man that you fancy," he argues, rolling his eyes.

"As if you would know."

He frowns and says, "I feel like I know you pretty well," which causes me to huff in indignation. Draco does not like that. "What's the matter with you, anyway? Why are you being so angry, all of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden?" I ask, incredulous. As if he'd even been there with me at all. "It doesn't matter. I don't know what you're talking about." He just laughs coldly, causing shame to race through my body, cold as ice.

"Is this about Marcus? He's harmless –"

"It is not about Marcus," I bite. "Not all of it."

He takes a step closer to me. "Tell me."

Normally, I might find a nice way to diffuse the tension here, and to put both physical and mental distance between us. Tonight, that's not much of an option. I haven't eaten, and my head is filled with champagne bubbles that are telling me to have an argument – because the best times to have an argument are in inappropriate places, drunk, sad, and lonely.

"I just don't understand why you brought me here, Draco," I say, exasperated. "You told me to get a nice dress, and I guess I thought I was here to have a good time, not just be something pretty that you brought to the party. I don't get it."

Draco is shaking his head, stepping back from me, no longer hiding his frustration. For a second I wonder what has rattled him, but then I decide that I care far more about shouting than I do about asking his feelings.

"That's not why I brought you," he tries.

"Then why? For your boss to make me feel small and insignificant and unclever? So that he could hit on me all night, and you could wander off and talk to whomever you fancied rather than keeping your boss company? You paid no attention to me, even though I was concerned and am alone and needed just a little bit of guidance. I was your last resort, but you might as well not have brought me at all. Because I knew I wasn't your first choice, and I came anyway, but I still get nothing."

He's silent, frozen. "What were you expecting, exactly?"

"I was hoping for answers, I think. God, I don't know," I admit, still shouting, and hating that I am given his quietness. I am aware that I sound a little hysterical, but I can't stop. "I wanted to know why – what is the purpose of all of this, and us? Why did you bother bringing me here?"

"I wanted you here."

"Because you had no other option."

Draco laughs, at his wits end, running a hand over his pale face.

"I just thought that it might be nice for you. To get out, you know. No take-out, or reading, or mulling over whatever words you decide you want to write but can't quite manage." That stings. "I thought you might want to see a little further afield than the four walls you always occupy, God forbid someone try to do something nice for you –"

"For me?" Now I'm laughing. "This was not for me. All of this was so that you didn't have to feel quite so alone. You could have brought anyone, or no one. Why me? Why did it have to be me?"

"This isn't what you think," he starts. I'm still laughing, on the verge of tears, truly hating myself for the first time in a very long while. I'm ruining things with us, and I'm ruining it on purpose now. I hate that I'm doing this, but the destructive streak can't just end. "I just wanted to have a nice time with you, like we always do. I'm sorry."

"Maybe our friendship doesn't quite extend to your work, especially given that you abandoned me. You're different here," I accuse, grouchy.

"Different how?" he asks, stepping closer again now that my shouting has abated. Maybe there is room for hope, and maybe I haven't fucked everything.

I shrug. "Just different. It's like watching you and Snape in Chemistry back at school. You want to impress these people, right?" He nods in response. "It shows. To me, at least. You talk and you laugh, and you joke, but it's calculated. You guide the conversation or try to just be a part of it. It's not… easy."

"Okay," he says.

"That's all you have to say?"

He shrugs, defeated. "I don't know what you want from me. This is a business event. It's about business, despite whatever you and Marcus were up to –" I have the urge to scream in his face again, "and I had to be present elsewhere tonight. I'm sorry that you felt isolated, but I thought you could handle yourself. And I guess maybe I forgot you. I don't know."

"You forgot me," I repeat.

"I'm tired," he says, mussing up his hair and looking a little more like the Draco I normally know. "It's been a long week, and an even longer evening. I'm sorry, again. I don't know what more I can say."

"Okay."

He's got this funny expression on his face, but I can't quite work out what he's thinking, not for the first time tonight. Maybe he's trying to figure out if I will offer him forgiveness, but then I'm thinking the exact same thing. Frankly, it's not going to happen.

"Can we go?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He doesn't offer his hand, but I walk out ahead of him, still furious. My brain has been dulled by alcohol, but I know that I am so far beyond disappointed with him, and that this is a big step in the wrong direction for whatever I feel about him. Maybe I'll forget what has happened tonight, and maybe I won't. But for sure, I will not let this kind of thing happen again, and I refuse to allow Draco Malfoy to use me as a stand-in for anything. It's not acceptable.

As much as I would like to right now, though, I can't hate him. Even in our arguing, it feels as though we have barely scratched the surface of the truth; it's like we are both holding back at least a little of something, and it's impacting us. Perhaps it is this that made Draco become some weird, alter-ego arsehole tonight.

Perhaps he was just hiding that part of himself all along.

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BIG oof this chapter. Lack of communication, too much alcohol, and Draco being a dick. Sorry I put everyone through this - next chapter will be better! Guess I might have been reading just a little too much angst lately... Thanks for reading!