She should have learnt her body reacted badly to alcohol the first time, and yet here she was again- the taste of vomit still clinging to the back of her throat, and a thin layer of sweat coating her skin. Her head felt too heavy to lift, and her stomach too volatile to disrupt. Even the idea of coffee made her want to run and stick her head down the loo.

Had she really drank that much?

She could only remember nursing a single drink, and then the rest of the night was blank. What had happened before? The dimly lit basement, losing Ron, desperately needing the toilet, deciding on going to the men's loo instead. Draco Malfoy and a scary-looking man hunched over the sink- a rolled-up note high up his nostril. It was like something in the movies, nothing she thought she'd see in real life.

Soon after that, the night was hazy. She had made it back to bed at least, although she had no idea how she got here and was very thankful she was alone. She had a brief memory of Harry scooping her up off the corner she was hunched in, but could also be making it up, not being able to distinguish between reality and her imagination.

This felt worse than the average hangover. An anxious and uncomfortable emotion was fogging her mind, pulling down on her chest and telling her to stay curled up in bed forever.

Her hand reached out for a phone, which was nestled under her pillow, and it was a miracle it hadn't been lost on the night. Her finger tapped on the glass but the screen stayed dark, indicating the battery had died. It was how she felt- like her life-battery had run out, leaving her on shut down mode, the light beneath her skin turned off. The frustrating element was how she had no perception of time. It could be 10 am, or quite easily 6 pm, and she'd have no way of knowing. Quite frankly, she had no desire to move, despite wasting the day away, and so the time felt irrelevant.

Tears began to form along her lower lash line, and she blinked them back, rolling her head to be face-down against the pillow. She heard a brief knock but did not move her head. The second knock was firmer, the noise more demanding. Hermione moaned into her pillow but still made no effort to move.

"Granger... Are you in there?" That was Draco Malfoy's voice, which was very unexpected. What on earth would he want with her? Her only hypothesis was to threaten her not to tell anyone about what she had walked in on, and she thought she had made it clear he intimated her enough? Obviously, she'd keep her mouth shut.

The door handle rattled, making his attempt at breaking in apparent, and she heard him curse at the door being locked. At this point, she knew she was going to have to open it, even if it was just to tell him to leave her alone and that she wouldn't snitch. Hermione made sure to wrap her duvet around herself like a cape, trapping the warmth close to her body, and then crossed her room to unlock the door.

"Hello?" her voice came out weak and shaky, and she took a deep breath to not sound so pathetic. "Why are you here?"

"For fucks sake Granger, you didn't have to take so long to reply, I was about to kick your fucking door down!"

He looked stressed. His hauntingly pale skin had a purplish tinge beneath his eyes, and the silver-blonde hair was stuck up in tufts, the opposite of his usual slick back aesthetic.

"Why?" She was so confused, none of this interaction making sense, wondering why on earth this boy had turned up at her door in such a panicked state. Had something else happened last night that she couldn't remember?

"You disappeared last night. You haven't replied to a single one of my messages, and you haven't been online for hours. I was worried you had died or something." He raked a shaking hand through his hair whilst pulling at the roots, explaining why he looked so dishevelled. The cocaine would have also contributed to why his eyes looked like they hadn't closed in weeks, with even the shine from the iris dulled into a matte grey.

"My phones out of battery. But you're still providing no reasonable explanation as to why you are standing outside my door, why you've been trying to message me, and why you're so concerned about me? I thought you didn't like me."

"I don't."

His response was immediate, and his eyes skirted around the corridor to check that no one had caught him here yet. He looked ready to leave, meaning he had only come all this way just to check she was alive, and that was sketchy enough in itself. Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms, knowing there was something he wasn't telling her, and she was not going to let him leave until she knew.

"Malfoy, I need answers, what's going on?"

"Nothings going on, just check your phone next time." He was lying to her, and despite having such a strong poker face, she wasn't an idiot. Just him being here meant that it was something big. Furthermore, he didn't have her number, so how on earth was he calling her?

"I was so drunk, did you see someone try and do something? Did someone try to follow me home? Did someone slip something into my drink?" At the last question, Malfoy's eyes bulged wide, and his expression made all the puzzle pieces fit into place. Hermione had asked on a whim, not expecting that to be a possibility in the slightest, and yet it explained everything. How she got into such a state from one drink, why her memory was wiped blank, why she felt like the embodiment of the word 'death'.

She couldn't help the shriek that fell from her lips at the pure shock of it, and she felt his hand silence her scream by shoving it over her mouth. It muffled the noise as he pushed their bodies into her room, quickly closing the door behind him.

"Stop that," he hissed, his hand further pressing up against her open lips to the point where she could taste the salty sweat on his palm. Hermione didn't like taking commands from bossy, entitled men, but the look in his eyes indicated his statement was a threat and not an optional plead.

And so she stopped.

"I'm going to take my hand away and you're not going to make a noise, do you understand?" Hermione slowly nodded, a sense of panic creeping into her thoughts. She should have let him leave instead of pushing him. What if he was here to hurt her?

His hand slowly lifted, his eyes never leaving hers, and she gulped for fresh air the minute her mouth was free. She wanted to scream every curse word she had in her vocabulary, to slam her hands against his chest, to shove him violently out of her room and slam the door. But she didn't. She was scared of him.

His hands were clenched by his side, his eyes almost bloodshot, hatred evident on his face.

"Before you even try and accuse me of anything, it wasn't fucking me! Okay?" Hermione nodded. He hadn't given her enough time to assume anything anyway.

"And I don't know who did it, I didn't recognise them." This sounded like a lie, but Hermione nodded again. Her eyes began to well with tears, and she was using the last of her energy to keep them at bay.

"I just needed to check you were alive. And now I'm going to go."

She felt heavy droplets stream down her cheeks as she nodded, relieved he was going to leave, but also feeling too delicate to be left alone. They gathered in her eyelashes, and slid down her face, falling from her jawline one by one. She heard him curse under his breath and screwed her eyes shut, willing herself to stop this pathetic display of weakness. What had gotten into her?

She felt something below her chin, his finger, which caused her to jump as she hadn't noticed him move closer. Opening her eyes, she realised he was stood only an inch apart, his chest in her direct eye line. She had never noticed he wore a thin silver chain, with a tiny snake serpent charm on the end, and her impulse was to reach out and touch it. She didn't.

His thumb went to brush away a stray tear, and she jolted away in fear, scared his touch was somehow going to cause her harm.

"For fucks sake Granger, I'm not going to hurt you," his voice sounded frustrated, tense, and he took a step back to give her some space. He didn't like how her wide-eyed stare was making him feel like a monster.

"Look, you're going to be feeling like shit because of the drugs from last night. They'll have depleted your serotonin levels, so today you'll feel like shit. It's normal. Just stop crying and get into bed. Everything will feel normal tomorrow."

Okay, getting into bed she could do. The blanket made her whole body feel heavy as she slowly made her way to bed, each movement slow as to not trigger a reaction from him. She nervously looked at his face as she slid herself down and let herself sink into the warmth and comfort of the mattress.

"Don't look at me like that!" How else was she meant to look at him? He paced back and forth until he perched on the end of her bed, his breaths loud and angry sounding. She wanted to say something, either ask him to leave or again inquire why he cared so much about her wellbeing, but the last time noise came out her mouth he had shoved his palm in there.

"I should have checked on you last night. I know I've fucked up. But this is me making things right."

Was this his idea of an apology? Hermione tried reading the expression on his face and could tell he was concerned, and yet she wasn't going to be fooled by a fake sense of compassion. He was not here for her, he was not here to check she was okay. He merely wanted to clear a guilty conscience. The truth of the matter was the Malfoy had witnessed her getting drugged, and instead of trying to stop the action or give her a warning, he had turned a blind eye and was now feeling guilt. She could have died in her sleep, she could have been followed home and harmed.

"Nothing you say or do will make things 'right', Malfoy. What happened is really messed up, and the only thing I want from you is to leave me alone."

He nodded, getting to his feet and brushing off non-existent dust from his trousers. He didn't even meet her gaze as he strode to the door, not giving her a glance back, but he did stop before leaving.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Never once had she said she was okay, in fact, it was pretty clear she felt the exact opposite. But he took her silence as agreement and finally he was gone through her door, leaving her alone in her room once again.

She thought his absence would give her a rush of relief, but instead, she felt awfully alone, the heaviness in her chest dragging her down and clouding her brain with darkness. For the first time since leaving home, she knew she needed to talk to her mum, even just the idea of her voice seeming soothing.

She waited for her phone to power up, and the notifications came rushing in.

'Are you still out?' 01:02

Missed Facebook messenger call (2) 01:10

'Granger, its Malfoy, answer your phone' 01:13

'Are you at home?' 01:14

'Hello?' 01:16

Missed Facebook messenger call (4) 1:30

'Have you made it home safe? Did anyone come back with you?' 01:32

90 Facebook notifications from a stranger popped up one after the other, each making a 'ping' noise as it loaded through. The last one was from an hour ago, 'I'm walking over now'.

Each had Draco Malfoy's profile picture attached in a small circle, a black and white photo of him in a suit looking as moody as ever. She clicked his profile and stared, wondering whether she had unfairly reacted to how concerned he appeared. Her previous assumption that he had dismissed the whole incident was wrong, with the notifications proving her had tried to locate her at least.

She signed, curled into a cocoon, and clicked the little blue 'add friend' button by his name. It wasn't forgiveness, but she'd make sense of her thoughts when she didn't feel like utter death.