"I'm not going to let you go by yourself," Pansy growled at her when they arrived at the Black Lake, watching Malfoy from the side. He was lying on his back, with his arms tucked under his neck as he gazed up at the sunset with a firewhiskey laying beside him as a companion.

Hermione shook her head in dismissal, an intoxicated boy can do no harm for her right now, "And I'm a big girl, I have a wand, and can scream to wake up the dead. Don't be worried about me." With that, she slipped her arm out of Pansy's tight clutch and marched forward, perfectly aware of Pansy's hawk-like gaze as she studied her moves, curious if she was still having troubles or aches.

The deputy Head Girl moved her left to her chest, squeezing it with her other. She was glad to feel the strength of it under her skin – it was kind of relieving after thinking her entire arm had gone numb during the midday.

She grinded her teeth together – Bellatrix's poison seemed to get stronger after every day. But nobody needed to know this. And she definitely needed more time to solve the riddle.

She was pulled out of her own thoughts when a hand grabbed wrist, and the next she knew, she was laying on the grass with a very drunk Draco Malfoy sipping whiskey beside her, grinning like a madman. She blinked once. Twice.

"You're happy now?" she barked in disbelief.

His grin widened, the edge of his lips nearly bothering his ears. And then, he tipped back the bottle which was still three quarters full. However, it was freshly opened as she found the bottle cap in the thick, deep grass and started fiddling with it.

"If you think this is my happy expression, then Granger, I shall be a first hand disappointment," he said in an uncharacteristically sing-song voice. He repeated his last motion, chugging on the golden liquid as if his life depended on it. "Besides, you shouldn't be 'ere."

Hermione looked up at the sky, unsure how to start what she wanted to speak with him, "You Slytherins stick together, that's a common knowledge," she wondered aloud, "'Though, your lot is awfully out of place. Aren't you lonely sometimes?"

She peered up at him when hearing his booming, bitter laugh that made her stomach do a backflip. It was dry and manly, making her feel curious as she had never heard his laugh before. It was an entirely different from how she knew Draco Malfoy.

"Lonely?" he bellowed, eyes twinkling with no humour. "Granger, can you hear yourself? I have more people to belong to than ever before!" And in a mocking gesture, he waved at her as if she were an annoying fly lazing on his shoulder and dirtying his fancy robe.

With this simple, majestic move, he got her riled up within a second, but before her anger could have exploded, he continued, seemingly unfazed by the pinking of her cheeks, "Misery binds people together, Granger. That's how Slytherins work nowadays," and he pointedly looked in her eyes, the maelstrom of the stormy sea of his irises sucking her in, and making her forget about her fury, "If you must know."

Embarrassed to the core, she turned away and noted her success: she'd managed to peel down a layer of Draco Malfoy. And it was a new experience – awkward, but not inconvenient, overly personal compared to their... relationship. (as in lack of better words.)

"I... I just don't understand you," Hermione supplied a timid reply, looking anywhere but at the man at her side. "You've changed."

He laughed into the whiskey, "Now, call for the Prophet. The impossible had actually happened!" his fake enthusiasm felt like acid and it earned him a dirty look from Hermione.

One step forward, a thousand backwards.

"You can stop with acting like a jerk, Malfoy!" she snapped which made him adopt her expression, his gaze piercing through her skull with its force. Not that she cared or was scared of that.

His posture suddenly changed, his muscles tensed and his mimic gone unreadable and rigid, before answering her call, "Because I'm not anything else. Just the jerk. Cool," and he nodded approvingly, but it was obvious his words left a foul taste on his tongue.

Hermione – having the infamous Gryffindor temper – jumped up immediately at the bait, her frustration getting the better of her as she shouted at her rescuer, "What's your real problem Malfoy, hah? The war was bad for everyone! Why do you think you're oh-so-special," she practically spit the words in his face, "than the others! We've all seen things, yes, awful things! But none of us try to get alcohol poisoning! You said you'd made a very bad decision back in the saloon, now, do yourself a favour and don't make another!"

And with that she hauled the firewhiskey from his hand, and, with a gracious movement, turned it upside down. They watched in silence as the amber, glinting liquid melted in the soil.

"What the fuck woman?" he demanded after even the last drops had disappeared. "It was vintage! From the motherfucking nineteenth century!"

At least the worms would have a great time – Hermione mused, ignoring Malfoys's snarls of dismay.

Cutting him short, she placed her functioning hand on her hip, looking in the eye with the crazed blonde. Her voice was cold and bored as she threw her honest words in his face, "Malfoy, your precious blood would need a night without alcohol. I'm sure your erythrocytes are throwing a tantrum in your system for letting a mudblood take care of your sorry ass, but try to cope."

Throwing the empty bottle in the Black Lake – not caring if it hit a mermaid –, she turned away and march back toward Hogwarts, before he could have seen her distraught demeanour

Damn it! She hated being a mess! It was even strange for her how this conversation made her confused and turned her world upside down, her nerves tight and emotions flaring in her.

"Hermione!"

The fact that it was a very first time of him calling her by her given name didn't stop her from storming away.