Summary: A night of drinking, drugs and accidental magic lands Hermione in the Ministry of Magic! What will happen to her when Lucius Malfoy learns of her not-so-ordinary spell? Rated for obvious drug use and sexuality.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: HP doesn't belong to me (unfortunately).

Chapter one

"Casey's Parties"

Hi. My name's Hermione.

Yeah, it's a bloody strange name. People mispronounce it all the time. Even my ex-boyfriend couldn't say it right . . . though I suppose you could blame that on him being Bulgarian, and having been hit with enough Bludgers to kill a bear. Those things don't usually help boost your language skills.

Anyway, I have a confession to make.

Strictly off the record, mind you . . .

I'm a hug junkie.

That's it, send me to Betty Ford.

The thing is, most wizards, despite what you may have heard, are not in constant life-or-death situations. They are not world-famous Seekers, or saviors of the magical way of life. Most witches don't usually have to one-up the undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, fight off a herd of centaurs and battle the most powerful dark wizard of all time in one day. Many can even leave their houses without wondering about the mortal peril that their closest friends may be in!

But I am not most witches. I am the strange, strange Hermione Granger who feels so utterly shaken by her everyday life that I think if every person I know is not hugged every time I see them, I will regret it. It's a bothersome addiction, but then again, so would be heroin.

I told myself again that drugs don't counteract each other as Casey offered me a needle.

"Maybe next time. I don't feel like it," I told her. "Don't overdo it again, babe."

Casey gave me a sleepy sort of grin, her bottle-blond hair falling into her face. "Alrigh', man. Sude yerself!" She wagged a finger at my nose, "Bud I will gedyo ta try it sumdime."

"Yeah, okay. Maybe next time."

"Dumn sdraihn." Her American accent was heavily covered in a drunken slur as blue eyes focused on the rubber strap she pulled around her arm. One end was tied while her teeth held the other in place. I was far too smashed to be able to concentrate on tying knots. How did she do that?

It seems as if the fiercest look of concentration I had ever seen came over Casey's face. She took the needle back from Benji. The black boy, who was slumped backwards onto the pillow, didn't really seem to mind. Casey turned her forearm upwards and smacked it with the back of her right hand. Then, with surprising dexterity, she twirled the needle around and plunged it into her arm.

I giggled and covered my mouth at the look Casey had on her face – like an orgasm. Her mouth was open with a weak grin and her eyes rolled back slowly, her body tensed when the needle withdrew. Laughing like a loon, I jumped off of the bed and ran for the bathroom, where I had last seen my boyfriend, Sam.

And I saw him again. Wow. He never did that with me. I didn't even know you could twist your tongue like that. It took me a minute to realize that I was still standing in the doorway (well, actually, leaning against the frame and trying not to fall over) and that the girl he was - ahem - involved with- was not me. Wait. That meant it was someone else. WHAT?

"WHAUH?" Close enough.

THAT BASTARD!

Sam turned around, still licking his lips. His eyes slowly widened as he saw me, once again upright, fuming in the doorway. Nicki zipped up her jeans behind him, looking satisfied.

THAT BITCH! WELL, THEY'RE JUST BLOODY PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER!

The windows shattered. Nicki screamed and ran out of the bathroom . . . oh that– that–

"YOU MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A FUCKING MUGGLE! HOW THE HELL COULD YOU DO THIS SHIT TO ME? YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO BE PISSING AROUND WITH THAT STUPID TOSSER WHEN I'M SITTING IN THE OTHER ROOM!"

The shower curtain ripped.

"AND WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WERE YOU THINKING? THAT I WOULDN'T THINK IF THAT - SLUT - CAME WALTZING OUT WITH A GRIN BIG ENOUGH TO - TO LIGHT UP A BLEEDING SKYLIGHT - THAT YOU WEREN'T MESSING AROUND WITH HER?"

The taps turned on full blast, flooding the bathroom floor in seconds

"IF YOU EVER THINK, FOR JUST ONE BLOODY SECOND, THAT YOU ARE GOING TO GET AWAY WITH THIS, YOU ARE THE MOST STUPID DE-DETES- WORTHLESS FUCK UP THAT I HAVE EVER MET!"

With that, I furiously threw my hand out towards his chest. I didn't even think about it.My hand just shot out at Sam, and the feeling of electricity coursing through me didn't stop at my hand's reach. A white light burst out of my fingertips and hit the wanker squarely in his chest. I only had the presence of mind to think, oh shit! before I fell over and knocked my head on the edge of the bathtub.

I love Casey's parties.

Red. Everything looks red.

Why? Hermione, why does everything look red?

Well, that's what light looks like when it's being filtered through your eyelids.

Hmm. Interesting.

AAAHHHHH!

God DAMN it's bright. I tried to open my eyes again more slowly, noticing a shadow came over my vision.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

The kindly, curvy woman turned around and rushed over to the table, her brown eyes shining with relief at the sound of my cracking voice. "Oh, Hermione, dear, you're awake. Let me call your parents –,"

"No need, Molly," my Dad said from the doorway. Where am I? Everything looks so . . . sterile. But there are no wires. Anywhere.

What's going on, now?

Mum's smooth hand passed over my forehead, like she was checking my temperature. I looked up at her with my eyes (my neck was far too sore to move) and noticed something. She's got an awful lot of lines around her eyes. Did she look this tired yesterday? Was I awake yesterday? What was I doing yesterday? Why am I sore?

And where the bloody hell am I?

The questions raced through my head a million times faster than I could have answered them. I felt vaguely overwhelmed, the way I feel when I've just been hit by a big wave but know another one's coming. Well, I think I was drunk last night, if this raging hangover is any indication. The small, sober, non-achey and most 'Hermione' part of me decided to get everything else in order. First order of business: where am I?

"Mum?" speaking barely above a groan, my voice broke.

"Don't talk, ma choux. Just relax," Mum took on that infuriatingly motherly tone of hers. The one that makes me think of someone saying, don't you worry your pretty little head about anything. Comforting, complementary, and condescending at the same time.

"Mum," I said with more determination, "where am I?"

Mum sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my neck. "I don't think I can explain exactly, Mya. You'll have to ask Molly, she knows what happened."

"Actually," Dad said, taking my hand, "she mentioned that one of Hermione's professors is coming to explain. Apparently this is fairly unusual."

"Did she mention who would be coming?" Mum asked.

"What's 'unusual?'" I cut in. Dad ignored me.

"The headmaster is coming, I think. Albus ... Dibbledoof?" he supplied awkwardly.

"Dumbledore. Why is Professor Dumbledore coming?" I asked, trying again. My mother gave me a deceptively stern look.

"Hermione, you shouldn't talk. You need to relax," she said, squeezing my hand. Her voice, however, was a little too harsh for comfort, maybe even frantic.

I thought over a couple of reasons for this. Maybe she was anxious for me to get better... but then why would she be so stern? Mum didn't want to listen to me, I finally realized. She didn't want to hear my questions and she didn't want to talk to me about what had happened.

This knowledge gave me a new determination, and I clasped onto her arm with a deathgrip and yanked her towards my bed. This did less than I expected, but Mum was still caught offguard and had to catch herself from falling onto me.

I fixed my mother with the most commanding glare I could muster. "Mum. Please. Where am I?"

It was slightly less commanding than I would have liked, given that my voice came out as a feeble squeak. Mum only gave me a look of pity as reply.

Dad rubbed my hand comfortingly. "It will all be fine. You're not in a bad way, we're told," he said with a tiny smile.

"We've got to leave, Mya, but I brought your new book," Mum said, and despite myself, my eyes brightened. "I promise we'll come back as soon as we can."

I decided to forgive her, since it truly seemed as if she knew as little about what was going on as I did. "Thanks, Mum."

Mum and Dad leaned in for a hug and left. I was alone in the room, left with nothing to occupy me but a thousand questions and a Numerology book. A throbbing headache raged at my temples, making everything that much more difficult to think about. I sighed.

"Well, here I am," I croaked to no one in particular.

The book called to me. With another heaving sigh, I opened it up to Chapter One: Names in Numbers and began to read.

a/n: wasn't that fun? Yes, it's very short, I know, I just can't believe I'm actually getting a storyline set up here! Look, I promise to all of those Hr/D junkies out there that this will speed up a bit.

And as for the party-girl Hermione, I know it's supremely OOC but it's a cool idea anyway. Here's hoping that the bookworm bit at the end made up for that.

Let me know what you think! (And if you can understand a word Casey's saying) I promise you will be amply rewarded ... authors have verrrry active imaginations, after all!

Flames always welcome – it's February, and I need to keep warm!

Love and chocolates,

cameo667