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:Love Sex and a Bottle of Vodka:

:Chapter Nineteen:

Hermione pressed a hand to her heart as she walked to the Gryffindor common room, in search of Ginny or Harry. She swore her heart was...fluttering. She didn't want to get too excited; she could have completely misinterpreted the note, for all she knew, which was why she needed a second opinion. Or did she? This seemed awfully personal to dump on someone else. But it was Harry and Ginny she was talking about; she could share this with them, couldn't she?

Before her mind could continue, Hermione was forced to reach for the wall, her other hand snaking up to rest on her temple, a jarring headache suddenly ailing her.

What fresh hell? Hermione thought, as she shut her eyes. This hadn't happened before. A flash of memory, as hot as lightning and as brief as a raindrop, flooded her entire being. Hermione felt phantom hands clasp her own fingers and she smelled the sweet scent of vanilla with a hint of something muskier underneath it. For a second, Hermione felt flaxen hair press against her cheek and the softness of lips on her own.

It was over as soon as it began. Hermione pressed two fingers against her lip, wondering what on earth had just happened. She suddenly felt very heavy and stupid as though she had swum in the lake with all her clothes on and dragged herself out of the water and lay down. It was labor to even stay standing and Hermione found herself yearning to bring back the memory.

Whatever it was that just happened gave Hermione a very fey, uncanny feeling, one that wasn't altogether unpleasant but wasn't quite comfortable either. As a direct antidote, Hermione set her mind on going to the Gryffindor Common Room.

It wasn't Harry or Ginny she found there but Ron, sitting in front of the fireplace, a forgotten parchment on his lap. Hermione approached more cautiously than she would think it proper for a best friend. Ron seemed to be watching the crimson flames, not unlike his hair color, with such intensity that Hermione was afraid to interrupt.

"Ron?" The boy seemed to jump and he looked up at Hermione, his amber eyes looking almost confused.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, taking a seat across from him.

"It's the Gryffindor Common Room," Ron said, with a shrug.

"I mean, what are you doing here by yourself?" Ron seemed to hesitate in answering, his eyes straying back to the fire. That was when Hermione sensed the loneliness, so deeply embedded into Ron he seemed to wear it like a cloak.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said, softly. Ron looked at his former best friend carefully.

"What for?" he asked, trying to sound off-hand.

"For not being a very good friend," Hermione said, wryly. "Honestly, I've been so caught up in my own life that I couldn't even see that I was neglecting my friend."

"I was not being neglected," Ron said, indignantly. Hermione raised an eyebrow and it almost felt like old-times. Hermione could always see through Ron's cheery and indignant façade. Her friend seemed to deflate before her eyes.

"I guess maybe a little," he muttered, into the fire. He gave Hermione a sidelong glance.

"I can't help him, you know," he said. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest and covered them with the woven crimson and gold blanket.

"I know," she said, laying her head down on her knees. "I'm not sure anyone can."

"No, you can. Ginny can. Malfoy can. I can't. I did something wrong, Hermione, I don't know what but now..." His voice trailed off. Hermione watched Ron carefully, his face washed gold by the flickering firelight.

"You're his friend, Ron. You're his best friend, if you can't help him, no one can."

"No, Hermione, I'm sorry but you're wrong." Ron gave her a sad smile. "For once you're wrong. I can't, I'm not his friend anymore. He's so withdrawn, he cries at night, and I can't even do anything about it. I'm...nobody now. Sorry." He gave her a slight shrug as he tried to look careless.

"Well, I'm your friend," Hermione said, emphatically, reaching out to rest a hand over Ron's. Ron looked at her hand for a long time, an array of emotions playing across his face. He finally looked back up into Hermione's face.

"I know," he said, slowly, carefully, but clearly. "I've known that for a long time." They lapsed into silence but they both knew that at times like these, words really weren't needed.

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"Maybe I was too forward. Maybe she thinks I'm some egotistical maniac. Maybe-"

"Maybe you're being irrational. Stop pacing and sit down, Draco, you're making me dizzy," Harry instructed. The blonde boy dumbly took a seat.

"Now," Harry said, pleasantly. "Where's your back-up for all these crazy claims?" Draco couldn't sit still. He hadn't acted so impulsively since...well since this summer when he met Hermione but he couldn't let himself remember that.

"She hasn't talked to me?" Draco offered, lamely.

"It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Draco," Harry said, exasperated. As Draco popped back up to pace and worry himself out, Ginny approached them. She put a diminutive hand on Draco's shoulder and pushed him back down.

"Sit," she ordered. She carried a tray with three mugs of hot chocolate.

"Draco," Harry said, with a frown, as he sipped his chocolate. "I've been meaning to ask you but it kept slipping my mind, did you ever find out who that was in the muggle club?" Draco shook his head. The unknown character was a steady itch in the back of his mind.

"It's been driving me insane," he said.

"Do you guys even know if he's someone you know?" Ginny asked, licking marshmallow off her fingers.

"I think Hermione said she knew who he was. But she forgot it after she drank what he offered her I think. She barely remembers anything about that night."

"Do you think it was magically inflicted?" Harry asked. "It's all together possible for him to have slipped a memory erasing drug into the drink. Ones from the black market in the magic world are more reliable than ones from the muggle market." Draco shook his head.

"I don't want to think about it."

"But we're going to have to. He could be walking around Hogwarts for all we know." The trio looked at each other, their drawn, serious expressions mirroring each other.

"And that's what makes me uncomfortable," Draco said. He stared at his chocolate, and then took a long drink.

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They all saw Hermione enter through the double doors of the Dining Hall and Harry felt Draco stiffen. They saw her scan the room as though searching for someone and they fixed on Draco.

"Come on, Gin," Harry said, and tugged slightly on the girl's sleeve. She nodded and pressed her lips together and gave Draco and Hermione one last glance before disappearing through the doors on the opposite side of the hall.

Hermione felt her heart drop and thud as she approached Draco. She felt as though she was floating towards him; she lost control and feeling over her legs a long time ago. It was taking an eternity to reach him. Drat it, why was the Dining Hall so enormous?

Draco was waiting with the same worried, excited anticipation. The Dining Hall seemingly emptied out completely, leaving only them in the vast room. Suddenly, they were standing before each other.

"I wasn't sure you were going to be here," Hermione finally said, finding her voice. Unfortunately, she realized only too late that once she started talking, she couldn't stop.

"I completely understand if what you mean by this," she brought out the parchment at this point and gestured towards it a bit too wildly. "Is that you want me to leave you alone. I can see that you're not over your first love. It's, I mean, I completely understand. It wasn't in my place to make such obvious overtures; I don't know what has gotten over me. I mean, I'm usually a very rational person, Draco Malfoy. I don't do things that might, that might-"At this point, Hermione had to stop and take a breath.

"That might lay my heart or another's on the line. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal life and I honestly hope I haven't encroached on your romantic life. I mean, not that I have interest. I mean, I do, but I don't want you to think that that in any way binds you to a responsibility. I mean, I just, I'm sorry," she finally blurted. She looked at Draco a bit pleadingly. Was he angry with her?

Draco was looking at her with a curious expression and what appeared to be a grin crept across his face. Hermione felt her breath quicken as he took a step closer to her and when she closed her eyes, she could feel his hands pooling warmth at the small of her back.

Before she could formulate a second thought, she felt Draco's lips on hers and realized that he wasn't mad at her. The Dining Hall swayed and the ground beneath her seemed to give way and she felt a smile growing across her own face as she pulled away, feeling Draco's warm breath on her lips.

Hermione cocked her head and pressed her lips together thoughtfully.

"Draco?" He looked at her, quizzically.

"Did that taste a bit like vanilla to you?"

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