Hi!

Guess what? I am still alive! No, honestly: no matter how long it takes to update, I won't abadon this story. I am sorry that you have to wait but I do have a life and that life is killing me this year.

Just know, that I love every single one of you who keeps up with this mess anyway and leaves comments! You are the best! You can't imagine how happy I was when I found out this has already over 100 reviews! I never expected to break that number! THanks!

And of course, thanks to my betas Nantai and chocomieux

"How are you?" Hermione asked as soon as Harry picked up his phone, skipping the greeting all-together. Ginny had left half an hour earlier and Hermione decided that it was time to check on Harry. She wasn't too happy that he hadn't called, or texted her himself about the whole thing, but then again, he had always prefered to think things over alone before talking to others.

"I'm okay," he slurred. He was obviously drunk - no wonder he was "okay".

"How are you dealing with the break-up?" she asked, "does the drinking help?" Hermione grimaced as soon as the words left her mouth. She hadn't intended to nag, but it had slipped out. She was apparently more hurt about him not telling her than she wanted to admit to herself.

Harry laughed and the tension over the misstep left Hermione's shoulders. "I am at a party, Hermione," he said.

"Oh- Oh. I am sorry," Hermione felt her cheeks heat up. She really shouldn't have assumed. But then again, she had witnessed a few too many of Harry's unhealthy coping mechanisms in the past. "I'll leave you alone then. Enjoy the party."

"Hermione," Harry said, amusement ringing in his voice, "thanks for checking in on me. I'll call you tomorrow."

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" Parkinson put her things down next to Hermione, startling her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, unsure how to deal with the situation. Pansy Parkinson asking her what she was doing on a weeknight, as if she wanted to invite her somewhere, was clearly a first. Especially as Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. But that didn't have to mean anything. He might have been lurking somewhere around a corner for all she knew.

"I am going to a party," Parkinson said, "and I want you to join me."

"Why?"

Parkinson sighed. "Look, it's not like you were my first choice-"

"How flattering," Hermione muttered, earning herself a glare.

"-but the boys aren't coming, as they are watching some soccer game and Daphne is currently in a terrible mood, so you are basically my only choice."

So really no Malfoy. Somehow, Hermione doubted she was lying about that, considering it would bite them in the arse if she did. They all were smarter than that.

"What about your other friends?"

Parkinson fell silent, making it clear for Hermione that there was clearly more going on than she let on.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, doing her best impression of McGonagall's interrogation glare, which she had learned to fear back in her school days.

Instead of answering, Parkinson stood up. "Forget it," she said. "I shouldn't have asked." With that, she turned around and left, leaving Hermione to wonder what just happened.

Somehow, it had become quite the common occurrence since she had gotten involved with Malfoy.

Hermione shrugged it off, deciding that she didn't really care, even if her curiosity was already demanding more details.

"You want me to do what?" Draco asked after he stopped coughing, the water he had been drinking dripped down his chin. "This crush on McLaggen is clearly going out of hand."

"You owe me," Pansy said with a glare that made clear she wouldn't accept any objections.

"I am not sure Draco could help even if he wanted to," Blaise muttered from behind his magazine. "Granger isn't very happy with him at the moment."

Draco studied the table with sudden interest, running a finger over the carvings in the old wood. Countless prior generations of students had left their marks on the tables in the cafeteria and the university refused to replace them, claiming tradition to be the reason, even though everyone knew that money was tight, even for the most elite of universities. Everyone wanted a good education, but the state didn't want to support it. While many of the rich families like his own pretended that it didn't matter and they could buy themselves what education they wanted, everyone felt the effects.

"Apparently, Draco tries to fall out of the good graces of every woman he knows. He is just lucky, that his mother would love him even if he… God, I can't even come up with a comparison terrible enough for her to consider not loving him," Pansy dug her spoon into the half-empty ice cream container without any vigour, ignoring that it was already more of a milk soup with chocolate chip cookie pieces than anything else.

"He is a born charmer," Blaise said in his dryest tone, causing her to laugh and splatter ice cream all over the table as her hand shook on its way to her mouth.

Draco pinched the back of his nose. This was so stupid. He couldn't believe that Blaise was actually supporting this idea. "Tell me how exactly you imagine this going."

"I just did."

Draco sighed. "Humor me, Pans. I need to hear it again just to make sure I didn't hallucinate the whole thing."

She glared at him. "You are so not funny. But fine. I need you to convince Granger to go with me to Goldstein's party as McLaggen has a thing for her. She doesn't like him and when she brushes him off while he tries to get her attention, I will be there to get him."

"I still can't believe you just said that. This sounds like a plot from a bad teenie movie. It will backfire for sure," Draco shook his head. "Seriously, it's a good thing you don't get crushes more often. It's scary as hell."

"I have to agree with that," Blaise muttered, turning a page in his magazine, Draco wasn't sure he was actually reading or just using it as a cover to hide something else. You could never know with Blaise.

"Will you do it or not?" Pansy asked and Draco sighed again. Did he really have a choice? He would try once and if she said no, it was Pansy's problem and not his. He would do what he could without risking bodily harm. She couldn't ask more of him.

THEPrinceCharming: I am sorry to bother you, but could you PLEASE go with Pansy to that stupid party she really wants to go to? We can't and it is super important to her, so could you do me the favour and accompany her?

To Draco's surprise, his phone lit up with the response almost immediately.

Persephone: Not interested
THEPrinceCharming: Pretty please?
Persephone: I hate parties
THEPrinceCharming: I won't annoy you for a week?
Persephone: As if you could manage that

Draco grit his teeth. Pansy was looking at him expectantly and he really didn't think this was a good idea, but he owed her. A lot.

THEPrinceCharming: I won't talk to you for a week?
Persephone: Make it two
THEPrinceCharming: FINE. But you have to stay as long as she wants to
Persephone: Deal. but not a word - starting now

Draco tossed his phone on the table. "I hope this is worth it," he said and Pansy's face immediately lit up.

"Thank you!" she said, pulling him into a hug over the table.

While Hermione occasionally felt like she was missing out on life with all the studying and no parties and clubs, it didn't mean she wanted to go to another party so soon after the last one. It was just too tiresome.

She needed space and some time alone with a book, not countless evenings spent in midst of drunks. But then again, she had always asked herself if she was strange for thinking that way, or simply an introvert, masking her insecurity behind a facade of superiority and judgement of party-goers. It was a vicious circle and Hermione would have loved to break out of it, but her childhood with basically no friends left her lacking in certain areas, despite having caught up on most of the social stuff after she met Harry and Ron.

She ran a hand through her hair. There were several cases waiting to be studied and she was wasting time thinking about parties. This way, she would never become a top lawyer. She needed to focus if she wanted to be successful. That was the thought she should follow. It always worked out for her before. Social stuff was overrated, right? She would have time for it when she was sitting in her own firm, watching rich boys who didn't work hard enough make coffee for her.

Hermione closed her eyes and a picture of Malfoy bending over to pick a book from a low shelf appeared in her mind. He had such a nice arse.

Her eyes flew open immediately as her cheeks burnt up. This wasn't good.

Hermione shifted from one foot to another. She was feeling completely out of her comfort zone next to Parkinson who was laughing at something another girl said.

It wasn't just the fact that Hermione didn't know anybody present particularly well, she was sticking out in her no-name clothes like a sore thumb. Parkinson had forgotten to warn her that this was a party for the rich. Sure, there were one or two other students who didn't look too fancy, but they were clearly the minority.

"What kind of party is this?" Hermione couldn't resist to ask the second she was left alone with Parkinson.

"What? Why? Is something wrong?" Parkinson rose her perfectly filled eyebrows.

A girl passed them, the Chanel-logo on her purse glinting in the light. "Is it me or is basically everyone here rich?"

A quiet "oh" escaped Parkinson's mouth before a smile spread over her features. "No, not everybody. Don't worry. Anthony invited quite a few of his childhood friends and his parents' associates' children that's why it may seem like it, but there are enough regular people like you here."

Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the last comment. It wasn't worth it. "Is that why you wanted to come here so bad?" she asked instead.

Before she got an answer, an arm appeared around her shoulders, causing her to screech as she jumped away. She turned around to see McLaggen looking at her with a very confused face, his beer dripping over his hand and Parkinson bending down in a fit of laughter.

"Not funny," Hermione hissed, but Parkinson was still gasping for air, not calming down.

"So, um, ladies," McLaggen grinned at them and Hermione wanted to puke, "how are you doing on this fine evening?"

"Amazing," Hermione said sarcastically, even though she knew that he would most certainly miss that. He always missed sarcasm in situations like this, or maybe he ignored it. It was hard to tell.

"How are you?" Parkinson asked with her brightest smile, stepping on Hermione's foot, earning herself a glare.

"I'm splendid. The beer is good and I am talking to two beauties such as yourselves. What more can I wish for?"

"A personality?" Hermione muttered but he didn't hear it as it seemed, as Parkinson was already moving on the conversation, which was more than fine with Hermione. She was perfectly happy just to stand there and space out. It wasn't like she wanted to be there anyway.

"Do you want something to drink?" Parkinson asked, bringing her back to reality.

"Wine," Hermione replied automatically and suddenly she was pulled by the two of them towards a table in the far corner of the room and found herself with a cup full of wine and in the middle of a wine-discussion in a matter of seconds.

"Good quality and taste is important, Cormac," Parkinson said, touching his arm in a too friendly way. "You don't want to wake up with too much of a hangover after drinking just wine."

"It's important with cheese maybe, but not at a party," he said, laughing and proceeded to empty his cup in one go. "You should try it. Let loose for an evening," he wiggled his eyebrows at Hermione.

When neither of the girls reacted he sighed theatrically, sounding almost like Malfoy, and poured himself another cup just to drink it in one go again. "That's how it's done!"

To Hermione's surprise, Parkinson looked him dead in the eye and actually did the same before she stepped closer to him and whispered something into his ear.

She turned on her heel and walked away, Hermione hurrying after her, leaving McLaggen no way to retort.

"What did you say to him?" Hermione asked in the kitchen, when Parkinson finally stopped in front of the bottles containing the stronger spirits.

"Let's do shots," Parkinson said, reaching for the tequila bottle and two shot glasses.

Hermione wasn't thrilled by the idea but the look on Parkinson's face said that she wouldn't accept a no and honestly, she didn't even care anymore. It was easy to take the full glass from Parkinson and to down it. Maybe McLaggen was right and she needed to let go. Maybe this meant living and not being a robot who studied all day. Maybe all of this was meant to be.

"I fucking hate him so much," Parkinson said through gritted teeth. "He is such a self-assured prick, with his perfect blonde hair and sharp cheekbones and no sense of fashion or manners and oh god, I can't stand him but why is he so beautiful?" She poured them both another glass, not waiting for Hermione's approval. "This is so fucking ridiculous. If I could just shag him and get it out of my system..."

Hermione stared at her. She was pretty sure Parkinson was talking about McLaggen but it quite sounded like her own thoughts on Malfoy. It was… weird. She had never expected that the two of them would feel alike about anything at all and now this.

Parkinson must have noticed her expression. "Did I just say that aloud?" she asked, with teror written all over her face.

"It will stay between us. I know exactly how you feel." Hermione didn't know why she said that but somehow it felt right, it felt good to get it off her chest, to tell that to somebody who understood. "I just want to get it over with and return to normal. It's driving me crazy!"

Parkinson looked at her for a long while before speaking. "Why don't you do it?"

"What?"

"Shag him. It's not like you can't. He likes you and I am pretty sure he will be happy to. Seriously, there has been sexual tension between the two of you since you both hit puberty. It's time you acted on it."

Hermione blinked. She wasn't sure she heard right. She wasn't even sure if this was real. She was drunk, the tequila making her head spin. Was this conversation happening? With Pansy Parkinson?

"Why don't you shag McLaggen?" she asked.

Parkinson laughed without any mirth in it. "Because he doesn't want to."

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. McLaggen not wanting to shag an attractive woman was another first in a long list of things she had never expected to happen. "Why?"

"Don't ask me. I feel like I've tried everything at this point. That's why I invited you here by the way. I wanted to make him talk to me through coming to talk to you. For better or worse it worked."

"Shall we go and talk to him some more?" Hermione offered in a spur of drunkenness and compassion.

"No," Parkinson said and put the glass on the counter. "Let's dance and have fun. Life is about more than men."

Later that evening, Hermione was lying in her bed, unable to sleep. She couldn't get Parkinson's words out of her head. Why didn't she shag Malfoy if it was that simple?

If she acted on those hormones, she would clear her head and be able to concentrate again. Maybe she should give it a shot. What was there to lose?