They had been walking in circles for so long Hermione could feel every muscle in her legs and feet screaming at her. Every half hour or so she would stop and sit on a bench to rest. Malfoy would wait, tapping his foot with impatience.

After the fourth instance of this, he stated, "There's no point to this. We've made our rounds three times already,"

"We can't just-"

"I'm going to find a nice quiet place to drink some butterbeer while I wait for tonight's shift to end. If you want to continue wandering around, be my guest," and with that, he turned down another hallway.

Hermione thought of her poor legs and warily decided to follow the Slytherin. She found him in a cramped disused room that must have been the inside of one of the smaller towers. There he was sitting on one end of a single stone bench that curved up against the length of the wall. It couldn't have been more than two meters around.

He gave her a look of bemused surprise and said, "Don't tell me that you, the star pupil of our year, are planning on having a drink with me?"

"You know, you've always been a brat." She said through a grimace but sat down anyway.

Once seated, she spun her wand easily casting Calyxis Creotium, and a mug appeared on her lap.

"Here," she said, handing it to Malfoy who filled the cup to the brim.

"I suppose this means you owe me," he said with a tired smirk.

Oh dear, that's probably the last thing I want... she thought. But then began rummaging through her bag and pulled out the tart Neville had given her earlier. She broke it cleanly in two, with the apple filling staying perfectly in place.

"You can take half of this and we'll call it even."

"Why do you have a single pastry just sitting in your bag?"

"Do you want it or not?" Hermione demanded. Pursing her lips, she grumbled internally about his stubbornness.

With an intense look of suspicion, Malfoy reached out his hand for one of the halves. It was Hermione's turn to be amused as she watched him inspect the sweet before taking a bite. She decided to stifle a laugh with a sip of the butterbeer. But by the time she swallowed the drink, she realized this draft was a lot stronger than the type they served at The Three Broomsticks.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, struggling to keep down a cough.

"Bought it off Robinson and Spencer in our common room. No idea where they get the stuff, but it's leagues better than the backwash served in Hogsmead."

"So why have you decided to stop studying in the library anyway? Are you honestly exchanging education for… drinking smuggled alcohol in random corners of the castle?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly at Hermione, a smirk spreading across his pale face, "Why? You didn't miss me did you?"

Hermione sputtered in indignation, "Absolutely not! We'd made an agreement is all. I just think it was rude to- to not show up."

"Rude yeah? I suppose I've always been like that though haven't I?" he said closing his eyes and slumping lazily back onto the stone wall behind him.

Hermione felt a familiar sort of frustration, "You know, you Harry and Ron would probably get along well if you weren't always at each other's throats. You all test my patience regularly."

"Ugh, don't bring up Potter and Weaslebee while I'm trying to relax."

Hermione decided to brave a few more gulps of the butterbeer.

After a minute or two of this, she ventured, "They can be a bit annoying, but they're not all bad."

"Ha! That's you saying that, and you're their friend. Imagine my perspective," he said coyly.

"Well, it's not as if you've been terribly nice either. You've called them both names and gotten into more rows than I can keep count of."

He scoffed at this, "Please, they've done the same to me."

"And it's not just them, you've called me a mudblood on more than one occasion."

At this Malfoy turns his head away from her.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong."

"I'm sorry-?"

He finally turned back to her, grabbing one of her wrists in his free hand, "You can't tell anyone I just said that though. I'm serious. Not a soul," the look in his eyes was so desperate. Straddling the line between anger and fear. Hermione could only nod.

Malfoy seemed appeased at this gesture, and released her, both of them turning back to their drinks.

She desperately wanted to know what had just happened in his mind. What was going on that he was afraid to utter even a simple apology? She gulped dryly and asked, "How was the tart?"

"Not bad," He replied, taking a few swigs of the butterbeer.

Hermione bit her lip nervously, her heart rate increasing at the thought of her next sentence. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

"You could always tell me if something's wrong. Who am I gonna tell right?" she said with a shrug, recklessly hoping that she was coming off as casual.

"I don't think I'm quite drunk enough for that," he said with a short laugh.

"Oh sure. I'll wait," Hermione said, then her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized that she'd spoken out loud.

This time Malfoy laughed full out, "Oh really? When was the last time you'd had this much to drink Granger?"

"What? Oh, I've- Probably never," she responded directly, hand still hovering over her mouth.

"I'm a little jealous. If I could get drunk that fast, I'd have more spare change for other things."

"Why do you decide to get drunk?"

"We've all got our problems, Granger," He said

"I'm sorry," she said and slouched forward to look at him.

"What the hell are you apologizing for?"

Her head had slowly been feeling fuzzier the longer the conversation went on, though she was trying her best to seem as though she was fully aware of what was going on. In reality, while she could hear everything, her vision kept getting blurry at random spots, which made focusing difficult. Half aware of her actions, she reached down to grab Malfoy's hand. This was in part to show sympathy and in part to help steady herself. Malfoy looked her up and down in suspicion.

"For whatever things I should be apologizing for I guess."

"You're more far gone than I thought you were," he said, pulling her hands off of his own.

She looked at him in confusion, "I'm right here."

At that point he stood up and picked up both of their bags, slinging them over his shoulders.

Hermione glared at him, "What are you doing? That's mine by right,"

He couldn't help but chuckle at this comment, before helping her stand up, "Can you walk all right?"

"I don't need to be going anywhere. Why don't we both sit down now, and continue this conversation please," at this, she attempted to sit down again. But she stumbled on nothing. And she would've hit her head on the wall if Malfoy hadn't caught hold of her waist in time.

"That's a no," he said. At first, he tried to sling her arm over his shoulder but realized the height difference would mean he would have to crouch the whole way. Instead, he decided just to pick her up bridal style.

At this point, Hermione was entirely disoriented. She realized she was moving, but couldn't feel her feet taking steps. Turning her head, she hit something that she decided must be a person. Oh, it's Malfoy, she thought. It then dawned on her that she was being carried. Briefly, it crossed her mind to be angry about it, but she decided that she liked being carried, as it was calming. And she liked his scent. He smelled of mint, rain, clean linens, and the alcohol they'd both just been drinking. Such a nice scent for a person. She buried her head in his chest to drink it in.

She could hear a faint conversation. Something that was certainly about her, but her hazy mind wouldn't let her care about it.

"Oh of course I will" she heard Luna Lovegood's dreamy voice answer in response to a question. Suddenly, she was being stood up, and by necessity, her brain had to snap into what focus it could manage. She was being held up by Luna, and they were walking (or in Hermione's case stumbling) down a familiar hallway. She knew it would lead to Gryffindor tower. Hermione looked behind her shoulder and just managed to catch a glimpse of black leather dress shoes disappearing around a corner.

She was aware of the rest of the night, but only just. Luna arrived at the Portrait of the Painted Lady and knocked lightly. Ginny pulled her through the passage and led her upstairs where she pulled off her shoes and tucked her into bed. "Night Mione," was the last thing she heard before falling under.


A/N: Hey! I hope everyone's enjoying the story. These next two weeks I have finals, so I might end up going on a hiatus depending on if I feel like I need to. Please feel free to read some of my other stories :) Currently, they're all short stories, so they won't take up too much time, but I like them well enough. As usual, anyone who is following me or this story will get updated as soon as I do post the next chapter. Until then!