Hermione tried opening her eyes, but they seemed swollen shut. Like she'd put her head inside a bee's nest. As sleep left her and the events of the previous night unfolded, the witch realized that everything hurt.

Her back was aching, her arms felt like lead and a thumping pain was coming from of her face, near her nose. The pain slowly turned piercing as Hermione returned to the real world. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing, inhales feeling futile.

Breathe, Hermione, breathe

She felt an arm nestling her into a broad chest, one that her body was quite familiar with. Hermione could barely make out her surroundings through the eyes that were now just slits but the cinnamon aroma filling her nostrils was indistinguishable. Hermione could feel her memory foam mattress under them and realized that he had brought her to bed.

A disgust grew as his scent overwhelmed her and she fought off the urge to gag; nevertheless, the scent kicked in her fight or flight response and one single goal beat through her chest.

Get out.

The heavy breathing near her ear told him that the man was in deep sleep, thank god. The witch spent the next ten minutes over an eternity. She would move a centimeter out from his grasp, freezing until she was sure his breath was steady to move another…and another. Any change in his breathing and Hermione's heart would freeze, like even it knew that waking him up was not an option.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Hermione stood from the bed, glancing at the man lying next to her. His face was in peace, deep breaths indicating a blissful sleep. Hermione willed herself to hate him, to look at his face and feel only disgust but her brain wasn't complying.

His freckles reminded her of summer days with him at the burrow; his wide arms were hugs that she could get lost in and his hair became the countless times she had run her hands through as he fell asleep on her lap. A single tear fell from her eyes before she shut them, pushing out all the memories and bringing forward just one, his face as he made the decision to raise his fist at her. Hermione focused on that, convincing her body that that was the reality, that was the only man she knew.

Hermione turned without sparing him another glace, working off the adrenaline her body was releasing once reminded of her danger.

She needed her wand.

Hermione tiptoed to where she remembered it last, feeling around for the familiar thin wood but with sight still minimal, it was long minutes before her fingers found her wand, seconds before her world starting to dizzy. The adrenaline must've been wearing off and her body was coming to terms with her injuries. The witch feared she would blackout again, who knows what he would do if he found her trying to leave.

You need to go now. A voice said…was it hers? She wasn't sure; her legs were turning into lead and her head weighed a million pounds.

Hermione followed the voice, leaving the front door of her flat and…what now? Where could she go?

Anywhere but here.

Harry's? No, how would she explain…Hermione felt exhausted. What if she just took a break on her steps? Just for a little while. The houses around her were closing in on her, the sky falling. She was just going to sit for a second.

112 Kent. The voice said. Now.

Hermione shut her eyes, okay, okay. She could do this. The witch called upon her apparition, willing to dissolve into nothingness as a stream of chants went through her head.

112 Kent, 112 Kent, 112 Kent, 112 Kent, 112 –

The world around her caved and she wasn't sure if this was her passing out or following the voice, it was just black.

She painfully entered reality for the second time in what felt like minutes except her body was significantly sorer. The blinding pain in her face had subsided to an ache but could she – yes if she opened her eyes, she could see significantly more.

Hermione felt underneath and realized she was on a mattress again. Fuck. Ron brought her back. She needed to leave.

She grunted, pushing off the bed, not caring about noise and tumbled onto the carpet; go Hermione, go.

Wait, carpet? She didn't have carpet. What in the –

"What are you doing?"

Hermione startled into the floor, her body panicking. But it couldn't be Ron, this was a woman's voice. She painfully pushed herself on her back, searching for a body, finding one near the edge of the bed.

"Who – where…"

The woman approached her, putting something soft under her head, "You're safe. You need to rest."

Who?

Hermione faintly recalled trying to apparate to an address someone had told her, but her brain had stopped caring the minute it heard that she was safe, and her world blurred into darkness again.

Bugger.

The sleeping witch groggily woke to murmurers and whispers around her. Her instinctive curiosity heightened her hearing as she zoned into the conversation.

"She's been asleep for too long. You measured the draught wrong."

"I am able to perform my job exceptionally well Ms. Greengrass, I would urge you to remember that."

"I would urge you to remember that I will get you sacked if she does not wake up shortly."

There was a pause in the women's voices and then,

"According to my calculations, she will be up any minute now." Hermione heard footsteps approaching her and she stilled, allowing her breath to even.

"Well, she's not, so, either your calculations are wrong or –

"Ms. Granger, welcome to reality. How was your sleep?"

Shit.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. The room felt mostly dark, but Hermione could see faint light coming in from windows to the right of her. A face appeared before her eyes, interrupting her sight.

"Ms. Granger, how do you feel?"

Hermione knew she had seen this woman somewhere, but she couldn't exactly place her until the woman answered her bewildered expression, "I helped with your wrist a while ago, I don't blame you for not recalling."

"Healer Tringh." Hermione's throat ached, her words coming out horse, "How long have I been here?"

The other woman answered, she was across the room and held none of the welcoming expression that the healer had, but rather, her face was quite set. Daphne. "You tumbled onto my front door three days ago; you've been in and out of sleep since then."

Hermione absorbed the information, three days? She was sure her injuries couldn't have been that bad, "Why that long?" She asked the Healer.

"You had a severe concussion, a broken nose, displaced eye and a bruised tailbone, all of which was made much, much, worse by the apparition."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to recall the night her brain had already started putting into her box. She recalled being pushed into the wall twice but that couldn't break her nose –

She gasped as the memory of his fist came, and the panic bloomed.

Ron had punched her.

"Try not to push too hard Miss Granger, the memories will return eventually."

Hermione scoffed weakly, "I won't be forgetting that any time soon."

The Healer nodded with tight eyes, looking back at Daphne and speaking softly, "She will be fine, physically, but keep an eye on her emotionally. Any sign of panic attacks, memory loss or anything out of what should be expected, send me an owl."

Daphne nodded and the healer let herself out, leaving only her and Daphne in the room.

"Right," Daphne said, "Hungry?"

Hermione's stomach turned unpleasantly at the sound of food, "No."

"Well, I'm not having you pass out on me again so you have to eat something."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Why even bother asking if I'm hungry then."

Daphne sneered and left the room. She assumed Daphne would be back with some nasty food but ten minutes later, Hermione heard a distant shout, "Do I look like a house-elf? Get your ass in here."

She groaned, gingerly removing her sheets with minimal movement. She didn't feel as sore as she remembered but her joints felt rusty, like they hadn't been used in years. The witch carefully placed her feet flat on the grey carpet, testing her weight on them. They held. Hermione inhaled and stood up fully, walking towards the door, each step taking as much time as 10 normal ones.

"GRANGER GET –

"Merlin's beard, I'M COMING."

Hermione gradually made her way to where she thought Daphne's voice originated from, following the scent of food. Her flat was bare – to say the least. There were no portraits, no décor, no curtains, nothing that made it feel like home. Hermione located the kitchen fairly quickly and found a scowling witch eating at a table with one single chair.

"Home-y," Hermione commented, and Daphne snorted.

"It does its job." She quickly transfigured a chair on the opposite side of her and Hermione gracefully accepted by plopping down.

"Ollie made stew," she said, calling over a bowl with thick, brown soup heaping with substance.

"Ollie?"

"My elf."

Hermione nodded, making a mental note to talk to Daphne about elf rights in the near future.

Daphne gazed at her as Hermione took a gulp of the stew. It was one of the best things she had ever tasted, thick with substance but light enough to keep her nausea quelled. Hermione ate each bite slowly, counting to chew exactly 62 times to help with digestion, something she recalled reading in an Ayurveda textbook.

Daphne picked away at her own, giving the energy that she wanted to say something but kept deciding against it. Finally, as Hermione swallowed the last spoon, she spoke, "Granger, uhm...what happened?"

Hermione looked at her, sighing, this conversation was bound to arise at some point. She responded quickly, "Nothing. He got mad."

"About what?"

"Uhm…" Hermione wasn't sure if she should mention that the anger had technically originated due to Daphne's nomination but her persistent eyes loosened her tongue, "A letter came. It said Draco and I had won the ministry couple award."

Hermione watched as Daphne's face soaked in the information, was there a sign of guilt? Regret? The unfamiliar emotions on her face stirred something in Hermione. This was too different, too much change.

"It's fine," Hermione's discomfort said, "It was bound to happen one way or another."

The was another uncomfortable pause where she returned her gaze to her empty bowl of stew. Why had she eaten so fast, why couldn't Daphne had asked earlier, it would've at least given her something to do with her hands.

"I'm sorry." Daphne whispered.

Hermione looked at her gaping, that was an unexpected turn of events…

Daphne continued with an embarrassed face, "I – uh – was mad at Draco. We were kind of seeing each other since Hogwarts, on and off, but when the case started, he called it off. He just became so caught up in – Look, I knew that nominating both of you would get a rise out of him...so..."

Hermione stared at her, confused about what to say. "Okay…and did it work?"

Daphne smirked, "Definitely, he basically said that he hated me and never wanted to speak again so yes, technically, it was successful."

The witch sat, eyes wide, a smile pulling at her lips before a giggle escaped. Hermione clapped a hand on her mouth, "Shit."

Daphne stared. For a second Hermione thought that this was where she would be told to leave but instead, Daphne threw her bread loaf at head, "Bitch."

Hermione burst into giggles, the witch in front of her joining her laughs with an eye roll.

Maybe Daphne Greengrass was alright.

"Just come, it might be fun."

"I sincerely doubt that Daphne."

"What else are you going to do, mope around here again."

"Hey, I am perfectly deserving of a few moping days."

"You've already had 2."

Hermione sighed, there was no convincing her otherwise. "Fine, I will come for 45 minutes."

"Three hours."

"What? One and a half. Final offer."

Daphne grinned, "Deal. Just so you know, I would've accepted one."

Hermione rolled her eyes, walking back to her guest room as Daphne followed, "Unless I can wear the same clothes I wore here, I've got nothing"

A glint grew in Daphne's eyes as her gears churned, "Oh, this is going to be fun."

The dark-haired witch rushed away to her own room, no doubt to pull the most insane dresses off her shelves while Hermione sighed, looking at the mess that was her in the mirror.

She hadn't had the energy to maintain any part of her appearance and her eyebrows had become one, her hair returning to double the natural frizz. The past four days had blended into one ache filled, nap saturated, blob and Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had showered, let alone shave anything.

Well, it's not like anyone was coming to the party that she necessarily had a need to impress but general hygiene was still a must. Her thoughts flitted quickly to Ron, before Hermione shut her eyes, putting him back in her box.

She had allowed herself no time to think about him, still unsure of what she wanted to do. The wedding was barely a week away, and all deposits were placed. Should she call the whole thing off? Did she want to? Hermione felt the faint pressure in her chest threaten to grow at the questions - No, this was a tomorrow problem. Tonight, she would drink.

She had done as much progress on herself as she knew how, with freshly removed hair from multiple areas, some goop on her eyelashes and a shower followed by finger coiling her wet hair made the bush on her head significantly more manageable.

Daphne entered her room with a wicked excitement, "Good, you don't look homeless anymore. I found the perfect dress."

Hermione reached to grab it, but she swatted her hand away.

"No, put it on before you see it."

Hermione rolled her eyes and with a disgruntled okay stripped so Daphne could help dress her. The witch was tightening and pulling various areas of the gown until, with a final nod, she turned Hermione towards the mirror.

She could only gape. She looked like she was wearing the sky, the dress flowy with effortless sparkless that grabbed onto all the right places. The thin straps made her collarbones look…good? How could collarbones look good?

Hermione felt a breeze on her back and turned to see that it was completely backless, with the fabric pooling at her tailbone until it stretched tight against her rear.

"This is…too much," Hermione said.

"You mean that for the first time in your life, you don't look like a toad."

Hermione sighed, that much was true. "Okay, I guess. But I'm not going anywhere sober."

"Have you met me?"

The women arrived outside the hall late and slightly tipsy. There were people huddled along the outskirts of the massive building but still, the constant stream of people entering did nothing to lessen the amount herded on the outside. So, this is what a Slytherin reunion looked like…the Gryffindor ones had always been a picnic or outing, with Quidditch happening on one end and a potluck on another. Never anything as extravagant or loud or so densely packed.

"You told me it was a small reunion," Hermione said, looking warily at the general size of the public.

"Coward," she scoffed, "I thought you're supposed to be brave."

Hermione gulped audibly, "I've been struggling on that end lately."

"Come on." Daphne grabbed Hermione's arm, half dragging, half guiding her to the doors. Just entering the hall took ages, with every second person stopping Daphne to say hi or gawking when she introduced Hermione. She almost felt naked with the slippery lightweight fabric and had to take the effort to not hide her clothed body with her hands.

She was sure more people would've stared at her had she been recognizable, but the dress and excessive amount of time spent on her hair had transformed her. Maybe she even looked like a Slytherin.

"Daphne!" Called a voice and Hermione stopped herself from groaning. Why did Daphne have to know so many freaking people. They both turned at the sound, following it to Blaise's grinning face. Hermione herd Daphne gasp and watch them almost run to embrace. She had known they were close, but that close?

She was about to duck out of the crowd, let them have their privacy until Daphne ushered her over.

"Blaise, you know Granger of course."

She watched as the man's eyes widened, almost popping out of his skull.

"Hermione! You look…"

"I know, I know, I look great."

"You always look great but today, today you look enchanted."

Hermione smiled, blush spreading to her cheeks, "Blame Daphne for that."

"Yeah, you should have seen what I had to work with," Daphne started, "Hair a mess and –

"Oh, be quiet." Hermione spat, slapping Daphne's arm, "It's nothing compared to what I've had to deal with, with the dull décor and the constant shrill –

"I should have just left you on the sidewalk." Daphne finished with an exaggerated roll of her eyes and slight grin.

"Wait, Hermione's staying with you?"

Daphne's face went immediately cold. With no semblance of expression, she simply stated, "Yes."

Blaise must have recognized the change in tone to mean something Hermione was unaware of because he took in the response and immediately said, "Let's get some drinks yeah?"

Hermione was comfortly snug into a squashy chair, outside the main party, with Blaise and Daphne bickering about the ancestry of some pure-blood family that must've been important. Hermione had to admit, this wasn't half bad. She had decided on wine, and the warmth had made the thumping of the music and her companions almost enjoyable. Of course, just as she came to this realization, another Slytherin entered their space.

"There you guys are! I've been looking everywhere," Pansy Parkinson stated. "Come on, we're in the back."

Daphne glanced at Hermione inquisitively, questioning with her eyes if this is something she was up for. She knew that Daphne had given up a lot of her night already, sitting in this secluded corner so, for the sake of the Slytherin girl who had been too considerate already, Hermione nodded slightly.

Pansy led them around the middle of the party, through a dark hallway, and into a dimly lit room. There were about a dozen people already there, mingling, chatting. The room had a vibrant energy, one she hadn't experienced since Hogwarts.

"There they are!" Someone called and all attention diverted to them.

"Who's the girl?"

"Is that –

"No –

"Granger?"

Hermione found a blonde Slytherin staring at her in shock before he supressed it to slight curiosity.

"Come on guys," Blaise said, "Let's show the Golden Girl what a party is."

Everyone whooped and surrounded Blaise and Daphne, clapping their backs, hugging, catching up. Hermione discretely slipped away, analyzing the individuals present from afar. She could recognize a few, Milcent Bulstrode, Marcus Flint, Theodore Nott, while others looked familiar but she couldn't place their name.

"You changing houses Granger?"

Hermione smiled, she was wondering when Malfoy would question her arrival, "Like you guys could handle a Gryffindor."

"Oh, I could handle it alright." He said. She could feel his gaze on her and she turned to give him a look but was taken a back by how piercing his gaze was. The flush of his skin and deep breathing indicated that he had consumed quite a bit of alcohol himself.

"Don't go making promises you can't keep." She muttered back, his eyes flicking to her lips and then slowly taking in her body. His lips were parted slightly as his gaze travelled back to hers. The pupils dilated, making the naturally light grey look almost black. Hermione's nostrils filled with him and she felt her heart beat faster.

A large roar of laughter interrupted their moment, and he came back to himself. She looked away, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.

Hermione had to consciously think away everything that was churning. How did he do that? How did he make her feel incredibly guilty before anything had even happened. Hermione knowed she owed Ron nothing except, technically, they were still engaged.

No, tonight was her night to forget, she would not let Ron ruin her one night out. Hermione looked back but Malfoy had disappeared. She smoothed out her dress and tried on her most approaching look. She would at least try to be social for the time remaining she had promised Daphne.

Hermione's face seemed to work, and Marcus Flint approached.

"It really is the Golden Girl, I thought they were mistaken."

"In the flesh. Marcus, how are you?"

"Ou, are we going for the pleasent sociable Gryffindor today?"

"I'm always sociable."

"Of course you are. You seem to have half the Slytherin house wrapped around your finger."

"I'm not sure what you –

"I do wonder how you managed it. A potion? A charm? Maybe you're looser than expected."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, looser? What the hell was he talking about.

"Did you take one too many bludgers to the head? You were never great at Quidditch"

Marcus' face dropped, his mouth turning into a snarl, "Don't forget your place, Mudblood." He spat, "How does it feel to have everything handed to you because Scarhead picked your ugly ass in first year? What if he hadn't? You'd be nothing."

"I still would have picked the right side during the war." She kept her face cold, voice even, hiding the emotion bubbling that had been waiting to be let out for days.

He opened his mouth to counter, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to suppress the tears for long and the stupid bastard would think they were for him.

"Excuse me, I have better things to do than talk to a Death Eater." She left him standing there, not bothering to linger for a response and walked as calmly as she could towards the door of the room. She could feel hot tears on her cheeks, already fallen.

Hermione felt a hand pull at her arm, but she shook it off, continuing outside the room and finaly stopping when she reached a portion of the hallway where both parties seemed distant. Hermione leaned against the wall, letting the tears overflow, trying to inhale through them.

Come on, just breathe.

Hermione stayed against that wall for 57 breaths exactly before leaving for the bar. She needed another drink.

It was blissfully quiet here, with only an older gentleman sitting with his fire whiskey.

"The strongest thing you have please." Hermione said to the bartender. He simply smirked and poured her a thick, black shot, topping it off with a blue tint.

Hermione was about to question the contents when she realised that she really did not care and took it down in a gulp. She was surprised to find that it didn't burn her throat at all, instead an intense heat suddenly spreading from her navel. She felt light on her feet and the thumping of the music wasn't deafening but made her want to dance.

"THANK YOU!" She screamed at the bartender, his flinch at her words made her question her pitch but oh well!

She made her way to the dance floor, feeling the vibrations take over her, her heart synching with the beat. A giggle burst from her as she jumped with the music, arms crazy, no care in the world. She could feel the stares from people around her, some people even came over to dance with her…behind her? But for all Hermione knew, she was alone in this world, just her and the music.

She was only a few songs in when she was being dragged away.

What, no!

"I'm not doneeee, Daphne!"

"I know, I know. Just drink some water and you can go back." A man spoke.

Who in the –

Hermione focused her eyes on the head attached to the arm leading her away and realized it was a blonde boy. There was only one with that hair, she would recognize it anywhere.

"DRACO! HELLO!"

"Bloody hell."

"Where are we going?"

Draco abruptly stopped, the witch tumbling into his back.

"HEY!"

He pushed her down into a chair and handed her a cup. Hermione stared.

"Sir, this is empty."

"Wait, I'm getting my wand."

She finally let herself notice his appearance, his hair was wilder, longer, with more pieces framing his face, and less greased back. He was wearing a black shirt that fit snug over his top, Hermione could almost make out the individual muscles on his arms, with its sleeve rolled up deliciously.

"You look nice."

"You are drunk."

She giggled as he filled her cup and pushed it towards her mouth, not letting go until she had finished the whole thing.

The difference was immediate, the water diluted the effects of whatever the bartender had given her, and her head became clearer.

"Woah. Uhm…thanks." She glanced up at him and his concern was instantly replaced by amusement.

"Do you find it enjoyable to get plastered in my presence? I'm afraid it's becoming a pattern."

"Do you find it enjoyable to stalk me? I'm afraid that is becoming a pattern."

"Well, your fiancée never seems to be around to make sure you're not dying," he sneered. Hermione's breath hitched as Ron was shoved to the forefront of her brain. She couldn't do that again, she clenched her eyes, focusing on the box.

Go inside, please go inside.

When she opened them again, he was watching her curiously. "What, you got dumped?"

"Shut up Malfoy."

He stared at her for a second longer before turning to leave but the stupid vow she had made to herself about never letting him walk away shouted the words: "No, stay."

Draco turned, not moving back towards her but not moving away either. She thought about getting up to go back to the party, but the thumping of the music made her head ache and it was so quiet here.

"If you want to," she quickly added.

He gingerly nodded, "Well, there's nothing better to do," he plopped down in the seat next to her.

They sat in silence for a while. Hermione was surprised at how pleasant it felt: companioned peace.

Draco spoke up first, almost a half hour later, "Let's get out of here."

He stood up and held out a hand for her to grab. Hermione wasn't sure if it was the left-over booze in her system, the thought of going back up to the room that was dreadful, or that she just enjoyed his company, but she reached out and closed her fingers around the cold hand, letting him lead her away.

~ Notes ~

Ahh my apologies in the delay for this chapter. I realized that posting every two days meant that I was doing none of my actual school work so updates will probably follow a weekly schedule now.

I hope the chapter was okay! As always, please let me know what you think, I'm dying over here! *kisses*