Chapter 3

Two weeks later:

Hermione spun into George's living room, landing lightly on her feet. She was surprised to see that Malfoy had beat her there, as she was fifteen minutes early. He and Harry were in a heated discussion in the corner by the kitchen door. When they heard her arrive, they both turned and looked at her quickly before turning back to their conversation.

Hermione lowered the hand she had waved to them, her greeting going unnoticed. Something was up with the two of them and they obviously didn't want to be disturbed. She decided to leave them to it and made her way to the kitchen.

"And who the fuck are you to tell me what to do, Potter?" Malfoy spatted angrily as she walked passed them.

"You know very well, Malfoy. If I catch you doing that again-"

The door closed softly behind her as she stepped into the kitchen. Ginny and George sat quietly at the table, neither one speaking. Ginny was staring at the door, eyes narrowed in concentration while George stared at the wall, eyes closed.

"What's going on with them?" Hermione asked, jerking her thumb in the direction of the door.

"That's what we're trying to find out," George said, eyes still shut.

"Malfoy did something on a mission that jeopardized the whole unit I guess," Ginny said, her gaze still on the door as Hermione took the seat across from her. "He's been in a piss-poor mood lately apparently. Harry's come home just about every day with a new complaint about him." She shifted her eyes from the door to Hermione's face. "Any idea what's got his knickers in a twist?"

"Me? How should I know?"

Ginny scoffed. "You see him more than the rest of us. Seeing as you're fake married and all."

Hermione laughed. "Why does that matter? We're fake married for the sake of this game. That's all."

Ginny leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "Then why have you been seeing each other once a week?"

"It's once every two weeks," —Ginny rolled her eyes— "besides we get together to prepare for game night. That's all."

"Yeah okay," Ginny said sarcastically.

George's eyes suddenly opened and glanced at the girls at the table. "They've finished. Let's hope it doesn't effect the game tonight."

Unfortunately it did effect the game. Not only were Malfoy and Harry staring daggers at each other all night, but their playful banter started to turn personal. It made for a very stressful evening.

Hermione had taken the chair this week, so she was much more aware of Malfoy's tense body language from behind him. When Harry answered a question correctly, Malfoy would scoff and cross his arms, unintentionally knocking into Hermione's legs in the process. She could only take so much of the tense atmosphere before she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Malfoy, is everything alright?"

He turned his head slightly toward her and harshly whispered back, "Just peachy, Granger." He turned his attention back toward George and ignored her.

Their score wasn't much better. He was giving half-assed answers that she knew he knew the correct responses to. When she answered a question correctly, he didn't congratulate her like he usually did, he just continued to stare straight ahead. She was surprised with how much she missed the casual contact between them during the previous meetings.

Harry couldn't seem to take his eyes off him and stared angrily at the blond all evening. The others shared confused looks, but could only give each other shrugged responses. Whatever was going on between them was something only they knew.

Once Ginny and Harry were declared the winners, Malfoy stood up, mumbled "who would have fucking guessed," and stalked out the front door. Everyone sat in a silence that followed the slam of the door and the crack of his Disapparation.

Ginny immediately turned and smacked her husband on the arm. "What's the matter with you two?"

"It's just work stuff," Harry mumbled, rubbing the spot where she hit him. "Don't worry about it."

"If it was just work stuff you wouldn't have ruined our evening over it." She smacked him again. "What happened?"

Harry glared at her. "I can't talk about it, Ginny. It's confidential."

"Fine," she huffed. "But next time you have a work thing, you will not ruin all of our evenings over it. Got it?"

Harry sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Fine. Can we go home now?"

Everyone made their way home, except for Hermione. She sat on the armchair contemplating her next move. Rationally she should go home. She should go home and let this blow over and meet with everyone next month with a fresh start. But the annoying voice in the back of her head was telling her to go elsewhere. She shouldn't and it was a long shot he'd even be there, but the voice just wouldn't shut up.

Ignoring the rational part of her brain, she threw powder into the fireplace and was whisked away to the coast of Eastern Sussex.

She tumbled into a room in ruin. Cushions were thrown from the sofa, books were strewn across the room. The coffee table had been flipped over, and a lamp had been thrown against the wall, the pieces littering the floor. The only thing not out of place was the man seated in the chair, a glass of whisky in his hand and a scowl across his features.

He stared at her, not hint of surprise at seeing her on his face. He took a deep gulp of his drink, eyes never leaving hers.

"Malfoy, what in Merlin's name is going on?"

"Potter didn't tell you all then?" He questioned, taking another sip.

Before she answered him, Hermione waved her wand, items flying back to their rightful place. Once the couch was back in working order, she took a seat on the cushion closest to him, scooting to the very edge of it.

"What happened?"

He continued to glower into his glass, eyes now completely ignoring her.

"Draco," she said softly. His eyes whipped to hers. "What happened?"

He ground his teeth and looked around the room. After spending so much time with him lately, she could tell he was trying to contain his anger. A few moments of silence passed before he sighed and answered her.

"Potter got the promotion."

"Did he? He didn't mention anything." She was surprised her best friend wouldn't share something as important as a job promotion he had been working toward.

"Of course he did. Saint Potter always getting what he wants."

Hermione nodded slowly, trying not to judge his anger. She understood now.

"You were up for the promotion too." It wasn't a question.

He jerked his head and huffed fiercely. "I've worked longer hours, went on more missions, made more of an effort but it wasn't enough."

She reached forward and placed her hand on his arm, her thumb brushing lightly. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry."

He closed his eyes. "Apparently my history prevents me from climbing higher in the program."

Hermione's mouth fell open. She had thought the Ministry was better than that. "They can't hold that against you! You were a boy and you had no choice."

"Well not everyone sees it that way. They said I'd never aspire to much and should be grateful they let me into the program at all."

"Those bastards. I'm going to-" Before she realized she was up out of her seat, Malfoy grabbed her wrist and tugged her back down to her cushion.

"While I appreciate the gesture, Granger, please don't."

She stewed quietly for a moment. The Ministry they were working so hard to change, to become more accepting of all types of people, was just as prejudiced as before. Only this time it wasn't the purebloods keeping out the muggle-borns, it was the people who had won the war—those who had fought to make the world a better place— that were acting unfair.

She thought back to the evening at George's flat. While Malfoy's attitude made sense, the argument between him and Harry didn't.

"Why was Harry mad at you then if he got the promotion?" She asked finally.

Malfoy placed his glass on the arm of his chair and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We were on a mission today. I was pissed that he had gotten the promotion over me so I refused to follow his orders. I placed the whole team in danger and almost got us all killed. It was petty of me, but I just couldn't get the anger out of my system."

Hermione sighed and reached for his arm again. "I understand why you would be upset, Malfoy. What the department did was shitty and you deserve to be pissed. But defying a superiors orders like that, especially while on a mission is completely irresponsible."

He snatched his arm from her gasp and turned his head toward her. "You think I don't know that?" He snapped. Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her. "I'm angry, Hermione. Not just upset, but blood boiling angry. I worked hard to get where I am. I've worked hard to restore the Malfoy name and gain people's trust again. To be told that none of that matters and it never will hurts. It's destroying me and no one understands."

Hermione was on her feet too, stalking up to him. "You think I don't understand? You think I don't know what it's like to be told I'm not enough? That no matter how good my grades are, no matter how hard I work, I will never be seen as a functioning member of society. Not even that— that I'm less than dirt. You think I don't understand?"

"Yes, please tell me how Golden Girl Hermione Granger doesn't understand. Tell me how the person who could just walk into any department, any business, and ask for a job doesn't understand. They'd hand it to you on a silver platter. You could bloody well ask for Minister of Magic and they'd fucking hand it to you!"

"And you know why? Because I fought to make this a better world. For people like me, I fought to get where I am!"

Malfoy scoffed and stepped closer to her, head bent down to level with her. "And what have I been doing? Just sitting in a corner shooting Jelly-Legs jinxes at people walking by? Just sitting at my desk watching everyone else go out and do their jobs? I've worked my bloody arse off!"

"Then work harder!" Hermione yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. She took a steadying breath and looked up at him. "Just don't give up. I had to keep working hard for years before I was seen as anything remotely 'Golden'. Just keep at it."

Malfoy took a final look at her and sank back into his chair. He stared at her shoes. "I'd just like to be appreciated for all the work I've done." He looked back up at her. "You know?"

Hermione sat in front of him on the edge of the coffee table. "I appreciate what you do. And I know Harry does too. When you're not screaming at each other," she added.

He chuckled and without looking up, grabbed her hand. "You're a good wife."

A smirk spread on her lips. "I know. How about some food?"

Malfoy grunted and let her pull him into the kitchen. The two of them spent an embarrassingly long time cooking eggs and toast, the simplest meal they could think of. After eating quickly, they made their way back into the living room. They settled onto the sofa and instead of their usual questions, they played an intense game of Exploding Snap. It was surprisingly the perfect stress reliever they needed.

Malfoy had won his fifth game in a row and was gloating excessively. Hermione chuckled as he danced around the room, fighting the urge to yawn. He saw her struggle and pulled her up from the cushions.

"Alright we don't want to be falling asleep on the furniture again. You best be off, Granger."

Unable to fight the yawn anymore, she nodded through it. "You're right." She picked up her bag from the floor and made her way to the fireplace.

Malfoy followed her the short route. "Want to meet again next week?"

She turned to face him, unable to stop the smile from forming. "Sure. Same time as before?"

He nodded and pointed a finger at her. "But wait at your place so I can pick you up and not think you'd forgotten."

Her smile grew. "Deal. Goodnight, Malfoy."

A hand gripped her upper arm and spun her back around. She moved questioning eyes to his face. His jovial attitude had shifted and he was standing much closer to her than she realized. Her eyes flitted to his lips swiftly. She caught herself and moved them back to his own. Her arm burned with the contact of his hand.

"Thanks for coming, Granger."

"Sure thing," she grinned softly. "That's what fake wives are for."

His other hand whipped out and gripped her other arm. "I mean it. Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and nodded. "Of course," she said quietly.

Malfoy leaned closer to her, eyes still searching hers. Her heart picked up it's pace as he leaned closer and closer to her. Her feet shifted, unsure if this was what she wanted, or if this was how she wanted it to happen. Just before she thought his lips were about to meet hers, he changed course and pressed his lips firmly to her cheek, lingering for a moment.

She closed her eyes and basked in the feeling of his soft lips pressing into her cheek. She didn't have much more time to think before the pressure was gone and there was hot breath hitting her face. Her eyes fluttered open to see Malfoy directing his dark eyes into hers. She took a deep breath to prepare herself, but just as she was beginning to accept the idea of kissing him, his hands removed themselves from her arms and he had taken a step back.

He reached past her, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Hermione still didn't move as the flames heated her back.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said, dismissing her as he turned toward the back hallway.

"Goodnight, Draco," she responded, taking a large step backward into the flames.

Once she was in the safety of her own living room, she made her way to the front door, whipping it open and stepping out into the cool night air. Looking up into a cloudless sky, she finally breathed fresh calming air.

One thing was made sure that night, Draco Malfoy would be the death of her.

Next Month:

Hermione landed on the cobblestone street and glanced at the building in front of her. Disguised as a broken down factory, The Phoenix House— a new wizarding bar in central London— was shaking with the beat of the music within.

After the stress and hostility of the previous meeting, George had demanded they all take a month off and meet for drinks instead. The group was all for a change of scenery, especially if it meant an evening of alcohol and dancing.

She stepped carefully forward, cautious as to not get her heel caught in the cracks on the road. She smoothed down her black skirt and lifted a hand to tame her hair a touch. She wasn't sure why she was feeling so nervous— she was just meeting her friends. The same friends she had been meeting every month for the past few months. And her most recently acquainted friend (is that what they were?) she had met with every week for the past month.

She had waited every Tuesday in her flat for Malfoy to pick her up at exactly 7 o'clock. What had started as a simple meeting to review questions for George's game had quickly turned to multiple evenings spent over dinner, wine and various strategy games. She learned that Malfoy's favorite was Wizards Chess, but after introducing him to the muggle game Risk, she could see his inclination wavering.

A couple of small pops echoed around her as Ginny and Harry appeared.

"Alright, Hermione?"

"Hi, Harry. Ginny." She smiled and embraced her friends. Even though it had only been a few weeks since she had last seen them, she still missed them just the same.

"This ought to be fun tonight!" Ginny was practically bouncing on her toes as they approached the bar.

"Hopefully," Hermione mumbled. "You know how I am about crowds."

Harry threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on it'll be fun! Try to put up with it all for at least an hour."

She turned giving Harry a small nod. "One hour."

"Let's get this party started!" Ginny yelled, rushing through the door.

Harry and Hermione chuckled, following closely behind.

Once they found the rest of the group and sorted out a table, a few of the men offered to grab everyone drinks. Hermione was about to get up to join them when hot breath tickled her ear, sending sparks down her back.

"Would my wife like a drink?" The voice whispered. All she could do was nod in response. "And what would my wife like to drink?" More breath hit her neck, which she was sure was sprouting red splotches.

"Um… I'll uh—," her voice cracked. She thought about ordering a Butter Beer to keep her wits about her, but the thought of being sober while in a bar around Malfoy was a dangerous game— one that she was sure to lose. Before she could change her mind she cleared her throat and tried again. "Glass of scotch please."

"A woman after my own heart."

Warmth spread up her neck to her cheeks.

Once he was headed to the bar, Hermione finally looked up to find Ginny and Sarah grinning at her.

"What?"

"Oh nothing," Ginny smirked. "Just watching you get all hot and bothered over Malfoy."

Hermione sputtered out a nonsensical response. "I am not getting all hot and bothered over him."

"I hate to break it to you, sweetheart," Ginny leaned across the table to give her a level look, "but it's glaringly obvious."

"It is not!"

"So you are getting all hot and bothered over him!" Ginny pointed at her.

"Of course not! I need the loo." Before either girl could respond, Hermione was up, out of her seat and across the room in record time. Hoping no one followed her, she shut the door and leaned against it.

Was she really that obvious in her sudden attraction to Malfoy? Sure they were getting along and meeting more often, but it obviously didn't mean anything. Right?

She banged her head against the door behind her.

Who was she kidding, of course it was obvious. Her face warmed like it was on fire when he was near and lately she couldn't seem to keep her bloody hands to herself— always touching his arm when he made her laugh or grabbing his knee when she had something exciting to share with him. Hell, last week she had even squeezed his hand when she left his cottage. She was absolutely smitten by the git. And worse, everyone seemed to know about it.

After a few calming breaths and the straightening of her clothes, she rejoined the group in the dark corner. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw her drink at her seat and Malfoy absent from his. With her drink just about empty and her breathing normal, she had just started a conversation with Sarah about baby names when another voice butted in.

"I've always been partial to the name Scorpius."

Hermione choked on her drink, just catching it in a napkin before she spit it down the front of her blouse. "Scorpius? Merlin, Malfoy, that's a terrible name."

He glared at her. "Is not."

"It's horrendous."

"It's celestial."

"It's awful."

He scoffed and threw back his drink. "I have to keep up tradition somehow."

Hermione chuckled. "There's so many other star related names you could use. If you name your future child Scorpius, he'll think you hate him."

Ron guffawed across the table.

"Fuck off, Weasley. Fine what would you suggest to keep the theme, wife?" Malfoy put his empty glass down and leaned toward her.

"Well there's the obvious ones like Leo or maybe even Hercules." Malfoy snorted. She shot him a look, but continued on. "I always thought Lyra would be nice or maybe even Cassiopeia."

Now Ginny laughed. "Gods, that's about as bad as Scorpius. You'd be setting that poor child up for failure."

"You could call her Cassie!" Hermione argued back.

"Still not the best," Ginny countered.

Malfoy shrugged and stood from his seat. "I like it," he said simply and walked toward the bar.

Ginny was giggling again. "Oh well if your fake husband likes it then I guess it all works out."

Hermione turned from watching Malfoy's retreating form to face her friend. "Piss off, Gin."

"Already there," the redhead replied, causing Harry to shoot his drink out his nose.

Although she had promised to stay for an hour, Hermione was missing her bed. And her books. And her cat. She wanted to go home, soak in a bath and read until she passed out. Perhaps it was the alcohol making her feel this way. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. Her job had been increasingly more stressful and her anxious thoughts about Malfoy weren't helping much either.

While she figured she'd have to force herself to stay rooted in her seat, she found she was enjoying herself much more than she thought she would. Maybe a night out wasn't the worst idea George had ever had.

Yet.

She had just finished her fourth drink when a pale hand came into her line of sight.

"Fancy a dance, Granger?"

The amber liquid coursing through her veins gave her the courage to accept his hand without hesitation. He pulled her to the dance floor, and while it was an upbeat song, he put his arms around her like they were about perform the waltz from fourth year.

Her heart rate spiked when his hand came around her waist and stopped to rest on her lower back. He brought his other hand into hers and held it to the side. She gave him a questioning look about their position before he started to move.

This was much different than a waltz.

He moved smoothly across the floor, guiding her effortlessly. Their feet moved swiftly, somehow not stepping on each other in their drunken state. He drifted them around in time with the quick music, never missing a beat. When he suddenly spun her away from his body and pulled her back, she couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh. Her eyes met his grey ones, glittering with glee.

They spun together around the space, hardly breaking eye contact, laughing at the joy of it all. At the rise of the song, Malfoy grabbed her by the hips and lifted her in the air, akin to the silly dance Professor McGonagall taught them all those years ago. She looked down from her place above him and grinned— she had never felt more free in her life.

Once she was lowered back to her feet, an absurd thought crossed her mind. She tried to hide her smile, but could tell her muscles weren't working correctly due to the alcohol and was doing the opposite of what she had wanted.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, drawing her back from another twirl from his arms.

"I was just thinking…"

He rolled his eyes. "Boy what a surprise that is."

She gasped dramatically and lightly smacked his arm. "Rude. As I was saying. We should leave."

The hand on her waist drifted up her back. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh really?"

"Yes."

"And just where would we go?" He breathed, leaning slightly closer to her. The hand now touching between her shoulder blades, fingers touching the base of her neck— which she was sure was hot and splotchy.

"It's a surprise."

"Alright, Granger." The hand now tangled into her curls, ghosting up the back of her head. "Surprise me."

She glanced up into his eyes, now darkening much quicker than she had seen before. He had stopped moving, the two of them now standing still in the middle of the dance floor. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. Neither one of them glanced away, afraid to break the spell.

"Do you trust me?" She whispered.

He spoke without hesitation. "Immensely."

Finally plucking up enough nerve to break the spell first, she pulled herself from his arms, but kept a hold on his hand. She tugged him behind her until they had reached their table of friends. She grabbed her bag and addressed the group.

"We're leaving and will see you all next month." Without waiting for the obvious responses they were bound to have, she dragged Malfoy behind her until they were breathing in the fresh night air.

She took a deep breath, finally drawing in a cleansing breath. She turned to the blond beside her, his eyes still dark and trained on her. Without speaking a word, she Apparated them from the front of the bar.

They landed on hard ground. Hermione turned to the entrance, while Malfoy started pulling her closer. He paused in his movements and glanced at their surroundings.

"Granger," he drawled. "Where are we?"

"Pizza!" She exclaimed and pulled him into the shop.

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a pounding in her head and the churning of her stomach. She closed her eyes to the bright sunlight pouring through the windows and groaned. She had a few too many drinks at the bar and if she was remembering correctly, she had a few too many when she arrived home as well.

She was just about to get up to grab something to quench her dying thirst when another groan came from beside her, followed quickly by the sound of running feet and a door slamming.

She cracked open an eye in confusion and peeked at her surroundings. She was on her side, facing the back of a couch. A couch that did not belong to her. She rolled on her other side and sighed at the realization. She was in Malfoy's living room. What in Merlin's name happened last night?

With a quick glance to the floor, she saw a pile of pillows and a small throw blanket. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe they had simply passed out. In the same house. In the same room.

She had just slowly sat up when a loo flushed and the sound of bare feet returned. Malfoy entered the living room from the back hallway hair disheveled, shirt untucked and askew, skin ashen and sweaty.

"That bloody pizza doesn't taste too good the second time around," he croaked.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought, and struggled to keep her meal from last night at bay herself.

"What exactly happened?" She tentatively asked.

Malfoy had plopped into the armchair and leaned his head back, slowly stroking his forehead with his fingertips. "You fed us mountains of pizza and then demanded we come back here and finish all my wine."

"Not my greatest idea," she deadpanned.

Malfoy just snorted in reply.

"Where's the Hangover Potion? Don't you have any?" Surely he did after he left her a vial of it when he delivered her back to her flat after their second meeting for the game.

"I've just owled Ginny. I gifted some to her for her birthday and I gifted a lot. She has to have some left."

The two sat in relative silence while they waited for Ginny's owl to arrive. The Potters must've had a good lie in after a late night out. After about an hour of sitting and sipping slowly on glasses of water, Malfoy jumped from the chair and stalked into the hallway again. He emerged moments later changed into a pair of joggers and a jumper. He tossed a pile of clothes onto the sofa.

"Here. Not sure how long Ginny is planning on keeping us waiting, so we might as well get comfortable." Without looking at her, he swept back to his chair and pulled out a book.

Hermione thanked him and made a mad dash for the bathroom. She quickly peeled off her bar clothes, happy to be rid of the alcohol soaked fabric. She took a moment to look in the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in various directions. And even though her nausea had dissipated, her skin was pale and sickly looking. The glass shower in the corner was calling her name.

Straightening her back, she made the decision to take a quick shower, Malfoy's opinion be damned. She stepped into the hot spray and sighed. It was the most relaxing shower she had ever taken— the water pressure was glorious. It was amazing the things that money could buy.

Although she wanted to stay under the water for hours, she knew that Malfoy would get suspicious if she took too long. It was with great disappointment that she turned off the shower and stepped into the steamy bathroom. After toweling off, she pulled on the clothes Malfoy had provided for her— black sweatpants and an oversized Quidditch jumper that fell passed her thighs. She glanced around and grumbled under her breath. She had left her wand in the living room and had no quick way to dry her hair. Now she had no way of hiding the fact that she showered.

She entered the living room to find Malfoy seated on the sofa, a pile of toast in front of him on the coffee table and two glasses of water.

"I figured we might as well eat something while we wait—," he glanced up at her and paused. "Did you shower?"

Undeterred by his tone, she rolled up the sleeves of the enormous jumper and made her way to him. "I did. I smelled of booze and cheap pizza."

"I should've showered," he mumbled under his breath.

Shrugging, she grabbed a slice of toast and took a small bite. "Well hindsight is 20/20. You could shower at any time, Malfoy."

He hummed into his drink.

As it turned out, Ginny was having an extremely late lie in and didn't return their owl for another three hours. Hermione didn't mind though and it seemed like Malfoy didn't either. The two of them sat quietly and read side by side on the sofa, the throw blanket draped across both of their laps. At one point Hermione had complained of a headache and Malfoy insisted she lay down with her head in his lap. He traced his fingers across her forehead, tickling her scalp along the way. Not too long later, she had fallen asleep.

She awoke to a slight tapping on the window. She waited patiently for Malfoy to let in the owl before she remembered she was laying on his lap— he probably didn't want to move her. She lifted her head to see that he had fallen asleep as well, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open, blond locks falling across his face.

She smirked at the sight of him napping with his mouth open and pushed the hair from his forehead. The owl pecked impatiently at the window, pulling her from her revere.

She took the vials from the owl, fed him a corner of toast and after he bit her finger, she shoved him out the window.

Not wasting any time, she gulped down one of the vials and waited for the potion to take effect. She tiptoed back into the living room, finding Malfoy still asleep on the couch. It really was endearing watching him peacefully sleeping. Not wanting to disturb him, she set the vial on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the armchair.

What was she doing? She had only waited until Ginny sent the potions and now she was what, waiting for him to wake up? This was pathetic, even for her. She was following him around and hanging on his every word like a love struck teenager.

Although he wouldn't have kept inviting her over if he didn't enjoy her company. Maybe he just wanted to be friends. Obviously this went beyond the married couple game, because the last few times they hung out they hadn't even discussed questions from the game. But that's all they did— talk.

This was ridiculous. She needed to get home and prepare for work the next day. And feed her cat. And,

And

And

And

Be anywhere but here. She couldn't be here anymore.

She could feel herself starting to spiral. Before she started to panic too much, she jumped up, grabbed her wand and Apparated home.

Once she was in the safety of her home, she sank to the floor and placed her head between her knees. Taking long deep breaths, her heart rate began to slow, her mind clearing and breathing returning to normal.

After the war, she had been prone to panic attacks, but she hadn't had one in months.

Great. So now she had that to look forward to as well.

Brilliant.