The door to Draco Malfoy's study clicked shut as both Hermione and Draco entered the room which, to his relief, was a good distance away from his son's prying ears.

A huff freed itself from between Draco's lips as he leaned against the door, his body languid with relief. "I put him to sleep." He said, before suddenly remembering who he was entertaining for the night. He cleared his throat, before regaining his solid demeanour, his stony guise falling back into place.

"Malfoy, thank you for your hospitality, but some of us have personal lives we have to go back to, so if you're done wasting my very valuable time, please, direct me to the exit." Hermione said pointedly.

A bark of amusement left Draco's throat, the resonance of his laughter increasing her ire. "Oh Granger but don't you want to know what I have in store for you?" He asked, a wolfish grin adorned on his pale, aristocratic face.

Hermione sighed exhaustedly. "Stop wasting my time Malfoy. I came here just because your snooty, ungrateful arse needed help. But with that attitude it seems like life is pretty hunky dory for you! I mean what could be going so wrong in Mr Perfection's life that he needs the help of a lowly muggleborn like me?" She ranted. With the level of anger she was at Hermione was pretty sure she could boil a cup of tea in her own body. In fact, the previous statement was probably an understatement. She was ready to disembowel Draco.

"Okay, rela-"

"If you tell me to relax one more time I swear to Merlin that I'll rip pull those pretty blonde locks off your head." Hermione hissed, her wand out and pointed at Malfoy in a split second, her eyes burning with unquenchable fury.

"Hm. Feisty." He chuckled. "Fine then. I'll tell you why I've got you held up in my study, when you obviously have better things to do. Just put down your wand. I don't want anything to happen to my pretty face."

Reluctantly, Hermione lowered her arm, her attention raised to whatever Draco was about to say.

"So that little boy that you just saw in the kitchen? That's my son, Scorpius."

"Yes I think I've already got that part down." Hermione said sarcastically.

"Well since you have already gotten that part down then you won't have trouble with the next." He bit. "Scorpius is a Malfoy, and Malfoy's deserve the best. He deserves the best in education, the best-"

"Just cut to the chase!" Hermione cried, cutting him off. Draco glared at her, irked by her interrupting his speech about how Malfoy's were akin to God's. "Granger, my son needs a tutor."

Silence reigned for a while in the room as Draco's words strutted across Hermione's mind, her brain processing each syllable.

"I-I... what?" Once again for the evening Draco had stunned her into a state of being succinct, which was abnormal for the Brightest Witch Of Her Age, who was a long term sufferer of verbal diarrhoea (Well according to Ron) .

"Yes Granger. You." Draco sighed. "I need you to tutor my son."

"But... But... what makes you think I'm eligible for the job?" Hermione inquired.

"Look Granger, what I'm about to tell you might offend you or probably cause you to jump me. I asked the ministry for your records."

"You WHAT?" She yelled indignantly, the sound booming throughout the room. Draco winced. "Yes I did, and I saw that you scored remarkably. You got O's in literally every subject. And in your muggle reports-"

"You looked at those too?!"

"- You also did remarkably. Granger your mental prowess is impressive. You could've been a certified child genius." He said.

Hermione huffed in aggravation, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Look Malfoy I'd love to help you but I just don't have the time to tutor Scorpius. My schedule is packed."

Draco bit his lip he the gears in his head began to turn. Once again Hermione's eyes searched his face for emotion, and upon finding nothing, she bought her gaze to her hands, flustered at herself for considering the blonde's thinking face handsome. "I know a way you can free your schedule Granger." He said suddenly. Hermione raised a brow in inquiry.

"Quit your job."

"Quit my..." She trailed off, her head tilted to the side, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. "Are you mad?" She was practically married to that job. Sure it wasn't the greatest job in the world but it was what put a roof over her head and put clothes on her back. "I'm leaving." She said, as she began to walk to the door. Maybe if she prayed hard enough to any deity available she would find that this entire situation was a delusion organised by her fatigued brain.

"I'll pay you a hundred thousand galleons." Draco said abruptly. Hermione stopped in her tracks; did he just say a hundred thousand galleons?! He smirked at her reaction. No one could say no to that offer. "Come on Granger, that's even more than what Potter Makes. Or do you prefer to be paid in muggle currency? Every month I'll pay you five hundred thousand pounds!"

Her hand rested on the cold brass of the doorknob as she mentally weighed her options. Working a ruthlessly tiring soul crushing job at the ministry, versus working for the man that bullied her incessantly as a child.

Maybe earning a monthly salary that surpassed Harry's would get rid a little bit of the bitterness?

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the doorknob tightly, a sudden feeling of sadness adorning her.

She would ponder on it over a cup of tea and her battered copy of Hogwarts: A History.


00:26, the luminescent numbers of the digital watch strapped tightly on his wrist read. The cool night air nipped at his skin, causing goose bumps to erupt all over his body. "Fuck." He slurred.

Once again the night had been wasted on a binge drinking spree.

There was no means of stopping his new found addiction, as it was the salve that soothed the pounding ache in his heart.

The alcohol had a devastating rule over his body, enslaving his soul and crippling his mind, all while keeping him under the pretence that it would make him forget.

While it did make him forget, the amnesia only lasted momentarily, and when it wore off all the previously forgotten memories hit him at full speed.

Slowly he turned the knob and pushed the door open, the creak of the aged door announcing his arrival. He shuffled into the dark living sluggishly, before throwing his languid body on the sofa. A fatigued sigh left his lips, as tiredness dominated in his body. Although the couch was quite uncomfortably to sleep on, Harry was compelled to release his inhibitions and just fall asleep on it.

"Harry?" The dark living room became illuminated, causing Harry to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light. "Bloody tell Ginny, turn off the lights."

Standing by the threshold was Ginny, who had her hands on her hips in a reproachful stance. She was dressed in a cotton night dress, her auburn hair up in a bun. Her lips were pulled into a tight line on her face. "Where were you?" She asked, her voice shaking subtly.

"Does that matter Ginny?" Harry questioned.

"Yes Harry it does! You're coming home late and completely wasted, and it's worrying!" She cried, a ball of angst forming in her throat.

Within the confides of her heart Ginny knew what was the cause of him being so aloof towards her. She knew where his new found addiction stemmed from.

As much as she wanted to it to be a figment of her paranoia, she knew that Harry still loved her, and that was irrevocable.

"I'm so sick of this! I'm sick of your complaining and whining!" Harry yelled, picking himself off the sofa. He staggered, struggling to stand straight as his body was still plagued by intoxication. "So what if I come home drunk? I'm jus' having a little fun thas' all!"

"Not so loud Harry!" Ginny hissed. "You'll wake James up!"

"You're bein' stupid, he can't hear us!"

"You're being insensitive Harry." She reduced her voice to a barely audible whisper, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. She drew in a breath as she fought down the ball of angst that kept fighting it's way up her throat. "Harry is... is this about the her?"

Silence reigned momentarily in the room, eventually being broken by a dry sob that broke past Ginny's lips. "Please don't lie."

He clenched his jaw tightly, his emerald eyes darkening considerably. The memories were still freshly painted onto his brain, the paint refusing to dry as much as he blew at it.

Even as he closed his eyes to sleep at night, the last thing he always saw was the blatant betrayal that swam in the depths of her hazel eyes. Harry took a sharp intake of breath; the salve was wearing off, and the wounds were starting to open up.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice broke as tears began to cascade down her face. It was true then.

For five years he hid his true feelings behind a façade of happiness, but behind it he was crumbling, like a dilapidated building.

"I'm sorry Hermes, I swear-""No Harry! How could you?" The sky wept, just as she did.

His eyes stung slightly, the sudden recollecting stirring dormant emotions within him.

"Yes." His heart grew heavy with regret, the resentful part of him wishing that he had never went to that quidditch party, that he had never played spin the bottle, that he had never went into that broom closet with Ginny, that he had never ever gotten her pregnant.

Now the lasting result of his infidelity was the loss of the only girl he ever truly loved, and a son, that he loved regardless of being the product of a terrible drunken mistake.