Buckle up guys, this one is a bumpy ride.

Alpha/ Beta love as always to my main squeeze MissyJAnne85 for pushing the pain levels up!

Check out this week's songs added to the Spotify Playlist here.

No real trigger warnings apply this week - that I can think of. Please let me know if I have missed something as this is not my area of expertise - I am super willing to be educated here, please & thank you!

Draco felt like a living ghost. He could touch, see, smell, and hear, but he had lost any ability to taste or feel. Those sensations had walked right out of the door the moment Hermione had.

The morning after she had left, Draco had woken to a pounding headache and an upset stomach that had nothing to do with the Firwhiskey he'd consumed. Once he had collected himself, he had scribbled a note to his mother. It had simply read:

It's done. Call off the wolves.

He had wrapped the earrings carefully in the layer of silk. His fingers dancing along the diamonds, remembering how they had looked on Hermione, her hair pulled back and her gorgeous neck exposed. He recalled how badly he wanted to suck and bite that delectable skin and mark her as his for all to see. He remembered, and he locked the sight of her in that dress away in the depths of his heart, before wrapping the earrings more securely in parchment. Sealing the envelope, he'd given it to his Eagle Owl to carry back to his Mother.

Draco was yet to hear anything back, and he could only assume that no news was good news. No more dead rats at the breakfast table was definitely good news in his book. The careful eye he kept on Hermione told him that she hadn't received anything upsetting in the mail, either. The Head's common room was a lonely place without her in it. Without her, and her books, her things and her smell. Draco avoided being there as much as possible.

He traipsed the halls, spent extra hours in the library, flew rings around the Quidditch pitch until it was too dark and his eyes watered. He threw himself into research, stacking old books on top of more old books. Draco surrounded himself with scrolls that were written centuries ago. Theo helped where he could, procuring old tomes from his family library. Theo was more than willing to help Draco piss off his ancestors and bring a fresh perspective to a new generation of wizards. None of it helped. Draco was no closer to finding a solution now than he was four weeks ago when he had started.

School raged on around him. Classes full of Granger. Prefects meetings and patrols - the scent of jasmine surrounded him. Haunted him. He wanted to inhale deeply and block his nose at the same time.

He turned in his assignments on time, somehow managing to keep up with the study routine Hermione had created for him months ago. He would not be failing his way out of Hogwarts. He had no intention of adding one more disappointment to his list.

Sleep seemed to evade him unless he had worked himself to the bone. His mind couldn't seem to switch off, and he'd wake in the middle of the night, turning to scratch another idea on some parchment. He had a full two feet of scribbles next to his bed of research ideas, all of them amounting to absolutely nothing. Nothing he had looked into had revealed any insights. It was maddening and Draco was clutching at straws. He hadn't felt this lost, alone or distraught since he'd been tasked with a mission from the Dark Lord.

The week before Valentine's Day was a frenzy of red and pink. Flowers and chocolates were strewn about the castle as if there were something pretty to celebrate about love. As if love was a good thing. As if it could heal you. Draco knew better. Love destroyed you. It entered your life, filled you with inexplicable happiness, and then it ripped you to shreds. Couples who held hands or embraced in alcoves were everywhere. Secret admirers threw their caution to the wind and declared their love. Draco loathed it all. It made him feel physically ill.

Didn't these saps know that in the end there was nothing but horror and heartbreak? Heavy hearts, sleepless nights and cold sheets? Draco demanded that the pillowcases be left unwashed, he was savage with the House-Elves and threatened them, lest the smell of her leave his linen. Tired feet growing numb from pounding the cold stone floors night after night.

Valentine's Day was a nightmare that he would have to live through. Each corner he turned presented him with new decorations or couples. Ridiculous recitations of poetry that cut into his flesh, reminding Draco just how painfully he missed her. Every fucking thing tormented him anew.

Draco watched her when he could. Those moments when the books could no longer hold his attention. When the professors droned on, or when he was supposed to be eating or taking notes. He watched her, and he thought that maybe sometimes she watched him, too. He saw her pain. But he also saw her love of learning. How she was able to lose herself in the books that she clutched. He saw her life start to carry her further and further away from him.

He saw, too, when the male population of the school started to notice that she was keeping her distance from him. He didn't know what they thought of it. Could they see it for what it was? A break-up? Or had they played their part better here at Hogwarts than they had on the last night of the twentieth century? Did the student body of Hogwarts assume that as his probationary period ended, so had any companionship with the two of them? He couldn't know - couldn't ask anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing about any of it. All he could do was watch as winning the affections of Hermione Jean Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age, War Heroine and fucking perfect specimen of woman and witch became a competition again.


There was going to be a dance for Valentines Day. Apparently, the school faculty would take any excuse to celebrate these days. Anything for a bit of fun - an injection of optimism. Something to cheer the students up. Yeah, something that'd cheer you up if you hadn't recently had your heart ripped out and fed to the wolves. And what's worse was that he was supposed to be chaperoning it. With all of the other prefects. And the Head Girl. Someone should just go ahead and murder him right now because he was already in hell.

"So, in conclusion, the Valentine's Day Dance should be a breeze. I don't see anyone trying to get up to too much mischief. Just keep your eyes and ears open. And for Merlin's sake, don't bring a date!" Hermione finished her address.

The Prefects had all nodded glumly, looking to Draco to see if he had anything to add. He did not. In fact, it appeared that Draco would rather be anywhere else, his nose turned up in the air as if there were a bad smell.

Hermione had just been about to dismiss the meeting when bloody Arlidge had rubbed further salt into the gaping wound. She had knocked once on the door before opening it and sticking her head through the gap.

"Oh good. Y'all are still here! I've just double-checked with the Headmistress and she has agreed that during the dance, you should all come dressed for the party. I think this will really help you blend in and the other students will relax - be able to have a good time without feeling watchful eyes on them!" The young American Professor grinned as if she had discovered a new defensive spell.

Just what I fucking need! As if this thing isn't going to be enough of a fucking disaster, let's all dress up for it like your own personal fucking puppets. Fuck you, Arlidge. Piss off back to the States while you're at it, and take that annoying fucking 'Y'all' with you. Draco glared daggers at the intrusion and her suggestion. The other prefects had nodded along enthusiastically at the idea, seeing a chance to enjoy the festivities themselves. He studiously avoided looking at Hermione until he could escape from the room.


Hermione had thought things had been hard in those first few weeks without Draco by her side. She had been wrong. The longer she went without him, the bigger the pit in her stomach and the hole in her heart seemed to grow. Soon, she was sure they would swallow her whole.

Now, thanks to her new favourite Professor, she was expected to get dressed up and attend a party. A party that Draco would also be attending. Not only was she expected to attend, but she was expected to have a good time, or at least pretend like she was having a good time. She didn't even remember the last time she had had a proper shower. A Scourgify seemed to be the only thing she had the energy for lately. In the first week, she had spent vast amounts of time sitting on the shower floor, the scalding hot water pelting her from above as the tears cascaded down her face. Saltwater mingling with freshwater before winding their way down the drain, and away from her. If only the current would drag her pain away with it.

Hermione wished that she could say that the rest of January had passed in a blur. She was not so lucky. Every morning that Hermione woke up in the Gryffindor girls' dorm was a painful reminder that she was alone.

Every class that she shared with Draco was a stab in the gut. Prefect's meetings twisted the knife in further. She was drowning in her own misery. Her studies were the only thing keeping her afloat. Hermione threw herself into the books with more gusto than usual. If studies were keeping her head above water, then she would throw all of her energy into them and damn her classmates to hell for looking at her as if she were possessed.

Occasionally, her eyes would meet Draco's, as if seeking further torture. The appearance of pain registered in one another. Their eyes would wander, land, hesitate, and then flick away, always leaving Hermione feeling worse than she had before. He looked just possibly, as bad as she felt. His perfect hair, usually so pristine was unkempt. His neat and tidy clothes hung awkwardly in places as if they no longer fit. His eyes. His wonderful, deep silver-grey eyes were haunted. She wanted to comfort him, to ease his pain, but she could not approach him, would not approach him, for fear of what she might do. Would she hex him, hit him, or kiss him? Until she could answer that question with certainty, the best thing she could do was to maintain the small amount of distance that they were granted.

And so February arrived in a flurry of snow and Hermione wished that it would numb her heart as well as it had numbed her fingers.

Two nights ago, Hermione hadn't been able to sleep, so she had slipped her robes on, intending to patrol the corridors. She had just left the Gryffindor common room, turned right and ran straight into Draco.

He'd apologised, explained it was his night for patrols and disappeared around the next available corner. But it hadn't been his night for a patrol. Hermione knew this but checked the roster again the next morning anyway, on the off chance that she was wrong. So what had he been doing on the seventh floor of the castle at three in the morning?

She had wanted to stop him, wanted to talk to him. Her heart reached out while her eyes just stared after him. His retreating form left the words caught in her throat. She needed to tell him that this all or nothing was driving her crazy. She needed to hold him, to be held by him. It wouldn't be easy to say, and things would never be the same, but she needed him back. She had liked the way he had numbed all her pain. Images tore through her mind, reminding her of the way he had loved her.

Hermione wanted to know if all of his days bled into nightfall, too? Did he feel her absence as keenly as she felt his? She wanted to scream and yell at him some more. To tell him that she had let her guard down and he had pulled the rug out from under her - just as she was getting used to being someone he loved.


It was dumb, really, what he'd done. He'd woken up in the middle of the night and reached for her. He'd had a pleasant dream filled with memories of her. His first good dream in weeks, so he'd turned to pull her to him in his sleepy haze. His hands had closed on empty sheets. Draco's bed was devoid of her, and her smell had finally left the linen. He couldn't get back to sleep after that. So, he'd pulled some clothes on, laced up his shoes and stalked the halls, hoping to find trouble. He needed to take his mind off of her. Somehow, Draco ended up on the seventh floor, his feet subconsciously carrying him towards her. He had been completely unaware until he looked up and there she was. What had she been doing up in the middle of the night?

Draco had given her a lame excuse, sure that she'd see straight through him. He turned tail and walked away as swiftly and as gracefully as his legs would carry him. He made himself walk right back to his bedroom. No stopping. Foolishly, he was hoping for and dreading the thought of her being just a few steps behind him. She wasn't, of course. She'd gone back to bed - where she was safe, he hoped.

When he returned to the dormitory, he hesitated for just one moment before he started to smash things to the floor. This all or nothing way of loving had him barely existing and sleep was impossible without her. It was killing him. He had more than liked the way she had helped him escape. Escape from his darker nature. Escape from his past. Escape from reality. He was just beginning to get used to being someone she loved, but it had all come crashing down around him now. As he surveyed the damage around him, he felt physically and emotionally drained, yet his mind still raced. He left the mess where it was and took himself to bed to stare at his ceiling for the next four hours.


Valentine's Day was on a Monday this year. Mondays were possibly the worst days to have a party on, but heaven forbid they celebrate two days early! Breakfast was overwhelming for Hermione. Owls of assorted sizes and varieties dropped off various gifts, cluttering the table around her. Chocolates, cards, and flowers. She searched through them all, looking for a familiar elegant script. It wasn't there, but she did find one with another hand that she recognised. She tore the letter open, and dried rose petals fell out. She flicked them to the side impatiently and flipped the parchment open.

'Mione,

I'm not sure if you want to hear from me or not, but I couldn't let Valentine's Day pass without writing to you. I have missed so many already. I couldn't bear to let another go by without letting you know what you mean to me.

I told you that I'd stop fighting for you "for now". I know you need time to recover from the way that I hurt you. I understand that - but, I'm begging you now to remember what we had. Remember our love, 'Mione. We were great together, and I love you.

I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. I'll spend every minute until my dying breath to show you just how much if you'll only let me.

Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione.

Love,

Ron.

Hermione sighed heavily. She refolded the parchment, slid it back into its envelope, and added it to the pile. She wanted to just throw the lot of them on the fire, but she knew she would open and read them all. Knowledge was power, after all. Even if it came in the form of a ridiculous Valentine's Day letter from someone whom she couldn't give two romantic figs.

Ron's letter was both surprising and unfortunate. Hermione had thought she'd been clear during their conversation at Christmas - that they were better off as friends. Ron either didn't remember or didn't care to remember her words. Still, unwarranted as it was, her Valentine wishes managed to add a little spring in her step, acting like a little balm for her broken heart. Something about being wanted by someone - several someones, apparently - tended to make one feel good about one's self.

The high that Hermione experienced from reading her Valentine's Day wishes was short-lived. None of them were from the person she really wanted or needed a card from. Instead, that person shot cold daggers at her every time she dared to look up from her textbook or breathe. If she wasn't chaperoning this damn party tonight, she'd have snuck in a flask of something to help her manage. Tonight, she would have to work closely with Draco for the first time in a month. Hermione was simultaneously sick and giddy at the thought.

She wondered if she should reply to Ron. Tell him to stop hoping - that she'd well and truly moved on from him. She was more heavily heartbroken now than she had been at the beginning of the school year. Would her lack of response be fair to Ron? Probably not. But Hermione had made her thoughts on the matter clear to him. If he couldn't take the hint that silence granted, maybe it was better to leave things how they were. She still had hope that they could go back to being friends at some point in the not too distant future. It was possible that a reply from her right now would make that possibility blow up in her face.

Besides all of that, she just didn't have the energy for it. She knew the symptoms of depression, knew that they were creeping in on her. Recognised them from her lonely existence the year before. Hermione did not want to lose herself in a harrowing pit of despair. She was bigger than this, stronger than this, smarter than this. She would not be brought down by a boy. Or so she kept telling herself. It was one thing to believe something, and quite another to make it happen. Depression, anxiety and other mental health issues were not something you could wish away with a stern thought, no matter how hard you tried.

Hermione glided through her classes that day, dreading the evening. One hour after dinner, the Great Hall would be transformed, allowing students of all ages to celebrate this damn holiday. Logically, Hermione understood the need for bright, fun, and colourful things to create a positive feeling in this post-war climate. Emotionally, she wanted to tell them all to go to hell. Maybe she could use a skiving snack-box for the first time ever, and get out of this damn thing. Ginny wouldn't let her.

"'Mione, you need to get out of this funk. I know you're hurting and I know this sucks. Staying cooped up in this room, obsessively studying and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to make the pain go away."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her friend. Ginny seemed to be missing the point entirely.

Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, ok. I get it. Maybe a Valentine's Day party isn't the best choice of events to get out there, again, but I'm telling you, 'Mione. You need to shower, wash your hair and feel alive again. Even if it's just for a dumb school party that you have to chaperone. You can do this!"

Hermione sighed and slumped back on to her bed. The two girls were blissfully alone. Ginny's bunkmates had thankfully accepted Hermione's excuse about not being able to put up with "the ferret" for a minute longer now that she was no longer obliged to, but it would have been easier to let them all know that she was dying inside, her heart shrivelling with every moment that she was separated from him. How had he become so pivotal to her? That's what you get when you let your heart win, she thought bitterly. Sometimes, feelings and desires made no bloody sense.

"Fine," Hermione had finally said. Ginny's face lit up in triumph. "But I'm going to need your help with an outfit. I am sure that I have exactly nothing appropriate with me!"

"You've got yourself a deal," Ginny grinned.

Half an hour later, Hermione was back in the girl's common room, freshly showered for the first time in forever. Her hair hung in wet dregs around her face. Ginny clucked her tongue and set to work, drying and styling Hermione's hair. Adding a light makeup glamour, she showed Hermione the dress she had picked for her to wear that evening.

"I borrowed it from Parvati. You know pink isn't really my colour," Ginny explained. "Just pop it on, and we'll adjust it from there."

Hermione picked the low cut, frilly dress off of the bed. It was quite beautiful, really. But Hermione had no taste for it. It was something to be admired on someone else. Someone who was happy, beautiful, and comfortable in their own skin. Hermione hadn't been any of those things for weeks now. Ginny stared at Hermione, fire in her brown eyes until she buckled under the weight of the gaze. With a sigh, Hermione dropped her robe and slipped the dress up her body for Ginny to zip into place.

"Nice knickers," Ginny grinned as she zipped Hermione into the dress.

Hermione glanced down before she realised that she already had a dress on and had no hope of seeing what underwear she was wearing.

"Honestly, Gin. I don't even know what I pulled out of the drawer. Whatever was on top, I suppose." Hermione felt her cheeks redden. She honestly did not know what underwear she had picked, but if she had chosen what was on top, she knew that it was Draco's favourite set. The red lace that she was wearing when they were first together. Hermione left them at the front of her drawer for some ridiculous reason. More self-inflicted torture, probably. She took a deep, calming breath, and turned to Ginny for a final inspection.

"Curls in order, check. Makeup glamour in place, check. Gorgeous dress, check, check, double-check. Just slip your feet into these," Ginny handed Hermione a pair of sweet little pink kitten-heeled shoes, "and you'll be perfect!"

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione took the shoes from her friend and slipped them onto her feet. While Hermione was shorter than average and could easily pull off a pair of higher heels, she appreciated the stability that the one-inch heel provided. She'd be on her feet all night, so she might as well be comfortable. Ginny returned a moment later with her hair falling in soft waves around her face and wearing a short, powder blue dress with a pair of matching blue heels.

"Wow, Gin! You look amazing! Who are you so dressed up for?"

"Didn't I tell you that Harry was coming? He can't stay long because he has to get to the Academy again in the morning, but at least I'll get to see him on the most romantic day of the year!"

Hermione lifted her lips in an imitation of a smile. "That's lovely, Ginny. I hope you'll have a wonderful time together. Hopefully, he will save a dance for me," Hermione smiled, genuinely trying to be happy for her friend.

"I'm sure he will," Ginny grinned, patting Hermione's arm. "Come on, let's get this thing over with! And, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Just, at least try to have a good time, alright?"

"I'll try," Hermione promised.


The party was absolutely miserable. Love song after love song blared from the magical gramophone. Apparently, Hogwarts hadn't bothered to organise a band for this event. Professor Michaels was stepping in as the DJ. The dance floor was full of girls, swaying in time to the music, their eyes dreamily focused on their Professor. Hermione smiled. Not that long ago, she might have been one of those girls. In her second year, she had been - with Professor Lockhart.

"How are you, Miss Granger?" Hermione started. She hadn't noticed Professor Arlidge approach her.

The American teacher was dressed far more formally tonight than Hermione had ever seen her. She was wearing a knee-length, black silk dress and black shoes. She looked lovely.

"Oh, uh. Yes, alright, I suppose. I would rather be spending my time preparing for the N.E.W.T's, but the Head Girl must perform her duties as well," Hermione smiled congenially.

"No boyfriend - or girlfriend for that matter, to spend tonight with?"

Hermione cleared her throat, caught off guard by the question. "No, er. We broke up," she said eventually. "Just a -" Hermione had been about to say 'just a few weeks ago' but stopped just in time. She cleared her throat again. "Just before the start of the school year, actually."

"Oh, I could have sworn that -"

"Professor Arleege! You look absolootely radiant, tonight!" It was Professor Michaels. He had abandoned his station in the knick of time. His compliment was strongly affected by his French accent. Hermione felt herself blush on behalf of the other woman. Even if he was as dumb as a doorknob, Hermione could see that he knew how to use his charm. Silently, she wished the female professor good luck and slipped away before she could be questioned further.

Hermione flitted from one corner of the Great Hall to another. Keeping her eyes peeled for any trouble. It was obvious when Harry arrived at the dance. Suddenly the dance floor was empty, and another corner was filled, Harry likely trying to hide somewhere and being rather unsuccessful. Eventually, though, the crowd thinned out and returned to the festivities, allowing Harry and Ginny to enjoy themselves as normal teenagers in love should.

"Alright, 'Mione?" For the second time that night, Hermione jumped. Harry was standing behind her. The next time someone comes up behind me, I'll hex them, she thought angrily. But she smiled for Harry, turning to hug him briefly.

"Harry. How are you?" She greeted her friend.

"Good. Busy - tired, but good. The Academy is a really fascinating place, 'Mione. But I miss you. I wish you were there with us."

Hermione softened. Being away from Harry and Ron this year had felt akin to losing a limb. She had felt slightly off-kilter for months now without them by her side. She offered Harry a teary smile. "I've missed you, too." She said, reaching to pull him into another hug.

"Oof," Harry cringed as she squeezed the air from his lungs. "Didn't mean to make you cry, 'Mione. Is everything alright?" He asked, pulling back to get a proper look at her face.

Hermione considered her options. Should she tell her best friend the truth or should she keep a promise to someone who had broken so many of his own? She bit her lip in contemplation and looked up at Harry. She shook her head, just slightly. "No, Harry, I'm not alright. But maybe someday soon I will be. I'm happy to see you, though, but you should get back to Ginny. She misses you dreadfully, you know. Most likely more than I do," Hermione offered him another small smile and tried to push him away in the direction of his girlfriend.

Harry clung on to her arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Oh, Harry. Sweet, sweet Harry. He was rubbing the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. He had no reason to know why Hermione was struggling tonight, but he was more than willing to sacrifice his precious time with Ginny to comfort her. Hermione was lucky to call him her friend. Hermione considered him for a moment. It would be nice to confess it all to him. Maybe his dislike for Malfoy would actually pep her up a little bit, but no, she wouldn't be selfish tonight. She would tell him another time.

Hermione shook her head again. "Go on," She gave him a little shove in Ginny's direction. "Go and get your girl!"

She watched him walk away towards Ginny, casting nervous glances back over his shoulder at her. Hermione kept an encouraging smile on her face the whole time, and when she looked away from him, her eyes fell on Draco for the first time that night. He was watching her with an intensity that had her squeezing her thighs together, and clawing at her throat. It was warm in this room, far too warm, and she needed to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. She looked down for just a moment, and when she looked back, he was gone. Suddenly the pressure on her chest was gone and she could breathe again. Cool oxygen flooded into her lungs and she felt the heat on her cheeks vanish as quickly as Draco had.

"Hey Hermione, would you like to dance?" Zacharias Smith popped up in front of her, his smile goofy and his cheeks as red as hers had been just moments ago.

"Oh, uh. That's very kind of you, Zacharias, but I'm supposed to be chaperoning. Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid that I can't accept."

Zacharias' face fell slightly before he responded. "No problem, just thought I'd ask."

Hermione watched him disappear back to his friends who clapped him on the back. Some were grinning while others looked sad for him. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and Hermione looked quickly away, finding someone else standing right in front of her.

"Hi, Hermione! How are you?"

"Hi, Dean! How are you?" Hermione was even more nervous to talk to Dean. She hadn't said more than two words to him since she had to cancel their second date. Their first date hadn't been anything spectacular, but at the time, she was trying to move on from Ron, and she'd wanted to give him a chance.

"Great, actually. Happy to finally be able to catch up with you. You've been busy lately!"

Hermione smiled, that was an understatement. She'd actually been suffocating lately, but she was glad that he hadn't noticed.

"So, I know you're technically on duty right now, so you probably can't dance, but maybe we can catch up at the after-party tonight?"

"After-party?" Hermione questioned. It was the first she'd heard of it.

"Uh, yeah. Held in the Slytherin dungeons. You didn't know? It's seventh and eighth years only, you know - all above age. Would you, er, like to come?"

Hermione had been just about to decline the invitation. She was already longing for her bed, but then she caught sight of a tall blonde head maneuvering through the crowd and thought that maybe she could use a drink. Or five.

"You know what, Dean? I think I've been working hard enough lately. I could use a distraction," she smiled wickedly at him.

"Er, right, then!" Dean seemed genuinely surprised that she'd agreed. To be honest, so was she. "I'll meet you after the dance wraps up?"

"I have to stick around to do a final clean up," Hermione told him. "I'll just see you down there. I'm sure I can find my way," she smiled again. Softer this time. She didn't want Dean thinking that this was anything more than it was. A drink at a party with friends. She'd make sure that Ginny and Harry could go with her, too.

"Er, right then. I guess I'll see you later!" Dean offered Hermione a winning smile. Dean was attractive, and if Hermione were even remotely interested in him, she was sure that smile would have caused an eruption of butterflies in her stomach. But she was not, and they did not.


The dance was over with no more trouble than someone attempting to spike the pumpkin juice punch. Harry's arrival was definitely the most exciting thing to happen all night.

"Listen, guys," Hermione said, approaching Harry and Ginny just as the party was winding down. "I've just found out about an after-party held in the Slytherin dungeons. I was hoping that you would both come with me?"

"I have to get going, 'Mione, sorry," Harry bent and kissed Ginny lightly on the cheek, gripping her hand firmly in his.

"I'll come with you, 'Mione. Beats going to bed alone!"

Hermione grinned at her friend, feeling appreciative and actually somewhat excited at the prospect of letting her hair down - figuratively speaking, of course.

"Thanks for coming, Harry. It was great to see you, even briefly. I have to help pack the party up. Gin, I'll meet you outside in just a moment! I'll let you two say a proper goodbye."

Hermione hugged Harry briefly and turned to help clean up sticky floors, vanish fluffy decorations and send students back to their dormitories. Ten minutes later, she had waved her wand for the last time. Hermione had managed to stay well away from Malfoy for the entire party, and even on the opposite side of the room during the cleanup, she was feeling rather proud of that accomplishment.

Once McGonagall had dismissed them all, Hermione found Ginny just outside the hall. She linked their arms together, and they made their way down to the dungeons.

"Did you have a good time, then?" Ginny asked her.

"Morgana, no. What a dreadful party!"

"So why are you so chipper?" Ginny was clearly baffled.

"I'm looking forward to several strong drinks, and I'm hoping to forget my troubles for just a night. If there was ever a day to get drunk, I think Valentine's Day would be it," Hermione confided in her friend.

"Honestly, I'm just happy to see you with a smile on your face," Ginny confessed. "I should have dragged you to a party weeks ago."

The sound of music and laughter was getting clearer the further into the dungeons that they delved. Suddenly, they stumbled across bright lights, a sweet scent and pounding music coming from an enlarged cell. Hermione and Ginny grinned at the scene. Students were engaged in all sorts of sloppy behaviour. Dancing, drinking, kissing in the corners. Really, Hermione should have been deducting points and handing out detentions, but she couldn't bring herself to care. These were her friends, mostly, and her fellow survivors. She could let her guard down for one night.

She entered the cell with Ginny hot on her tail and moved immediately to the drinks station. She selected a bottle of Firewhisky and poured herself a healthy portion. Ginny did the same. They stood in a corner, drinking and observing the party for a while. It wasn't long before Hermione returned to the table to refresh her drink.

An hour later, Hermione could be found in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by several others. She was the life of the party, dancing, laughing and sloshing her drink all over herself. She'd regret it in the morning, but Ginny was willing to let her be. She knew that Hermione needed this. So what if she was getting a lot of attention from guys and girls alike. Hermione was single, she had no responsibilities tonight. Dean seemed to be particularly invested in getting her attention. Ginny had to hide her grin at that particular observation. She considered warning her ex that he had no chance, but this was more fun. Hermione was more than capable of taking care of herself, inebriated or not.

Ginny wasn't the only one noticing Hermione's popularity. Across the room, Theo was keeping a close eye on her. Draco had refused to come to the party earlier when Theo told him about it. Draco had considered changing his mind when he noticed Hermione heading in that direction but ultimately decided that staying away was the best decision he could make. But Theo was watching what was going down, and he did not agree. Hermione was getting messier by the moment, garnering attention from places he was sure she wouldn't like come morning. He waved his wand, casting a quick Patronus, gave it a message and watched it fly through the air, leaving a trail of silver in its wake. Several people admired it as it passed overhead before returning to their drinks.

Draco was tossing and turning in his bed. He couldn't shake the sight of Hermione from earlier. Her body wrapped tightly in that pink dress, her cleavage all but bursting through the neckline. Her gorgeous curls falling loosely around her shoulders. Greeting Potter and various other men throughout the night, looking for all the world like she was having a good time. Bitterly, he hoped that she was dying on the inside just as he was. Draco was missing her terribly tonight. He'd been on his own for long enough, and she was the only one who'd broken his walls and shown him how to love. Draco had told her once that she was like a drug to him - well now he was going through withdrawals. It felt like he was drowning tonight. He couldn't sleep, not until he had felt her touch. It seemed like he'd been lying awake for hours when the blinding light of a silver raven Patronus appeared in front of him.

"Mate," it spoke in Theo's voice. "I know you thought it best you didn't come, but you need to get down here. Things are... Messy."

Draco had thrown the covers off and was pulling his party clothes back on before the Patronus had even stopped talking. It was more than enough motivation to get him stalking his way down through the castle halls and to the popular Slytherin party spot.

Dean had been successful in getting Hermione alone on the dance floor. His hands placed possessively on her hips as they swayed in time to the music.

"We never did get that second date, Hermione. I was sort of hoping we could make that happen," he said. He lifted one of his hands off of her hip to tuck an errant curl back behind her ear when he was violently knocked to the side. A towering platinum figure hovering over him.

"Don't you fucking touch her," Draco snarled, his eyes dark and dangerous. His body towering over Deans, projecting an air of possessiveness.

Somehow during all of this, Draco had taken a hold of Hermione's wrist and thrust her behind him, protecting her from the smaller man, as if Dean had been about to hurt her instead of simply asking her on a date.

The party went deathly quiet. The music ground to a stop and people stared as Draco bore down against the smaller Gryffindor. Dean had whipped out his wand and held it against the bigger man's chest, silently threatening him with spells unknown. In the end, spellwork wasn't necessary as Hermione wrenched her wrist out of Draco's grip, forcing everyone to focus on her instead.

"Stop it!" She bellowed, jabbing Malfoy in the chest when he turned to face her instead. Her finger bounced back off him, and it hurt, but she poked him again anyway. "You don't get to barge your way in here and act like some macho arsehole! I've got some breaking news for you, Malfoy. I'm capable of breaking hearts, too, and I learned it all from you!" She sniffed, feeling less affected by the alcohol, but still emboldened by it, she continued. "Bloody snake - pulling on my arm! You don't get to make decisions for me - and you don't get to touch me, Malfoy, not anymore!"

Distantly, Hermione was aware of the buzz building up in the room. People exchanging surprised glances and frenzied whispers of "Not anymore?" Hermione couldn't bring herself to care about any of it. This was the first time in weeks she'd been close to him, touched by him, spoken to him. Weeks of hating how she felt without him, and now he was here, standing in front of her, their eyes locked on one another, chests heaving with unchecked emotion. She wanted to kick him, punch him, spend all of her pent up aggression and rage on pummeling his body. She wanted to pull him to her and bury her face in his jumper, feel his hands running over her hair as he breathed in her in.

"I'm all out of salt, Malfoy," Hermione hissed, the room quiet once more. "I've got no more tears to cry, and I'm not your woman. You saw to that. You broke things off, not me!"

Theo joined them, placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Draco barely registered what it was. He was too busy reading Hermione's face. Longing to take her in his arms and help her bury all of the pain.

Theo's appearance had broken the spell for Hermione. She was suddenly very aware that she had the attention of every single person in the room. That she had bared her soul for all to see, that in their eyes, she was nothing more than another heartbroken teenage girl. She drew in a shuddering breath, turned and fled.

Ginny started after her but stopped briefly at Draco's side. "You're a fucking idiot," she told him before continuing after Hermione.

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Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi

Blinding Lights - The Weekend

Salt - Ava Max

Cameo appearance from Paramore's - That's What You Get