A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! This is my very first dramione fic and the first fic I've written in a looooong time. Feedback is super appreciated. I'll post new chapters weekly, with this first fic being ~10 chapters. I have plans for a sequel and a few one shots relatively in this world but will see how this all goes.
This is a Dramione fic. Blaise is a chaotic bestie. Hermione starts an Occlumency practice to deal with PTSD. Triggers include torture/PTSD, mainly Hermione's memories of being torture. I don't describe anything too in depth but her moments of panic are frequent(ish) and fleeting. Anything else I will do my best to call out in a note at the beginning of the chapter.
Returning to Hogwarts after the final battle was a surreal concept altogether for Hermione. The preparation for the school year had come with more owls than she could track about the reconstructed wings, new safety precautions, and informational pamphlets about how to handle her feelings upon returning to the school. These made her laugh, but a growing pit was toiling away in her stomach. They called it "triggering" an emotional response based on her past experiences. Hermione had heard of this phenomenon in non-magical soldiers.
But she wasn't a soldier.
In the months since Harry defeated Voldemort, as the school was rebuilt and as she attended funeral after funeral, she'd had a variety of options present themselves to her: a cabinet position for the reformed Wizengamot; a staffing position for the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt; the new face of fashion lines or elite training academies all over Europe. Each of which Hermione declined all the offers with extreme politeness. She wasn't ready to start her new life yet.
She just wanted to graduate.
Harry and Ron understood. Or else they said they did when Hermione informed them of her decision to return to Hogwarts to finish her final year. Harry would be taking a position in the Auror office, while Ron was moving back to the Burrow to practice Quidditch until he was fit for professional tryouts.
"Got a better shot at it now that we're all pretty famous," he joked with a grin. Hermione figured he was right. Being one third of the team that brought down Voldemort had opened so many potential doors Hermione could probably do anything she dreamed of.
But still, all she wanted was to graduate.
Ginny thought that it was the structure and order that Hermione craved, after the absolute hell of last year. Hermione thought Ginny should stop psychoanalyzing her so much. But, she secretly agreed that a reliable schedule was something to look forward to. Going back to school also afforded her a chance to ask the question she hadn't thought to ask in their past few years in school, as classes fell aside to only plots to bring Voldemort down: what did she want to do with the rest of her life?
Which is where she found herself now, staring up at the new ceiling of the grand entrance, trying not to think of the bodies she'd stepped over the last time she was here, in tattered clothes and covered in the blood of her friends. She shuddered. The pamphlets mentioned breathing techniques, that all her emotions were valid, a million platitudes of the unprecedented nature of – her thoughts were cut short by hand wrapping around hers and squeezing tight. Hermione glanced down. It was Ginny, who pulsed her hand a few times then gave her a half-grin, half-grimace.
"Alright?" Ginny asked, her voice warning that she knew Hermione wasn't.
Hermione squeezed her hand back and fell into step beside her as they rejoined the flow of students. There were only a few Eighth Years, as the administration called them, amidst the crowd, as most of Hermione's former classmates had no desire to come back to the school after being granted honorary degrees. Most of them had found work or other opportunities that understood why they didn't have NEWT scores. And besides, Hogwarts was offering the Eighth Year curriculum for five years after the war, for those who just simply weren't ready to return yet.
"Eighth years, please wait here," the familiar voice of Professor McGonagall called out, above the chatter of the crowd.
"I'll save you a seat," Ginny whispered, squeezing Hermione's hand once more before she dropped it.
As the others filtered away, Hermione was shocked to find just how small of a group remained. She recognized most of them from shared classes over the years. A handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but the most curious of the group was the three Slytherins standing off to the side. One boy, or rather, looking at him now, one man in particular made her gasp audibly.
Of course, she'd known that Draco Malfoy would be back. But seeing him now nearly knocked her flat. She couldn't help but stare at him, so very different from the last time they stood together like this, outside the Great Hall before the feast when they were eleven. He'd been pompous, albeit still bright, where he now held himself like a shadow, eyes cast on the floor.
It wasn't lost on Hermione she'd known no one when she was eleven either. She felt exposed and tiny, which she hadn't felt for years with Harry and Ron by her side.
She glanced again at Draco. He looked so different than the last time she'd seen him, which was just paces away from where they stood, back in the courtyard as he gripped his mother's hand tightly as they fled the battle, Lucius on their heels. Beyond the fact he looked like he'd had a decent night's sleep, he looked… stronger , her mind pieced together, as she caught the way his arms filled out his robes. She wondered if this was how he looked when Harry saw him at his trial. Harry had presented memories in Draco's defense to Kingsley and a few select members of the Wizengamot (given the sensitive nature of the Horcruxes, Hallows, and Voldemort himself) and Draco was cleared with no further questioning. Yet, no one had seen or heard from him all summer. Not even at the funerals. How very strange, she thought.
"Hello everyone," Professor McGonagall said, taking a moment to clear her throat and wait for eyes to refocus on her. "It's good to see you all back here. I know this is challenging, it's been quite the adjustment for the staff as well, coming back, and we've been around quite a bit longer than the lot of you."
Hermione caught her lips from twitching into the edge of a smile. This was all so very peculiar and she felt a bit outside of herself. But now was not the time to be laughing.
"We cannot forget that this is a battleground," McGonagall continued and Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. "Our friends, our family, they sacrificed their lives here and we will do all we can to honor them. It's an unprecedented difficulty and our staff is working hard to make sure we account for this in your education in a multitude of ways. One such way is by offering alternate dormitories rather than your house towers. It's my understanding -" McGonagall's eyes flicked over to a young woman with long, blue robes and hair so fine that she could have been a Malfoy. The woman nodded. "-that these spaces can be triggering, or uncomfortable, after all you've been through, and all you've lost. If that's of interest, please stick around and Ms. Abess here will help."
She gestured to the woman who smiled politely, and took her leave into the Great Hall. The woman, Ms. Abess stepped forward and when she spoke, it was the Lovegoods that she now so strongly reminded Hermione of.
"Hello everyone, as mentioned, I'm Ms. Abess. I'm working closely with the administration to evaluate whether mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual needs are being met for all returning and new students. But most of all your group, which has suffered such a major shock."
Hermione snorted before she could help herself. "Sorry," she mumbled as her eyes darted across the group to a mix of amused and concerned faces and one bewildered Malfoy, before they finally flicked over to Ms. Abess who was smiling kindly at her. Hermione glanced back down to the floor. A shock was one way of phrasing it, she surmised.
"As I was saying, beyond the dormitories, if you find yourself requiring any additional support this semester. My door is always open."
With that, they were dismissed. Most of the group filed into the Great Hall without a thought and Hermione found herself kicking at the floor. She'd planned to stay with Ginny, and there was really no reason to change that plan, except for the pit in her stomach that was raging with every detail that was the same in the castle and gurgling with every detail that was different. She hadn't known there would be another choice. Ginny would understand, right?
When she looked up, only four students were left. Dennis Creevey, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and of course, Draco Malfoy.
Hermione's stomach rolled with thoughts of Colin and Astoria. They'd both died in the Battle of Hogwarts, fighting for opposite sides. She could hardly fault Dennis or Daphne for not wanting to be in the same rooms with so many reminders. Her mind flickered to Ginny and of Fred, Lavender, Remus, Tonks– Dennis stepped into the spot where Ginny had stood and gave her a soft smile. Hermione tried to shake the thoughts and focus on Dennis, but all she could think of was the ache on her forearm where Bellatrix had carved into her and left a scar. It throbbed at the thought of everyone.
She tried again to shake the thoughts and concentrate on Ms. Abess who was speaking, "Now, some of you may be aware that there were hidden passages in and out of Hogwarts before."
Hermione's eyes flicked to Draco's, where she found him watching her. His eyes darkened and flicked away as her mind swirled. Did Daphne and Blaise know about the passages? Did they know everything that happened? Her mind fluttered to Harry and his memories in Draco's defense again, but she willed her mind to focus.
"All of these passages have been sealed up, except one that has been altered for this exact purpose. If you would prefer to stay in a room in Hogsmeade for the semester, it will be arranged, no questions asked. You will receive a personal password to cross the border. As you are all legal adults, it's your responsibility and right to come and go as you please. But we ask that you not bring any students into the village without explicit permission from the head of your house. Understood?"
Ms. Abess' eyes washed over the five of them, as they all nodded eagerly.
"I'll make the arrangements. Please meet me here after the feast." And with a swish of her cloak, she turned and walked off.
"Cool!" Dennis said, elbowing Hermione and moving towards the entrance. "Shall we go watch the Sorting?"
From the buzz through the doors, Hermione knew she'd find long tables and house banners, with a group of students that looked too small in their robes to be eagerly sorted into cheering houses. But the thought only made her stomach clench harder.
"You go ahead," she told Dennis. "I'm going to use the loo."
He nodded and opened the door, the buzz of the hall growing louder as Hermione turned away. She glanced inside and saw that she was right. Ravenclaw house was cheering and welcoming their newest student. Yet, Hermione's brain exploded with the image of Lavender Brown's throat ripped open. Greyback leaning over her.
She stumbled away from the doors in the direction of the nearest bathroom. Or at least she would have, if she didn't run squarely into the broad shoulders of Blaise Zabini.
"Woah, Granger," he said, catching her shoulders and steadying her. "You alright?"
Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth and all she could gasp out was a laugh.
"Fuck," Blaise said. "Okay, wait right here. Try to count the floor tiles."
She heard him through the haze of her quickening breath. Her jumper was too hot. What had he said? Count the tiles? How would that bloody help her?
But, at a total loss for an alternative, she tried to count. Barely making out the lines of the tiles as her eyes blurred with tears. Two, three, four.
"She's right here," she heard a voice say as she made it to twenty and the sound of footsteps echoed in her ears. "I think she's panicking."
Hermione recognized Ginny's voice and smell as she crouched down beside her. Hermione hadn't noticed when she'd sat down. "Why is she counting?"
Blaise responded sounding very unsure. "I dunno! Sometimes it works!"
Thirty-five tiles. Thirty-six.
She felt Ginny's cool hands on either side of her face. "C'mon, out of the sweater. Hey, Hermione, look at me. Easy breaths now, okay? You can stop counting."
At forty-seven, the words Ginny was repeating took hold and Hermione caught her breath. Sound rushed back into her ears and Blaise extended a glass of water, seemingly conjured from nowhere.
She sipped it as she heard a first-year get sorted to Slytherin. Cheers erupted at a distance. Hermione shivered, suddenly all too aware of what had just happened.
"I'm okay. I'm good," she said, trying to hold her voice steady and shrugging off Ginny's hand.
Ginny sighed and helped her to her feet. Her brow was furrowed and she asked quietly, "I thought it was getting better?"
Hermione laughed bitterly. It referred to her panic attacks and nightmares. She clutched at her forearm, where the scar throbbed still. "It is. I'm good. This was just…"
"A lot, actually. For all of us." Blaise said, cutting in and reminding the two witches of his presence. "Look, I know I hardly know you, either of you. And you have absolutely no good reason to trust me, but, we're in this together and all this," he gestured to their surroundings. "It's a lot."
Hermione felt Ginny's stare drilling into her as she held Blaise's stare. His eyes were creased with worry. Genuine concern for her, it seemed. He didn't look away either. Hermione smiled and nodded.
"Thank you, for the help. And for getting Ginny."
Blaise smiled and shrugged. "Anytime, Granger. See you later." And he walked off to the hall entrance.
When he left, Ginny dragged Hermione into the bathroom to splash water on her face. "And what was that look he gave you? You're in this together? With Blaise Zabini ?" Ginny let out a laugh. "This is going to be a weird year."
If the previous 15 minutes were any indication, Hermione was not keen to argue with Ginny on that statement. "Probably just that it appears we'll be living together this year," Hermione said with a shrug, launching into an explanation of the off-campus accommodations.
By the time she'd finished, Ginny was gaping. "Oh hell, my brother died too! Don't I get to live where I won't be haunted by his bloody smile for every second of the day?"
"You're not eighteen, I suppose," Hermione said with a shrug, wondering if she should talk to Ms. Abess about perhaps a special accommodation for Ginny.
"So you're living off campus with three Slytherins and Dennis Creevey?"
Hermione laughed, "Apparently so."
"Merlin, it's like they want you to trauma bond and fuck your way through the school year." Hermione sputtered and felt her face heat up. Ginny was grinning devilishly at her. "C'mon, don't tell me you didn't heat up under that stare Blaise gave you. I hope you have adjoining walls. And Dennis got hot over the summer. Don't tell Harry, obviously, but I'm not blind!"
"Ginny, we're living off campus because we're all one mixed spell away from a full on mental break."
Ginny shrugged. It wasn't that Ginny didn't mourn after the war, but she had the resiliency that Harry and Ron seemed to have when facing the large-scale trauma. Like they could keep computing and processing where Hermione's brain short circuited and forgot how to breathe. Perhaps it was losing someone like Fred that made it so Ginny had to keep finding the levity in all her situations. Fred probably would have liked that too, she thought, wondering if she could try adopting that approach.
They returned to the Great Hall. Ginny gripped her hand as Hermione stepped wide of the spot where Lavender's body once was. It was exactly as she'd expected. Long tables and more food than any group could possibly eat. The first-years were sorted and sitting at their tables, making new friends and chatting happily.
Ginny introduced Hermione to a few seventh years she knew she wouldn't remember the names of, as she scanned the hall for any other familiar faces. Blaise caught her eye and tipped his head slightly in recognition. She mouthed thank you and he winked. Her stomach flipped slightly and she wondered if Ginny was perhaps onto something as her eyes slid over to the boy - no, man - sitting next to him. Blaise whispered something to Draco, whose eyes flicked up to hers. They weren't full of the glares she'd adjusted to over the years though, she thought, his eyes instead looked empty.
For the rest of the feast, Hermione avoided looking at the Slytherin table. She found herself acutely tuned into Blaise's booming laugh and Malfoy's sharp tongue, but she refused to let her eyes wander to see what they were laughing at or fighting over. Instead, she allowed herself to fall into pleasant conversation with the seventh years. Dennis joined them, as the whole group remembered Colin fondly, but they didn't dwell on the loss. In fact, they avoided talking about the battle altogether as they discussed the perfectly mundane events that took place over the summer.
"How are Harry and Ron?" Dennis asked, as the rest of the group gossipped on about a name Hermione didn't recognize.
"Oh, er, Harry's taken an Auror position and Ron, well…"
"Ron vanished into a Quidditch pitch three months ago and we haven't heard from him since," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and shoveling a bite into her mouth at once that rather reminded Hermione of Ron.
"Oh!" Dennis said, tugging awkwardly at his collar. "I'd heard that you two -"
"Yep, nope. We're not together anymore," Hermione said, feeling a rising blush. It got out rather quickly, after the battle, that she and Ron were together. But what the society papers didn't cover was everything after. The weeks of Hermione's nightmares coupled with Ron's insomnia. The exhaustion and all the tears spent over Fred, Hermione's parents, and all of the losses that drove a wedge so far between them during any moments of intimacy until they shared a quiet cup of tea and acknowledged that it just wasn't working.
Relief followed, as they uncoupled. Harry and Ginny came around more often and Ron and Hermione were still perfectly civil, if not better friends again.
"It's okay though," Hermione said as Ginny gave her a tap with her knee under the table. "It was for the best. Better off as friends and all."
She believed that most days. But there were times she'd catch Harry looking at Ginny, or feel the phantom of being wrapped up in Ron's arms, and she'd crave a companion in her life.
At the end of the feast, Hermione hugged Ginny goodbye and hung back with Dennis until Ms. Abess reappeared in the hall, beckoning them and the three Slytherins to follow her down a corridor. Hermione recognized the passageway, though the painting of Ariana had changed to one of a knight Hermione didn't recognize.
"Hog's Head?" Hermione asked softly.
Ms. Abess smiled, "I was told you likely knew the passages. Yes, Ms. Granger," then, with a smirk. "Five points to Gryffindor. Hog's Head will be the location of the off campus housing. We'd initially aimed for the Three Broomsticks, but, well, Hog's Head offers a fair bit more discretion and privacy for you to come and go."
"And a cheaper rate," Blaise said with a laugh.
Ms. Abess held back a smile and shrugged, giving them each a password. "Aberforth, or Abe, the innkeeper, knows who you are and where you're meant to be. Do not test him or the responsibilities we're entrusting to you."
The passageway was dark and a mysterious dripping echoed in the distance. Daphne cursed more than once, rolling her ankle as they made their way to the other side where Abe was waiting for them. He showed each their rooms, paying no special mind or recognition to Hermione, despite their previous encounters. "We have a full menu all times of day."
"Food and drink?" Dennis asked.
Abe grunted what Hermione assumed was a confirmation before ambling away. Leaving them with Ms. Abess, who showed each to their room and gave them a list of magical protections they could cast once inside and how to secure the magical locks.
Hermione had a corner room, closest to the stairs, which her mind crackled with gratitude for. She didn't anticipate needing a quick getaway at any point, but it was reassuring to have. The room next to hers was Blaise's, and Hermione tried to hold her face still as Ginny's teasing echoed in her head. It didn't help when Blaise winked at her in front of the others and she flushed scarlet. Her eyes flitted across the faces, Daphne's eyebrows lifted in a bemused grin while Draco glowered. She'd kill for Harry and Ron by her side now more than ever.
They were dismissed and Hermione slammed the door behind her in an instant. Back against the door of the room, she sighed a deep breath of relief she hadn't realized she was holding. It was a small room and rather banged up. The wood wash was dirty and there was a musty smell, but as she engaged all the locks it dawned on her it was the first time in her adult life she'd had her own room. Between Hogwarts, summers at the Burrow, and sharing a tent with Harry and Ron for months, she hadn't had the luxury of privacy in a long time.
Which is to say, she felt relief.
A quick scourgify on all the surfaces and opening the window to change out the air and Hermione felt more at home than ever. She unpacked and flung herself on her bed with a book to read and wasn't interrupted by friends, or Weasley siblings, or a call to dinner, or anything at all.
It was only at a quarter to ten there was a sharp rap on the door that pulled her back into the present. She grabbed her wand and crept out of bed to peer through the eyehole. The warm brown eye of Blaise Zabini stared back.
He rapped again, "Caught you Granger. Open up!" His tone was mirthful and his eyes shining as she drew open the door a crack.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
He scanned her body, not even pretending to hide it, taking in her messy hair to her bare legs and slippers. Hermione wished she'd thought to cover up before answering the door. "Your presence, of course," he drawled. "We're all eighteen here, and we're in a tavern. And it seems we're all deeply, psychologically damaged. So we're going downstairs for a drink."
Hermione was about to say no when the door across the hall bolted open to reveal Draco Malfoy in a set of trimmed black sweats and a green sweater. He looked posh, even in his loungewear, Hermione thought, wondering when wizards started wearing sweatpants. She nearly did a double take when she saw his dragon skin slippers. Of course even his slippers were posh. His eyes widened when he saw her in her door frame.
She crossed her arms over her bra-less chest, suddenly all too aware of what her dad's oversized concert tee and sophie shorts revealed. "No, thank you."
Daphne scoffed, striding down the hall in a silk pajama set with a robe to match. "No, I'm so sorry, but no." She pushed Blaise aside and stood in front of the doorway to Hermione's room, spinning around to face the boys. "If I can't convince her to join me with you two idiots, we're having a girls' night."
And with a quick motion she stepped into Hermione's room and slammed the door shut in Blaise's astonished face. Daphne threw herself onto Hermione's bed and crossed her legs, pouting.
"Sorry," she said. "I know this is weird. You have girlfriends already and a whole life outside of those morons but," she picked at the comforter, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. "Everyone from my house is gone. I'm not used to dealing with them all on my own."
Hermione eased herself onto her desk chair, folding her arms over her legs. Of course it was weird for Daphne here too, nevermind without Astoria, but Pansy and the others not coming back either.
"I-I don't really have girlfriends," Hermione admitted, with a light chuckle. "I have Ginny, and I'm pretty sure I got her through Ron. Or Harry, honestly. But this," she gestured between them. "I'm an only child. This is very unexpected."
Daphne shrugged. "It's weird, isn't it? Like pretending it's all fine and we weren't fighting a war on opposite sides just a year ago."
Hermione's stomach lurched. Weird was one word for it. Her forearm itched with the memory of what the Malfoy family was connected with. "Right. Yeah. Weird."
Daphne sighed. "For whatever it's worth, the Greengrasses didn't fight in the war. My parents fled. It was just Astoria, and, well, you know…"
Hermione's ears started ringing. Astoria in the final battle, the hex she sent at Ron's back. She looked at the quilt, the pattern was hideous. Daphne's pajamas looked so silky. She drew in a breath, "The Greengrasses were never on the Order's lists. I'm very sorry for your loss."
Daphne grimaced. "Thanks. I'm sure you don't want to think about it either. I'm sorry to bring it all up. Wanna go downstairs and make Blaise buy us Firewhiskey until we can forget anything ever happened?"
This snapped Hermione back into the room. Drinking with the Slytherins? She hadn't thought Daphne was serious. "Oh, really? With Zabini and Malfoy?" Their names felt foreign on Hermione's tongue, but Daphne was nodding.
"Blaise loves to host a controversial salon just like his mother. He's already decided we're all going to be best friends despite the stacked odds." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and repositioned herself. "I was inclined to tell him to screw off and leave it alone, but he's picking up the tab, so."
Hermione laughed. An honest one that bubbled over her lips. Being friends with the Slytherins felt like a far off warped version of reality, but here was Daphne Greengrass sitting on her bed, chatting casually.
"I dunno," she mumbled, but she could hear the hope in her own voice. The thought of being drunk around them was unnerving, but the thought of a drink didn't actually sound so bad. It had been the most common coping mechanism at the Burrow over the summer as George poured out round after round telling story after story about Fred. Hermione hoped all those nights helped build up her tolerance.
"They're actually good guys," Daphne said, and caught Hermione's eye to share a laugh. "Okay, they can be good guys. When they're not fighting a war." And the pair collapsed into giggles.
"Fine," she said finally. "But I have to change. You all look so chic in your pajamas."
Daphne laughed, "Absolutely not! Are you kidding me? I haven't seen Draco get so excited about a pair of legs in his life."
"Oh no! But he hates me!" Hermione cried to Daphne's wide-mouthed gape.
"Uh uh, Hermione. He doesn't hate you. My money is on something else entirely."
Daphne didn't say what and Hermione didn't ask as she threw on a bra and a pair of warmer socks. Daphne was true to her word and didn't let her change but nodded to an oversized cardigan that used to belong to Ron. It didn't hide much of the shirt or her legs, but there was no way she was walking down there in the T-shirt alone.
Daphne grinned at her and dragged her downstairs to where Dennis joined the boys at a table but the fireplace. Dennis looked relieved to see Hermione, where Draco continued to glower at her.
"Glad you're joining," said Blaise, pulling out a chair for her next to him. "We were just discussing drinking games."
He passed out a round of small tumblers filled with hefty shots of Firewhiskey.
"To Eighth Year!" he said, clinking his glass against Hermione's as they all tipped the tumblers back into their throats. True to its name, it burned, but Hermione had half the reaction as Daphne and she silently thanked George for the preparation.
"So Never Have I Ever?" Blaise asked, refilling everyone's glasses.
"How old are you?" Hermione asked, feeling the warmth of the drink rush into her cheeks. It had just slipped out, her standard response every time Ron suggested the same game. But the table stilled at her cajoling.
"Darling, I'd think you have something to hide if you don't want to play," Blaise teased, with a suggestive smile.
Hermione took a sip from her drink and shrugged. So he wanted to be best friends according to Daphne? Well so be it, she thought as she smiled and said decidedly "Wouldn't you like to know."
This earned a guffaw from Dennis and grins from Daphne and Blaise as he dealt out a hand of exploding snap. Draco remained as still as a statue.
Hermione saw him crack a grin once or twice during the game, as he loosened up to rib Blaise back or roll his eyes at Daphne's jeering. He didn't speak to Dennis or Hermione, in fact he hardly even looked at them. After several rounds of this, and several drinks, Hermione excused herself at exactly the same time Draco did.
He finally looked at her and she felt his eyes burn into hers as her forearm prickled. Was this what Harry felt like for all those years?
"Great," she said cheerily, praying her words didn't slur. "You can walk me up."
Blaise frowned and Daphne snorted as Hermione bade them a good night and strode away from the table. She didn't wait for Draco until she was up the stairs, but she felt his presence at her back as she wobbled slightly on the third step. Damn Blaise and all the refills.
She reached her door and listened as his footsteps stilled behind her. She felt warm and weightless and despite knowing that it was the Firewhiskey, she had a burning question that bubbled out of her. "Will it be like this forever then?"
Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. His shoulders were tense, he wasn't looking at her. But his voice was tender and soft when he said, "You don't know what you're saying, Hermione."
The laugh that escaped was crueler than she'd intended. "You think Blaise got me drunk and I'm out of my mind?"
His silence was her answer. The burning gave way into anger as she stepped away from her door and beside him. How dare he treat her like she was the one who needed to be protected. How dare he treat her with kindness when he thought she was drunk and no doubt wouldn't remember.
"You can drop whatever this act is, Malfoy ." She hissed his name at him. How dare he call her Hermione now, after everything. "I get it, I have no idea what you went through. You're right. But you," she stepped closer to him and caught a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the tinge of smoke. Her nose wrinkled. He was in his pajamas. Why was he wearing cologne? You have no idea what I went through."
She spun back towards her door, unlocking it and relocking it behind her as she pressed the heel of her hand into her eyes. The flash of her anger had extinguished and the image wouldn't leave her brain as she worried that the look of Draco, turned around with tears in his eyes at the thought of what it was that she went through, would be stuck in her brain forever.
Maybe she was wrong, she thought as the tears cascaded from her now and she scratched at her forearm until the skin was raw and burning, the entirety of it uncomfortable and throbbing instead of just the word he'd called her years ago.
Eventually, she gathered herself. She cast a silencing spell on the room and let out a large scream. Then, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She clearly needed to be careful of Blaise's nights out, she thought as she chugged glass after glass of water. It wasn't until she slipped under her covers, her anger having burned itself out that the realization crashed over her again, this time to a much different reaction.
He'd called her Hermione. And she'd laughed at him. She'd deal with that in the morning, she thought, unable to make sense of anything now. And she drifted off to sleep.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I know technically to canon that Dennis Creevey is supposed to be younger than Colin but let's just roll with it. Please let me know what you think :)