Part Two:

Hermione was, once again, at the bar by herself. Taking advantage of her respite, she had only had two shots before her usual drinking buddy slid into the seat next to her. Hermione looked curiously at Draco. He didn't look happy.

"I've been forced to ask a date to the ball my mother is holding," Draco grumbled, looking deeply into his glass of whiskey. "It starts at seven. Wanna come?" he asked half-heartedly.
Hermione snorted. "Why would I go to a party where a whole gang of purebloods will be?"
"Because they hate you and it'll be really amusing?" Draco offered. Hermione glared at him, making him slump even further in his chair. "It's not just gonna be purebloods, Granger. Everyone's gonna be there. To encourage the integration of all the classes," he said mockingly in a fair imitation of the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He gulped down the rest of his whiskey.
"When is it?" Hermione asked, out of politeness more than actual curiosity.
"Tomorrow night. Please come. It'll be nice to have someone to mock everyone with," Draco said hopefully. "At least I know you hate them as much as I."
"Well, there's a fair point," Hermione allowed. Her tipsy state gave her an edge of confidence. "At least I know they hate you as much as I do."
"Liar. But still, there's an open bar," Draco bribed with a glint in his eye. "That's where I'll be, if you decide to show."

He stood up to leave, throwing some money on the bench. "See you 'round, Granger."
"Wait, Malfoy," Hermione suddenly remembered. "Where is the bloody ball, anyway?"
"The manor, of course. You know where that is?" Malfoy smirked.
With a frown, Hermione replied, "Only too well."

Deciding to head home herself, Hermione said goodbye to the bartender (a blonde haired girl who was generally very nice) and disapparated from her seat. Landing in her cold, empty flat, Hermione sighed and went to bed, not bothering to get out of her dress and heels.

Too exhausted to dream, Hermione woke up late the next day. The sun was shining bright through her bedroom window since she forgot to draw the blind closed the previous night. Sighing, Hermione decided that a quick shower and some food would wake her up nicely.

Then, a memory floated through her overworked brain.

"I've been forced to ask a date to the ball my mother is holding… Wanna come?"

Did she want to go? Occasionally, they would be each other's 'plus one' to certain events, should they be particularly awful or if they were desperate. Somehow, the event wasn't as boring with Malfoy there. It never failed to amuse Hermione the looks he received.

But this wasn't a ministry event – it was a ball. With an actual purpose. To encourage the integration of all the classes, Draco had said. Surely it wouldn't be that bad.

Hermione spent the entire day debating whether or not to go to Malfoy's stupid ball. But, if she didn't, she was just going to be moping about the house that night or go to the pub. Which, although not unusual for her, would be rather strange without Draco there to scare away any creepy men.

So, without further ado, Hermione tied back her hair into a simple ponytail and put on her black floor length dress. She apparated away to Malfoy Manor, landing in front of the intimidating iron gates, which were wide open. Walking up the long driveway, Hermione admired the white peacocks strutting above the dark hedges.

At the door, Draco was greeting the guests with a cynical sort of enthusiasm. "Ah, Granger! There you are!" he greeted when Hermione came into view. "Don't you look dark and pessimistic tonight!"

Hermione appraised Draco's suit. It was pearly white and stung her eyes to look at, when coupled with his blonde hair. "Malfoy. Don't you look… strangely bright tonight," Hermione returned the compliment, making him laugh. He ushered her through the door, resting his hand on her lower back.

"I'm so fucking relieved you showed," he was saying as he browsed the large room, obviously looking for someone. "Mother was trying to set me up with this red-head… honestly…"
"Don't be so judgemental," Hermione said uselessly.
"A tiger can't change his stripes, or whatever it is. Listen, tonight, I'm gonna tell people you're my date, alright?" Draco looked at Hermione pleadingly, she thought.
"Perhaps I rather like seeing you suffer," Hermione replied. "It's interesting watching a thirty year old man be matched with a lady by his mother."

Draco scowled. "Come on. You showed up, didn't you? That's half the job done. I'll pay you for your efforts?" he bribed.
"Fifty galleons," Hermione said immediately, her thoughts drifting to her rent due in a couple days, and that pair of sapphire earrings she saw in Diagon Alley. Draco's scowl deepened.
"Done. Now, honestly, Granger. Did you even bother to dress up tonight?"
Frowning, Hermione gestured to her dress. It was a silky, strapless black dress that cut off mid-thigh. "I put this on, didn't I? It's better than a skirt. And I'm wearing heels, give me credit for that."
"I was referring to your makeup and hair."
"Couldn't be bothered. I don't think I need makeup, anyway. And my hair has been worse." Hermione added sarcastically, "You just look dashing, did I mention?"
"Several times now," Draco sniggered. "Oh, there's mother. Just play along, Granger."

Without time to reply, Hermione was suddenly smothered by wiry arms and expensive smelling perfume. "Draco, darling, is this your date? Isn't she beautiful!" Narcissa Malfoy crooned. Draco, with a sly grin, wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist but didn't attempt to pull her closer. "A natural beauty, she is," he agreed. Hermione winced but smiled nonetheless.
"You look dashing tonight, Narcissa," Hermione said kindly, appraising the aqua blue robes Narcissa was wearing.
"I think I brighten up this gloomy place," she said easily. "Everyone else here is wearing such dark colours. No offence to you, dear, but still… I should have specified on the invitations…"

With a smirk from Draco, he led her through a large doorway to another large room with a live orchestra. It was a ballroom.

"Dance with me," Draco ordered. Hermione laughed.
"I'm not here to dance with you, Malfoy. I'm here to get drunk." Looking around for the bar but not finding it, Draco smirked.
"I'll take you to the bar after you dance with me. Mother is watching very closely," he said casually, gesturing to his left. Narcissa was peeking around the doorway.

"Well, I can't very well let her down," Hermione said sincerely, placing her hand in Draco's. He held her close, but not intimately close, and swayed to the beat.

"She's too nice to be your mother," Hermione said after a moment of silence.
"Maybe. She was too nice for Father, at any rate," Draco grumbled.
Idiotically, Hermione began looking around the room. "Where is he, anyway? I thought he'd be here."
"He died in Azkaban," Draco reminded Hermione. "Remember? About a year ago now."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"I'm not. Good riddance to bad rubbish, Mother says."

Knowing that Draco didn't like to talk about many things – this topic being one of them – Hermione let it drop.

"The Weasley's and Potter's are here," Draco said quietly. Hermione jolted. "I just saw them in the next room."
"I don't suppose the red-head your mother was trying to set you up with was Ginny?" Hermione guessed. Draco chuckled.
"The Weasley's are not the only red-heads in town, Granger, contrary to popular belief."
"Well, I didn't think you knew that!" Hermione teased.

The song ended and Draco pulled Hermione off the dance floor. "Where are we going?" Hermione asked. She vaguely wondered if Draco was taking her to see her 'friends'. She wasn't sure if she minded.
"To the bar, as promised. We've missed happy hour, but still."
"That's your fault for making me dance with you."
"It's actually yours for showing up late."

Two rooms over was a relatively dark room with neon lights around the bar. Bottles and jugs and glasses of who knew what were organised in square shelves behind the bar; three people were moving about behind it. The room had black couches in the corners and metal tables and stools scattered over the wooden floor. In here, no orchestra music could be heard; it was replaced with muggle dubstep music which Hermione was well acquainted to.

Gesturing to the bartender for two shots, Draco sat himself between Hermione and a creepy looking old man who looked drunk already. A grateful smile was shot his way from Hermione. Their drinks skidded to a stop in front of them and together they threw their heads back, slamming the glasses on the bar with a sense of satisfaction. Refills were already being poured.

"So, what made you come?" Draco asked at last. He had been wondering ever since she showed up on the doorstep, but resisted from asking. Hermione shrugged.
"Drinking alone is never as fun or annoying as drinking with you," she said sarcastically. Draco grinned proudly.
"It is all about the company, Granger. I must say, the guy I saved you from doesn't smell too nicely," he said loudly, causing the man to his left shift uncomfortably.
"The girl across the bar is eyeing you off," Hermione sniggered, not bothering to lower her voice. The blonde, who was indeed giving Draco suggestive glances, sent a dirty look Hermione's way. Draco ignored the girl, clearly uninterested… or unimpressed.
"Let me see if I can show you the girl Mother was trying to get me interested in," Draco said and twisted in his seat. "I'm sure I saw her here a minute ago…"

Hermione ordered a firewhiskey, deciding the shots would get her too drunk too quickly, while Draco scanned the room.

"Potty and Weasel at five o'clock," Draco grumbled, turning back in his chair. He stole Hermione's glass and took a mouthful as she turned to look, making her turn back and give a sound of protest. When Draco placed the glass back on the table, holding his hands up in surrender with an innocent look on his face, it made her giggle.

"Hullo, Hermione," chorused Ron and Harry from her side. Turning in her seat, she sent them a polite smile.
"Hi, guys. Long time no see."
They shrugged awkwardly and, upon seeing Draco, kept walking.
"Why is she sitting with Malfoy?" Hermione heard Ron grunt to Harry. With a shrug, he replied with "I guess they're friends. You never were good at accepting she has other friends besides us."
"Bad friend choice."

Hermione didn't get to hear what Harry said in return, but could only imagine it was witty and pointed out that for a very long time, they were her friends, and she often made good choices.

"Tension in the air," Draco sang. "Everywhere I look around!"

Hermione slapped him on the arm. "Shut up, Malfoy. This whole bloody ball is tense. No one is used to mingling and socialising with each other."
Draco slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "It's all about the company," he repeated. "Personally, I think about ninety percent of the people here are pieces of shit."
"Malfoy, I must ask… am I included in that ninety percent?" Hermione asked, pretending to be offended. Draco deliberated.
"I suppose that you're excluded, but only just. More firewhiskey?"

Hermione noticed that, once again, without her noticing, Draco had drunk her drink. "Keep your grubby hands off my drink," Hermione scolded, but agreed to another nonetheless.

"How did we get here, Granger?" Draco asked, three firewhiskey's later. He was drunk, and Hermione was even further along, leaning into Draco's side. It wasn't unusual for her to do this. "Friendless, drinking away our sorrows with only each other for company. We used to be leaders."
"I dunno," Hermione shrugged. "But I like it. It's a nice way to waste away my life, I think. After all," Hermione sent a sly grin up at Draco, "It's all about the company, isn't it?"