It felt like something blunt was being hammered slowly into Bones' skull when she woke. She tried to open her eyes but the room was horrifyingly blurry so she gave up on sight for a while. When her head seemed to stop spinning she tried out her eyes again. Better; but still not good. And this wasn't her room. This was a disgusting room. It looked like a mortuary.

Bones staggered to her feet and looked around. Okay, where the hell was she?

"Morning," said a voice.

She turned. Leaning nonchalantly in the doorway was…

"Draco Malfoy," said Bones flatly. To say that she was surprised would have been an understatement. "How did you get here? Rather, how did you get me here?" As she asked, she wondered where here even was.

"Quite easily, actually," Malfoy sounded bored. "I told you I had a cellar."

Ugh, alcohol. "Yeah," said Bones with a wry grimace. "That would have done it."

"Juice?" inquired Draco. Bones rubbed her forehead and squinted at him blearily. There was a lot about the previous night that she was missing, but she was pretty sure she'd almost interrogated him about his family, and could vaguely recall telling him that they'd deserved to die. It wouldn't be the worst thing she'd said to someone in her life; or even in this past year, but usually the people she was speaking to held grudges. He didn't seem to be.

Ignoring his question, she looked around the room again. Last night she should have been more alert than she had been; but didn't let that factor keep her from making up for it now. "It's modern chic," she said slowly. "Aiming towards a muggle look and feel rather than traditionalist magical décor."

Looking surprised, Draco followed her gaze to the slate grey drapes before returning it to her, shrugging uncertainly.

"A lot of Death Eater sympathisers took on homes or apartments like this after You-Know-Who fell. The idea was to make them look less guilty." Bones stretched her spine casually.

"If you want to say something to me, then come right out and say it," said Draco coldly. If she thought about it, his tone was more familiar than it ought to have been after six years of not hearing it – though she had seen him once since he'd disappeared from Hogwarts at the end of the sixth year. Not long enough to have spoken more than a few words to him; and those words had been rushed.

"I am saying it," said Bones. "We're in Quinto Square."

For a moment Draco stared at her. "Huh," he said finally. "All that just to tell me something you already know? We Apparated here last night."

Bones snorted. "I'll take your word for that."

"So," said Draco looking uncomfortable suddenly. "Let me guess. When you came of age you got absolutely plastered and it's been a birthday ritual ever since?"

Bones smiled, she was well aware that her smiles of late tended to scare people so it was a surprise that it made Draco's shoulders relax. "Nice theory. But I didn't first get wasted on my birthday so unsound; very unsound."

"When did you first get wasted?" asked Draco and he still seemed relaxed, though he also looked concerned.

"Ah, the nostalgia," said Bones dryly. But she shrugged carelessly because it didn't matter and said, "Sixth year. I heard that Dumbledore had been killed and I guess…" She shrugged again because it hadn't made sense to her then and made no more sense to her now. Dumbledore had been her headmaster, that was all. She doubted he'd known anything of her past her name, and she had possibly spoken to him once in all the time she had known him. She had not broken so badly when Cedric had died; and he had been in her House, he'd been a prefect, he'd helped or bullied her with her homework like an older brother. But Dumbledore… "I raided Slughorn's stash all of ten minutes later and drank myself oblivious." Laughing sharply, she added, "I guess I have you to thank for my introduction to alcoholic substances."

"Why's that?" queried Draco.

"You did kill Dumbledore, didn't you?"

"Did I?"

"That's what they say, pet."

Draco watched her warily for a moment, gaze firm as though he couldn't bear to look away. "It's not…" he said slowly before shaking himself a little, frowning and saying flatly, "It's not healthy for you to drink as much as you were last night. Even if it was, it's…dangerous out there."

Staring at him incredulously, Bones laughed finally. Her laugh was no more pleasant than her smile. "Don't get self-righteous with me. You found me drunk and you took me home. You're fucking lucky I didn't hex you when I woke up, because Merlin, I was tempted." She hadn't been tempted, and that was a bit of a shock. Usually she couldn't stand being influenced when she wasn't completely coherent.

"Bit excessive even for you," said Draco, still watching her in the same way that she'd seen him watch the snitch at Hogwarts. When he had it in his sights, his gaze would not move from it. "I didn't touch you. I slept on the couch."

Bones ran a hand through her tousled hair. "Good," she said, glancing past him at the hallway beyond.

Apparently her intentions were thinly veiled at best. "Want a lift home?" asked Draco reluctantly.

Shaking her head, Bones said, "I need to head to work. I'll Apparate."

"Bones," said Draco as she began to squeeze past him through the doorway. She stopped and looked up at him. He hadn't moved from his side of the doorway so it was the closest she'd been to him since that long ago Potions class. This close she could see that there was a scar running through his upper lip that had never been there before. It wasn't strange, everyone carried marks from the war; but it made her unspeakably angry. He reached out a hand and touched her cheek gently, making her shy back against the inside of the door-frame in shock. Pulling his hand back at once, Draco grimaced and said, "Would you have dinner with me Friday?"

She frowned at him. "Malfoy," she said finally. "I've seen wolves play dead before; they've still got fangs."

Giving her a steady look, Draco said, "I won't bite you."

Bones slid the last few inches out of the door-way. "That's not the point," she said.

"What is the point?"

"Wear sheep's clothing if you want; but the wolf's more fun," Bones divulged.

"Okay, will you come if I promise not to play dead?" Draco called after her as she headed for the stairs.

She didn't turn back. "Dinner has connotations, Malfoy. Lunch doesn't and coffee doesn't."

"Lunch," Draco tossed out desperately, like it was a pop quiz and he wasn't sure he was right.

"I'll owl you," replied Bones, as she disappeared down the stairs. Some moments later the front door slammed shut.

Draco smiled, carding a hand through his hair and glancing back at the rumpled bed. Merlin but asking her out was easier now.