Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter & co. - just write what could have been :)

Chapter Four

Ron had just left through the front door of Grimmauld Place, taking Harry's Ogden's firewhiskey with him, when Harry received word back the Nott and Zabini. The Slytherin duo were with Hemione. He sank down into the used, brown couch in the main sitting room, letting his fingers trace over the leather wrinkles on it. The couch was completely out of place in the dark gray room, but Sirius had it before Harry had move in and he wasn't going to remove it, despite Narcissa Malfoy's critique and her interior designer's advice. Harry exhaled in relief, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Between Ron's abrasive and rash behavior as of late, Hermione's tendency to withdraw into herself, Teddy's manic two-year-old energy, and the demands of the D.M.L.E, Harry Potter was exhausted. Unfortunately for him and his hero complex, he wasn't going to leave anything just be. He couldn't leave Ron for Hermione and vice-versa so when Ron came to him, anxious, he couldn't turn his best friend away. Unluckily for him, it was also the weekly dinner date he had set up with Hermione and punctual as ever, she was already waiting for him. He felt awful having seen Hermione's face fall and literally watch her curl into herself when she caught sight of Ron, but she left before he could apologize and try to reschedule. Harry did the best he could by sending part of the Slytherin quad gang even though they weren't his top choice of friends for Hermione. She wasn't close to anyone besides the old Hogwarts gang, and not even as close as she was with himself and Ron, but Harry blamed their fame of the War for their inability to make more, genuine friends. While Ron loved the limelight, Harry didn't care for it and Hermione actually hated it. Either dubbed Harry Potter's Muggleborn friend or Gryffindor's Golden Girl, she constantly scowled at the paparazzi and always went on a rant on how the Daily Prophet should be using their platform for magical creature rights instead of following them around. However, Harry had confidence that Nott and Zabini would make great friends, if not at least associates; they were all brilliant in different matters and subjects that they could converse in, they were all polite enough to not automatically let school grudges come between them, and Harry made sure they weren't still Pureblood supremist arseholes. Harry could nudge all the friends Hermione could possibly need to deal with the falling out that was her relationship with Ron, but he also needed to solve two more obstacles before feeling accomplished; firstly, he needed to help Hermione in not isolating herself and he needed to solve the issue with Ron. Harry exhaled loudly, opening his eyes and straightening up.

"Kreacher."
He called out and pop! vibrated throughout the room with Kreacher appearing in front of him; the large eyed, wrinkling creature bowed before croaking out,

"Master called?"

Since under the care of Harry, and with Hermione's help, Kreacher had cleaned up well and wore clean pillowcases or small toga-styled dresses that Hermione had bought from a Greek children's store. Harry did his best by not laughing when Hermione had come back from her short trip to Greece, a diplomatic trip that only lasted two days, with gifts for Kreacher and not him. With much difficulty, Kreacher finally resigned to wearing them whenever he's other outfits were dirty or it was deemed it was special occasion – he still refused to wear shoes or anything else, much to Hermione's dismay and Harry's amusement.

"Yes, please prepare me a shower while I make myself a tea."

"I can do both, young Master."

Kreacher said in his baritone voice before disappearing and before Harry could argue with him. Harry sighed softly and smiled to himself, knowing better than telling Kreacher what he was going to do for himself. However, he was going to let the elf indulge in taking care of him since he could barely manage it himself.

Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, disgusted with herself and disgusted with the situation she put herself in. She spit into the vomit, feeling her own remains drying on her hand, before finally standing upright and it disappeared within seconds. She blinked at the spot where her vomit was, making sure she wasn't more drunk than she previously thought – was there really vomit there before? – before she heard someone approach her. Hermione stilled as Nott's voice said behind her,

"Are you feeling better?"

Hermione forced herself to face him. She was embarrassed and felt hazy, but she needed to swallow her pride – enough to say,

"I need to go home."

Nott's face softened and he leaned into slightly; she saw again how his left arm moved ever so slightly.

"Granger, we're all completely intoxicated, except for Pansy."

He said and that was enough to make her groan, out loud. Clearly, she had overdrank and despite having fun, she needed to sober up immediately. She refused to stay in the same vicinity as Parkinson and Malfoy any longer than she had to, and she'd rather take a hexing jinx to the face before she asked Parkinson to side-apparate with her.

"Peppering-Up Potion?"

She asked and Nott shook his head. She couldn't tell if he was lying but she didn't think he needed to.

"Do you have any painkillers and coffee?"

She asked secondly and Nott rose his eyebrows at her.

"Granger, even if I did, it would take at least an hour or so before it killed your buzz."

Hermione groaned again and bit her lower up, clasping her hands together. He was right of course but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"I'm right."

He said and Hermione knew he was trying not to smirk, at least smile. She glared him.

"Yes I know."

She snapped at him and looked woefully to the inside. She was caught off guard when piercing gray eyes were staring right at her. Malfoy was still sitting but no longer seemingly relaxed. Hermione avoided his gaze to turn to look at Zabini and Parkinson talking, or arguing, seeing Parkinson's glare. She couldn't make out what they were saying so she turned back to Nott. He seemed to be staring at his friends as she had before turning back to her.

"Granger, at least let us sleep it off for a couple of hours then we can both take you back home."

Nott offered. Hermione reluctantly nodded, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and knowing she had no other choice. Besides asking a house elf to take her home, but Hermione didn't want to do that either. Nott sighed in relief, gesturing back towards the inside. Hermione walked back in, warmth swallowing her once more, and she shivered, not realizing how cold she had been. She wrapped her arms around herself, hearing the door close behind her. Parkinson stopped talking but her glare didn't dissipate. Zabini turned back towards her, a sloppy grin placed on his face, and Hermione felt compelled to snort. She wanted to start laughing as she had been before with Zabini and Nott, but she reminded herself that she was no longer in just their presence. She cleared her throat, trying to disguise her amusement at Zabini and mistakenly turned to Malfoy who wouldn't stop staring her at – watching her. This time Hermione didn't look away, she stared back. His cheekbones and jawline were defined as ever, the very little roundness of baby-fat already gone from either the War or pure age. He had slight under bags but not as noticeable as they had been during the War. He reminded Hermione of a ghost, so pale, so white, teetering between this life and the next.

" – Granger and I will be in the right wing."

Was all Hermione caught, her attention snapping back to reality instead of wondering about Malfoy. Parkinson nodded and Zabini rose his glass to Nott – a glass Hermione hadn't seen he was holding – but Malfoy had finally come back to the conversation as well.

"Why?"

He asked. Hermione confusedly looked towards him and back to his eye contact direction – Nott. For the first time ever, Nott looked uncomfortable, for the briefest of seconds, but she could see it. He started to frown deeply than before and his eyes darted quickly before he gained composure again. So, this is what his like, Hermione thought to herself. She knew that all the Slytherins has public personas they used on a daily around people that weren't her friends; she had one too, but not as seriously as they took it.

"Because she's my guest."

He said and Hermione suddenly felt all eyes on her. She couldn't help when she blushed when they didn't stop staring after a few seconds. While she felt Nott was lying to them, she wasn't going to tell them she felt safest around him. It was his invitation, his initiative that made her come, and his kindness that made her stay – his conversation skills was just a perk,. Not to mention Zabini's wit and humor. She cleared her throat,

"Goodnight everyone, Nott please lead the way."

She attempted to smile, at everyone, but failed when she caught Malfoy's stare again. She let her eyes fall to the intricate patterns on the rug beneath her. The room was too hot for her comfort now and everything was fuzzier than before. Damn Blishen's.

"You all know the way."

Nott said, a few steps away from her. He reached her quickly, hand on the small of her back, and led her out of the room. This time Hermione didn't swat his hand away but let him lead her. It was a comforting feeling to allow someone to help you, something Hermione rarely let others do for her. They were almost out of the room when Malfoy loudly said,

"Blaise, are you going to bed?"

Hermione didn't react and continued walking, but Nott stopped forcing her to. She sighed softly, allowing her eyes to close before trying to stop the swarm of drunkenness currently assaulting her senses.

"Perhaps unless you have different plans, Draco?"

She heard Zabini answer. They both had deep voices but Zabini's was softer, and Malfoys was sharp and definitely more slurred than Zabini's.

"I was thinking of drinking into a stupor with my closest friends except Theodore is denying me of that fun."

Hermione couldn't help how her chest ache at Malfoy's words. Closest friends. She heard a slight shuffle behind her and then Nott saying,

"Draco we can drink another time. I cannot be rude to my guest – "

"Since when have you and Granger start becoming drinking acquaintances?"

Malfoy interrupted. There was a pause and again Hermione felt the air still around her. She wanted to laugh at the situation she placed herself in, all because she was lonely. All because she couldn't make her relationship with Ron to work. All because she decided education was more important than social networking and being swotty was better than being popular. She clenched her teeth as Nott finally answered.

"Can we please discuss this later? Granger's tired and it would be rude of me to not accommodate her because you're throwing a bloody temper tantrum."

Before Malfoy could answer, Hermione finally opened her eyes and turned to face them. She had to make sure she wasn't going to throw up again before finally interrupting. Malfoy at the same time stood from his chair but swayed to his left, Zabini being closest to him, placed his hand on his arm to steady him. Hermione forced herself to look away, towards the fireplace, when Malfoy righted himself and nodded to Zabini.

"I can send a Patronus to Harry, I won't stay."

Hermione said before walking out towards the corridor she came in through; thankfully it was a straight walk back to the main foyer and nothing of the time-consuming maze out. She managed to not stumble as she saw Malfoy do when he first came in however, she wasn't so easily let out.

"Granger, wait."

"Why not Weasley?"

Nott said and Malfoy asked at the same time. The question stopped Hermione in her tracks and another ache echoed, this time much sharper. She clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to not snap at Malfoy at the sound of Ron's surname coming from his lips. Before she could answer though, Parkinson found her voice and said,

"Granger, I'll take you home."

Hermione's eyes snapped to the impeccably dressed jet black haired witch. Zabini did as well but Nott and Malfoy continue to stare each other down.

"I'm sure Potter will come barging in, knight-in-shining armor style, but I'd rather not deal with the Chosen One at this time."

Parkinson finished and again, let Hermione speechless. Again, all Hermione could do was nod, only slightly bristling at Parkinson mentioning Harry. Asking Parkinson was different than Parkinson offering and while it wasn't a situation she wanted, it was the best one at this time. Hermione didn't want to wake up Harry, or worse, awkwardly asking one of Nott's house evles to take her home if Harry didn't show up. Parkinson's offer was considerate and that rattled Hermione. She couldn't differentiate Parkinson from Hogwarts to this now Parkinson – had she really changed? Hermione could hazily remember a sneering 14-year-old at the arm of Malfoy, laughing when her classmates called Hermione a know-it-all Mudblood, and adding onto her insecurities by making fun of Hermione's hair, her teeth, her blood. On instinct, Hermione reached for her left arm, holding it slightly at the phantom itch. Suddenly Malfoy turned towards the bar cart, roughly grabbing a bottle, and making his towards her right. She turned to watch him go and for a second, he turned to look at her again. An unfamiliar display of emotion rippled through him before he looked away from her and disappeared into the unlit corridor.

"Better make sure he doesn't fall on his way."

Zabini said and followed Malfoy out, winking at Hermione before also disappearing into the dark. She listened to the shoes hitting the wood underneath him while Nott sighed and Parkinson walked towards her.

"Ready, Granger?"

Hermione nodded again and turned towards Nott. He looked tiredly back at her, offering a small smile that Hermione returned.

"Thank you for everything, Theo."

Hermione said and watched as Nott's small smile transform into a brighter one, straightening as he nodded towards her. Parkinson rolled her eyes at them and Hermione's smile fell as she looked towards her. With one final look at the dark headed wizard, smiling at her, standing in his family's ancestral home, Hermione pictured her flat and grabbed Parkinson's extending arm; the rough sensation of side-apparating overtook the gnawing sensation of familiarity she felt with Nott. Luckily Parkinson wasn't thinking of anywhere that contradicted Hermione's image and they apparated right in front of her door. No way is she going inside, Hermione thought, letting her hand fall from Parkinson's arm.

"Thank you."
Hermione said. Parkinson nodded and without word, she disapparated. Hermione sighed in relief knowing she was finally alone and at her place; she took out her wand from the back of her pocket, whispering,

"Ostendere."

The reappearing charm revealed her spare key dangling by her door in midair and Hermione took it, sighing again when the door clicked open, walking inside her dark flat. Hermione closed the door behind, locking it and placing the key on the small table besides her door. With a final sigh, Hermione sunk to the floor and trembled when a shudder ran over her body; she bit the inside of her cheek before finally let her tears fall onto the floor, onto the darkness. How could you be so daft, Hermione? They're not your friends, they were just taking pity on you, they don't really want to be around you, stupid girl, Hermione let the awful thoughts flow around her head as she silently cried. She had her head leaned against the cool metal behind her, tears streaming down her cheeks, hiccupping every so often, when she felt a nudge against her hand. Crookshanks presence usually soothed Hermione, reminding her that she wasn't alone in her flat, alone in the world, but this only made Hermione feel the absent ache within her worsen. That empty void she felt within herself that appeared when Ron whispered, "Well it's done then." She could feel the ache that again tonight when she first saw her ex-boyfriend and reappeared when saw the Slytherins all together in Nott's home; how close they all seemed to be together, how close they all seemed when one was inebriated and they needed a safe place to go to, how close they had been and remain still. Despite Hermione squeezing her eyelids shut to prevent more tears, fresh ones started pouring out as she openly cried. You have no one. Harry has his Auror career, Teddy, the Weasley clan; Ginny has her professional quidditch career, her family, and whatever guy she wants; Luna has her father, the magazine, and Rolf . Who do you have, Hermione? You pushed Ron away for no one else – you have no one.

"Fuck!"

Hermione yelled, slamming her hands against the wooden panels beneath her before screaming into nothingness, letting the dreadful thoughts consume her.