It was the first time Hermione had ever been to a Wizarding club.
The subject of celebration was the fact that it was Harry's birthday.
Harry wasn't the instigator however, as he also had never been to a club.
In fact, none of them had.
It was Ginny who had chosen this place- per Demelza's recommendation- as a perfect environment to be utterly irresponsible and impossibly carefree.
They were all careening towards their twenties, either newly graduated or in burgeoning professions. This seemed as good a place as any to forge new experiences on the cusp of adulthood, whilst getting completely sloshed
When they entered through the heavy metal doors, the amount of visual and auditory stimulation was jarring.
The lights were pink, green and purple neon lines that resembled spells shooting across the room in slow motion. They faded in and out, on and around the dance floor, to the beat of the music.
The sound was enchanted to sound like it was everywhere at once, and made the ground pulse. Smoke wove in and around everyone's legs. Hermione's step felt a little lighter and she suspected some form of weightless charm had been cast to make the dancers tire less quickly.
Bubbles floated around in varying sizes, distorting the room and reminding Hermione of the prefect's bathtub at Hogwarts. Every now and then, one would pop and some saccharine odor drifted up to her nostrils and made her feel dizzy for a split second.
The music was some kind of darkwave electronic genre that no one in their group had ever listened to much.
The dress code was rave attire. Articles of clothing were enchanted to glitter, sparkle, light up and strobe. Some people wore t-shirts and leggings that had moving photographs on them and made everything look more confusing. Every now and again, a large, purple hat passed over the crowd, shouting profanities and song lyrics.
As soon as Hermione walked in, she hated everything about the place.
"Let's get shots!" Ginny yelled.
She and Parvati led the way while Ron, Harry, Dean, Seamus, Padma and Luna followed.
Hermione brought up the rear, keeping both hands clamped tightly to her sides, wincing every time a dancer bustled into her.
She looked nowhere near like she belonged here.
Her Muggle jean shorts looked far too casual and she hated how the lights made her white button-up blouse transparent enough to see hints of her bra.
She knew it was prudish to think that, when two feet away, a wizard danced in nothing but a mesh bodysuit and a leather speedo. But she couldn't help it; she felt extremely out of her element.
"Here," Dean winked and offered Hermione a shot glass filled with something blue. She took it as confidently as she could.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!" Everyone yelled. The glasses clinked and were downed. Hermione spluttered. It was very sweet and far too fizzy.
Parvati and Padma dragged Dean, Seamus and Ron to the dance floor. Luna floated off to a corner and started chatting to some fellow at the bar.
Hermione watched her friends dance in a circle.
The music was pounding in her ears.
A distant throb of a headache was budding somewhere around her left temple.
How long was polite enough before she could leave? It was Harry's birthday after all, so she owed him at least an hour. She tried not to think longingly of the book on Mesopotamian Runes she'd had to put down to be here.
"Come on, Hermione!" Ginny called.
A hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed Hermione's wrist. Hermione yelped as the hand pulled her into the throng of dancers.
Ginny was holding a beer and gyrating. She flung an arm around Hermione's neck, laughing as she shook her arse in Harry's direction.
"Dance with us, Hermione!"
Hermione reluctantly swayed from side to side. It wasn't very convincing but Ginny accepted it.
As Hermione did her half-hearted two-step, she glanced around to find someone she could escape to.
She liked dancing but not- this. Bodies of strangers bumping into each other, elbows jutting out of nowhere, people grinding their parts together. Despite the perfumed bubbles, she could still catch whiffs of sweat.
It was- animalistic.
Parvati and Padma were clearly either competing or wing-womaning each other for their male friends' attention. Ron seemed to be eyeing the twins attentively.
Hermione turned away.
Luna was still chatting at the bar.
Perhaps Hermione could join her.
She disengaged from Ginny's grip, miming getting herself a drink. Ginny yelled and chugged half her beer in encouragement.
Hermione found she didn't like it much more at the bar.
It was too loud to hear anything.
Luna was shouting in some bloke's ear who didn't seem to hear anything she was saying, nor care much.
"Either order or shove off, you're blocking traffic," a voice gruffed near her ear.
Hermione jumped, turning to see the bartender leering at her.
"Sorry! Sorry!"
She held her hands up and fled to a corner of the room.
She waited there, a timid wallflower.
Eventually Parvati and Ginny stumbled over to her.
"Brilliant place, isn't it?" Parvati yelled gleefully over the music.
"Are you okay?" Ginny shouted. Hermione could smell the alcohol on Ginny's breath.
"I'm fine!" Hermione shouted back, "headache, that's all!
"You need more booze!"
"Did someone say booze?"
Dean appeared holding two beers in each hand. The girls each took one and they cheersed. Hermione took a small sip and almost gagged. She hated beer.
Dean laughed.
"It takes getting used to, but the drunker you get, the better it tastes!"
Hermione gave him a doubtful half-smile.
"Ugh, no way! Look who just showed up!" Parvati complained loudly.
Hermione, for once, agreed with Parvati's dramatics.
Four people walked through the club doors, looking like they owned the place.
Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle.
Almost all of Hermione's least favourite school alumni.
She grudgingly admitted that they made an impressive entrance. They all wore variations of black in their own signature style, looking stylishly united and a little vampiric.
"Ignore them," Dean counselled sagely, "they're like bees. If we don't poke them, they'll leave us alone."
"Are you mad? They look like they're looking for trouble!"
Parvati said it in a way that suggested she'd want front row seats if trouble did indeed happen.
Dean shrugged and took Parvati's hand, leading her back to their friends.
Hermione stayed put, holding her beer tightly.
She saw Ginny rejoin Harry and pour some of her beer in his mouth. She also could see Padma had her arms around Ron.
Ironic, considering the horrible time Padma had with Ron at the Yule Ball. But perhaps when you were having a good time and inhibitions were down, anything could happen.
Hermione looked away and noticed an older man at the bar was giving her lecherous looks.
She didn't want to stay here. She needed to get away.
She set her full beer back on the bar and headed towards the bathrooms. She just needed a moment of peace. To get herself together.
She barged into the girl's washroom and almost bumped right into her old school bully.
Pansy Parkinson was leaning on the sink, carefully applying mascara to her already long lashes. She saw Hermione in the mirror and smirked coldly.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to take a night off from being a prissy little hermit."
"Leave me alone," Hermione retorted.
Not her best comeback, but she was feeling too out of sorts to think of something witty.
"Ooh, how terribly witty," Pansy smirked, not missing a beat. Hermione's scowl deepened.
"Go back to the library, Granger, only people who like to have fun frequent nightclubs," Pansy continued, returning to fixing her mascara looking bored.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"I am having fun, thank you very much. Loads."
Pansy laughed coldly.
"Of course you are. The pinched look on your face immediately gave it away. Did you come here from a job interview? Or were you rummaging through your gran's wardrobe? That blouse looks more boring and stiff than you do."
Hermione's hair crackled in outrage.
"It's pathetic how badly you need to put others down to feel better about yourself!"
"Not everyone is a perfect little goody-two-shoes. You should try being a bitch more often, Granger, you might find you like it."
"I am not a goody-two-shoes!"
Pansy shrugged.
"That blouse says otherwise."
"Shut up about my bloody clothes!"
Pansy only smirked and capped her mascara. She reached into her bra and pulled out a napkin.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked scornfully.
Pansy arched an eyebrow and finished unfolding the napkin, revealing quite a few red pills nestled inside.
Pansy gave Hermione a grin that could only be described as catlike.
"Drugs, Granger. Though I'm not surprised you've never seen them. Looks like Miss-Know-It-All doesn't know everything after all."
Hermione gaped, not even able to muster up a defiant lie.
It was true she'd never seen any such illicit substances before. She'd brewed her share of illegal potions, sure, but this- this- felt different somehow.
This wasn't the sort of illegal thing one did to gain knowledge, to solve a mystery, to save a life nor to defeat a dark wizard- the kind of illegal that Hermione was well-acquainted with by now. This was self-destructive hedonism for the sheer purpose of it.
"I don't do drugs because it is completely nonsensical! I can enjoy myself without having to ruin my insides," Hermione finally said primly.
Pansy actually cackled.
"Oh please. You know it might not kill you to let go. This is quality stuff too, especially compared to the cheap, boring podge that's probably sold to Muggles. Fudlops' Bangpops, Granger. Fancy one?"
Hermione felt her heart race as Pansy offered her the napkin.
She took a long look at the stash of gleaming, blood-red pills, then looked back up.
Pansy was in a leather skirt and a black spaghetti top. She had a few large chains around her neck. Her black, matte nails were pointed. Her black bangs covered her brows, grazing her long lashes.
Pansy was leering at Hermione. She had leaned in. Her shirt was low cut and Hermione caught a hint of the curve of Pansy's breasts.
Hermione's neck felt warm all of a sudden.
"N-No thanks," Hermione finally stuttered.
She suddenly felt very small, as if she was eleven years old again, with bushy hair and Pansy- gorgeous, always put-together, fashionable Pansy- was making fun of her teeth and Hermione was too hurt and shocked and ugly-feeling to defend herself.
But there was something else, too.
A feeling Hermione couldn't quite place, that was making her pulse race a mile a minute.
Pansy smirked.
"Just as I thought. Goody-two-shoes."
She delicately picked up a pill between her thumb and forefinger, her black nails curving like small claws.
"Wait!" Hermione cried out.
Pansy paused, giving her a bored look.
"That's- You shouldn't! It's not safe! What if something goes wrong?"
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"This isn't my first Fudlops', Granger."
"Well…What happens?"
Pansy leaned in again, until her face was an inch from Hermione's. Her matte burgundy lipstick was flawless.
"You'll just have to find out for yourself," she answered softly. Her tone was still taunting, but it had shed some of its snideness. It was almost…dangerous.
Hermione watched, mesmerised, as the red pill was pushed between Pansy's perfect lips. Pansy swallowed.
Hermione realised she was holding her breath.
Pansy raised a second pill and presented it before Hermione's eyes.
"What's it going to be, Granger? Are you going to go back out there, not drink, not dance, not have fun and then go home, probably finish whatever boring book you started and get a responsible night's sleep like you always do? Or are you going to finally let loose and be bad? I promise you, it feels far better to be bad."
Pansy was still talking in that low, dangerously calm voice.
Daring Hermione.
Hermione didn't know what came over her. Perhaps the idea of backing down from a direct challenge that came from her enemy made her feel weak. Perhaps she finally wanted the satisfaction of shutting Pansy Parkinson up.
Or perhaps- perhaps- it was because Hermione, deep down, did want to be a tad bad.
When was the last time she'd ever done something stupid on purpose?
Of course she'd done plenty of reckless things, but they'd all been for an important cause. Saving the world, destroying Voldemort, ridding people of Rita Skeeter- all very noble causes.
But when had she done something reckless for the sake of it?
Had she ever?
Wasn't the whole point of coming here tonight to make new experiences and let loose? Maybe for once, just this one time, Hermione could do something completely illogical. Maybe it would actually feel nice for a change.
Pansy smirked widely, taking Hermione's silence as her chickening out. She made to fold the napkin.
"Just as I thought, you'll always be an uptight-"
Hermione quickly snatched a pill, popped it in her mouth and swallowed with a clumsy gulp.
Pansy's eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in surprise.
Hermione stared defiantly back, taking immense pleasure out of finally rending Pansy Parkinson speechless.
The look of astonishment on Pansy's face was well worth it.
And then Pansy smiled, and there was something a little evil there.
"Well, well. Look at you. Miss Perfect is finally taking the night off," she purred, her voice low.
It wasn't exactly praise. But Hermione felt something stir in her abdomen, as if it was.
And then, a sense of dread started to crawl into her mind.
Sweet Merlin, what had she just done?
"Good luck," Pansy breathed and then she was gone, the bathroom door swinging as she departed.
Hermione stood there for a moment, not quite believing what had just transpired.
She'd just taken drugs. Wizarding Drugs. Drugs of which the effects were a mystery to her. And she took them from probably the least trustworthy person she knew.
Panic was beginning to settle in, in earnest.
What was she thinking? This wasn't her.
She should have left this rubbish club as soon as she'd realised she hated it.
Instead, she'd let herself be goaded into doing something utterly foolish.
She was sweating. Did she always sweat this much? Or was it the drugs taking effect?
Hermione rushed to the sink and splashed water on her face, taking big gasps of air. Her hands were shaking.
Was she having a panic attack? She'd had bouts of panic before, certainly. Before big exams, or during dire times when she'd been off saving the world with Harry and Ron. But this time, it felt different. She was losing control of herself.
Yes.
She remembered the last time she'd felt this distraught over her own actions.
It was when she'd brewed polyjuice potion in second year and had turned into a half-cat. Harry and Ron had gone to interrogate Crabbe and Goyle and she'd been left alone to panic.
She apparently had very specific reactions to when she lost control over her bodily capacities, by her own pure stupidity.
She wasn't supposed to make mistakes, especially not mistakes that hindered her motor and mind skills.
She needed to always be perfect.
She had never been very likeable.
People found her bossy and uptight. So she had to excel in other things to prove herself.
She needed the best grades.
She had to be the best at spellwork.
She needed to have all the facts, numbers, answers and names.
Because if other witches and wizards didn't like who Hermione was, well she would be indispensable to them in other ways.
And then, she'd found her place with Harry and Ron and things started to make sense. She was finding her spot in the world. Her identity.
But Harry and Ron were off fighting evil, and she was right there with them.
And all of a sudden, she needed to be perfect again.
Because if she wasn't perfect, people would die.
Harry and Ron would-
Hermione could feel her breath coming in short gasps.
She couldn't be thinking about Ron right now.
She scrambled into a bathroom stall and shut the door. She sat on the toilet, her head in her hands, trying not to fall to pieces.
She could hear people coming in, every now and again. It only made her more agitated.
Instead of feeling calmer, she felt worse as time went on.
She was feeling dizzy.
Spots of color were starting to swirl behind her closed lids.
She opened her eyes and everything seemed much more saturated and her mind had a feeling of floating.
The pill was kicking in.
Her anxiety spiked.
She was losing control. The more she tried to grasp it, the more it trickled through her fingers.
She shut her eyes tight again and stuffed her fists in her sockets.
The colours were much more vivid now, exploding in displays of tie-dye fireworks.
So that's why they were called Fudlops' Bangpops Hermione thought and a bark of nervous laughter erupted from her.
That's it, she'd completely lost her marbles.
Would she collapse? Black out?
Was she going to die here, in this filthy, dance club loo?
She could have died being tortured by Death Eaters- died a martyr.
But no, she would meet her easily avoidable end collapsed on the toilet.
Wouldn't Pansy be happy.
Something seemed to float by in her mind, a drifting thought.
This is what Pansy wanted.
Hermione recalled Pansy's evil grin after Hermione had swallowed the pill.
She doesn't think I can handle it.
A fire seemed to light in Hermione's stomach.
Hermione honed in on Pansy and the thought of her repulsive classmate seemed to give her strength.
She would show her. She would not be defeated by this.
Hermione did not survive a war to suddenly be completely outdone by drugs. She would not allow it.
She would pull herself together.
No, more than that.
She would stomp out of this bathroom and have the best damn night of her life, because Hermione Granger was not a quitter and was especially not going to be outdone by the likes of Pansy bloody Parkinson.
Stupid bitch. Hermione thought venomously.
The fire in her stomach spread to her whole body. Every drop of anxiety dried away. Hermione had never felt so self-righteous. It felt like all her emotions were on steroids.
She clamoured out of the bathroom.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were a bit blotchy from where her mascara had run a little bit. It was the first time it dawned on her that she had been crying. Ordinarily, she would have cursed herself for letting Ginny put makeup on her- but somehow, tonight, it bolstered her to look a bit of a mess. That was how many fucks she was willing to give about other people right now.
With one last act of defiance, Hermione ripped her blouse open. She tore it off and shoved it in the bin before slamming the bathroom door open and strutting back to the dance floor in her black bra.
The music was deafening, but no longer in a threatening way.
It vibrated in Hermione's bones. Hermione didn't think a song had ever moved her core quite this way.
She moved- no, swayed- across the floor, to the beat of the synths. She barely walked- it was as if the sound was propelling her forward.
The lights shot across the room and through her.
The air was electric and liquid at the same time.
She was the room. Or at least part of it.
But didn't that make perfect sense? Weren't they all just a collection of atoms, bouncing around together?
She caught a glimpse of blonde hair and spotted Luna, dancing by herself.
Her arms and legs moved in wide arcs.
Hermione couldn't ever remember seeing a more liberating sight.
She suddenly felt a strong urge to be part of Luna's world. It was like she finally understood it.
Luna turned her head, her wide eyes finding Hermione's.
Hermione let the music move her limbs. She didn't know what she was doing, all she knew was that it felt right. Was this how Luna felt all the time?
Luna smiled and it warmed Hermione's entire body.
"There you are!"
Arms were flung around Hermione's shoulders.
Hermione spun around and found she was facing her favouristist person in the world.
Ginny grinned, her red hair looking mussed from dancing. She had clearly had quite a few more beers since Hermione last saw her.
Instead of feeling disapproving, Hermione laughed and hugged her friend close.
"Ginny, I love you so much!"
Had she ever told Ginny how much their friendship meant to her? In this moment, it seemed like the biggest oversight of her life.
Ginny laughed and hugged Hermione back.
"I love you too, Hermione! I'm glad you're finally having fun!"
"I…Thank you for taking us here! It's…it's…"
Hermione struggled to find the words.
How could she describe the way the lights seared into her flesh?
The way the song pulsed with her heart?
The way seeing her best friends made her soul want to explode?
Ginny laughed and took Hermione's hands, swinging them as both girls danced.
"Hermione, you're completely sloshed!"
Hermione threw her head back and laughed and laughed and oh how it felt good to laugh the air out of her lungs.
Sloshed was barely the tip of the iceberg.
If Ginny only knew.
Hermione couldn't remember ever feeling this good.
Hermione, Ginny and Luna danced some more, their bodies intertwining in symbiosis for who knows how long. Time didn't even seem to exist anymore. There was only moving, touching, listening, feeling.
Harry sauntered over at some point, his glasses a little askew and a dopey smile on his face as Ginny jumped into his arms and started snogging him fiercely.
Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and Dean was there, looking surprisingly put together, considering the state of inebriation of all the others.
"Dance with me?"
How had Hermione never noticed how good-looking he was before?
She allowed him to drag her in, relishing the feeling of his masculine hands on her body.
"What happened to your shirt?" He asked her, with a small smile.
She couldn't help a giggle.
"I…er...binned it. Didn't seem to fit the mood tonight."
She saw Dean's eyes travel briefly over the curve of her breasts before snapping back to her eyes.
She grinned.
They swayed together some more. Dean's hands on her waist felt warm. She'd wrapped her own hands round his neck and enjoyed the feel of his skin.
As they turned, Hermione took in some of the view.
Her heart sank a little as she saw the Slytherins off in a corner. None of them were dancing.
Hermione's eyes locked with Pansy's, and Hermione felt a shiver shoot up her spine.
Pansy didn't hold Hermione's gaze long, immediately leaning in to say something in Nott's ear. Pansy's expression was sinister. Dark.
Hermione smiled smugly to herself.
Pansy clearly couldn't stand to see her little plan fail. No, Hermione was not having a meltdown in the bathrooms, nor had she fled the premises. If anything, she was having the time of her life.
Then, her eyes found Ron, who was wrapped round Padma so tightly, they both looked like they threatened to merge.
Something lurched in Hermione's gut.
No, no, no. Don't think of Ron. Not in this state, or you'll have another panic attack. Focus on something else. Anything else.
She wrenched her eyes away from Ron and Padma pawing at each other and refocused on Dean.
He was awfully close.
She could see every pore on his face, trace the curves of his lashes. It thrilled her to see another human's face up close with such sharpness. It was fascinating actually.
It didn't take a rocket magi wizard to figure out what Dean wanted.
Maybe it was exactly what Hermione needed to get her mind off Ron.
She let Dean kiss her.
It was nice. Smooth. He didn't push too insistently. Only gave her enough of a peck to give her an idea of what he was thinking.
She felt warm. It was nice to know someone was interested in her. Especially someone as kind and good-looking as Dean.
Her eyelids fluttered as they pulled back to look at each other. His eyes were a soft brown, similar to hers. She smiled lazily up at him.
"You're beautiful, Hermione," she barely heard him tell her over the sound of the music.
"You're not so bad, yourself," she answered coyly, relaxing into his arms.
"Your eyes…"
She resisted the urge to bat her eyelashes like a hopeless maiden. Was he going to be terribly cliché and tell her he could see stars in them? That they were a similar colour to his?
"...Your pupils are huge."
Hermione's heart stopped.
"My what?"
"Your pupils. I never noticed until now. Are you- are you okay?"
A wave of dizziness washed over her.
She couldn't tell him.
She'd have to fess up to impulsively taking Fudlops' Bangpops and from an enemy, no less.
She felt her pride beg her to find an excuse, any excuse to leave.
"Need to go to the loo!" She blurted out and pulled herself out of his arms.
She could hear faint protests but she pretended not to hear. The music was so loud that it was entirely plausible.
She shoved her way through the throng of dancers.
The music was sounding more aggressive. The bodies nudging into her felt done on purpose.
It was happening again.
The bad thoughts were threatening to engulf her, drag her down with them.
But she couldn't fall apart here, not in front of everyone.
She pushed and pushed against the waves of moving limbs.
It was hard to breathe.
You've taken drugs and you're making a fool out of yourself and Dean knows and he's regretting kissing you and-
She finally broke through into an empty pocket of space.
No, no, don't think about that, don't let those thoughts get to you, it's just the Bangpops, just the Bangpops-
"All righ' love?" Someone asked.
She looked up, but the person's face was obscured by a large hat.
"Fock off, ya knob!" The hat shouted.
Hermione whirled, colors swarming her vision.
She needed- needed- needed-
There it was.
Corridor.
She lunged for it, breaking into a run and almost collapsing in a heap of relief when it led her to a back exit.
She spilled out of the club and into a back alley.
She reeled as the fresh air smacked her in the face.
She took a gulpful of it.
She could taste it and it was so refreshing.
Hermione closed her eyes.
The colors still exploded in the darkness of her eyelids, but they were more subdued. Hermione couldn't tell if it was because she was getting used to it or because the effects of the pill were finally starting to fade.
She opened her eyes and assessed her emotions.
She still felt overwhelmed, but the silence of the night seemed to steady her.
She still felt dizzy. The alley was dark, except for the moonlight.
And then Hermione spotted her.
A figure, sitting off to the side, smoking a cigarette that was emitting a constant, thin stream of smoke.
Pansy didn't look particularly happy, nor had she seemed to notice Hermione.
Hermione felt something swell in her chest.
Ah, yes.
The warm, fuzzy sensation of vindication.
Hermione's night hadn't been all bad, really.
Emotional, sure. Intense, absolutely.
But she had danced, hugged her friends, kissed someone, felt more alive than she had since-
Hermione winced and swerved away from that painful thought.
She hated to say it, but she could understand now, why people would take Fudlops' in a nightclub.
But what had Pansy done all night?
Moped about and sulked outside it seemed.
Whatever it was that was making Pansy ostracise herself from the club she'd bragged about patroning, it made Hermione feel like she'd won their little game somehow.
She'd finally, personally gotten one over on the great Slytherin Queen.
The respectable thing would be to leave Pansy alone and enjoy the rest of the evening with her friends.
But tonight, Hermione had told herself she would break all her usual rules and, besides, she could never resist a good I-Told-You-So.
You should try being a bitch more often Granger, you might find you like it.
"What's the matter with you? Not having fun?" Hermione called smugly.
Pansy exhaled, smoke lazily spiralling out in front of her.
She didn't reply.
It was maddening.
How dare Pansy not give Hermione the satisfaction of a proper goad.
"Your little plan of sabotage didn't work, you know. I feel just fine. Splendid, actually. It's a shame your pill went to waste."
"Good for you, Granger."
Pansy took another long drag of her long cigarette, still not turning around.
Hermione felt her frustration spike. Normally she was better at containing it, but in her currently medicated state, it felt like each little emotion exploded out of her.
"Would you at least look at me when I'm talking to you!" Hermione squawked and boldly stood right in front of Pansy, crossing her arms.
Pansy very slowly raised her eyes, looking up at Hermione through her long lashes.
"What do you want from me?" Pansy snapped.
"I want you to admit you were wrong! I am perfectly capable of being a little wild and I am not a Goody-Two-Shoes!"
"And why does my opinion matter so much to you?"
"Because- because-"
Hermione hated how Pansy seemed to get under her skin. Hermione should have the upperhand, but she still felt like she was being cowed
"You'll always be a Goody, Granger. Taking drugs doesn't change that."
Hermione spluttered.
"Then why even give them to me? What was the point of all this?"
Pansy shrugged.
"Because I'm bored."
Hermione choked trying to find something to say. But there wasn't anything. This had all just been some random game. Let's give drugs to Hermione Granger just because we can. Ten Sickles says she makes a fool of herself on the dance floor. Twenty if she pukes on someone's shoes. Was that what the Slytherins had all been whispering about?
Why had Hermione been so desperate to prove herself? It shouldn't matter what Pansy Parkinson thought about her.
Hermione stood there, frozen by her thoughts, suddenly rushing towards another bad trip.
Pansy sighed.
"Sit down."
Hermione crossed her arms defensively.
"You hate me."
"Yes, yes, I loathe you. Old news. Sit down."
For some reason, Hermione sat.
The concrete was hard on her backside. She sat about a few feet away from Pansy, close enough to talk, but not close enough that they could be mistaken as friends from an outsider.
"Here."
Pansy held out her cigarette. It was almost burnt to the end.
"Are you mad? Were drugs not enough that now you need to pollute my lungs as well?"
"Goody."
Hermione exhaled raggedly in frustration and took the cigarette, shooting Pansy a grudging look.
It actually smelt sort of nice. Tart. Perhaps cherry with a hint of something musky.
Hermione took an ambitious puff and immediately started choking and coughing on the smoke.
Pansy cackled.
"It's harsher towards the end. You can stub it out."
Hermione squashed the butt into the ground and stomped on it with her foot, still choking on smoke.
Then, she began to feel a sense of calm enveloping her.
"Wow," Hermione said softly, amazed at how quickly her mood had shifted from manic to mellow.
"Takes the edge off the Bangpops," Pansy supplied.
Hermione pursed her lips.
"Why are you being so nice, all of a sudden?"
Hermione was surprised to find her tone wasn't accusatory, only curious.
Pansy laughed, a low laugh.
"Misery likes company, I suppose."
Perhaps it was the effects of whatever it was Hermione had smoked, but this revelation didn't give her the justified vengeance she had been looking for, moments ago. She was too relaxed to feel self-righteous at the moment.
"You're miserable? Why?" Hermione asked instead.
"You first," Pansy countered.
"I'm not upset, I just told you I had a good time tonight-"
"Oh, shut it. It was all over your face when you interrupted me in the bathroom. Is it the Weasel King?"
Hermione gaped.
"How…How did you…"
Pansy snorted, kicking a rock with the pointed toe of her boot.
"Everyone knows you broke up. You're not exactly low profile now that you've saved the wizarding world."
She said the last part in a mocking voice, waving her hands as if it was far less of a big deal than it actually was.
Somehow, the absurdity of it mollified Hermione.
"Yes, Ron and I broke up. We were completely wrong for each other, though we're still friends. But I suppose, even when you break up, you can't just stop loving someone. I also didn't expect him to- to move on so fast."
Yes, Ron had made quite the rounds after they'd broken up barely two weeks ago.
Plus, their friend group was so close-knit, that naturally Hermione had caught wind of most of it almost straight after.
She obviously knew Ron would be here for Harry's birthday tonight, probably snogging someone right in front of her. But was she just supposed to miss big events like this one because Ron was there? Would it be fair to her to miss out on celebrating Harry so she didn't have to see Ron shoving his tongue down Padma's throat? And who was she to tell Ron who he could and couldn't snog? Hermione was the one who broke up with him, after all.
It was just hard. Hard to see him toss her aside like their relationship was meaningless.
And she still had some feelings for him that just didn't seem to want to go away, even if their breakup was a relief for the most part.
"So he's rebounding, big deal," Pansy said dryly, kicking another rock, "you're free now, without his dead weight dragging you down. You can do whatever you want, snog whoever you want. You can discover yourself now, without forcing yourself to like his rubbish taste in hobbies or laugh at his dreadful jokes. If he wants to snog Padma or Parvati or whoever the bloody hell Patil twin it was, then good riddance."
Free.
Hermione hadn't quite thought of it that way.
Free to be who I am.
She found that she felt a little better.
"Thanks, Pansy that was…That's actually good of you to say."
Pansy scoffed.
"I'm not saying it to make you feel better. No one with any sense would date that oaf and pining after him is even worse. Though I suppose you never did have much taste."
Hermione bristled, all good feelings gone.
"Why are you always so mean? Is your life really that sad?"
Pansy finally looked up at Hermione. She was grinning. It was startling because it was a smile with not a single ounce of joy.
"Come on, Granger. Have you never put anyone down before? Felt the rush of telling someone something awful because you can? It's a lark."
"It's vile," Hermione spat, deciding she wanted to leave, but feeling rooted to the spot under Pansy's horrible leer.
Pansy rolled her eyes.
"Good little angel Granger, always doing what's right."
"Stop it with that! I broke tons of rules at school and even some laws!"
"Of course you did, and I'm sure there was a completely justified and altruistic reason behind it. I'm sure every single little rule you broke you did it for some brave little cause. But when have you ever been rude for the sake of it? Broken something cause you wanted to? Vandalised for fun? Stolen something for personal gain? Shat on someone's property? Tripped some harmless bystander just to feel powerful? You don't have to tell me, because I already know the answer."
Pansy leaned in and Hermione could smell the cherry off her breath.
"Never. You would never stick a toe out of line for yourself. And that is why I hated you in school and why I hate you now. Because you're boring."
"Shut UP!"
Hermione gave Pansy's shoulders a shove, hard enough to knock the other girl back on the pavement.
"Ouch!"
Pansy looked at her in shock.
The pair of them were silent.
Pansy slowly sat up and examined her hands.
Her palms had scraped the pavement and were bleeding a little.
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Oh, oh no. Pansy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't've-"
"You want to prove to me you're not just a boring good girl?"
"I didn't mean- That's not what I-"
"Kiss me."
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Kiss…Pansy?
Pansy wanted Hermione to kiss her. What was her game? Why would she want…
Hermione struggled to find a trap, a ploy, a loophole, anything that Pansy could possibly get out of this.
Blackmail? Defamation? Further humiliation?
Hermione stared at Pansy's lips wondering wildly if her lipstick was poisoned and suddenly remembering they'd shared a cigarette.
Pansy's lips did look awfully plump-
Hermione's brain short circuited. It was a mix of tiredness and guilt and all the substances she'd taken that night. She felt like all thinking capacity had suddenly stalled on one thought.
Kissing Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy was looking at Hermione with those intense eyes of hers.
Again daring her.
Hermione felt a shiver shoot up her spine.
Pansy's gaze seemed to sear through Hermione's skull.
Finally, after a long silence, Pansy shrugged.
"Whatever."
She was getting up to leave.
Hermione couldn't think properly at all.
Some reflex deep inside her made her hand shoot out and grab Pansy's wrist.
Pansy turned.
"What do you want-"
Hermione lunged forward, knocking her mouth into Pansy's.
Her teeth scraped Pansy's lips for a brief clumsy moment.
And then it was over.
Pansy blinked at her.
Hermione could feel her face heating up with embarrassment.
"God, Granger. Is that how you kiss? That's pitiful."
Hermione felt her stomach lurch in frustration.
She had always been an awkward first-time kisser. But to have it thrown back in her face by Pansy was humiliating.
Hermione clenched her fists.
Fine. Pansy wanted a kiss? She would get one.
Hermione made a sound like a frustrated cat as she climbed onto Pansy's lap, straddling her.
Pansy was looking up at her, her dark eyes wide with shock.
"Granger, wha-"
Hermione took Pansy's face in both her hands and slammed her mouth into Pansy's.
Hermione kissed Pansy rough and deep, with hatred, but also with a desire to impress.
Pansy's lips moved against Hermione's, letting Hermione lead.
Hermione pushed her tongue into Pansy's mouth, sliding it back and forth.
Pansy moaned.
Heat seared up Hermione's neck.
She stroked the inside of Pansy's mouth deeper, slower, desperate to drag out another moan.
If Pansy was moaning it meant Hermione was winning.
Hermione moved her hands to Pansy's neck and pushed her hips down flush into Pansy's
lap.
Suddenly, Hermione felt Pansy's hands slide up her bare waist. Her black claws dug into Hermione's flesh.
This time Hermione was the one to moan.
She was caught off guard. She hadn't expected- well any of this really.
Pansy took advantage of Hermione's lapse to take control of the kissing. Her tongue pushed against Hermione's, swirling slow circles around it.
Hermione moaned again. She was panting. Her body was screaming for more.
One of Pansy's hands wound into Hermione's tangle of hair, pushing Hermione's head deeper into the kiss.
Their mouths started to open, letting heavy breaths escape. Hermione kept her tongue out so Pansy could keep sucking on it.
Hermione's hips began to rock in Pansy's lap.
Pansy squeezed Hermione's ass with her other hand, egging on the small hip movements. Hermione felt the tips of Pansy's nails dig into her skin. A longing sound ripped through Hermione's throat.
Her pelvis was rubbing against Pansy's, her clit stimulated by the fabric of her jean shorts.
Pansy's lips kept covering Hermione's, the sounds getting wetter by the minute.
Hermione began to thrust harder as the friction on her clit began to make her whole mound throb with need.
Suddenly, Pansy's hands pulled down the cups of Hermione's bra, exposing her tits right there in the alleyway.
Hermione gasped against Pansy's mouth and then cried out as both her nipples were pinched hard.
Before Hermione could say anything, (a protest? Encouragement? She hadn't a clue) Pansy's lips were back, her tongue slithering hungrily into Hermione's mouth once more.
Hermione's nipples were pinched again and the nubs rolled between Pansy's thumbs and forefingers.
Hermione groaned right in Pansy's mouth and wrapped her arms around Pansy's neck, pressing her body as close as she could.
Her need was growing, her hips bucked harder. Pansy's hands were kneading Hermione's breasts, and every now and then, a thumb flicked a nipple causing Hermione to squeak.
She wanted more, needed more.
A sound of scraping metal wrenched Hermione back to reality.
Hermione barely had the time to jump up and pull her bra cups back into place when the back door swing open and a familiar red-head popped out.
"There you are! Been looking all over! Club's closing soon and we thought we'd go grab a bite…"
Ginny trailed off as she noticed Pansy sitting on the ground.
"Is everything okay?" Ginny asked pointedly.
"Oh, er, yes, yes-" Hermione flattened her hair, feeling very self-conscious. Did she look like she'd just gotten up from a snog?
Ginny was eyeing Pansy with wariness, but not overt outrage, which seemed to be a good sign.
"Well? Coming?"
"I…"
"Go on, Granger. Your friends are waiting," Pansy said softly.
Hermione hesitated.
Pansy got up, dusted the backside of her skirt, and walked off without a word, her heels clacking loudly on the pavement.
Hermione watched her until she turned the corner, no doubt off to the club's exit Floo. Or did she have a designated Apparater? A butler that would come to collect her? She certainly was rich enough for it.
"Was she being a bitch to you? Should I hex her? She's still in range…"
Hermione jumped at Ginny's voice, quite forgetting where she was.
"No, it's fine Ginny. I think- I'm quite tired, I think I'll catch the Knight Bus home. Tell Harry I said Happy Birthday."
Before Ginny could protest, Hermione hurried off to grab her bag and wand at the coat check, wobbling a little on her legs.
She regretted not being in a right enough state to Apparate.
She managed to make a smooth exit without running into anyone.
Normally she'd be mortified with herself.
She'd done drugs, snogged Dean and binned her shirt.
All she could think about, however, was Pansy's nails.
/