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"The best mirror is an old friend."
~George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum
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For some reason, she couldn't make peace with the fact that she had left Draco by himself. Otherwise, she would have had no problem at all but now she was a little worried, because he had practically told her himself of his plans for the night. Which was why now she was staring at her plate of dinner, unable to rid herself of some guilt.

Crookshanks was peacefully asleep on the window seat. Once again, his food had gone untouched throughout the day.

On the street below, late night traffic still blared loud as ever.

As if on cue, the image of a drunk Draco hobbling down a car-crowded road invaded her mind, which was soon followed by him getting hit.

Hermione made a sound of irritation. She abandoned her dinner and grabbed her wand. She pulled on her coat over her pyjamas, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and apparated to the same alley near the park.

She quickly crossed the road, ignoring the catcalls and jeers of some passers by. When she reached the footpath, she began walking in the direction he had gone in.

It had been nearly half an hour since she had left him here. He could be anywhere by now.

Her short, quick steps helped keep her warm, and although she had on her coat over her pyjamas, her legs were exposed from below her calves. She scanned the surrounding stores, shops and eateries, trying to find a likely place where he might be.

Some tipsy women dressed in sparkly and showy dresses clambered past Hermione on their six inch heels, and a few of them pointed at her and shrieked with laughter, undoubtedly finding Hermione's state laughable. She couldn't really blame them. She was wearing trainers with pyjamas, and her hair was a mess.

Hermione stuck her chin high, and continued on her search.

A few steps ahead of a fancy eatery full of posh-looking people was a side street that dulled in comparison to the main street. It too was full of eateries and stores, but there was a sort of slippery and unscrupulous look to the entire place. Some ways down it, a pub door opened and closed, filling the air with a blast of bass music. More of the similar high heeled, sparkly women entered it. A group of otherwise respectable looking men were walking unsteadily up the street. To Hermione's greatest relief, they didn't even spare her a second glance.

Hermione looked in through the windows or the glass panels of doors to catch glimpses of the insides. Some people gave her shifty looks, and a man tried to pull her into a pub, but she had slipped away just in time.

At the seventh pub she looked into, she found who she was looking for.

He was sat on a barstool with a tankard of amber colored liquid in his hand, looking incredibly uncomfortable as a sparkly-dressed brunette twirled her hair and stroked his cheeks while pressing herself against him.

A strange feeling of possessiveness she could not explain stole over Hermione.

The woman kept giggling and twirling her hair flirtatiously, and although Draco looked uncomfortable, he made no effort to push her off. Hermione was just about to go inside and save him when he and the woman stood and staggered to the door. The woman pushed the door open and they both came through, Draco looking dazed and the woman looking triumphant. Draco didn't even realise Hermione was standing there.

Hermione regained her senses and followed the two at a distance, dodging some swaying men and women on the way. A few yards away, Draco and the brunette came to a stop near what seemed to be a group of the brunette's friends, all equally sparkly and tipsy-looking. One of them squealed at the sight of Draco and snapped a picture with her phone.

Hermione quickened her steps and came to a stop behind the group. Draco was trying to get away, but his drink-hazed actions weren't enough.

Hermione ground her teeth and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, and on seeing her, relief broke out over his face.

"Who is she?" A hysterical blonde shouted, causing the others to burst into raucous laughter.

"Come on," Hermione said to Draco, ignoring the others.

"Hey," the brunette said fiercely, placing a pink-taloned hand on Draco's shoulder, "He's coming with us. What could a slob like you want with him?"

"Malfoy, let's go," doing the unthinkable, Hermione held her hand out to him. He gratefully clasped onto it.

"What do you think you're doing?" One of the women, with a skimpy black dress and straggly dark hair spoke up angrily, "We found him first."

"He's a person, not an object for you to find," Hermione huffed, and began dragging Draco away with her.

The women began an uproar at first, but one of them spotted a handsome man across the street and pointed, and they promptly forgot all about Draco and Hermione.

Hermione pulled Draco further down the street into the less crowded parts. In the deeper parts, the people looked far shadier and the number of people who wolf-whistled to Hermione increased considerably.

"Wherearewegoing?" Draco's words were slurred together, and if it wouldn't have been for Hermione pulling him along he was sure to have collapsed somewhere.

Hermione ignored him. She was clasping her free hand around her wand in her coat pocket, just in case.

"Granger," Draco called again, pulling her to a halt, "Stop, I feel woozy."

Hermione stopped at that, and turned around. His dilated pupils spoke volumes of how much he had really had to drink, and he swayed dangerously.

"We need to get you home," Hermione said, tightening her grip on his hand when a group of rowdier looking sparkly women passed and blew kisses to Draco.

"No," Draco shook his head, "I don't want to go home."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. If he kept talking, it would take longer for him to pass out.

"Because when I'm at home I...think about sad things and I don't like it," he paused and looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, "I feel...suffocated..."

Hermione nodded. They began walking again.

If she wasn't mistaken, they weren't too far from Blaise Zabini's apartment. Hermione had been to his house before, courtesy a Ministry chore, and so she knew where it was.

"You and Zabini are friends right?" Hermione asked, finding an empty alleyway and coming to a stop near two large trash cans.

"Yes," Draco said with a lopsided smile, "But we can't go to Blaise's house."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, beginning to lose hope, "Is he not at home?"

"No, not that," Draco shook his head again, "It's night. At night, Blaise and Pansy do things."

Hermione felt the colour rise in her cheeks as she realised what he meant, "They'll just have to stop for a while then."

It was the only option because Hermione did not know where Draco lived, and she was far from wanting to take a drunk Draco to her apartment.

"Grab hold," Hermione said, and Draco placed a ginger hand on her shoulder. Hermione apparated.

Draco's drunkenness caused them to end up landing unsteadily, and he fell over sideways. Hermione clicked her tongue and helped him up. She couldn't help but notice that the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. She averted her eyes.

He immediately keeled over, retching onto the floor.

Hermione sighed harshly and knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulders and patting gently. He dry-heaved a couple of times, then pushed the hair out of his eyes.

"I told you not to do this, and you didn't listen," Hermione wordlessly Vanished the muck on the carpet.

With one arm firmly around Draco, Hermione walked down the corridor, peering at the door numbers as they passed by.

Right, this was Blaise's door.

Hermione raised a hand to knock. The sound rang through the otherwise silent corridor and Hermione involuntarily shivered.

"Granger," Draco said, reaching out for her hand again, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Hermione hesitated because she was scared of what he might tell her, but then she nodded.

He leaned close to her ears, close enough for her to catch an underlying whiff of vanilla under the stench of alcohol. He whispered, "Witch Weekly thinks you're my girlfriend."

Hermione coughed to conceal her laughter. She knew about the Witch Weekly reports, but she had chosen to ignore them just like she had decided to do so. As if that would ever happen.

The door finally opened to reveal a very sleepy Blaise Zabini and an angry Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy was mostly the same as how she remembered from school. Her hair was longer, and looked so sleek Hermione suspected it was charmed. There was a sort of pristine yet snobbish elegance about her that set her apart from Hermione. Blaise, although he still had that little bit of ego that reflected in his eyes, was not a complete stranger to Hermione.

Blaise's eyes widened, "Here's something you don't see everyday."

Hermione tried for a smile but failed, because it was a truly unexpected situation. Draco looking extremely out of his senses while holding her hand, and her in her night clothes....

Hermione hoped she could forget this night.

"He's had too much to drink," Hermione explained, "I don't know where he stays so I got him here."

"Blaise!" Draco exclaimed happily, moving forward to sloppily pat to Blaise on his back, "I told Granger not to bring me here because you and Pansy do things at night, but she wouldn't listen."

Pansy scowled, "We weren't doing anything today, lucky for you."

Hermione looked fixedly at a spot on the doorframe. Draco, grinning clumsily, came back to stand beside her.

"Have you both met my girlfriend?" Draco asked exuberantly, pointing to Hermione.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and looked beseechingly at Blaise and Pansy. If anyone were to hear Draco shouting such things, she would never hear the end of it.

"What do you mean she's your girlfriend?" Pansy asked in a dangerous voice.

"Can we please take this inside?" Hermione asked, feeling embarrassed and a little angry at the same time.

Blaise closed his gaping mouth and nodded. He stepped aside, and Hermione dragged Draco inside.

The house smelt like cigarette smoke and flowers at the same time and it was so disturbing Hermione had to cough. Draco staggered alongside her. She deposited him on the couch which Pansy cleared with a flick of her wand. Draco sank onto it gratefully and immediately fell flat onto his back.

"Granger," he said in a weak, raspy sort of voice, and wiggled a finger, gesturing her to bend down.

"Yes?" Hermione bent a little.

"Tha-"

Blaise Stunned Draco so that he slumped back into the couch.

Hermione glared at Blaise and asked heatedly, "Were you supposed to do that?"

"Yes," Pansy said with narrowed eyes, "It'll save him the worst of the headache in the morning."

Hermione pursed her lips and nodded, because she really had no experience in the area to be able to judge.

"So," Pansy said, summoning herself a glass of water. She was dressed in shorts and a chemise, so that most of her body was bare. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, "Why were you with him?"

Hermione was thoroughly offended by her accusatory tone, "I'll have you know that I have nothing to do with him ending up piss drunk."

"I hadn't suggested it," Pansy had a resting bitch-face. She looked at Hermione scrutinisingly as she took an elaborate sip of water.

"Pans, give it a rest," Blaise said exasperatedly.

"I just want to know why you were with him," Pansy said, ignoring Blaise completely. Blaise threw his hands in the air as a show of admitting defeat.

"I-" Hermione tamped down her anger at the Slytherin woman, "I wasn't with him. Just- we met some time before, he was talking about getting drunk and-"

"You were with him before?" Blaise questioned, sounding suddenly interested.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself uncomfortably, "Yes."

"Why?" Pansy was relentless.

"Look, Parkinson," Hermione finally lost her patience, "It's really none of your business. We met at the park and we talked. He was talking about drinking and things, so I came to check on him later."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Hermione. Blaise only nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Draco, who was asleep on the couch with the expression of one who had no care in the world.

"I'm going home," Hermione said when no one spoke for an entire minute. She turned and walked to the door.

"It's a good thing you got him here," Blaise said, "Otherwise he may have ended up on a stranger's bed."

"You have a curious way of saying thank you," Hermione said acidly. She whipped the door open.

When she turned to close the door, she caught a glimpse of Draco again. She paused, and watched him.

Pansy cleared her throat loudly from where she was sitting. Hermione glared at her, then slammed the door closed.

Bloody Slytherins and their bloody attitudes and their bloody way of thinking they're above all others.

Hermione walked to the end of the corridor and apparated. She was so concentrated on being angry at Pansy and Blaise and Draco that she landed precariously on top of the window seat rather than in the living room. Crookshanks startled and hissed, and shot under the couch. His eyes peered out from the darkness.

"Sorry," Hermione grumbled. She tossed her wand on the couch and wrenched her coat off, accidentally tearing a sleeve when she pulled too hard.

If alcohol really made people forget everything and pass out, she could use some of it now.

Hermione grabbed a hair tie to tie her hair up. She tried and tried to get all the strands into the bun she was trying to create. In the end, she gave up and took pleasure in tossing the broken hair tie into the trash can.

Serves it right for not being sufficient to tie my hair.

Hermione finished her cold plate of dinner in a haze of irritation. Crookshanks, who had slunk out of the couch after a few minutes, was eating his own food. That was one worry off her shoulders.