||Black Scarves and Careless Hearts|| A Dramione Fanfic

28. Slytherins

----
"The best mirror is an old friend."
~George Herbert, Jacula Prudentum
----

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.