Manacled by Senlinyu

Chapter 40: Flashback 15

August 2002

The firewhisky burned brightly down her throat, and instantly the pounding of her heart eased slightly. The hot feeling of courage spread across her chest.

She tilted the bottle toward Draco, and he plucked it from her hand and took a swig of his own. His eyes were locked on hers until he lowered it. Then he glanced around the bare room they were in. Pulling his wand from a holster strapped to his right arm, he flicked it and conjured a loveseat.

Hermione gave him a look.

"I'm not scooting across a sofa every time we pass the bottle," he said. Then he added in a mocking tone, "I can conjure a courting bench if you require a barrier."

His eyes were taunting. He was still shirtless.

"Or you could have conjured some tumblers," she retorted, giving him a pointed look. She dropped down onto the small couch and waited for him to do the same.

He leaned down, resting his hand on the back of the couch behind her shoulder and leaned over her, sliding the bottle into her hand.

"Your turn. You've got a lot of catching up to do," he said in a low voice before seating himself beside her. He was much closer than he needed to be.

Hermione took another sip, and he watched her. When she tried to hand it back, he demurred and indicated that she continue.

"You'll regret it when I start crying on you," she said, growing suspicious once again about how drunk he was. She could already feel it starting to hit her. She'd picked at dinner and that had been hours earlier. A warm dulling sensation was beginning to creep over her.

"You didn't cry that much," he said, leaning back gingerly. Then, discovering that it didn't hurt, he sunk against the back the couch with an audible sigh. "I had no idea how much I missed leaning against things."

"Be careful for the next few days," Hermione said between sips. "If you're careless while they're setting, the skin might tear, and I'll have to redo parts. If you want—I can keep coming. If I keep treating them for a few days longer, you won't even be able to feel them. As least—not the physical aspect of them."

He smirked over at her and shook his head as though in disbelief.

"Is there anyone you don't feel responsible for?" he asked.

Hermione didn't answer the question, and she took another gulp of firewhisky. Tears suddenly pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"All my friends are out drinking tonight. They invited me, but I couldn't go," she said abruptly.

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'm sorry. We could have rescheduled," he said.

Hermione scoffed.

"Right. I'd just leave you with lacerations in your back for an extra day so I could go drinking. It's not as though I could even drink with them anyway. I'd probably get into some raging fight with Harry and Ron."

She burst into tears and cried for several minutes. While she was crying, Draco plucked the bottle from her fingers and set to draining it. When her sobbing finally eased to sniffling, he chuckled.

"You know," he said dryly, "if I ever had to interrogate you, I think I'd skip the torture and the legilimency and just pour a bottle of firewhisky down your throat."

Hermione started laughing through her tears.

"Oh god, you're right," she said huffing and wiping her eyes.