Outcasts | 5 Slytherins 1 Hermione

IV

Hermione woke to the unpleasant sensation of a hangover pounding at the temples of her forehead. The sunlight filtering through the curtains hinted at the morning already well underway. With a groan, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and mentally cursing the decisions that led to her current state. Glancing at the clock, she realized she had slept in, missing breakfast entirely.

Perfect.

Despite the throbbing in her head, the thought of spending the rest of her morning cooped up in her room felt suffocating. After a quick shower, which did little to ease her headache but somewhat refreshed her, she dressed in comfortable attire, suitable for a day meant for relaxation and recovery. Her mind kept drifting towards her vague memories of Flint from the night before. She attempted to piece together the events after they had left the pub.

"Gods," she murmured, rubbing her eyes, "my behavior was absolutely embarrassing." She couldn't believe how drunk she had allowed herself to get; suddenly, she didn't find Harry's usual overindulgence quite so pathetic—it was all too easy to overdo it.

Determined to make the most out of the day, Hermione decided that a morning in the courtyard, immersed in the world of a book, sounded precisely like the kind of therapy she needed. The fresh air would do her good, and the distraction of literature was always her best remedy for almost anything—a hangover included.

With a book in hand, she made her way down to the courtyard, the cool air greeting her as she stepped outside. Finding a secluded bench under the shade of a large tree, she settled down, opening her book to where she last left off. The peaceful surroundings of the courtyard, the soft rustling of leaves, and the occasional chirp of birds created the perfect backdrop for a morning of reading and recuperation. She tirelessly pushed away every negative thought that crept into her mind. It used to be so easy for the old Hermione to enjoy mornings like this. The new Hermione, however? She seemed to find bitterness in every little thing. It was becoming exhausting.

Just as Hermione began to drift into the world of her book, the quiet of the courtyard was disrupted by the presence of two figures who took seats on either side of her. Lifting her gaze, she discovered Blaise Zabini to one side and Marcus Flint to the other. She pinched the bridge of her nose in mild annoyance, muttering under her breath about her hope for a day of peace away from Slytherin boys.

To her surprise, Marcus extended a hand, offering her a hangover potion. She gasped, grabbed it, and drank swiftly. "Maybe Slytherin boys aren't so bad," she joked, acknowledging his gesture, while he simply smiled and sarcastically said you're welcome . Blaise introduced himself with a kind demeanor, sparking a flicker of curiosity in Hermione about their intentions.

"Blaize Zabini," he offers, extending his hand for a shake. She glances from his hand back to his face, unable to suppress a smile at the amusement of the gesture, leaving him hanging for a second.

Finally, she takes his hand, saying, "Zabini, we've been classmates for years."

She hears Flint's chuckle emanating from the other side of her. "Ah, yes, of course," Blaise responds with a slight, awkward chuckle of his own, promptly straightening his posture to reclaim some of his customary elegance. "Old habits of formality, I suppose. It's quite peculiar, isn't it? How we've passed each other in the same halls for years, and only now are we making a proper introduction."