Forget About It (Dramione)

22| Consequences

It wasn't until Hermione set one wobbling foot inside the Gryffindor common room that she realised how early she was back, completely unlike she'd planned. The sound of happiness, laughter and friends hit her like the Hogwarts Express, Harry and Ron immediately catching her eye and beaming simultaneously.

Shit, she thought. She'd left way earlier than usual. And now pretty much the whole of Gryffindor was still awake, and everyone would know what she'd been up to. She felt dirty, trying desperately to avoid Ron's gaze. 

Tottering towards the girl's dormitory, she tried her very hardest to walk in a straight line, but it didn't matter. She was intercepted anyway by Harry and Ron. 

"'Mione," Ron chirped happily. "You're back so soon! Have you finally ditched that arsehole?" 

He was going to get too close, Hermione could tell. She swayed on the spot, fear in her eyes as he closed the distance between them, his big toothy grin coming towards her face for a kiss. 

No, no, no. 

He didn't kiss her. Instead, as soon as his lips almost reached hers, and his hand touched her waist, he recoiled, his expression turning from cheerful to suspicious. Harry was there too, all of a sudden, and Neville was watching from across the room, as well as half of Gryffindor. Ron didn't seem to care that he was about to make a scene. 

"Are you drunk?" He asked, puzzled and visibly shocked. His eyes conveyed that they wanted more than anything for her to tell him she hadn't, but it was too late. She knew he could smell it on her. Malfoy. 

"What the fuck, Hermione? You were drinking with him?" He increased the gap between them quickly. Hermione felt her head wobble, and her eyes droop as he stared at her. Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. A couple of first years turned round from where they were sat to stare at the three of them. 

"Shh, Ronald," she whispered slowly. "I haven't. I'm just tired. I'm going to go to bed now," she slurred. Ron crossed his arms, a look of disgust on his face. 

"You have, I can smell it," he hissed. He'd never looked at her with this much hurt and anger in his pretty green eyes. 

His familiar eyes, that Hermione thought for so long that she loved, but now seemed to be just a simple, friendly gaze once again. 

Woah, she thought. Where did that thought come from? 

Ron wasn't finished. "You got drunk with fucking Malfoy!" He snapped, a little too loudly.

"Shh!" She said again insistently, her eyes widening as she scanned the room for anyone that might have heard, despite knowing they all would have. 

Harry chose to speak up, his hand moving to rest gently on Ron's forearm, shifting close to their group so he could talk quietly. "Ron?" He said softly. "I think maybe you two should have this conversation outside." 

The common room had gone deathly quiet, Hermione noticed, but in her state she didn't care. She only wanted to go to bed and to not have to think about boys, but there was a fire in Ron's eyes that was directed right at her. Ron didn't answer his friend, but instead made a straight beeline for the door, storming out and slamming the portrait behind him. Hermione looked at Harry for help, but he just looked blankly lost. They were both right. She deserved Ron's anger.

Dreading what was about to come, she tottered after Ron outside. As soon as the portrait shut behind her, she heard conversation erupt once again, listening to the constant murmur that was unrecognisable aside from her name, Ron's, and Malfoy's. 

She stepped outside, where Ron was waiting, fists clenched, staring at her with hurt and indignation. "What the fuck, Hermione?" He said again, pacing up and down. She stayed still, knowing full well she deserved every word. A voice in her head asked her why she hadn't stayed with Draco a little longer, until they'd all gone to bed. Draco didn't make her feel like this. She'd pay for this tomorrow.