open wounds // D R A M I O N E

02

"We're going out tonight," Hermione says, throwing her jacket up on the coat hook and pulling off her shoes before walking over to the living room where her best friend and flatmate sits on the sofa, their feet up on the coffee table watching some sporting news.

"How did I know, you were going to say that." She rolls her head back, looking at Hermione upside down, her ginger hair sprawling down the back of the sofa.

Ginny Weasley, her right hand girl. Four years ago, they both met at a pre-party one night in fresher's week. Hermione was stuck with one of her annoying flatmates, who only drank lemonade as they refused to drink anything alcoholic. Hermione on the other hand would rather watch paint dry, than be stuck with her, she was that dull. And then by chance, as if it was almost by magic, the smiley ginger came in and swooped Hermione away from her irritating companion and pulled her into some real fun. They clicked instantly, making Hermione feel like Ginny was the sister she never had.

After graduation, they moved into a small flat in North East London and straight away Ginny magically landed a job as a sport's journalist for a local sports club, whilst occasionally playing friendly football matches in the evenings and weekends. Ginny is living her dreams. And it would be a lie if Hermione was to say she isn't jealous.

Ginny enjoys waking up at 7am on Sundays ready to attend a kid's matches to commentate on. Whereas Hermione struggles to pull herself out of bed for a 10am shift. And, to top it all off, Ginny is in a happy, loving relationship with her boyfriend Harry, of two years in which they are completely smitten with each other. Always wrapped in each other's arms, giving kisses every other second. If Ginny wasn't her best friend, Hermione would vomit at the sight.

" Because I am in dire need of a drink and a dance," Hermione continues and pulls out the bottle of red wine-that Dean gracefully bought for her, wiggling it in front of Ginny's face.

Ginny smiles brightly, snatching the bottle to inspect the wine label. "So bad day? I'm guessing."

Hermione spins on her heels walking into the kitchen. She reaches for a draw in the corner and pulls it open before she rummages through in search of the bottle opener. "It was fine until a certain someone showed up." His irritating, snobbish demeanour flashes before her eyes. She hates how his minor appearance in her day made it go from mediocre to bad in a millisecond. And she hates that he enjoys it.

"Oh, the twat?"

"Yes, the twat." Hermione joins her friend on the couch, her legs stretching to lay on her lap. "Did his usual routine but with the added bonus of him insulting me in the process."

"Forever charming, he is."

"Isn't he just."

With a squeaky pop, the cork of the bottle comes off the top and the rich aroma fills her nostrils.

"So, where are we venturing out tonight?" Ginny asks, picking at Hermione's socks.

"I'll figure it out."

"Ooo with one of your connections ," Ginny winks.

It's no secret that some of the best clubs and bars in London are expensive. And if you didn't earn above minimum wage then it was near impossible for you to enter into. Sure, there are plenty of places that are more adorable and friendly to the bank account, however, Hermione is over that stage in her life. She's done with the student budgeting and only going to pubs or shitty student clubs. Going out and drinking is one of the only things Hermione enjoys in life, so of course, she wants to go to the best places. Places that she can let her hair down, forget her dead end life. Even if it is for the night.