Snakepit

Chapter 7

Hermione groaned as she rolled onto her stomach, slowly becoming conscious of the mattress under her, the comforter against her cheek. She only experienced a second of that warm, euphoric feeling of drifting back into consciousness before the consequences of her decisions the night before became painfully obvious.

"Oh my God," she moaned, pressing her face into her pillow, willing her growing headache to go away. It did not.

A wave of nausea washed over her as she flipped onto her back. Glancing at her bedside table, she spotted a glass of water and snatched it up, taking a long drink. After she finished the whole glass, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Did I get this for myself last night?" She wondered aloud. Everything after the club was a blur, and even that was being generous. Hermione shrugged and set the glass down, impressed that she had thought to get herself water even when she was that drunk.

Another wave of nausea sent her straight to the bathroom, clutching the edge of her toilet, hair pulled back in a frizzy ponytail. She felt like her insides were filled with poison and after an hour of retching, tears were streaming down her face too. It was hard to tell if they were caused by overall regret of her actions or were simply from the constant burn of throwing up again and again. It was probably a mixture of both.

The rest of her day was spent in either her bed or the bathroom. Hermione usually liked to do a little work on Sundays to get herself back in the work mindset, but today she couldn't even fathom opening her computer. Even the thought twisted her stomach into knots.

"This time, I'm truly never going to drink again," Hermione huffed, wrapping her arms around her favorite throw pillow. From under her arm, her phone began buzzing. She assumed the incoming call was from Luna, whom she'd been texting all day. It had made her feel marginally better when Luna texted that she also felt like shit. Neither of them had heard from Dean, and Hermione was very interested to hear how his night had gone with Harry.

Grabbing her phone, she squinted at the unfamiliar number calling her. It clearly wasn't Luna. The area code indicated that the caller was from Ravaina, but that didn't reveal much. She answered the call with a shrug and held the phone up to her ear.

"Hello?" Her voice was gravelly and she cleared her throat a touch forcefully.

"Hey, Granger. Just checking in to make sure you're alive," Draco's voice answered on the other end. He sounded well-rested, at least.

Hermione rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "How'd you get my number?"

"It wasn't hard, it's in your file," he answered.

"Weren't you telling me the other day to ask you directly if I want to know something about you? But then you went and snooped around my file? That's a little hypocritical, don't you think?" Hermione wrapped a curl around her finger deftly.

Draco laughed on the other end, the sound wasn't bitter at all. "Touché."

Hermione bit her lip as she tried to formulate her next question. She knew she had seen Draco at the club, spent time with him even, but the specific details were a bit hazy. She didn't like that. It annoyed her that a part of her memory was missing and his was probably perfectly intact. "Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Did I uh...do anything notable last night? I can't really remember much and it's making me really uncomfortable," she chewed on her lip, brows drawn together.

He was silent for a few seconds before answering in that even, collected voice of his. "What do you remember? Let's start there."

"I remember being at the bar with Luna and Dean. Then we went to the dance floor...well, no, I went for another drink and they went to the dance floor. I found them and we danced..." Hermione suddenly realized her error in recalling everything in chronological order. She remembered the next part vividly and did not want to say it aloud to him. She wished her memory had blocked it out along with everything else after it.