Signum Vitalis (a dramione story)

The Effects of Alcohol

She almost lost him, not having that bright blonde hair to help her pick him out of the crowd. She did see someone with dark hair slip into an alleyway and, possibly from something in the way he walked, she was almost sure it was Malfoy. She started to run, shoving her way between the masses of the laughing crowd, and almost tripped a few times. At the mouth of the alleyway, she stopped. The nearly pulsing darkness yielded too many creatures from her imagination.

As she stood at the edge, she heard a groan followed by a curse.

"Malfoy?" It had sounded like Malfoy.

"What the hell, Granger?" His voice echoed back towards her. Definitely Malfoy.

Hermione shot a blast of light down the alleyway. It lit up the corners and all of Hermione's searching only revealed Malfoy standing halfway down it with a hand raised to protect his eyes.

"Merlin's saggy pants, what are you bloody doing?"

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, bumping the wall a few times as she scrambled quickly down the alley. Despite knowing nothing was in the shadows, the hairs on her neck pricked. With a whispered Sublustris, she lit her wand with a dusky red glow.

His hand shot up to block the sudden light and Hermione was distracted by something dark that covered his knuckles. She reached out to grab his hand.

"Is that blood? Did you punch someone?"

Malfoy hid his hand by crossing his arms and stepped back. "No, it's just my blood, Granger. I didn't hurt anyone."

"Just yourself," Hermione corrected.

Malfoy heaved a sigh. "What did you want? I made it clear I was leaving."

Hermione stepped closer. "I- I just- I don't know. You were acting weird."

When Hermione entered his personal space, Malfoy flinched away from her. "Granger, do me a favor and just leave."

Hermione stepped back, feeling her lip pout. "Why?"

"Haven't you guessed?"

"I thought we were almost friends?" Hermione asked and tried not to let the whine into her voice.

"No, Granger, not that." He sighed. "You guys all smell like alcohol. You're all swinging those bottles around as if it means nothing." He griped his arms tightly around himself as he turned his head again.

"But it means something to you?"

"It means too damn much," he whispered and his fingers dug deeper into his arms. "I said no pubs."

Hermione shook her head and said. "But, it's not like you're an alcoholic."

Malfoy looked up into her eyes. Everything about him was so dark except the red light reflected off of his eyes. "I am."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "But you never drink."

Malfoy shrugged. "The more technical term would be recovering alcoholic."

"Since when?"

"The alcoholic part? Probably started our sixth year. Maybe before that. The recovering part? A year or so after I moved to America."

Hermione leaned closer to ask another question, but Malfoy flinched away. "Merlin, your breath stinks."

Offended, Hermione covered her mouth.

"Don't you understand? I'm not strong." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "I'm so weak it can pull me in with just a taste." He looked down straight into her eyes. "Even if it's just on your breath."