vices | D.M. + H.G.

one: good and broken

A/N: Betawork done by lost_poetx and AlmondMilkTeaDoubleBoba (and thanks to @chardonnott and lattewhxre for helping me britpick hehe).

P.S. This IS a Dramione fanfic. It may not look like it from the first chapter, but I assure you it is!

xoxo, carmen

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Crookshanks was taking up precious room on Hermione's chest. Her arms ached from holding up her Ancient Runes textbook, but the way her kneazle's happy purrs soaked into her chest slowed her heart and the anxiety coursing through her veins. So she left him where he was.

Ever since the war, she hadn't been the same.

'Constant Vigilance' they'd said. She should have known that with how she was with everything else in her life, she would have taken that lifestyle to heart just as reverently and with just as much dedication. She considered the phrase with ire now.

Now, it was like she couldn't find it in her to calm down. The only things that had continued to work for her were indica and intercourse.

The war had turned Hermione into someone she wasn't expecting but had slowly come to love and appreciate. She had fully embraced the woman she'd become. Hermione had since found no valid reason to shy away from it any more than she already had in the past - she did pride herself on learning from her mistakes, after all.

Hermione had taken to adapting different ways of calming down and relaxing. They had also steadily turned into her vices, her coping mechanisms - what had begun as an innocuous hit of a passing joint had turned her into a steady stoner. Similarly, she'd taken a turn between the sheets with none other than Theodore Nott, and he had become her consistent friend with benefits, if you would. They'd grown unexpectedly close in more ways than one over the months following the war.

The sex helped her come back to herself. Sometimes her highs became especially bad and induced major anxiety attacks. Getting off always brought her highs down far enough to where her heart slowed and breathing evened out. Theo understood, which was why they kept each other around.

No one knew about either, and it was fully intended to stay that way. They had an arrangement and it worked well for both of them. Discretion also made it that much more fun - having to sneak around and hide all evidence of their fuckery was just exhilarating. Hermione had never really had a chance to be a teenager and indulge in any of the things some of her friends did, so she was making up for a lot of lost time.

As it stood, she had to continue to keep up appearances around everyone else.

That part was important. Especially when it came to dealing with Malfoy.

He'd, by the grace of some deity she couldn't have ever worshipped, been given the title of Head Boy. She had, of course, received the title of Head Girl and accepted with all the grace of the excellent student and War Heroine she was.

Malfoy was not an obstacle she had anticipated. Of course, in the general sense she knew he would be around, but living with him? That was a far cry from what she'd foreseen.

McGonagall liked to prove she had tricks up her sleeve and hadn't lost her ability to meddle. As much as Hermione loved her mentor, ally, and friend, she could truly be a bit off her rocker from time to time.

Speak of the devil. Malfoy strolled in, throwing open the portrait just as she was considering pulling out her secret stash, too. A pity, really. She heard the figurehead in the portrait yell in protest as he hit the wall.

"Ah, Granger," he said, loud and boisterous as always. Crookshanks gave a questioning 'mrr?' from his place on her chest, lifting his head to look at the intrusion to his nap. "There you are. You're wanted in the third floor corridor."