Stoned In Love

So-called Friends

Chapter Three

So-called Friends


"What the actual fuck are you on about?" Hermione growled at him, her headache worsening with every passing second of this conversation. Spotting her top lying over her shoes as they peeked out from under the bed, she finished dressing quickly, grabbing her wand and turning to face him.

"Woah, Granger, don't shoot," he mocked, holding his hands up in surrender at the wand levelled straight at his chest.

"Explain, Ferret… NOW!"

"I think you need to go and find your friends, calm down, gain some perspective and then come back tonight so I can tell you exactly what happened."

"You think I'm coming back here? Or that I actually want to see you again? I don't fucking think so, Malfoy." With that, she stalked towards the door and threw it wide open, facing another smirking Slytherin prat. Barging past Blaise, she stomped off down the corridor.

"Good morning to you as well, Princess," Blaise called after her retreating back, stepping into Draco's suite and missing the finger Hermione stuck up over her shoulder at him.

"So," Blaise began, picking up his friend's shirt from the armchair, flinging it over to the blond before taking a seat. "What did you say to infuriate her so much?"

"Me? I didn't say anything and — in fact — I should be the angry one. Stuck up little bitch doesn't even remember fucking me," he fumed, getting up from the bed to pull his boxers up his legs and over his firm arse.

"Oh, my, your ego must have taken a hit hearing that," the Italian wizard laughed heartily.

"Sod off, Zabini, it's not bloody funny." Draco fumed as he went in search of his clothing around the room.

"It's a little funny, Malfoy. Bet she wouldn't have forgotten a night with me," he joked.

Draco shot him a furious look as he stomped over to where his trousers were thrown haphazardly across the sofa.

"Well, you may have found out last night when she wanted to invite you to join us, but I managed to talk her out of that one."

"What? Bastard! What did you do that for?" Blaise exclaimed in surprise.

"Because she's mine, Zabini. You can't have her."

"But does she know that, Malfoy? Because — from where I'm sitting — she doesn't even remember shagging you."

"Don't worry about that, Blaise. As soon as she remembers what really happened last night, she'll know she's mine," he confirmed, grinning widely and wishing he could be there to see the look on her face when she did. "She'll be back tonight, I'm certain."

"I wouldn't count your Hippogriffs on that, Malfoy."


Hermione spotted the name of the hotel — as she made her way down to the ground floor in the lift — on a poster advertising the hotel restaurant's opening times. Of course, she thought snidely. He would check into one of the poshest and priciest hotels in the city. The Ambassade was one of the finest establishments in the whole of The Netherlands — not just Amsterdam. She also knew where it was located and had a good twenty minute walk back to the charming little hotel she and her friends were staying in. She fumed silently to herself — never having had to do the walk of shame before — and lowered her head as she stepped outside into the morning sunlight, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone, and thinking of the questions she had for her so-called friends. Weren't they worried about her? About where she had been all night? She reached into the pocket of her jacket, looking for her mobile. Surely there would be a bunch of missed calls and texts from them. Not finding the device in any of her pockets, she silently swore, realising she must have left it back in Malfoy's suite.

Seeing her hotel up ahead, Hermione quickened her pace, wanting to get off the crowded streets. She sighed loudly, entering the hotel and crossing the lobby. Figuring the girls would be having breakfast, she opened the door to the restaurant, spotting Ginny, Pansy, Angelina and Katie sipping orange juices and coffees, all four of them caught in raucous laughter, which gained disapproving glances from the other patrons.

"Ladies," Hermione spat through gritted teeth, feeling fiery anger rise like a wave through her. It seemed they didn't care where she had been and were actually shocked to see her standing in front of them.

"Hermione!" Pansy declared in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Are you for real right now, Parkinson? I've been out all night and you don't even seem to care," Hermione half-shouted at her black-haired friend.

"Keep it down, Hermione," Ginny scolded her quietly. "Everyone's looking."

"Everyone's… what? What did you just say, Ginevra? Do you think I give a stuff what everyone else thinks right now? Do you not give one shit about where I've been?" Hermione was close to losing it with her friends.

Rolling her eyes at Hermione's dramatics, Pansy pulled the chair out from next to her and told the irate Gryffindor to take a seat.

"It's not that we weren't worried about you, Granger," Pansy replied, turning to face her friend. "We just didn't think you'd be finished shagging Malfoy this early."