A/N: Well…Let me know what you think of this one. Loosely based on the song "I'll Believe in Anything" by The Wolf Parade, but also named after the MGMT song "Time to Pretend".

They tried not to remember. But they weren't exactly trying to forget, either. The truth they seemed to be living their lives off of was that they had lived so purposefully, for so long, they had seen such atrocities at such young ages, and then suddenly, it was over. They were done. Their jobs were complete, there was no mission, no world to save, and they were told to have fun, to enjoy life. They were rewarded handsomely for their "Humanitarian Aid"; whatever that was. Perhaps people thought that they would handle it better, perhaps people thought that because they had grown up this way they would turn out alright, or perhaps people thought that throwing a bunch of money at them would heal all wounds. People were wrong. Growing up with constant danger changes a person. And then when the threat is eliminated, when there is no more danger, when there is no job, life seems small and obsolete. The only reason they were alive was because they were survivors at heart, and survivors can't quit, not completely. Some claimed they had given up for all intents and purposes, and maybe they had. Maybe they had. Giving emotionally unstable teens large amounts of money might not have been the best idea on Humanity's part, though.

"Hermione! 'Mione! You have to try this, come here."

"Honestly, Ronald. Stop screaming, I'm right next to you."

"I knew that! You weren't paying attention, is all. Here, take this." The lanky red headed man handed the girl a shot glass full of a murky blue liquid.

"What in the name of Merlin is this?"

"I'm not sure… It's supposed to open up your inner mind, though."

The wild haired woman stared at him, questioning his sanity.

"Ronald, you know I do not take anything if I don't know what it is. Besides, my inner mind is plenty open. Give me something to close it."

"OI!" Ron screamed at a figure across the dark room. The scream was lost, as the room was dark and loud, with music blaring and lights flashing in the small but crowded club. Hermione and Ron were seated in a dingy corner where dim blue lamps shone, trying to pass as light to see by. The dark haired man Ron had called to was chatting up a slim blonde at the bar.

"Won't Ginny be pissed?" Hermione asked, in a tone that clearly stated she'd asked before and even then hadn't actually cared about the answer.

Ron rolled his eyes. "When isn't Ginny pissed at Harry?" he replied in answer, in a similarly disinterested tone.

But he got up and shoved his way to the bar to grab Harry's shoulder and turned him around. The blonde, clearly affronted, stalked off at Ron's rudeness.

Hermione saw them speak for a moment before Harry discretely slipped a vial into Ron's hand. Ron clapped him on the shoulder and pushed his way back to the couch in the corner where Hermione lounged.

"Here you are," he stated as he tossed her the vial.

"And what's this one?" she asked as she uncorked the small bottle full of thick red liquid.

"Not sure, but it's more your style."

She shrugged and smirked a little when she realized she didn't know what this potion was made of either, but never the less she downed it in one gulp as Ron chugged the mysterious blue potion he had offered her earlier. He smacked his lips happily and turned to her.

"Better?"

She smiled lazily back at him.

"Much," she declared, before standing up.

"Care to dance?" she asked as she slithered onto the dance floor without waiting for an answer.

Ron nodded, smile still on his face, but didn't get up to follow. As Hermione had left, a brunette that had been eyeing him for the better part of the night moved into her vacant seat.

Hermione often danced by herself at clubs. That isn't to say that men (or women, for that matter) didn't try to dance with her. They did. Usually they ground their bodies into her intensely, but she just didn't seem to notice. She was in her own world, dancing to the beat of her own drum (literally). She didn't mind when people tried to dance with her; in fact they probably thought they were dancing with her. But to her, it didn't count. She never noticed when she had a partner or didn't, let alone who they were or how they danced.

She glanced over to Ron to find him already snogging the brunette. Her eyes slowly sought out Harry and she caught his eyes just as he was heading towards the exit, his arm loosely around the waist of a different blonde girl than the one that had been at the bar, this one slightly less anorexic looking than the previous. He smirked at Hermione and she smiled and laughed.

Ron and Harry were quite the man whores. She admitted that they were good looking men, but that it was also probably their fame in the wizarding world that got them the most girls. Maybe this fame gave them a certain confidence, or maybe girls just liked saying they had slept with the famous Harry Potter or the illustrious Ronald Weasley. Either way, those boys had a lot of sex. Hermione probably could do the same, and she had for a while, but it had gotten boring fast. She was never that into the sex, and no matter how many new partners she had or different positions or fetishes or kinks she tried, it bored her to tears. She still had sex occasionally, of course, but not nearly as many times as Ron and Harry did. She supposed that it was the same with most women. Men would have sex with anything at any time, but it seemed to her that most girls that were like that had some self-esteem issues they needed to work on. Hermione probably had those, but she had so many issues these days it was hard to keep track of them all. She felt that something within her was wrong, but she tried to suppress it. And the memories. Good or bad, it didn't matter; she didn't want to think of any of it. Of when she'd been tortured, when she'd seen Fred die, when she had let Tonks and Remus die during the final battle, when she hadn't been able to stop Neville from going as insane as his parents, when Ron's mum had to go to St. Mungo's when she'd found Hermione and Ron doing drugs for the first time…. She shook her head and looked around.

She'd stopped dancing without noticing and simply stood in the middle of the dance floor. She noticed a pretty girl standing beside her, staring at her questioningly. Clearly the girl had been dancing ("dancing") with Hermione until Hermione had sunk into the depth of her dark thoughts. She flashed an insincere smile of goodbye at the girl before heading towards to bar.

She reached the bar and when the bartender appeared before her, ordered the strongest firewhisky on hand. As soon as he finished pouring it she threw it back and slammed the glass down, demanding another, and to make it a double. The bartender smirked at her and poured.

"Say when," he said.

She waited until the glass was entirely full of the sparkling amber liquid before stopping him.

She turned around, her back leaning against the bar, to survey the club as she sipped on her drink, letting it gently burn her throat as it went down, loving being able to feel the burn of alcohol at all.

"You look like you need something stronger than that," a silky voice to the left of her stated.

She turned her head to see pale skin and silky blond hair to match the voice.

"Ah, Malfoy, of course you're here."

"No need to say it like that, Granger. I heard the Golden Trio made an appearance, so clearly this is the place to be."

She scoffed at that but said nothing to his snarky comment.

He continued on smoothly, not noticing her silence. "Speaking of, where have the boy wonder and his fiery sidekick gotten off to?"

She barely spared him a glance.

"Probably getting laid, something I'm sure you've almost forgotten how to do, Malfoy."

He laughed lightly, but sent her a scathing glare that she pretended not to notice.

This was their routine. Dark looks, insults, derogatory remarks would fly right and left, but neither left until they were called away. One of their friends, or potential bedmates, always managed to drag them off before anything could come of these wordy spars. Tonight though, Hermione assumed Draco would be called off first. Her friends had long gone and she simply wasn't liking the crowd at the club tonight. She could venture out to another pub, but she felt content to sit at the bar with an old enemy and argue, a comfortable routine.

She liked these moments with Malfoy, as odd as it was. Her memories with him were not fond, not something to be missed of a previous time. He was one of the few harmless connections she had to her past. This view of her relationships used to leave her surprised that she and Harry and Ron had remained friends for so long, but then when she thought about it, she realized they weren't that close. They liked going out together or trashing the news' most recent story about their illicit love affairs, but they didn't really talk. Not about the important things. But then again, she didn't talk about that with anyone, and she doubted the boys did either. So maybe they were close and partying and drugs and scandals was all that held their relationship together. She shook her head again. She seemed to be breaking all her rules about what she normally permitted herself to think about tonight.

Malfoy looked at her. "You disagree with yourself then? Good choice, Granger, because I happen to be fantastic in the sack due to much practice."

She smirked at him, "Liars always have an excuse, Malfoy."

She turned back to the bar for another drink before last call, and felt Malfoy watching her every move. It made her self-conscious that he watched her like that, studying her figure. It wasn't so much in a predatory way, though they were clearly attracted to one another, after all she was no fool, not even in that department. He was attractive, she knew she wasn't a hag, and she was famous after all. And one of the most alluring parts about Draco Malfoy was that he was a well known name but managed to stay in the shadows. But the way he looked at her, it was more like he was comparing her to what she used to be, and she didn't warm to the idea of a comparison of herself. It was one thing to have the public eye on you or to be looked at as a sexual object, but to be looked at in a caring and understanding way, by a peer no less? It had been quite a while. It made her really look at herself. She had lost a lot of weight, her hair was still wild, but lacked it's usual luster and shine, her skin was milky and the flush on her cheeks wasn't from a healthy dash of sunlight; it was from heat and alcohol. Had her parents still been alive they would have had much to say about her appearance. She shook her head again. Damn, her mind was all over the place tonight, she couldn't seem to control it. How long did she have to wait before the damn drugs kicked in?

She whipped around to continue her conversation with Malfoy, trying to ignore the cautious look he was giving her.

"Where were we Mal—oh!" She exclaimed, almost in a whisper.

Malfoy stared at her, a hard look on his face.

Her eyes were glazed over lightly and a slight half smile graced her face, brightening her features by a miniscule amount.

"Granger? You look like you've just been imperiused, is anything the matter?"

"Not anymore," she said in a dreamy voice, directing her smile at him.

He stared for a second longer before visibly relaxing.

"Ah," he said in understanding, "Care to share?"

It took her a moment to respond, so far was she within the drug induced haze that had finally descended upon her, but she finally did.

"I took it all,"

He raised her eyebrows. "No shit, Granger. What was it?"

"Something…red?" She replied in a hesitant voice, not really remembering what it had been. Had Ron said? She didn't think so...

"Oh, dragon's blood? That's quite good." He said, returning his gaze to the dance floor, scanning the crowd for a partner just to show Granger that he wasn't as pathetic as she thought he was. Though she probably wouldn't remember it in the morning anyways, so there wasn't a point besides protecting his own pride.

She giggled. "Dragon's blood? Is it really dragon's blood? I don't think Dumbledore mentioned that in his paper on the 12 uses of dragon's blood…" she giggled some more before sobering suddenly.

"Dumbledore…was a great man," she said somberly, before promptly bursting into tears.

Draco looked at her in utter confusion. What the hell was he supposed to do with a crying Hermione Granger at the bar of a dingy club? He looked around wildly, trying to will one of her friends to appear and take her off his hands. When no one appeared out of sheer will he looked back at the sniffling mess Hermione had become. He patted her shoulder awkwardly.

"There, there…" he said before she threw herself in his arms, sobbing into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her lightly, unsure of what to do.

"It's alright…Hermione. It's not actually dragon's blood, I don't think. That's just the name, because it's red...and er...quite strong."

Instantly she stopped sobbing and looked up at him, her eyes glittering with excitement.

"Really?"

"Err…really."

She threw her head back into his neck and squeezed him tightly.

His arms dropped to his side. He could literally feel every curve of her body pressed against his, and he was fighting a losing battle within himself on whether to react or not.

She pulled her head away from him so she could see him a bit better, but kept her body glued to his. She looked up at him through her dark eyelashes.

"Don't you…like me," at the word like she ground her body into him, nearly causing his eyelids to flutter, before she whispered his name into his ear, nipping his earlobe as she did so.

He promptly lost all control of his reactions and wrapped his arms around her, losing himself in the kiss.

Before he knew it they were back in her studio flat, lounging on her bed, naked, entwined with one another.

A/N: Everyone be surprised, there will be another chapter! Possibly several, actually.