we should break up

Draco raised an eyebrow, his expression cool and collected. " Good evening to you Granger as well!" he replied, his tone dripping with feigned politeness. "Pleasant as always, I see."

It didn't escape her notice that he addressed her as "Granger" instead of "Hermione" or "Mimi," choosing to use her last name. Back to the fourth year, then.

"Cut it, Malfoy!" Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she fought to keep her tone civil. "Why are you here?"

"I thought it was obvious; I'm here like all the rest of us, so we can head down to the village together to get to the portkey. Or have you forgotten already?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Harry for support. Harry's expression was unreadable, but he placed a hand on Hermione's arm, a silent plea for calm.

She shook off Harry's hand, her eyes never leaving Draco's. "Well, it's just that... we're not together anymore, Malfoy," she pointed out.

Draco's gaze flickered briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he regained his composure. "I'm well aware of that," he said smoothly. "But that doesn't mean we can't still travel together as planned, does it?"

She felt a surge of frustration. "Actually, it kind of does." she retorted, silently adding to herself  'having a date so soon', Out loud, she continued, "You've made it abundantly clear where we stand now."

Draco's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "I didn't realize our breakup meant we couldn't even walk to Hogsmeade together," he replied, disbelief evident in his voice. "Or that you'd expect me to abandon our friends just to make things less awkward for you."

"Why can't you just Apparate there? "Hermione asked. She knew he had the license, he had passed his Apparition exam on his first try, just like her.

"I can't Apparate because I've already had a couple of drinks, and I certainly will need more if I want to survive tonight. Merlin, take pity on me," he added bitterly.

"You could just stay in the Castle, I hear there's a party in the Slytherin Common room."

"Why would I be the one to stay back, when it is my portkey?"

"Why would be your portkey?"

"It was my father who arranged the portkey for us if you can recall, Granger," he said, his tone slightly patronizing.

"That may be so, but without my input, McGonagall wouldn't have allowed it in the first place, rendering the portkey useless."

"Have you always been so frustratingly annoying?" asked Draco.

"Most likely," Hermione replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You were just blinded by love. Remember? You were 'utterly captivated by every little thing about me,' and 'helplessly drawn to me, like I was the only thing that mattered.'" She mimicked his words perfectly, watching as his hands clenched in response.

"Touché, Granger," he replied smoothly. "But let's be clear—I may have been blinded once, but now I see crystal clear."

Blaise finally stepped in, his voice steady but firm. "Alright, that's enough for tonight! Hermione, this morning you said it was okay with you. If we had known you weren't, we would have checked again, but you said we could go ahead as planned."

"If you two don't stop arguing over this, it'll be pointless. We're all going to miss the portkey at this rate," Harry looking at Hermione pleadingly "Let's just move on, please."

Hermione took a deep breath, casting a defeated gaze around her. Her friends, looking tired and somewhat irritated by the scene they had just witnessed, stood stoically in the cold. She realized she lost the fight, but there was a war to win.

“Fine,” she grumbled through gritted teeth.

"Fine," Draco chimed in with a tone that irked her, reigniting her frustration.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, voicing the collective irritation of their small group. His declaration marked the conclusion of the conversation, prompting the group to pivot and head towards Hogsmeade. Draco and Hermione fell in step at the back of the line, trailing behind in silence. She had no intention of speaking to him; perhaps if he would spoke to her first. She couldn't decide what she wanted more: for him to apologize, even beg for forgiveness, or to restart their argument and give her a reason to resent him, to validate her belief that including him on this trip was a mistake. However, he did neither; he said nothing to her or anyone in the group, simply walking silently beside her.

She noticed Draco absentmindedly flipping a small token in his hand—a habit she knew well from seeing him do the same with his quill whenever he needed to relax or gather his thoughts. She recognized the token immediately; it was a small bronze coin, no bigger than a Knut, marked with three 'W's on both sides. It was from the Weasley twins and served as their party invitation. Everyone needed to present one to gain entrance—a detail as confusing and uninsured as most of the party's arrangements, which came as no surprise given the twins' penchant for theatricality.

The sight of the coin triggered something in Hermione. It reminded her that she had a chance to make his night miserable, but she decided not to. She spoke out loud, without really thinking about it: "Just so you know, Malfoy, you should be grateful to me."

"Oh, really?" Draco retorted, not even looking at her, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked.

"Yeah, I could have had you banned from the party, you know. The twins are like brothers to me. If I want to, I would only need to ask," she asserted, hoping to knock him off his high horse. To emphasize her point, she quickened her pace, trying to leave him behind.

"Would you?" He lightly grabbed her arm to halt her.

"Pardon me?"

"I'm asking, Granger, would you really ban me? Should I just turn back now and head to the dorms?" he asked, his tone surprisingly concerned.

"You think so little of me?" Hermione was taken aback. It was one thing to argue heatedly with him, but she wouldn't stoop to that, no matter how tempting it might be. 

"I don't know what to think of you anymore, Granger," Draco replied coolly.

"Of course, I wouldn't do that!" She shook his hand off her arm, "Let's just go. Half an hour top, and then we can go our separate ways for the night. I can endure even your company for that long." with that she walked briskly ahead to catch up with Ron and Lavender, who were walking just ahead of them. 

The path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade lay shrouded in darkness, the air bitter and icy, with only distant lanterns casting faint glimmers. The cold seeped through her, almost intolerable, the chill likely below freezing. She considered casting a warming charm, though its effect on her was feeble compared to the comforting warmth of a crackling fire or a soothing hot bath—both of which she now yearned for desperately. Instead, she found herself uncomfortably sandwiched between Ron and Lavender, feeling like an unwanted third wheel. Adding to her discomfort, Hermione cursed her choice of footwear as she cautiously navigated the treacherously icy ground, hoping fervently to make it to the village in one piece. Her hope was short-lived. Her foot slid on a particularly slick patch, and she flailed for balance. Ron instinctively reached out and caught her arm.

"Careful there, Mione," Ron said, steadying her with a firm grip. Hermione exhaled in relief, grateful for his quick reflexes.

"Thanks, Ron," she muttered, adjusting her footing. "Wearing heels was a terrible idea."

"No worries, Hermione. You'll have Graham to keep you on two feet tonight." Lavender winked at her.

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. "Graham? Who's Graham?"

"Lavender means Graham Prewett," she clarified, shooting a warning glance at the other girl. Ron's eyes widened in realization.

"Graham Prewett? As in my cousin Graham Prewett?" he asked slowly, piecing it together.

Hermione inwardly sighed, realizing her plan to surprise them at the party with her date was unravelling sooner than expected. "Yes, He's my date tonight," she admitted reluctantly. Ron's eyes widened further, surprise evident on his face.

"You have a date tonight?" he exclaimed, his voice rising unintentionally loud in the quiet night air. "But how did this happen? When did you even start seeing each other?" Ron fired off.

As she passed through the door, she was immediately enveloped by a wave of warm, welcoming air, the kind that no Muggle heating system could ever replicate. The aroma of burning wood from the fireplace added to the cosy atmosphere. However, what caught her attention next was the overwhelming noise. The office was far busier than she had anticipated. The loud chatter wasn’t filled with excitement or happiness over New Year celebrations; instead, it brimmed with annoyance and anger. Stepping into the expansive waiting hall, it quickly became apparent that their journey was not going to be as smooth as they had hoped. Chaos reigned within. People argued loudly, some stood upset and bewildered. There was simply so much to take in.

A large group, surrounded by a dozen or so suitcases and trunks, tried to stay together while their organizer yelled instructions. In another corner, two men with fresh injuries were being pulled away from each other by at least five others, their furious shouting adding to the chaos. A man, who had been reading on a bench, suddenly yelled and grabbed a small creature that had sneaked up behind him and pinched his ankle. He held it with a pained look on his face until a man dressed in mustard yellow robes rushed over to take it from him, apologizing profusely.

Standing there was a petite elderly lady. Her snow-white hair peeked out from under a vibrant flower-patterned cloak that swayed gently with her movements. In one hand, she clutched a paper box that emitted curious rattling noises with every move. The other hand gripped tightly onto a polished wooden walking stick. She might have seemed fragile and helpless, were it not for the fact that she was currently using said walking stick to forcefully strike a young, wiry postal employee repeatedly on the leg, the head, and the side. All the while, she shouted furiously about horrible postal services, broken packages, and refunds.

Amidst the chaos of fifty or so people loudly shouting and arguing, there was an owl, which somehow had gotten loose and now was attacking both employees in their grass-green robes and customers alike. The owl flew around, occasionally swooping down and biting with its beak, adding to the general mayhem.

Hermione was unsure of what to do or where to go, this was their first time using this particular service, although they had used portkeys before. She decided to stop an employee who was rushing past. When she inquired, he didn't utter a word but merely nodded his head in a vague direction without stopping.

They walked down the corridor as directed, passing many people sitting on benches. As they walked, they noticed a door with a small window next to it, and above it, a sign read: "Portkey Dispatch and Activation Bureau." There was only one person in front of the window, yelling at the clerk on the other side. Hermione couldn't quite catch what he was saying as they were still a bit far away. The employee must have responded, because the man angrily withdrew his wand from his pocket and aimed it at the window, clearly furious and poised to cast a curse at him. Just as he was about to utter a spell, when the clerk, who seemed neither nervous nor afraid, simply pointed to a sign. It read:

No Magic Against Staff Allowed

Any use of magic against employees will result in immediate sentencing to Azkaban

A handwritten note at the bottom added:

"Also, for your information, the glass is magically impenetrable, so don't even bother trying. Have a magical day!"

The man glared at the sign for a moment, his wand still poised in the air. The fury in his eyes slowly gave way to begrudging realization as he read the warning. With a frustrated huff, he lowered his wand, muttering darkly under his breath. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and with a final glare at the clerk, he pocketed his wand and stormed off.

Seeing the opportunity, Hermione jumped to the window, followed closely behind by her friends. She addressed the man behind the desk, "Excuse me! Good evening, Sir! We have a portkey scheduled in ten minutes. Where should we go?"

The clerk, clearly disgruntled with his job and life in general, looked at her with disdain. He hesitated for a moment as if hoping the problem would solve itself if he stayed still and quiet long enough. Reluctantly, he asked, "Name on the reservation?"

"It's under the name 'Malfoy'," Hermione replied quickly, glancing over at the owner of the name.

With a sigh, the clerk tapped his wand on a parchment lying on the counter, causing a complex table to appear. He scanned it briefly before replying,  "There's a half-hour delay on that one. Come back at eight-thirty,"

Hermione persisted, trying to negotiate, "Half an hour delay?"

"Yeah, behind schedule, like every other day," he replied nonchalantly, his indifference thinly veiled. "The last day of the year won't change that, little girl. Deal with it."

She began to move aside, but Draco strode forward confidently."Excuse me, there seems to be a misunderstanding. You see the reservation under my name. I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy. Surely there's something you can do to speed this up?"

The clerk looked at him, a brief look of shock crossing his face. "You mean to tell me your last name is Malfoy?" he asked, his voice dripping with exaggerated surprise. Draco turned to Hermione with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, it is," Draco confirmed, clearly pleased with himself.

The shock on the clerk's face quickly faded, replaced by a look of pure annoyance. "Like anyone wrecking cares," he said flatly.

Draco's smirk disappeared, replaced by genuine shock. "My father is a member of the Wizengamot. He could have this place shut down."

"Ohh in that case" the clerk replied nonchalantly. He moved the parchment closer so they could see and tapped on it. Instantly, the scheduled activation time next to Draco's name changed from 8:30 PM to 9:00 PM. "Oops, it seems like your wait time just went up to an hour. We are so sorry for any inconvenience caused, Mr. Malfoy," he added sarcastically.

Hermione sighed deeply, her frustration barely contained as she gently pushed Draco aside. "You've done enough damage already," she muttered under her breath. With a forced smile, she turned back to the clerk, her tone as polite as possible.

"I apologize for my friend's behaviour," Hermione began smoothly, "It seems he left his manners at home. Of course, neither he, nor his father would want to do anything harmful to this fine and oh-so-needed establishment." to that she heard Draco to half loudly voice his dislike, but ignored him."Your service to the community is greatly appreciated, and we genuinely thank you for it. We understand how overwhelmed everyone must feel today.  If you could, sir," she continued, her voice persistent...

But before she could continue, the clerk interrupted her with an exaggerated sigh and a raised hand, extending just one finger to silence her. "Keep pushing, and it'll be two hours," he retorted bluntly.

At this point, Theo stepped in, grabbing both Hermione and Draco by the arm. "That won't be necessary. Thanks for your help, we'll be back in an hour."

They weren't exactly late for the party—the invitation allowed entry until eleven, leaving them with ample time. However, the prospect of spending a whole hour in the post office building wasn't appealing. Ron voiced their collective concern.

"Bloody hell, what should we do?"

"We could stop by The Three Broomsticks. It's still open, and we might even grab some dinner while we wait," Harry suggested. The idea found unanimous approval; the pub was nearby and promised a pleasant diversion.

Stepping outside, they were greeted once more by the biting cold air, its harshness a reminder of winter's grip. As they exited, a man entering caught their attention—a coat partially covering his face and a hat shielding him from the cold. He muttered a quick "thanks" as he passed, surprising Hermione's group.

"Cormac!" exclaimed Ron in astonishment.

"Nice to see familiar faces!" he greeted with a wide smile. "What brings you here?"

"We were supposed to catch a portkey, but it got rescheduled last minute," explained Ron.

"Bad luck! Heading somewhere?" Cormac inquired.

"Is he stupid or something?" Blaise asked, looking genuinely surprised. Theo shot him a warning nudge on the arm. Blaise, who had only ever seen Cormac on the Quidditch field and had never spoken to him before, clearly had no prior knowledge of his intelligence or lack thereof. Fortunately, Cormac seemed not to hear the comment at all.

"We're off to a party in Diagon Alley," answered Theo. "Hosted by the Weasley twins."

Cormac looked intrigued. "A party, you say? I hadn't heard. I'd love to join, but I'm tied up with a prior engagement," he lamented, subtly implying he was declining their invitation without being asked. The fact that no invitation was extended didn't seem to faze him. He paused, expecting someone to inquire further about his plans, but none of them seemed inclined—except for Lavender, who broke the awkward silence by speaking sweetly.

"Where are you off to, Cormac?" she asked.

"Not to brag, but I've been invited to a Ministry party—quite prestigious," he replied.

"Sounds lovely!" Lavender responded warmly.

"It sure does," added Harry. "We don't want to hold you up. Have a happy new year!"

They all wished him well and began to walk away when Cormac called after Hermione, loudly calling her name.

"Yes?" She turned towards him, curious.

"Is it true you and him," he nodded toward Draco, "broke up over the holidays?"

Hermione was taken aback. How did he know? Gossip certainly travelled fast.

She hesitated, torn between confirming the truth about her relationship status and not wanting to involve Comrac in her personal affairs. But in the end, she opted for honesty.

"Yes, it's true. We did break up," she admitted reluctantly.

"Cool," was his casual reply. He winked at her knowingly and walked into the building.