Sunlight streamed in through the windows into the Slytherin dormitory as Grantaire rolled over in his emerald sheets, clutching his head in pain and having to wrestle back a moan of annoyance. The sleeping sounds of the rest of his dorm members relaxed him slightly - there was no sign of activity, so it must be before six in the morning. That was usually the time Scorpius awoke to take a shower, and he would wake everyone else up on the way back in by banging on the wooden door with a deodorant can, like an informal alarm; it was the sound Grantaire usually hated hearing, but he didn't feel that he would mind that much this morning. Maybe he could actually get up before it sounded?

The previous night had been a blur - as usual - but this time he felt a cloud of hot steam hissing away in his stomach, and he was unsure as to what it was there for. All he could remember was counting the hours on the clock in the common room and jogging up the stairs to the dormitory in a strange state of excitement.

Why the hell was I jogging? Grantaire turned over in his mind, but eventually decided that it wasn't worth worrying about, and it would come back to haunt him sooner or later.

Wait, was there someone with me?

Horror struck through him in an instant.

A lightning bolt of pure, electrical energy caused him to tense up in a rigid board, muscles wooden, his breath stolen from his throat in one shaky swoop and-

Slowly, ever so slowly, Grantaire turned his head to his right, silently pleading for it just to have been a dream, please for it just to have been a fucking dream-

Brown hair was splayed on the pillow next to him, creamy skin of delicate shoulders peeking out from underneath the duvet beside him. Despite this being a pleasant sight in itself, Grantaire knew what it meant, and how royally buggered they both were because of it.


Before he could even think about what he was doing, Grantaire was tapping the girl on the shoulder, desperate to get her out of the dormitory before anyone else could see her and realise what had happened.

This was so not what he needed right now.

"Éponine," He whispered, as quietly as possible, tugging on the ends of her hair gently, "If you value your hair just the way it is, don't make a fucking sound."

"Hmm?" She rolled over, still half-asleep, the shock in her eyes not apparent until half a second later when she stiffened, sucking in a breath and closing her eyes in a desperate attempt at denial.

A few seconds later, after silence settled upon the pair, she breathed out a single word.


Grantaire tried to hold back the small chuckle, but failed, smothering it instantly as soon as he saw Éponine's face; it was as hard as ice, and her eyes held an undeniable element of panic. Before the male could say anything, she had shuffled a few centimetres back, and was shaking her head in minuscule motions, trying to physically erase her mind of all that had happened.

"We don't speak of this. Ever." She muttered, furiously, pulling the bedsheets up to cover her chest in an attempt at privacy. "Swear?"

"Swear." He muttered back, solemnly, but couldn't help letting a small smile slip its way onto his features. When she picked up on this, midway through raking her fingers through her hair, she questioned this expression with a tone of warning.

"Nothing!" He murmured hastily, but relented under her gaze, "It's just, you're so flustered."

"I don't understand why you aren't!" Was the reply, "I mean, we just- Urgh."

She shuddered.

Grantaire mimed taking offence.

"Excuse me?" Both eyebrows raised, he felt it was her turn to squirm under his gaze, although he wasn't truly bothered.

Pink lips opened and closed in a strangely hypnotising manner as Éponine tried to justify her statement, and failed, her large eyes innocent and unsure. Even though she would have outrightly said what she was thinking to almost anyone else on the planet, she couldn't say anything of the sort to Grantaire's face. Thinking back to the previous night and wading through the murky memories, a sharp reminder prickled at the back of her brain that she'd seen every inch of Grantaire's skin; no stone had been left unturned, and that made him unbelievably vulnerable to her in his eyes. She knew that.

As she closed her eyes briefly, trying to rake together her sanity, an image of white crisscrossing scars on sharp hipbones and sweaty thighs stabbed her in the heart, and she had to open her eyes quickly so that tears didn't begin to form.

However, Grantaire picked up on the moisture in her eyes, and hurriedly took back his previous words.

"Oh, 'Ponine, I'm not really bothered, honestly- please don't- I thought you-"

But she cut him off by shaking her head again, a small smile on her face.

"It wasn't that." She whispered, "I just- God, we're so messed up, aren't we?"

He rolled his eyes, effectively agreeing, but the worry was still lingering in his eyes; Éponine rarely cried at anything except when she was totally and utterly drunk, and that was pretty hard to achieve now that she was such an expert.

"Well, as fun as this has been-" Grantaire twisted to check his watch, which was sat patiently on the bedside table, "Scorpius will be up in a minute. You'd better get going."

"Right," She grinned, shuffling slightly, trying not to make the situation awkward, "Can you imagine if he-? God, we'd never hear the end of it."

Quiet settled over the pair, resting for a few seconds before Éponine subtly cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows at Grantaire, as if waiting for something.

"What?" He asked, confused, "What did I do now?"

"I'm going to get dressed." She said, pointedly, clearly still waiting for something to sink in. Unfortunately, the missile still did not appear to have hit.

"Mazel Tov?" Sarcasm bled into his tone, but Éponine soon sacrificed a hand from her sheet to reach up and smack him on the head. This led to a smothered cry of outrage.

"Turn around!" She hissed, protectively pulling the sheet around her again, careful not to let anything else slip. However, this didn't have the effect she thought it would, and Grantaire just grinned at her, still surprisingly relaxed.

"'Ponine, we just fucked, and you're still trying to hold onto some dignity?"

"That's definitely a sickle for the 'Twat Jar'. Turn. Around."


Just as a silent quarrel began to unfold, they both heard a noise, and froze up completely.

Last night, they'd both been in too much of a drunken stupor to close the drapes properly, so they were only half-closed: it spelt disaster. As fast - and as subtly - as she could, Éponine dragged the heavy drapes as far as they would go without creating a stir. Half a second later, however, she was forced to stop, when she heard a pair of feet hit the floor.

"Malfoy, don't you breathe a word of this."

"Wasn't planning on it, sweetheart."

Sweetheart? Éponine mouthed at Grantaire, before realising who was in the bed beside Scorpius. Her eyes widening, she furiously mouthed Rose Weasley? at Grantaire, who was still trying to listen into the other couple's conversation, and not really paying attention to Éponine's silent gesturing.

"No, I'm serious, Malfoy. James almost figured it out on the train, although in the end I think I convinced him it was just some Ravenclaw- don't look at me like that- I'm god-damn fucking serious, Malfoy. Even your friends, other than the one that already knows. Keep it shut."

"Magnificent speech, darling - I'll keep it quiet."

A harsh smacking sound rang throughout the dormitory, causing both Slytherins to wince.

"Don't call me darling." A furious voice muttered, the threat clear in her tone, before a sweeping noise and the fading patters of feet on stairs were heard. Seconds after the noise appeared to have gone, a sigh echoed off the walls, and Scorpius made it to the bathroom, clutching his head and wincing. Once the door was shut, however, they heard the sound of the shower being turned on, and they knew the blond wouldn't be back out again for at least twenty minutes.

"Well, I liked her." Éponine muttered, in a final tone, before throwing her legs out of the covers and reaching for her clothes that were strewn across the floor around the bed. Grantaire at least had the decency to keep his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Several minutes passed before the brunette was given permission to raise his head again, and when he did so, Éponine was trying to find her wand.

"Where the hell did I put it?" She hissed at the male, but almost threw the nearest object at him when the only response she got to her question was a shrug, "I'm not making fucking chit-chat, I'm asking you to fucking find it!"

"Alright, alright, Merlin!"

Grantaire pulled out a pair of pyjama trousers from the drawers beside him and slid them on, before - as silently as possible - beginning to look around the dormitory. It took almost five minutes to find the wand, which was lodged between the mattress and the wall at the head of the bed.

"Must have put it there for safe-keeping." Éponine muttered, trying to ignore the various scars on her companion's torso. "Right. Meet you downstairs in ten, preferably before Scorpius gets out the shower."

"Right." He replied, but didn't really have anything to say after that, and instead quietly added, "Er, bye."

"Bye." She nodded, but hesitated before turning towards the door. In the end, however, she decided against saying what she was thinking, and decided instead to turn to the door without another word.

As quietly as possible, Grantaire dressed, although not until after shooting himself with a general clean-up charm; whilst it wasn't quite as good as a shower, it would have to do for today. After that, it only took minutes to get ready for the day, as most of his books were already in his bag.

Slowly, Grantaire sat back down on the bed, and tried to force his memory from last night to return, but to no avail.

Merlin, we were so drunk.

It wasn't like being drunk was a new thing for the pair, but Grantaire had never known anything like this to happen between them before. Maybe it was the extended periods of time they'd spent without the one person they truly wanted? That would make sense. Especially since the episode on the train with Enjolras, and Éponine's truly delightful Christmas with her crush's girlfriend - it was to be expected, right?

The brunette thought he probably didn't want to know whether he was right or not, and so decided he might as well head down to the Common room - after chugging a hangover potion - just in case Éponine was already there.

Typically, she wasn't, but the room did bring back memories of the night before; he remembered a lot of alcohol - and even some new drink that Éponine had picked up on a special Christmas Hogsmeade visit.

Best not drink that again. Grantaire noted, trying not to smile at the results. Despite the fact that all this had just happened - and with his best friend, no doubt - he didn't actually feel all too bad about it; Éponine was the kind of girl that would take it seriously, and wouldn't blab to anyone about it, which he appreciated. The fact that he had missed over a month of school was already talk enough as it is; he didn't need any other rumours adding fuel to the fire.

As he threw himself down on an available sofa, he tried to banish the memories that were coming back thick and fast now that his hangover potion was kicking in. For a start, he did not need to remember Éponine clumsily unbuttoning her - and his - shirt, running her hands through her hair and grinning wickedly through the dim lighting as she slid her hand-

Shaking his head, he managed to erase the images long enough for the real person to appear.

Clearly exhausted, Éponine settled herself on the sofa next to her companion, throwing her bag on the table in front of them next to Grantaire's. At that time in the morning, no-one was actually in the common room itself, but the sounds of people waking up echoed all around them, giving the area an eerie sort of atmosphere.

"We need to talk about it, Grantaire." She said, finally, in a low voice, so it wouldn't echo anywhere and lead to curious questions, "If we don't, we'll go insane."

"Alright," He supposed she was right. "Let's talk about it."

Silence settled over the pair.

A minute passed, then two- until finally Grantaire opened his mouth, eyebrows raised in a mildly amused manner.


Éponine sat up a little straighter, dusting herself of the awkwardness from the past few minutes, trying to preparing herself fully for a mature and responsible conversation about the previous night.

"-the sex was pretty good."

A smacking sound echoed through the spooky dungeon common room as Éponine let her hand make contact with the back of his head.

Simultaneously, both participants in the conversation thought: maybe this won't be so bad?