Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

However, the most drastic change in her appearance was her eyes. They were usually sparkling, but they were bloodshot now, cold and detached, and lacking the usual welcoming shimmer and kindness Hermione always found in them.

After a few seconds, the shards on the floor started to vibrate, and soon enough, the pieces moved and mended themselves back together.

"Seeeeeeeee," Astoria sang. She lifted her bottle high in the air and drained the last of its contents. "I told you not to worry." She tried to take another swig but then frowned suddenly. She tipped the bottle upside down, squinted up its neck, and when nothing came out, she sighed in frustration. "Why is all the wine gone?"

Nott scoffed. "Because you drank it all you bloody alcoholic."

Astoria's brow furrowed sluggishly. "Hey! That's not a v-.... very nice thing to say."

"Yeah?" Nott asked, wearing a loose grin. "Come over here and show me I'm wrong?"

Astoria took a step toward Nott and raised her free hand in the air - as if she were going to swat him around the head like Hermione had seen her do countless times - but she stumbled and whirled back around to face the wall. Despite her bare feet, she looked incredibly uneasy, as if she might topple over with any step.

"Take it easy sweetheart," Nott mumbled. "Don't hurt yourself just to prove a point."

Astoria grinned sheepishly as she slid down the wall into a graceless heap onto the floor opposite Nott. "I don't feel hurt." Even her smile looked bare. Astoria looked ... spent, like a woman who'd lost everything and simply had nothing else to give. "I feel numb."

Nott watched her through his lashes. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Astoria nodded, and her eyes started to flutter closed. "Mmmmhmmm. You're a good friend Theo." Her voice was thick and exhausted, begging for sleep. "Don't... tell Blaise."

Sleep found her moments later. Nott smiled as the sadness in her expression finally softened. "I won't. You know I'm good at keeping secrets."

The only sounds that filled the hallway were Astoria's quiet breaths and the occasional slush of alcohol as Nott drank alone. He studied Astoria carefully, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept. There was something haunting about his expression, an empty sadness in his brown eyes as he lay there, unmoving, completely still and just.... stared.

Hermione had seen more than her fair share of death since the war had started. She'd seen more disfigured bodies than she could count, and held more of her friends in her arms while they died by the age of nineteen than anyone should in a lifetime. After witnessing such horrific things, she would always drag herself to her shower and bathe in scalding water until all traces of death were banished from her skin. But before that, before the water could wash away the blood and dirt and rot, she always looked at herself in the mirror.

And she always saw the same thing, that same vacant stare, the same glassy eyes and crazed emptiness in her expression. It was a look of humility, the look of someone who knew their own mortality, and felt the weight of their insignificance in this whole wide world. The look of someone who knew their time was coming and that their luck would run out eventually, and then they would just be another name carved into a headstone.

It was the look of someone who felt completely fucking lost, powerless.

And now, she saw that same pain and helplessness reflected in Nott's brown eyes.

The air quickly filled with his trepidation, growing so thick and cold it made the hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end. She was just about to close her door and leave Nott to his quiet apprehension when Zabini rounded the corner, and then the atmosphere shifted entirely.

Zabini froze the second he saw his wife. Nott cursed under his breath before Zabini ran and knelt in front of her. He pushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes, and cupped her small face in his hands. "Salazar, you're ice cold! Darling?" he asked frantically, pupils blown wide with terror and hands shaking. "Astoria, can you hear me?"

"Don't... want ... you hear," she groaned, and feebly leaned out of his touch. "Today... you weren't here... you... left me."

Zabini's expression fell. His lips parted.

"You ... said you ... you wouldn't leave me... but you did," Astoria mumbled. Her eyes were still firmly closed, and her head rolled against the side of the wall as she spoke, loose and weak against her shoulders. "But Theo didn't leave."

Zabini opened his mouth but then slowly closed it, unable to find the right words. Nott watched them but carried on drinking.

"Have you taken something?" Zabini asked quietly.

A crease formed between Astoria's slender brows.

"Astoria, can you hear me?" he repeated, stroking her cheeks reassuringly. "Have you taken something?" His panic reached new levels when she still didn't answer him, not even when he shook her slightly. "Darling, I can't help you if you don't tell me what you've taken."

Astoria couldn't seem to form a coherent response, whatever substance was running through her veins was clearly preventing her from doing so. Instead, she groaned, and the crease between her brows deepened.

"Leave her alone mate," Theo hushed while he patted down his pockets, looking for something. He seemed completely unfazed by Astoria's deteriorating state - as if her bizarre behaviour were entirely normal. "Calm down, she'll be fine. She was feeling a little upset, so she asked me to-"

Blaise whirled around. His lip curled as his temper sparked. "Do not tell me to calm down!" The look on his face didn't seem to faze Nott, but it scared Hermione to death. "I will not calm down until you tell me what you've given my wife!"

Nott shrugged, rolling his tongue against his bottom lip while he continued to pat himself down. "Just something I picked up from the black market." He eventually found what he was looking for, a packet of cigarettes, and he placed one in his mouth and lit it with a silver lighter.

He took a slow drag before he answered an incandescent Zabini, even took the time to hold a smoke-filled breath before he responded, as if he had all the time in the world. "It was supposed to cheer her up and I specifically advised her not to drink so much if she was going to take it. But you know what a lush she's become-"

"Do not joke about this Theodore!" Zabini snapped, then sharply turned back to his wife. He muttered profanity after profanity under his breath as his fingers skated across her skin, checking her for injuries. He stilled when he noticed the state of her arm. "What-"