The world had turned cold.
That's what it felt like to Hermione, as she sat at her window at Hogwarts and stared out at the scenery that was before her. The lake had frozen over smoothly and the winds that blew over her were gentle but icy. She had her gloves and scarf on, but the cold seemed to inside her now, and she didn't know how to get herself warm.
He put his arms around her, and she leaned her head back to smile at him in greeting. She leaned into the embrace, soaking herself in the familiarity and comfort and warmth she found in these arms. At that moment, she was so happy and carefree that she felt she could pretend that none of the hardships that existed outside this secret little relationship ever mattered. Here, she felt, that as long as he never left her, she would never hurt again…
She willed herself to stand, to move elsewhere, but she couldn't. There was nothing left to urge her to go anywhere. Everybody was in low spirits, everybody was worried and scared…and he wasn't here. He'd left, and she could never understand everything that had happened.
She shouldn't even be here anyway. Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore. But she didn't want to leave these walls. She didn't want to leave her teachers or the musky smell of her books or her old roommates. She didn't want to leave because…part of her still believed he would return to her. Part of her still believed…in him.
Even though she shouldn't. She shouldn't be thinking about him now, that was devastatingly clear. She shouldn't be thinking about him, because there was more at stake now than him. The fate of the world depended on the trip Harry, Ron and her would be undertaking.
But her head would never fully be focused unless she got the answers she needed. And she felt at least part of her, despite everything, would still always care for him. He'd been such a major part of her life over this last year, and she felt his absence like a physical ache somewhere in her chest.
He wasn't what everybody thought he was, or at least she'd thought so. But she couldn't be sure of anything anymore. What if all that he'd told her had been a lie?
It made her sick to think of it. All those times she'd been with him, and behind her back he'd been scheming…he'd nearly killed Ron! All those time she'd held those hands…they'd looked so clean…
She'd known there had been something wrong with him, but she'd never have guessed…she'd thought Harry was going crazy…how could he have done this to her? How was she supposed to possibly understand? She'd let him in, she'd trusted him, despite everything, and she'd thought he'd cared about her!
She was supposed to be clever, she was supposed to not fall for the enemies' traps. But had it really been just a trap? Perhaps to keep her, the brains, off guard and trusting, not suspicious of those she should have been suspicious of? It hadn't seemed like a plot…it had seemed so real…
…leaning over her to kiss her delicately on the forehead, sending sweet shivers through her…
…eyes, dark and swollen, looking at her lips, wonderingly…
…slight wisps of blonde in his eyes which she gently brushed away…
…catching her hand as she leaned over to get a book and bringing it to his mouth to kiss it softly…
How could Draco have done this to her? How could he have possibly reverted to the Dark Side? How could she possibly fight against him?
It all seemed to get too much. Hermione's head drooped into her hands and the sound of her weeping seemed to float along with the wind and fill the whole cold starry sky with sadness…