"Why are you acting like this?" Ginny cried, following Hermione out of the Gryffindor tower. Or what was left of it, anyways.
"Because it's not fair!" Hermione returned, not turning around or stopping. Instead, she sped her way down to the dungeons.
"Where the bloody hell are you going?" The smaller girl shouted, stomping after her best friend. "What could possibly need your attention down there?"
"I don't know. Leave me be, Ginny." She snapped, turning a corner without glancing back.
Apparently, Ginny had decided Hermione was right, because Hermione could no longer hear the girl's footsteps behind her. All Hermione wanted was to get away. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. She didn't understand, and she just wanted some time alone to stop thinking about it. But she knew, deep down, that being alone wouldn't help her stop. It would make it worse. Somehow, though, she couldn't bring herself to return to the Great Hall and witness all of the madness that came with the final battle. All Hermione knew was that part of this was her fault. And that she didn't feel like she deserved everything that was happening to her.
When she heard footsteps once more, she thought perhaps Ginny had sent someone to talk to her. But when she looked up, Hermione knew he hadn't come because of Ginny. The two would never speak, especially not now. Or perhaps they especially would, now. Because it was over and people were allowed to change. Either way, Hermione didn't understand why he was the one approaching her. It wasn't how things worked. Not then, so why now? Because people had died? Because the golden trio and Hogwarts and "the good side" had won?
"What are you doing down here?" He asked softly.
"Thinking." She replied.
Odd, she mused, that neither of them had an ounce of malice in their voices. Perhaps neither had it in them anymore.
"Mind if I join you? I've some thinking I need to do, as well. It's far quieter down here."
"Must be the only part that went untouched. Probably because of Voldemort being in Slytherin and all. Apparently, he felt the most at home here, and wanted to stay, but couldn't get a position." Hermione blurted, likely because she felt confused by the whole situation.
"Probably, yeah." He nodded, leaning against the wall beside her, before sliding down to sit next to her. "Can't help wondering how different things will be, personally. What about you? What are you wondering about?"
"Why I'm alive." She whispered, staring at the ground before them with wide eyes and the look of someone who was either entirely miserable, or very very tired. Or both.
"Pardon?" He asked, turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in shock.
"It's not fair." She answered. He wasn't even sure she'd moved her mouth. "It's not fair that Harry, Ron, Ginny, myself, and so on, have lived."
"What makes you say that?" He asked, taken aback.
"Why are we special? Aren't... weren't Tonks, Lupin, Lavender,... all of them, weren't they special too?"
"Of course." He nodded, looking sad now. "Everyone is special. I didn't know that until part of the way through this whole mess. I went with what I was taught. But I learned a lot. I understand how wrong all of the Dark Side was."
Hermione nodded, but said nothing. "It doesn't make sense how I can be so unaffected by something that was entirely directed at me and my friends, but how people like Fred, and even Hedwig and Dobby, who really didn't need to be involved, could be so horribly changed.. Or gone, for that matter." She signed heavily, sinking even farther into a slumped position. "It's rather like if someone were to do something crazy and hurt a lot of people – in a Muggle film, the Muggle world, or even in Diagon Alley. It could completely have nothing to do with me, but I could still be saddened by it. I could feel completely horrible, or wonder how I got so lucky to not be involved. And then I just sit there, wondering why it wasn't me. Why I wasn't the one hurt or killed, instead of that other person."
"You feel like you wish it were them." He supplied.
She nodded, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were watery now, and she felt like her whole world was a mass of a blurry Draco, and a huge weight pressing down on her shoulders.
"Let me tell you something." Draco said suddenly, not moving his gaze from hers, "If anyone deserved to live, it's you." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held a hand up to her lips, surprising both of them. She closed her mouth slowly and he continued, leaving his hand where it was. "You did everything in your power to keep from hurting your friends. You saved your parents – Harry told me – and you refused to give any information to Bellatrix, even though you knew she might kill you. That's what I call bravery to a fault. Or insanity. But mostly, I call it amazing. Or loyalty. Or love."
She didn't quite know what to do with herself, so she tore her gaze away, not wanting him to see how much he was affecting her. He somehow made her feel less guilty, even though she somehow didn't want to. She felt it almost a duty to feel guilty – as crazy as that, in itself, was.
"Nobody who loves others enough to die for them really deserves to die. If anything, that's all the more reason why they deserve to live. I, on the other hand, only chose to keep from telling them who you lot were. Lot of good it did, though. Sorry about that."
"It wasn't your fault." She said as his hand fell away with his last words. "We appreciated it more than you know. Probably why Harry's talking to you, I'd wager."
Her tears were fading as she realized how much they really did appreciate him. He had changed so much – partly for them.
"I am sorry about everything. What I've said to you, how I've acted... And I'm also sorry about your parents. Have you planned your search yet?" He asked quietly, eyes flicking back and forth between hers, searching for something she couldn't guess.
"I haven't." She shook her head. "I haven't found anyone who's able to go with me right now. Harry and the Weasleys obviously need to stay and grieve. Harry was more of that family than I was, no matter how sad I am about Fred. But they understand what I need to do. I know they do. So I'll likely go on my own."
"If you need anyone, I'd be honored to get to join you." He said hastily. "I hate to say this, but what if they are angry with you? Wouldn't you like someone there with you? To convince them that you actually saved them – no matter the action taken to do so?"
She didn't reply. In fact, neither of them could say anything after his last question, because her lips were covering his. Hermione couldn't believe she'd done it, and Draco couldn't believe he hadn't tried to do it earlier, when he first realized he'd been wrong about her from the beginning. That was two years ago. Damn how he wished he had, now. His hands ended up in her hair, and her own hands gripped his shirt in an attempt to keep him close to her. When he finally decided he couldn't make it without air, he drew back and stared at her.
Draco decided that she looked beautiful without makeup due to the war, with clothes that weren't what his mother would call decent for public, and with his hands messing up her hair. Especially that last part. And her lips red from his kisses.
"Please come with me. To find them." She whispered.
He said nothing, but nodded, then leaned in to kiss her again. She smiled against his mouth and he had a feeling that perhaps he'd found his purpose, when it came to helping clean up the war. It was small, but he felt that once Hermione was whole again, they could both return and help fix Hogwarts and the Wizarding World together. Maybe people would grow to accept him like Harry seemed to be trying to. He just hoped Hermione never changed her mind.