Disclaimer: I'm sorry to say that I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't make money out of this. I just play around with the characters.

A/N: Hello! So I finally decided to try out writing fanfiction. I have been working on a long story, but I thought that it could be good to start slow and see if people like what I write. Then, I can see if I want to publish my other things. You are welcome to review, but please don't flame!

My sister (who doesn't have a fanfic account... I know, weird!) helped me beta, so thank you, sis.

Forgiveness

After the war, Hermione Granger went back to Hogwarts. Few in her year did. It was strange being back. Everything was so similar, but nothing was the same. The classes were the same, and yet, the teacher treated her more like an adult than another student. The other students didn't treat her like another student either. To most of them, she was a war heroine; someone to awe and respect, but not someone to befriend. She was more lonely than she had ever been before. She missed Harry and Ron, but she didn't want to drop out in school just to be with them.

Thus, she sat alone in her corner at the back of the library, reading. It wasn't all bad. After all the stress from the war, it was nice to have a moment to herself, where she could just sit and read. This peace was what she had been fighting for, after all.

A few weeks into the semester, she noticed that she wasn't alone at the back of the library. Draco Malfoy was there. The first time she saw him, she had thought he was back to taunt her, like he had always done. But he didn't.

Instead, he sat there, at the table next to hers, reading as well. He seemed more alone than her. While she sometimes had the company of Ginny and Luna, no one ever sat next to him. He had been a Death Eater. Everyone avoided him like the plague.

After a week or two, it started to annoy her. She didn't understand why, but she pitied him. He had made mistakes, sure. Horrible mistakes even, but it was hard to fight against what you had been raised to do. He had been born into a world of bigotry and hate. It had taken him a long time to see the wrongness of that, but at the end of the war, he had. Didn't he deserve some credit for that?

It took her yet another week for her to realise that she didn't give him any credit either. Sure, she thought about it, but she didn't approach him. At first, it was because she thought they had too much history. He had bullied her just because she had two Muggle parents. She had hexed him because he bullied her. Why would he even accept her if she did try to approach him?

It was the middle of October when fate took the matter into her own hands and forced Hermione to take the first step.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, keeping her voice even and polite. "Madam Pince said you lent The Powerness of Dragonroot. Do you think I could borrow it for just half an hour? I just need to find a footnote."

Malfoy looked at her without the usual malice. In fact, he looked rather surprised. "Oh. I suppose … are you writing on that essay for Professor Slughorn?"

"Yes, I tried reading that book he suggested, but since it keeps referring to The Powerness of Dragonroot, I thought I could just look at that one instead," Hermione said, smiling uncertainly. She wasn't used to Malfoy treating her like this, but she didn't mind.

"Yeah, I had the same thought," Malfoy said, giving her a small, uncertain smile and bent down to pick up his book back. After a short moment of rumbling through his bag, he withdrew a thick volume. "Here you go. I'm actually already done with it, so you can just return it to the library when you are done with it."

"Oh, okay. Thank you," Hermione said, accepting the book.

She stood there for a moment, just looking at him, not sure if she was going to say something else. She felt like it was the first time she saw him; really saw him. He looked … vulnerable. Like there was a genuine person under all that cold, beautiful aristocracy.

"Well … good luck with the essay," Malfoy finally said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"Ah, yes, thank you. You too." Hermione returned to her seat, her heart beating fast, and her face warm.

They started to greet each other after that. Nothing big, just a nod in the hallways, a quiet "hi" when they passed each other in the library, a bit of small talk before class about class. She treated him like any other classmate. However, she soon realised that she didn't feel for him as she did for her other classmates. There was something more between them. Perhaps it was the shared misery of the war. Other students had taken part of the final battle, but none of them had been as involved in the war as Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione saw the same hardness and bitterness she felt in his eyes.

Therefore, when Hermione one night went to take a bath in the Prefect's Bathroom and found that Malfoy was already there, she didn't turn around quickly. She went inside.

"Granger," Malfoy sounded surprised when he saw her. He had been sitting one of the benches under the water, but now he rose. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione honestly answered. "Is it okay if I swim a bit, too?"

"Of course. Do you mind if I stay?"

"No, not at all," Hermione said, surprised that he even bothered to ask. It was certainly nothing he would have done before the war.

She went to get changed and came back a few minutes later, dressed in her plain black swimsuit. She didn't like wearing bikinis after the scar Dolohov had left on her stomach. Her hair was also tied up in a bun at the top of her head. She didn't want it to get wet before bedtime. It was messy enough as it was.

Malfoy was swimming again, seemingly without interest in her, so Hermione felt comfortable getting into the water. After camping with two boys for so long, it wasn't like she felt any modesty for being in practically nothing, especially when Malfoy wasn't even looking.

Not that she wanted him to look, of course. Anyway, why would he? He might be friendlier, but she was still the Gryffindor Muggle-born and he was the outcast Death Eater from Slytherin. Why would he be interested in her?

For maybe ten minutes, they just swum around the big pool in silence. It was warm and relaxing, and Hermione could finally feel herself growing tired. Perhaps she could make herself so exhausted that she wouldn't dream tonight?

She stopped at the bench Malfoy had occupied earlier and sat down, not really wanting to leave the warm water. Malfoy swum up to her and sat down next to her.

"I know why I'm up after midnight, swimming, but why're you?" he asked, sounding curious.

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

He chuckled. "Just like me, then."

"Nightmares?" she asked.

"Yes. I keep seeing them: the ones that died in the war. You wouldn't think you'd remember them at all."

"I know," she said softly.

"I have so much to make amends for," Draco said, his voice haunted. "I did so much … and then, those things I didn't do."

Hermione didn't say anything. He was right, after all.

"I didn't even stop you from being tortured. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I still hear you scream in my dreams."

His apology surprised her greatly, but she didn't say anything.

"I know it doesn't make up for what I did, or didn't do," Malfoy continued, his voice sincere. "I just want you to know how sorry I am. I was a coward, and there is no excuse … but I am sorry."

It didn't take away what had happened, but Hermione actually felt better hearing the apology. At least she wasn't the only one suffering from it. It made something inside her ease up.

Carefully, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

Malfoy nodded, not looking at her. It seemed as if he was close to tears, but they wouldn't fall. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment. She let her hand fall again, and they sat there, in silence.

"Is there anything I can do to make up for it?" he finally asked and looked at her again. There was a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, hope that he wouldn't have to carry the guilt along forever.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I don't think there is anyone who could ever make up for all that happened in the war."

"Oh," Malfoy lowered his eyes.

"It's good that you are feeling guilty and want to make up for it," Hermione continued. "I can accept your apology, but it will take some time before I can forgive you. And I think there are others who will never forgive you, no matter how hard you try."

Draco nodded. "I know. And I don't deserve to be forgiven."

"Everyone deserves to be forgiven … Draco," Hermione said, adding his name and grasping his hand. He looked at her, and once again, there was hope in his eyes. Hermione could feel the same hope in hers, and she smiled at him. For the first time since the war, she felt certain that one day, she might be able to put the whole thing behind her. Perhaps they both could, together.