The Guilt Inside

The quill was held softly in her hand. She was tired, exhausted even, and she had been seriously questioning the necessity of finishing this essay tonight. But she knew it had to be done. Hermione let out a deep sigh, shaking her head, trying to wake herself up. The other had gone to bed already — those who were actually turning in the essay tomorrow had already completed it. The others were running on favours only. Ginny pursed her lips as she stood at the base of the steps to the girls bedrooms.

"You sure you're okay?" She asked softly. Hermione just nodded her head and smiled. The redhead paused briefly, then continued up the stairs, as though this side of her had won an argument. The youngest Weasley, and everyone in her grade, were now in the same grade as Hermione and the others, as the latter had missed an entire year — what with saving the world and all. Many of the attending seventh years were also asked to stay back, as education was restricted due to the Carrow's new curriculum and the war the students continued to raise. They were all joined now in one year, finally completing their courses.

This, unfortunately for Harry and Co., included Malfoy and what remained of his Slytherin band of misfits. Hermione had almost rolled her eyes when she saw him upon their return to the castle. He had lacked a lot of his signature charm and malice, which made sense due to his new circumstance.

Hermione's attention returned to her essay, which she uncharacteristically didn't want to finish, and she slumped a little in her seat. Her face was drooped into a saddened pout when Harry found her. His eyes were red and puffy, indicating he had been crying. Hermione almost asked, but knew he didn't want to talk about it — he never did anymore.

"You still working on that thing?" He asked softly, falling into one of the other armchairs next to her.

"I just can't find the motivation," she admitted as she through down the quill. Pulling her knees to her chest, she let her chin rest comfortably on them. "I shouldn't have left it this late."

"I understand you want to do well, as you always did, but you can't just throw yourself back into that mindset."

"That's the thing, Harry. I don't want to do well. I've lost all motivation! It's like, this war just showed me that book smarts are nothing compared to stronger, more powerful wizards." Hermione shook her head, burying her face in her knees. "I just don't care anymore — and that scares me. I've lost everything I used to be." Harry looked at her, the tears forming in her eyes and sighed.

"Hermione, you are more than you were, not less," he said softly, standing from his chair and kneeling in front of her. "You are the strongest person I know, and if you don't want to finish this bloody essay today, then don't. They'll understand." Hermione stared at him, shaking her head.

"Maybe I'll finish it tomorrow."

"Yes," Harry smiled. "And now you should get some sleep." Hermione nodded, standing, and started to head for the girls dorms. She looked back at Harry as he started to climb his own stairs. She really did not feel like sleeping any more, nor did she feel like see the girls in her room.

Instead, she turned and made her way out of the common room and started wandering the halls of the new and improved Hogwarts.

Her attention was caught by a figure standing by one of the windows, their body just an outline in the night sky. Hermione approached, not sure what to say. Instead of speaking, she just approached him, her eyes trained on the stars above, and stood quietly beside him. They stayed that way for some time, neither feeling the need to break the silence. Hermione looked across at Draco, his platinum hair was swept by the wind and his skin was paled in the moonlight.

His eyes shifted to her, his brows creasing as they stared at each other. He turned from her, but seemed to know she would follow. They walked through the halls slowly, stopping every now and again to appreciate the new amendment to the old castle cause by the war they both fought on. Even now, Hermione almost forgot they had fought on opposite sides.

They made their way down to the Entrance hall, out the door and down the path. It wasn't the case of one following the other anymore, they were both heading to the same thing – they both felt the pull.

A stone loomed ahead of them, at the edge of the trees, surrounded by a beautiful garden of magical plants set to protect the stone. It was almost alive as it looked like it was pushing its way out of the soil. On the stone was inscribed every name that no longer walked among them – whether they fought on the light or the dark side. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin both conjured a small bunch of flowers, delicately laying them on the grave. Hermione's fingers softly slid across the names of her fallen friends; Remus, Tonks, Fred, Lavender. Draco watched as she grieved, his eyes focused on her, as though he was studying her.

When Hermione was done she waited for Draco to grieve, but he didn't he laid down the flowers and Hermione followed his eye sight to Crabbe's name – then he was gone. Draco had taken off up the path, his steps sure and pace fast. Hermione hadn't seen a look like that on his face before, and knew that his friend's death was affecting him more than he wanted to admit.

"Draco," she called, finally speaking the first word between them.

"What?" he called back as she sped up to catch him. His lips were pursed, his eyes narrowed.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm.

"Don't go getting sweet on me now, Granger. I don't need your sympathy, I'm fine."

Hermione stopped walking, shock flooding through her. She didn't know why that had affected her so much, or why it had shocked her at all, but it had. She watched as Draco stopped a few metres away, his shoulders moving up and down as he breathed. He turned back to her, his eyes intense as he looked at her.

"We can't be friends," he said softly, but Hermione heard.

"Why not?" she asked, confusion waving over her.

"Because, I'm the reason your friends are dead."

Hermione stared at him, not sure what to say. She could tell the he was broken, just like she was. He needed someone, but no one was willing to be there for him. Without another thought she almost ran the space between them, wrapping her arms around him. He grabbed her, about to push her away, when he stopped. His arms fell limp beside him, and he let his eyes fall shut.

"I'm sorry," he said so softly. Hermione didn't reply, because that was not what he was looking for.

"I'm so, so sorry."

A/N: Words – 1,199

Transfiguration #2: Write about strength and weakness. How something or someone that seems so strong and sure can be changed and their soft, weaker side revealed.

Extra prompt; Draco