An Exercise in Forgiveness

The relief in the air of the Great Hall was palpable but Draco Malfoy didn't feel like it was his to share in. As he scanned the room of familiar faces, he couldn't help but feel incredibly alone. Draco Malfoy, despised Death Eater, wasn't being invited into the huddles of students joyfully recanting Voldemort's demise.

Didn't they see in his brilliant grey eyes his elation that it was over? Didn't they notice he hadn't fled with the other Death Eaters?

But if anyone would ask him later how the seclusion had made him feel, he would outwardly scoff at the question's implication.

He was a Malfoy, he didn't need a shoulder to lean on or someone else's laughter to share in.

On the inside, however, he would be screaming for them to acknowledge how he had hesitated on those school steps. How, if it hadn't been for the pleading look in his mother's eyes, he probably would never have budged from their side.

He sighed and self-consciously rubbed at the ugly tattoo scarring his arm through his left sleeve. He had hoped that the Dark Mark would disappear now that Voldemort was dead, but the bastard was still punishing him, even in death. Draco Malfoy would always be a branded man, the Dark Lord had made sure of that.

Sodding snake.

He was still fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt when he felt someone sit down next to him. He didn't offer to look up from his self-loathing.

"I…no one blames you, Malf…Draco, for what happened in the Astronomy Tower last year or"-he felt a smaller hand cup his over the now irritated Dark Mark-"for this. We know you didn't have a choice. It seems none of us had much in the way of choices; we just had to survive it. And thank you, for protecting Harry. Back at the Manor."

Hermione Granger.

She dropped her hand from his and Draco finally met her gaze. This girl, this frizzy haired know-it-all of a girl whom he'd tormented for years, was sat next to him, telling him it was ok. That he was practically forgiven.

A lump formed heavy in his throat.

"You called me Draco," was all he could manage. She laughed heartily at his observation.

"Well, it is your name, isn't it?"

He nodded in agreement as Hermione stood up. She glanced at Draco's parents but they were so bone weary, they were oblivious to her presence and conversation with their son.

"You don't have to be alone, you know," she whispered. "We all see you sitting here, with us, instead of out there, with them." So someone had noticed. "And you don't have to be so tough all the time either, especially now. It's okay not to be okay."

She gave him a meaningful look before turning to rejoin Potty and the Weasels on the other end of the hall.

Every so often, she would catch his eye and smile before turning back to her friends.

It's okay not to be okay. It's okay not to be okay. It's okay not to be okay.

Later, when he was alone, Draco Malfoy would swear he could still feel the imprint of Hermione's hand ghosting across the back of his own. And though he'd never admit it, not in a million years, he would silently repeat and start to believe what Hermione Granger had told him in the Great Hall: its okay not to be okay. This, somehow, made everything ok.