He watched the walk out of the Hall, alone. Odd, you'd think they'd be waiting for Potter after everything that just happened. "He must be under the Cloak." He thought to himself. He had the urge to get up and follow them out of the Hall, but that would draw attention to himself and his parents, and they were still unsure whether they should be there or not. That night he had felt something change inside of him; it had been coming for awhile, and now that Voldemort was gone, he could express it. He looked around; people were rejoicing, and still crying. He saw the bodies lying in the Hall, people he knew, fellow students, and his aunt. It was almost too much for him to take, and he no longer cared if anybody said anything about him being there, he just needed to get out.
All he could think about as he walked down to the grounds was her face. She seemed so calm after everything that happened last night. He couldn't get the fear of her voice out of his mind, the voice that screamed so loudly when Voldemort attempted to show off Potter's dead body. He had wanted nothing more than to run to her at that moment and apologize for all the hurt and pain he had caused her over the years, but now that would be Weasley's job. He, certainly, would be comforting her by now, wherever they were inside the castle. A pang of jealousy surged through him, but he did not know why. He automatically looked up towards Gryffindor tower; something he had spent a lot of time doing this last year, though he knew she was not there.
The year she had been on the run with Potter had filled him with more fear than he ever experienced. At least if she was at Hogwarts, he'd have known she was safe. Yet, he did not hear a single word of her wellbeing until, ironically, Greyback had brought all three of them to his Manor, not too long ago. He was so relieved to see her that he willingly defied his parents and aunt to protect them. His heart wrenched as he remembered Bellatrix torturing her in front of him, asking him if he'd like to do the honors. If only they knew he would have taken her place, he would have died to keep her safe.
He turned around to the sound of voices exiting the entrance hall. His heart stopped. It was her. He looked at her for only a second, not daring longer, not sure if Potter's chivalry would remain. They had saved his life twice tonight, yet, there was nothing stopping them from giving enough evidence to get him thrown in Azkaban at a moment's notice. He looked back towards the lake, the sun glistening brightly across it. It would be the perfect morning, had last night's events never taken place. He found the sun rise the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment, the sky red with the blood that was spilled last night. "Second most beautiful thing." He muttered to himself, risking a glance back at her.
They were closer now, much closer. He could make out their words. "What do we do now?" She asked, slightly afraid of the answer. "There's no Voldemort, and we can't even get jobs! We didn't finish out N.E.W.T year!" This made him chuckle; the Dark Lord had just died, the Wizarding world was safe for the first time in decades, and all she could think about was school.
"Don't worry. Something will come up." He knew Ron had put his arm around her shoulders as he spoke his words. Whether he was trying to comfort her, or stake claim, Draco was sure of one thing: He had not been noticed yet, otherwise Weasley wouldn't have himself anywhere around. This thought made him smirk. He stood up and trailed over to them, as if they were old friends.
Ron glared, Harry, though invisible, was mimicking his expression, but Draco only had eyes for her. She did not look upset to see him. In fact, she appeared to be fighting back a smile. He smirked again. "Potter," he said lightly, not wanting to upset her, "would you take off that stupid Cloak so I can thank you properly?"
"Er…" Harry said, unsure of whether he wanted to speak to Draco or not.
"Harry," Hermione said in her calm, steady, motherly voice, the voice he loved so dearly, "Harry, it's a new day, a new world, let's not start it with the prejudices of the old one." Harry removed the Cloak knowing she was right and looked into the smiling face of Draco Malfoy.
"Thanks." He said, still smiling the first real smile to grace his beautiful features in years, reaching his hand toward his savior.
"You're welcome." Harry grunted quickly, barely touching Draco's had as he shook it. Draco thanked Ron as well. Ron refused to look at him, having turned a shade of red that paled his hair in comparison. Draco turned to Hermione, not knowing where to begin. She met his eyes, knowingly, and gave him a warm smile. His heart leapt. He smiled into her warm brown eyes. This was the closest he had been to her without calling her some vicious name, and for the first time in seven years realized how she had three freckles on either side of her nose, almost invisible. He realized she smelled of fruit, though she had been fighting all night. He realized she was still bleeding from a cut on the neck.
He reached his hand into a pocket and pulled out his silver handkerchief, held it up, and pressed it against the bleeding spot. She did not cringe under his touch. She even continued smiling at him! If only he could get rid of Potter and Weasley, then he could tell her how sorry he was. He didn't think he'd be able to say it in front of them. He was even afraid he might cry.
Almost as if she was reading his mind, she said, "Harry, Ron, why don't you go find Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Dean? I'm sure they want to get away from everybody just as much." Her eyes never left his. Begrudgingly, the boys left her alone with Draco. His heart leapt again. He was sure this was going to be the end of him. He had never been alone with her before. His hand was still over the cut on her neck, her eyes still glued to his, as if they were feeding off of each other's energy.
"You could do better than Weasley." He told her, honestly hoping she'd understand.
"Draco Malfoy. In this new world, you're just as equal as the rest of us, even if Daddy does still have half the gold in the Wizarding world, so do not begin to insult us or I'll leave right now!" She still had not broken eye contact with him, but made to move his hand off of her skin. Her voice had been slow and steady, as if attempting to make sure he understood exactly what she was saying, and exactly how lucky he was that she had remained alone.
"I'm sorry…" He looked deeper into her eyes, drawing his hand back of his own accord. "For … everything. Every mean thing I said, every horrible thing I did to you, and for that VILE word I called you!" He was right. He was going to cry, yet it seemed she had tears in her eyes too. "You're a much better witch than any Pureblood I've ever met! You're smarter than anyone I've ever known, you're clever, brave, and beautiful." He had not meant to add that last part, but now the tears were streaming down both of their faces. "Could you ever forgive me, Hermione Granger? Could we ever start over? Could we forget the seven years of hatred?" He was still smiling at her, hoping, maybe, that his chance of redemption hadn't died with Voldemort.
She, however, seemed to expect this was coming. She walked closer to him, he thought he was going to stop breathing, and grabbed his hand. She held it there in her own for what seemed like an eternity, just staring at it, as if it held some secret. Draco wondered what was going through her mind, what she could possibly be thinking as she stared at his hand, then she looked back up. "Don't ever hurt me again?" She whispered.
"Never." He said truthfully as he pulled her into him.