Time fixes everything.

While this was not always true, Hermione thought that it it applied to her belated seventh year at Hogwarts rather well. Weeks went by, days got colder, and things seemed to be falling more into the slot of normal. As normal as they could be, anyways. But Hermione took the liberties of small comforts. Good friends and passionate professors and the blissful routine. Hermione was a creature of habit, and she craved routine. A craving that day by day was finally getting satisfied and giving her life a sense of meaning and stability.

Stability. That was another thing she craved. Hermione thought she could have been happy if for the rest of her life not one remarkable thing was to ever happen again.

On their third Tuesday back, a commotion stirred up the Great Hall. Nearly every head turned towards the entrance, and Hermione's being stuck in a book was one of the last to swivel towards the large double doors. Draco Malfoy was the source of the commotion, and just as with many dramatic silences at Hogwarts, the dramatic whispers immediately followed as he made his way towards the scarce Slytherin table.

Ginny was not scared to join in the conversation by not being the first to mutter, "What is he doing here?"

"Oh sure, Ginny," Dean Thomas quipped from her left, "let us answer that with our vast insight to the inner workings of Draco Malfoy."

Hermione, along with the rest, watched Malfoy with anything but his infamous saunter walk to his old seat. He looked worse than last year, worse than sixth year even, if that were possible. Paler than usual with disheveled hair and his grey sweater doing nothing to help his complexion. She watched Malfoy pat Theodore Nott on the shoulder, and watched Blaise Zabini make what seemed to be an ill timed joke due to the pathetic attempt of a smile he got from Draco.

"I bet he was forced," Ginny was saying. "He looks like he got headbutted by a Griffin."

"I've actually seen that happen but this is still worse." Dean promised.

"He's still kinda hot," A friend of Ginny's called Rory chimed in, getting hard stares from everyone for her comment . "What? Just because he's the spawn of Satan doesn't mean I don't have eyes."

"And if you had half a brain you would realize who you're talking about," Dean retorted.

"Anyways," Rory said, changing the subject. "Who would force him to come back? And why?"

"Again, how is anyone other than Malfoy and his closest Slytherins going to know that?" Dean interjected. "This gossip is utterly pointless. Why must we waste our time with that son of a...well, you all know."

Hermione quite agreed.

"That's, like, the point of gossip." Rory pointed out. "Life would get boring without the speculation and mystic, don't you think?"

Dean didn't look convinced. "All I know is that talk of Malfoy leaves me with a not so good taste in my mouth, and I would much rather enjoy my breakfast talking about-"

"-Quidditch?" Rory asked, rolling her eyes. "Malfoy certainly isn't my favorite topic but it is variety from you and Ginny constantly blabbering on about your next power play."

"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed. "Power plays need a lot of discussion, okay? By the way Dean, I had this new idea..."

And she was off. Hermione cast a glance at Rory, the latter wearing a petulant expression of a child getting exactly the opposite of what she had asked for. Hermione smiled and shook her head, going back to reading about Potions from Africa.

Things for the rest of the day passed with no further excitement extract a few over heard whispers about Malfoys return. Towards the end of the day, Hermione was getting sick of the theories and even though she knew the talk would die down by tomorrow, she wanted to escape it tonight. Slipping out of the Gryffindor common room, she sought a place of solace.

The library was the first choice, but even that was filled with more whispering than homework, so she took her bag filled with books and parchment and quills outside and found a nice area of green grass and a tree to sit by. With a lumos spell to illuminate the tip of her wand, she read by the tree and enjoyed herself immensely...She really should come out here more often. The early fall temperature was just right, a pleasant breeze blowing up the ankles of her robes and tickling wisps of hair against her neck.

A sudden splash to her left let her know she was not alone. It wasn't loud, and it was followed by a couple more similar sized splashes into the lake near which she was positioned by. Shifting her book to the side, she leaned to peek around the tree that served her cover. A figure she immediately identified by the blonde-white hair was pacing by the lake, throwing in rocks every now and then.

Malfoy was not skipping stones, no, he was full force hurling them as far as he could into the water. Which was far, Hermione noted, watching him with unease. She had no further plans for reading or staying here any longer than necessary. As quietly as she could, she began to pack things up. Not quietly enough, apparently, because Draco was suddenly very near her tree. She could hear as a leaf crunched under his foot.

"Who's there?" He asked, squinting through the darkness her extinguished lumos left behind. She stood up carefully, back flat against the tree. She hoped he would think it was just a stray squirrel or a gust of wind. She really didn't want to deal with him tonight. She didn't want to deal with him ever.

"I saw a light." He said, coming closer and making Hermione silently curse herself. "Expelliarmus!"

Hermione gasped as her wand went zooming to him. She had not expected him to come up so quickly and perform a spell so surely. She hadn't even known his wand was out.

She revealed herself immediately, flushed with annoyance and embarrassment at being found out. She didn't want him to think she was hiding like some coward from him.

"Oh." Hermione couldn't read his expression as he said that. It was too dark. "It's you."

It was perhaps the nicest thing he had ever said to her.

No, it was definitely the nicest thing he had ever said to her.

Hermione had no idea what to say to that. Until the weirdness of the situation lifted and she remembered. "Give me my wand back."

To her utter surprise, he didn't object. To her utter dismay, he had to approach her to hand the object over. She grabbed it quickly and stuffed it in her bag, turning around without a thank you.

"Hermione."

Hermione was shocked at the use of her first name, and maybe that's what made her halt. Or maybe it was the tone in which he said it. A hoarse whisper that seemed physically painful for him to get out. Still, this felt like a trick. Anything concerning Malfoy felt void of all sincerity or good will. She didn't trust him enough to turn around. She wanted to grab her wand from her purse, but refrained from doing so. Again, she hated to look like a coward.

"I was going to find you later, but I suppose we could get this over with now."

Finally, she twisted her frame to face his. She searched through the darkness to find answers in his expression. His face for her was only connected to ill intentions and ugly memories. "Why were you going to find me?"

"Because it's important." He was growing frustrated already, she could tell. "I want to...I want to help you." The last part was especially hard for him to get out judging by the strain in his vocal chords.

"Help me?" Hermione nearly snorted at the notion.

"Am I not worthy of providing help?" He asked, heated, and before she could interject—continued on hurriedly. "I came back for a very specific reason. This reason, actually. So please, at least give me the benefit of the doubt. I know things feel like they're settling down but just because Voldemort is dead doesn't mean that his ideas went with him. He had a lot of supporters. Supporters that gave up their entire lives to practice what he preached."

"Like your father?" Hermione was shocked at her own cruel tongue. She didn't like where this was going, and realized that her subconscious was doing a very messy job of trying to switch the direction.

"Yes." Draco answered all too calmly. "Like my father."

Hermione glanced back at the castle only some feet away. She earned to be inside its warm walls instead of out here.

"These men, they have nothing now." Draco continued. "Do you know how men that having nothing behave, Granger?"

Hermione didn't have time to answer.

"Without thought. Without morals or feeling or fear. Now with Voldemort gone, they have nothing. In other words, they have nothing to lose."

Hermione was starting to feel sick, and she grabbed on to a tree for support. She didn't want to believe what he was saying because he was Malfoy. She didn't understand why he was telling her this because he was Malfoy. He was Malfoy, and what was she doing here with him exchanging secrets?

"Why are you telling me this?" She asked bitterly.

"You have to tell your...friends. You know, the whole lot or whatever. You have to tell them to lock their houses as tight as before and you have to tell them to be on guard and trust few."

"Stop it." She said suddenly, surprised at the anger in her own voice. "Stop it. All of these...people. They can't hurt us anymore. They've...gone away." She finished lamely.

"No they haven't. And they won't. Not until the very last one is dead can anyone feel safe. Especially the likes of Potter and Weasely, who they'll be targeting first of course."

Of course, Hermione thought, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. Who else besides them? It was always them. Her head was pounding.

"Liar." She whispered. "You're a liar."

Malfoy now looked more frustrated than ever. "I'm trying to help you here," he spat with malice. "Do you understand the notion?"

"Not from you." She was still whispering although she couldn't pinpoint exactly as to why. "Why would you want to help me?"

"I'm trying to take a different path this time." He said carefully. "See some different scenery."

She couldn't believe it. For the such an intelligent witch, she could hardly comprehend it. Not even a small part of it. Nothing was within reach of her grasp of competence.

"I don't care much for you, Granger. Let's not get sentimental. I'm not about to spill my soulful reasoning and I dare say you should be lucky to not have to hear it. You can believe me or not, I don't care. I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me."

"How is this for you?" With every explanation he tried to give her, she was only left more confused.

"Because I'm trying to do the right thing."

Hermione studied him. She didn't think Malfoy cared about right or wrong, only what was best for him...She couldn't help but think of the age old question: can people really change?

Hermione didn't want to be dramatic. She did believe people could change.

But this was too black and white.

Draco was going to walk away soon, she could sense it. This conversation was two beats from over. She forced herself to step closer. "This time, Malfoy?" Hermione leveled a good look at him. Grey eyes matched hers in coldness. "Is that what you said, this time? What else do you know?"

He remained quiet. Hermione was inches away from him. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Strange, she would have sooner guessed he was made of marble."Do share, Malfoy. If you want to walk the right path, don't stray too far now."

Hermione looked hungrily into his eyes, searching them for a lie or...guilt? No, of course not. Nothing. She wished she could smell fear like a dog. Not being able to, she backed off. Slightly. She didn't want him running off too fast now that she was the one doing the talking.

"What else do you know?" She repeated, louder. "You'll have to tell now. You'll have to spill it all. Everything. Or would you rather tell McGonagall?"

At this, he twitched a smile that shot a shiver down Hermiones stomach.

"There's nothing she doesn't already know," Draco assured Hermione, who at this, scrunched her eyebrows together.

He's bluffing...isn't he?

"Go on. Check if you want to," his tone was lighthearted as he motioned towards the castle.

Hermione bit her cheek and turned around to stalk off without another word. What else was there to be said? She didn't want to talk anymore with him anyways. The only thing she wanted to do with Malfoy were activities that would involve pain. She didn't look back. It would have been pointless too, surely Malfoy had left the second she had. He certainly wouldn't loiter for her.

Except he had, and was now watching her walk—no, stomp towards the castle-with a peculiar look paining his features.

The next day, Hermione woke with a start, feeling unsafe and dirty. After she had left Malfoy last night standing in the field, she had gone straight to the Headmistress to have this conversation:

"I don't mean to stress you out, Headmistress." Hermione said quickly. "But I didn't know what to do. I mean, I knew that I had to come to you, but I can't be expected to live like this, can I? With him around every corner."

"Hermione." McGonagall walked over to her side of the desk and with sat down heavily. "Mr. Malfoy is going through a hard time."

"A hard time?" She tried desperately to keep her voice even and low. "He's having a hard time? What about us? Isn't there anywhere else he can go?" She knew she was sounding whiny now, but she couldn't stop herself. "Why here?"

"He is finishing his seventh year here with the rest of you." McGonagall said. "This is his school too."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could McGonagall be defending him?

"With all due respect, I don't understand. He's done nothing but turmoil this school." She shot a lingering look at Dumbledores portrait. McGonagall understood.

"Hermione, I'm asking you to respect me and my wishes." Mcgonagall said, with growing distress. "Draco stays."

"But why?" Hermione erupted. She hated how she sounded. Like a bratty child. She had to stop herself from crossing her arms and completing the uncanny resemblance.

"Those reasons are to be kept between me and Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid you're going to have to learn to respect that too."

Hermione didn't think she had that much respect for Malfoy in her, if any at all.

"Why did he say those things about my friends? Can I at least know that? Are they true? Are the Death Eaters coming back?"

"For them to come back, it would have to mean that they left." McGonagall was anything but warm. "The Death Eaters never left, Hermione. They're still here, and they're still plotting. Fewer in numbers but not less determined in revenge. Draco is an asset, we should be very grateful to have him here. He has information that will help us put a peaceful end to all of this."

A peaceful end? Hermione was never going to be so naive to believe in something like that ever again. Instead, she focused on what was easier to grasp at this point. A place where she could focus all of her unresolved murderous anger. Malfoy. "Grateful to have him here? After everything he's done?"

She knew she was pushing the limits of conversation with McGonnogal, and McGonnogal knew it too. "That will be enough, Hermione. I will not have you question my decisions like this. Please go back to your dormitory, and please," she cast one last stern look, "stay away from Draco Malfoy."

Hermione left the office more exasperated than she had entered it. It was late now too, and she realized with a groan of frustration how tired she was going to be in class tomorrow. Furthermore, how confused and spiteful she was going to be after tonight. Jogging up the stairs, she went straight to the shower. There, she exhausted herself with thoughts and scolded her skin red and raw. The water couldn't be hot enough. The thoughts wouldn't slow down. Her fingers trembled with the shampoo bottle.

How could she think things would end so resolutely and without question in June? Hadn''t she studied history? Did any previous war end with everyone merrily uniting in a world clean of discrimination? Was anything ever that easy? No. Then why had she thought it would be?

Because she thought she deserved it. Through her life of dark secrets and dark magic she was selfish enough to think that she deserved peace. And now this...With further pain she thought of everyone else. Harry, the Weasely's, and the rest of Hogwarts. Maybe she deserved this, but those were the people that didn't. Hadn't Harry survived enough?

No. Malfoy was overreacting and making her overreact in turn. Over-exaggerating. He wanted to see her suffer, that was it. He was making it up for fun. And even if he wasn't...This was nothing like it was for the last seven years. But McGonagall believed him. And that said it all.

Still, Voldemort, powerful as he was, was gone for good. And that gave Hermione a small comfort, but nonetheless a comfort as she finally let sleep take her later that night. And it was a comfort enough for her to go down to breakfast, and class and lunch and then class again the next day, and to laugh at Ginny's and Rory's banter at the right moments. To act normal.

She didn't want to make any rash decisions. She didn't want to panic anyone without reason. What she wanted was to talk to Malfoy. He hadn't expected her to eat it all up, had he?

Hermione was going mad. She was going to try to find him by the lake again tonight...If she couldn't, she didn't know what she would do. The thought of approaching him in public didn't excite her in the least. If it came to that people would do what people did best. They would ask questions.

Hermione excused herself from dinner early when she didn't see Malfoy in the Great Hall, thinking maybe he had gone out already. She wasn't sure if his rock throwing was an isolated incident or if he would be here again tonight, but she had to try.

She walked the perimeter of the lake when she didn't initially see him. That took longer than she had expected, and proved pointless as she did not find him.. Flushed from exertion, she collapsed near her tree, and extracted from her bag reading material. Fanning herself with a hand, she read.

And read.

And read.

Still, no Malfoy. Her impatience turned to annoyance and soon to anger. He was making her wait around like this! This was stupid and pointless and people could ask questions if they wanted to. She was not about to sacrifice her time for someone else, let alone him, and regretting making this decision in the first place, made her way grumpily back to the castle.

On the way there, she saw the familiar shape approaching. They met each other almost at the same spot as they stood at yesterday. Draco looked even more disheveled than last night, as if he had just taken a nap. This made Hermione feel unbalanced, as if she were in a different universe. An alternative universe where Draco Malfoy warned her of danger, betrayed his family, and took no pride in his appearance.

"I just wanted to know," Hermione went straight into it. "If danger is so prominent, then why haven't I been warned of it sooner? Why haven't I read it in the Daily Prophet? Why had McGonagall kept quite?"

"So you talked to her, I assume?" Hermione wanted to punch his proud little expression off. "And Because Death Eaters don't go around gushing their plans to journalists. And because McGonagall is smart. She doesn't fully trust me either. Not yet, anyways. She doesn't want to give anyone a scare until she's sure."

Hermione felt a small amount of self satisfaction at having thought the same way as her favorite professor.

Still, she continued. "What about the ministry? Why aren't they doing anything? They should be more than capable about sorting who was on who's side."

"You do remember who's side I was on, don't you? And look at me. Free. At Hogwarts. With the rest of you." Draco shook his head. "They're too easy. Anyone except for the real big ones can usually make do with one tear filled, regret filled, confession and promise for retribution. And those are the ones who get caught. Most are so underground not even magic can track them. Not ministry magic anyway."

"Then why don't you tell the ministry? If you know so much?" She couldn't keep the growing spite out of her voice.

"I don't have a death wish."

"I thought you wanted to be noble?" Hermione countered. "Self sacrifice should accomplish that quite nicely."

Malfoy was turning around to walk away.

"Why me?" Hermione hissed, heavy with burden, following."Why did you have to tell me?"

"Well, if it means anything. I really wish I hadn't."

"Then why did you?"

"Because I thought you'd like to know!" He finally exploded at the girl, swinging himself around to her. "You know not everything in life fits into a nice little box like you think it does. Sometimes people do things and there's not much to it. There's no fucking reason to complicate it or make it something it's not!"

"How can I make it something it's not when I don't even know what it is?" Hermione snapped back.

"I told you." He fought to keep his voice level. "I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Since when?" Hermione couldn't help but shout. "When have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?"

Draco shoved past her without answer. Hermione didn't understand why she was so furious...she just was. She didn't want to go back up to her room. She wanted to share the fury. To let it weight down the culprit. She followed him.

"You should leave. You don't deserve to be here and everywhere you go you just make people miserable." Hermione didn't know what had gotten into her. She was not usually one for confrontation. She usually believed that the likes of Malfoy didn't even deserve her fury. She just couldn't stop herself.

But she did. Because he had stopped. She waited for his next move, looking at how tense his back looked from her impact. Good, she thought with malice. The war had changed her, she realized. Looking all of that death in the face made her want nothing more than to kill who had put it there. She wanted someone to pay for the suffering. Someone had to pay, didn't they?

Malfoy was the closest outlet for that at the moment.

"What are you doing here? Helping me? Betraying Mummy and-"

He was on her so fast she hadn't the chance to finish her sentence. His wand was straining hard under her chin, at the very top of her throat. She noticed his whole body slightly trembling. Her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. She had seen Malfoy angry before, but never like this. He looked like he could kill, and she was afraid for a second that he just might.

"Get out of my line of sight." Malfoy growled. "Or I'll kill you."

Hermione's eyes widened considerably. "No you won't." She whispered.

The wand pressed harder against the top of her neck and he leaned in close. "Do you remember those men I told you about? Well I have something in common with all of them. Nothing. To. Lose."

Hermione stood her ground.

"Kill me." She said. "I dare you."

She was sent flying back thirty or so feet as Malfoy turned his wand on her, only to be stopped with rough contact from a pine tree. Different types of sudden pain shot through her legs, her side, and her head as she lay crumpled on the terrain. She reached for her wand, and Malfoy angled his for what she recognized as an Expelliarmus. She made the point to be quicker, shooting a Stupefy at him and rolling out of the way of his own when he realized what she was doing.

His missed.

Hers hit.

Malfoy went unconscious, his legs giving way beneath his collapsing body.