Disclaimer: I just realized I didn't write a disclaimer for the last chapter! :O Don't sue me, please. .

I don't own anything, just the plot. :)

Now, onto Chapter two! Hope you guys like it. :D

Chapter two: Hysterical thoughts.

Draco Malfoy left the Great Hall like an invisible ghost. Nobody seemed to notice him leave, not even his own parents, who were much too involved with each other. It seemed that the War had caused them to take things rather differently. Lucius Malfoy was never father than an arm's reach from his wife and Narcissa didn't even mind it. Draco snorted in disgust. Of course, neither had noticed him. Who was he? He was only their son. They had been calling out desperately for him during the fighting, but as soon as he was with them, he was promptly ignored. Like always.

He didn't mind really, until they started snogging. Seeing your parents snog was never a pretty sight, especially when said parents were practically ripping their clothes of each other. Thank God they had the sense to go and find an empty room. Leaving Draco alone and stricken at the thought of being in the middle of all these families that had fought so bravely for the right side. It was a matter of time, he knew, when the ministry would come and take his family off the grounds of Hogwarts.

Clenching his hands into fist, Draco practically ran through the halls in his hast to be alone. His Dark Mark was tingling, an after effect of Voldemort dying, he guessed.

Draco glanced about him as he half walked, half ran through castle. Here and there people were milling about. Some were removing the dead bodies of comrades from the halls and others were just wandering about aimlessly, a lost, haunted look in their eyes. Draco flinched when he saw them. He hated knowing he was a part of those responsible for the pain these people were feeling. The biggest fault was his, if he hadn't lead led the Death Eaters through the Vanishing cabinets last year…Dumbledore would still be alive and this mess wouldn't have started in the first place. He hurried through the maze of hallways and staircases, finally entering his faithful hideout.

No, it would still happen. You cannot stop the inevitable. The Dark Lord would have eventually found another way into Hogwarts. First he would kill the Malfoys, of course, but he would have until found a way into the mystical Castel. It would have delayed him, his rise to power, but Draco didn't have the courage to stand up for the good. He had let fear take over his mind and cloud his decisions…Draco shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly.

It was too late for regrets now. Too late to apologize. If he could turn back time…He snorted at the cliché' term. Right, what was done was done. Wasn't it? You can't change the past.

Nevertheless, Draco felt his lungs seize up. Before he could control it, a sob escaped his from his lips. Tears began dripping their way down his pale face and he felt his form shaking like a leaf. The stress he had carried for the past few months relieved themselves in the form of tears and muffled curses.

Weak. He was weak. Hadn't everybody always said that to him? His father, mocking him for not being able to beat Potter…Voldemort, his knowing smile as he Cruicioed his entire family because of his failure. You are still young; you will learn…I hope. Hell, even the Granger mudbl – no. Not a mudblood. If there was anything he had learned during this bloody war, it was the foolish prejudice the purebloods had against the muggle-borns was completely shit. There was n o difference between muggle-borns and his kind. In fact, they had proved themselves better than most of them, fighting against The Dark Lord. Draco felt a bitter taste in his mouth. They may be better, but it still pained him to admit it. Particularly one muggle-born had caught his eye in her valiant efforts to end the shitty War.

Yes, Hermione Granger sure was…something. He scowled, leaning against a bookshelf. The room was pitch black, but he had practically lived in this room last year. He knew is way around more than anybody. Granger, the supposed brightest witch of their age. She was smart, Draco would admit that. More than smart really, she was amazing and pretty, with her feisty temper, warm chocolate brown eyes and bushy hair that he had never seen tamed. Well, he had, once, during the Yule Ball. God, she had been beautiful, that dress showing off all her curves that was normally hidden by the frumpy school uniform perfectly and her hair sleek and shining, though he preferred it her natural way – Draco stopped his train of thought abruptly.

Oh Salazar Slytherin, please help his twisted mind. Draco closed his eyes, horrified at what he had been thinking of. It was one thing to accept that all muggle-borns were equals. It was okay to admit it aloud, even like a muggle-born. But he was talking about Granger here. The girl who had punched his nose in their fourth year, the one who absolutely loathed him. Draco felt his lips twitch in a grudging smirk as he remembered Granger hitting him. He had sported a black eye for weeks after that punch of hers. Granger had earned some respect from him that day. It proved that she didn't have to hide behind bloody Potty and Weasel. Also, it had made these, feelings spark up. He really hadn't wanted to admit it, but Draco had finally come terms to the conclusion when Bellatrix had her knife at Grangers throat.

He liked her. Hell, maybe he even cared about her. Draco shook his head violently. He may do all that and more, but he would never admit it to anybody. He still had some pride left.

Though it seemed he didn't have enough energy to stand, even while leaning against the shelves. Draco gave a very exhausted sigh. He shuffled over to his favorite chair and sat down. He slumped his tall frame into the carved chair that seemed to curl around him. Draco looked up and saw a couple of broomsticks propped against some book columns. Without warning, a familiar voice spoke inside his head.

'At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in; they got in by pure talent.' Draco snorted, and he felt an odd choke rise to his lips. Laughter? It had been a while since he had laughed, or even smiled at that. It felt strange to him. He started laughing. Granger had been a feisty cat even back then. Draco's facial muscles felt stiff as they stretched into a smile. His laughter rang throughout the room, until he was bent over, clutching his sides in a desperate bout of hysteria. His lungs burned,, he needed oxygen, but his laughter still continued until no noise came out of his throat.

Finally, it subsided, leaving only the occasional hiccup or shudder. Draco raised his hands to his face, realizing the tears had stopped. Thinking of Granger had stopped them. He brought his wet hands in front of his eyes, staring at them in disbelief. Dear Lord, he was in deep. He realized. He sighed. Fuck.

Draco leaned his head against the chair, his tiredness finally catching up with him. He felt a pounding headache start over his right eye. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to Hermione Granger.

He didn't even notice when the real person slipped into the Room Of Requirement. But then, it was blinding darkness in there. Sometimes the comfort of darkness is exactly what is needed.

A/n

Hello, you wonderful people! I had great fun writing about Draco's emotions. They may not be so good, though. But this is my first time. :D tell me if I did anything wrong or made any mistakes okay? :) I love reviews. they make me feel all happy. :)