She felt she'd sat for hours in that empty stall, quietly flipping through Hogwarts, a History yet again. After her earlier encounter with Draco Malfoy, she didn't care for the idea of venturing back into the school where likely everyone would have heard of the ordeal by now, and where all eyes would be on her. She would normally have a friendly chat with Myrtle in here - Myrtle was a Muggle-born Ravenclaw outcast like herself, the only difference being that she was dead - yet the whiny ghost was nowhere to be found. She didn't decide to stop reading until she'd noticed she was already nearly halfway through the book. It really had been hours. Luckily she didn't have any classes that afternoon, or she'd be in deep trouble.

She hurriedly opened the door to the stall and dashed towards the entrance to the bathroom. Just as she peered into the corridor, however, she saw a distressed-looking Malfoy, headed straight for her.

He was looking down and didn't notice her when she suppressed a gasp and darted back into the bathroom, into the same stall again. There she would wait for him to pass and hopefully head back to the common room unnoticed by him.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open. Abby jumped. Had someone else been in the corridor and seen her poke her head out of the "out-of-order" bathroom? She cursed to herself. The person in the bathroom could be a teacher, and she could be seriously punished in a matter of seconds.

No stern voice of a teacher ever sounded, though, and there was no searching of stalls for the rule-breaker. The person didn't seem to know she was there. She heard their footsteps echo in the large bathroom and continue just past her stall. She bent down to peek at their feet for some kind of clue as to their identity, discovering a pair of glossy shoes and the hems of a pair of black pants. A boy, she thought.

Abby heard heavy, shaky breathing that began to grow slowly louder. Eventually, it erupted into sobs that grew more and more powerful. A deep feeling of solemnity swept through her as she realized the person was crying - dreadfully. She thought she recognized the voice, but it didn't sound right. It just wasn't ringing in the right tone, and she couldn't identify it.

She heard two "clunk"s of bone on concrete, and could only guess it was the boy's knees hitting the floor. Now his face would be low enough to see looking under the bottom of the stall.

Abby bent back down again. Clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle another gasp, she could hardly believe she was witnessing suck a vulnerable, unstable, and utterly broken Draco Malfoy. So this was where he was headed. His cheeks looked sunken and his face contorted with pain. His fingers clawed at his hair, destroying its neat grooming.

Abby felt a sudden surge of guilt. She couldn't help but feel as if her bullying had done this to Draco. After all, she was one of the few not intimidated by him - how often was he really ever bullied as badly as she'd just done? Knowing how harsh he was to anyone and everyone, she normally wouldn't feel much pity for him, but looking at him, so broken, just feet from her, she was full of remorse. The affectionate feelings echoed from her dreams once again, and she didn't bother trying to stop them this time.

She stood up, and drew a deep breath. She had to remedy this. Mustering up her courage, she put on a soft expression and slowly pushed the stall door open.

"Myrtle?" Draco asked pitifully, not facing Abby.

She didn't feel like correcting him right away. "Look, Draco," she began, "If I hurt you that much, I didn't mean to. Really, I'm-"

He shot to his feet, brandishing his wand. His expression darkened with shock and terror. She put her hands up in surrender. "Hey, look, technically I was in here before you, and you barged in on me, so don't go pointing-"

"I DON'T CARE!" He shouted in anger and anguish. "GET OUT! Before I Curse you to bits!"

"Protego!" she said with a snotty air in her voice. With a wave a of her wand, a shield formed in front of her. She was going to apologize, whether he liked it or not. "I'm just trying to apologize for-"

"There's nothing to apologize for!" He seemed to calm down a bit, yet still fuming. "This has nothing to do with your little stunt! This is far bigger than you are!"

"Well, what if I can help?" She added indignantly.

A look of exhausted sadness painted his face. "YOU CAN'T HELP!" he shouted. "NO ONE can, and even if they could, I wouldn't be asking help from a clumsy, worthless Mudblood!"

The name stung, just as it had earlier, but she decided a lighter reaction would both diffuse the situation and possibly calm Draco down. "Best not let Myrtle hear you talk like that," she said, attempting a more friendly, joking tone. "I hear she was a Mudblood as well - I reckon we'd never hear the end of her wailing if she heard you saying that."

Draco failed to suppress a tiny laugh, and Abby smiled slightly as the chuckle crossed his lips. His wand arm relaxed slightly, but still remained pointed at Abby. He sniffed a bit, regaining his composure. Tears still slid down his cheeks. His voice became more stern than angry. "Really. . . . There's no way you can help this. I'm sure of it."

She let out a small sigh. "Well, maybe it would help to, you know. . . ." comfort seemed increasingly difficult with someone you'd loathed hours earlier. "Talk about it? O-or something?"

He dropped his wand arm with a sigh. "No," he breathed, slumping down to the floor, sitting criss-crossed and burying his head in his hands. "I mean, yes, it would. . . . Help," he started, "but I can't tell you. I can't even tell Myrtle."

Abby sank down to her knees, still feeling awkward. She sat stiffly, but waved away her shield. "Well, I can at least stay here 'til you've stopped crying. And I'd be more than willing to use a Memory charm on any intruders - I'd hate to see any of your usual taunting victims see you like this." She gave him a timid smile, which he just barely returned.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. After awhile, Draco seemed a bit more comfortable letting the tears fall in her presence. They turned more rapidly into sobs, then he began mumbling to himself, "I can't do it, I can't do it. . . ." Abby didn't dare ask what it was he couldn't do, but she had a sinking feeling it had something to do with his father, or worse, his father's master, the Dark Lord.

Half of her still wanted to cringe and run away, or maybe even scorn him, but the other longed to reach out and touch the broken boy before her, somehow heal his pain.

Nearly an hour later, Draco looked up at her, eyes puffy and red. Abby hadn't moved a muscle. He seemed to contemplate her for a moment, as if he were carefully calculating his next move. He sighed and shifted towards her. Giving her another contemplating look, his face seemed to scorn himself as he reached forward and embraced her.

Abby didn't understand how she felt. It felt wrong to be so close to him, to be touching him. Especially without trying to hurt him. It was like touching the roof of a tall building no one had ever been close to before - it was something always out of reach, that anyone had been contented never to touch, only observe, and here it was at her fingertips. She timidly returned the embrace. The most foreign feeling was the one she received when his slick hair brushed her cheek. . . .

"Don't think anything of this. I just. . . . Myrtle's not exactly good at the whole hugging thing. . . ."

Abby laughed warmly.

"You're not half bad, Hale," He said almost scathingly. She'd have thought it an insult if his arms weren't firmly wrapped around her middle.

"Nor you, Malfoy," she responded.

He gave a dark laugh. "You're delusional if you think I'm not bad. Seriously, it's unhealthy."

"Well, it helps to know you have, y'know. . . . A soul and all."

He snickered again. He then lurched out of the hug, giving her a very dark, serious look. "Tell no one," he said. She started to chuckle, thinking he was making a joke about his bad-boy image, but as his grimace didn't falter, she found herself mistaken.

"Oh. . . . A-about this? Of course not."

"Expect nothing different after this," he said, pointing a finger in her face. "The usual loathing and ridicule WILL continue."

She crossed her arms. "You say that as if you should expect anything different out of me."

He narrowed his eyes and smirked. Then he stood, took a few steps, and looked at her once over his shoulder conceitedly before stalking out the door.