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The train came to a screeching halt at Hogsmeade Station, prompting me to heave my oversized trunk down from its hiding place in the luggage rack. The heavy load swung to the ground, ungraceful and reckless. Straightening, I moaned in discomfort, the twisting motion having pulled at my tender ribs. I attempted to stretch and then dragged my trunk behind me as I limped from the compartment. The platform was teeming with people; first years congregated around the booming Hagrid like timid lambs, while the other students swarmed towards the thestral-drawn carriages. I was unsurprised that I was now able to see the great skeletal beasts, following both my recruitment as a Death Eater and the Battle of Hogwarts.
I climbed stiffly aboard the first empty carriage I could find and locked the door. I was praying no student would want to accompany me, as I knew my calm façade would crack when the coach inevitably hit obstacles along the bumpy path to Hogwarts; at this point, pain was certain. I had just sat down cautiously, not wanting to upset my injuries, when a soft knock resounded in the small carriage. I saw the characteristic bushy hair through the tinted window and recognised Granger, yet again.
"Hold on." I grumbled. Swearing under my breath, I stiffly got to my feet; the discomfort of moving was really getting to me. Unlocking the door, I swung it open to see Granger standing there, anxiety riddling her smooth features.
"I saw you limp off the platform, Malfoy. Are you sure you're alright?" Her worried eyes examined my face, the only injured part of me she could see.
"Don't worry yourself, Granger. I don't know why you even care."
Her previously anxious honey-brown eyes blazed with fiery anger. She opened her mouth, no doubt about to retort, when a gruff voice rang out from the distant station.
"All carriages start moving!"
The carriages trundled into slow movement, the pants of the thestrals floating through the cool night air. Panic crossed Hermione's smooth face as she realised her position; she was without a compartment and she was out of time.
"Argh, Granger! Fine get in. Hurry!" I stepped aside irritably and she quickly jumped into the moving carriage. I swiftly snapped the door shut and turned to see her settling herself on one of the seats.
"Thanks, Malfoy. Sorry to intrude." She said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
The aggravation her voice had held only moments ago had dissolved, replaced with an embarrassed tone. I sat down painfully, unable to with-strain the sharp intake of breath that followed the movement.
"Malfoy, listen. You're obviously hurt. You don't have to tell me how, but I can help. I can take you to Madame Pompfrey. I-"
I cut her off, stating in a voice devoid of emotion, "drop it."
My menacingly flat tone seemed to reach her, as she didn't pursue the topic. However, concern still flickered in the soft gaze she held me in.
"You seem different, Malfoy," she stated, bluntly. "Less," she thought for a moment. "Less arrogant. The old you would never stand to make a truce with a filthy mudblood like myself. What's happened to you?" Her curious expression was almost cute as she stared at me, expectantly, clearly a little frustrated at having just been commanded to drop her interrogation.
Cute? Am I out of my mind? Granger could never be cute. Politely inquisitive, maybe, but not cute.
"Well, uh, as I'm sure you heard from The Prophet, my Father was released from Azkaban and, well, it's just different now. I've changed." I didn't know what else to say and refused to meet her scrutinizing eyes, instead staring fixedly at my entwined hands.
"Oh, of course… I did read something about it." She paused and looked directly into my averted face. "I'm sorry, Draco."
This was the first time I could recall she had used my first name. I was to unable to stop myself glancing up in surprise, my error of judgment becoming clear as our eyes met; her large brown ones filling with earnest pity upon encountering the unmistakable pain in mine.
I didn't want to be pitied. I didn't want to be weak.
"Yes, well. Thank you." I said shortly. "Um, so we're sharing a common room, are we?"
As she described the circumstances of the arrangement in lengthy detail – essentially, we'd be sharing a common room but residing in different dormitories – I let my mind wander to my mother. I hoped with every fibre in my being Lucius hadn't punished her for helping me. I would not, could not be the cause of her pain. As deranged as he was, it was fortunate that Lucius mostly refrained from harming Mother; there seemed to be a part of him, in a deep recess of his mangled mind, that remembered his love for her.
But, he'd never loved me. He'd never hugged or kissed me. He'd never praised me. He'd never cared. He'd never…
My thoughts trailed away as Hermione continued to speak in the background, the swaying of the carriage sending continual jolts of pain through my aching body.