~H~
Dust motes floated above her bed, catching the sunlight that snuck through the crack in her bed hangings. Hermione watched the little specks of light, really watched them. She thought of nothing else, cleared her mind of all things but these little pinpricks of light, surrounding her like stars in a galaxy.
Clearing her mind was the only way she had found to cope with all that had happened to her. When the thoughts became too much, when the fear overwhelmed her, she would close her eyes and clear her mind of everything but the action of breathing in and out.
In.
Out.
Once all she noticed was the sensation of her chest rising and the feel of the air rushing in and out across her upper lip, she would feel: noticing the texture of what she felt, what she wore, where things were poking or pushing against her, where her weight was felt most.
Then, she would open her eyes and concentrate on the minutiae of details around her.
This morning, it was dust motes.
Once her mind was relaxed and clear, she allowed herself to think back on the previous night. She could feel a place on her chest that no longer felt constricted. Telling someone, anyone, had eased her soul as Camilla had suggested. Therapy wasn't something common in the magical world as they were still a bit behind the times in everything from electricity to mental health.
She had managed to sneak her phone into Hogwarts this year. She didn't use it often and had to recharge it by electrifying her charger with magic (she'd fried two phones before mastering that trick). She rarely used it, but last night was an exception. Hermione had needed to reach out to Camilla.
It had been late, but Cammie had always been a night owl. Hermione kept the details sparse, but had informed her friend that she had decided to talk to someone. Camilla's response to Draco's attempts to comfort her after she spilled all had been… well, classic Cammie.
"He sounds terribly good looking. Nordic, like a Viking. Mmm. And you said he's tall, yes? Perfect match for you there. He makes you look positively miniscule in the best way. Tall men always give the best hugs."
Hermione laughed weakly, appreciating her friend's focus on the man instead of the confession.
"Sounds like he's got a soft spot for you, Minnie."
"Don't be ridiculous, Camilla."
"Oh, Camilla, is it? You must fancy him, too."
Hermione scoffed. "He's a git. I told you about him, you know he's an elitist prick."
"Such an elitist that he pulled you into his lap to comfort you? Such an elitist that he tried to make you feel better and offered to get you a cold cloth for your puffy eyes? I've seen you cry, Minnie. It's awful. Your face gets horribly red and splotchy, your eyes puff up like you've been stung by a bee, and your nose drips as much as your eyes. If a man isn't scared off by that, he's interested in far more than just an acquaintance."
Hermione harrumphed.
"I'm serious! You look positively frightful. Like some ghoulish creature in a horror film."
Hermione was determined not to give Camilla the satisfaction.
"Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't call an ambulance. Not for you, of course, you look like you're dying. He might've needed one from the strain of not bursting into laughter or screams of terror. Hermione Jean Granger crying is scarier than watching It in a theatre full of clowns."
She couldn't help it. Hermione broke down laughing and crying.
"I needed that, you prat." She said, once she'd caught her breath and wiped her eyes. "Also, you're a terrible friend."
Camilla laughed lightly, "I do try, dearest. Come now, do you have any idea how difficult it is to insult you? Granted, you had awful hair growing up, but ever since you found that new Swiss smoothing cream, your hair has been flawless."
Hermione smirked. The Curl-Eaz potion had worked wonders. They chatted a bit more about pointless, feminine things, avoiding the original reason for the conversation.
As both girls began to tire, Camilla sobered up.
"I don't know what you experienced, Minnie, and I understand if you can't bear to discuss it. I am so glad that you talked to someone though. I know you say he's awful and a bastard, but I really think he may be something more. Something better than you give him credit for."
"You sound like everyone else at this blasted school."
"Minnie, if everyone thinks one thing, and you think another, there is a chance that you are right and they are all wrong, but it would be more logical that they are all correct and that it is you who is wrong. It's okay to think you are right and be wrong. It is not okay to turn a blind eye to the truth because you're determined to be right."
"I hate you for that, Cam."
"I know, Minnie. I love you, too."
Hermione appreciated Camilla's candor, maddening as it was. Camilla was one of the few people in Hermione's life willing to be completely honest, regardless of Hermione's feelings. Camilla did not coddle anyone, especially not her friends. It was of no use to anyone to be patted on the head while doing the wrong thing, Camilla said. And, as usual, her bull headed friend was correct.
Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater. That was a fact. Draco Malfoy also said he had regretted it nearly immediately, and had failed to follow through on his task to kill Dumbledore as well as refusing to fight the Order during the Battle of Hogwarts. Despite his initial choice, it seemed illogical to assume Malfoy was just like the rest of the Death Eaters. Hermione could see that now. He had been a coward to succumb to Lord Voldemort's demands and he had been a coward to stand guard while she was attacked. However, he was still young.
It was true that Hermione and her friends had faced extreme danger nearly every year. If she held Malfoy to the same standard of Harry and Ron, he was a shite human being who deserved her scorn. However, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not standard. They were the anomalies, not the rule. If she held Malfoy to the standard of a normal wizard of his age, she could not blame him for his choices. It wasn't fair to compare him to Harry or Ron because he had not been in their shoes. As children, the Golden Trio had been forced to grow up quickly thanks to the annual attacks by Lord Voldemort or the Ministry. While other students were dating and enjoying their adolescent years, the Trio were off managing giant siblings and smuggling dragons and finding horcruxes. They were the abnormal ones.
Hermione closed her eyes. Was it possible she had judged him too harshly? Malfoy had been a bastard her first few years, but after Fourth Year, they hadn't had many problems. Was it possible he had started to veer away from his family's blood-focused beliefs even then? Was it possible he had changed completely? The answer was yes, of course. None of them were the children they once were. People grew up and people changed, every single day. Snape was proof of that, as was Albus Dumbledore.
She had judged Malfoy without allowing him to prove himself.
It was time that she gave him that chance.
