Chapter 3

Days went on and she barely spoke to anyone. Ron was avoiding eye contact with her since their conversation on the first night. Harry would try to bridge the gap, but she never made it easy. She was always non-responsive and absentminded.

She frequently would leave her friends to be alone in hidden parts of the castle. The edge of the lake, closed in regions of the courtyard, or the greenhouses often provided solitude. However, on particularly sunny days like today, the other students often imposed on the much-needed isolation. And so, Hermione headed inside to find a space to be alone.

The second-floor girls lavatory popped into her head as a good option. She relied on Moaning Myrtle's reputation without fail in second year and assumed this year would be no different. She was wrong.

As she approached the bathroom, she heard a male voice in conversation with Myrtle. At that moment, Hermione recalled that two years prior, Malfoy befriended the depressed ghost in his time of fear. It seemed that their friendship had not faded.

"It won't fucking go away. I hate looking at it. I hate being reminded I'm anything like him," he groaned.

Hermione slowly walked closer to the entrance.

"I tried cutting it out but its cursed or something. Nothing works. But what's worse, is the way they all look at me, like I'm the one who fucking murdered everyone. Like it's all my fucking fault this happened. I get I did some shitty things but it's not like I enjoyed it… I just didn't feel like being fucking murdered," he droned on.

Hermione could hear the break in his voice, he was in pain, not physically but emotionally.

"I don't think we're alone," Myrtle stated.

Seconds later they were staring into each other's eyes.

"The fuck Granger, didn't mommy and daddy teach you not to eavesdrop?"

Hermione rebutted, "didn't mommy and daddy teach you not to go into the girls' bathrooms?"

He went silent, not breaking eye contact. The stare was intense, but Hermione felt odd that it wasn't a hateful stare. Instead, it was almost embarrassed, or scared. The Draco she had met in first year, the pompous ass, was no more. He was now a broken shell of a man.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping. It's just…"

She wanted to tell him it was comforting to hear she wasn't the only one struggling after the war but before she could finish her sentence, he stormed off.

Potions class that afternoon was dull. Usually, Hermione would have shot her hand up to answer every question, but today it seemed pointless. Slughorn attempted to get her to join in the conversation, knowing she was his best student, but he gave up after she repeatedly had to re-ask what the question was.

While brewing draught of peace, Hermione noticed the jabs consistently made towards the Slytherin table. Students would walk by to purposely knock over their vials, charmed paper airplanes soared directly into their potions, and sly remarks were said in passing. Despite being death eaters, Hermione couldn't help but feel bad. She knew they were flawed, but was that not what they were raised to be?

When class ended, Malfoy lingered back, likely avoiding the crowded halls of commentators. Hermione remained behind as well, hoping to get a sleeping potion or two from Slughorn's stores. The night terrors had been worse since she returned to the castle.

Draco spoke, "stalking me or something Granger?"

"No, just needed something from Professor Slughorn," she replied.

"Oh, is there a potion even the mudblood can't manage to make properly? What is it? Hoping for some liquid luck or a euphoria elixir? Or maybe you'd rather borrow some essence of insanity or draught of living death to slip in the Slytherin pumpkin juice tomorrow morning," he teased.

"If you must know, I was actually going to ask for a sleeping aid," she responded weakly.

His tone changed to something kinder, "trouble sleeping?"

She didn't respond but her face said it all. Close to tears, she decided not to stick around to ask Slughorn. She didn't want to cry in front of other people, especially not Malfoy.

As she walked out of the room, she heard him say, "me too…"

She stopped walking and turned back to face him. He was looking down at his shoes. It was an odd sensation for Hermione to feel connected with Draco. She wanted to hate him for all of his actions, but she couldn't. He hated himself enough for the both of them.

Slowly he looked up at her and mumbled, "fucking night terrors."

They walked out of the classroom together. It seemed they were both headed the same way and so, they walked side-by-side in silence. When their paths eventually diverged, they split without acknowledgement of the moment they just shared.

That night in the great hall, Hermione felt pain for the Slytherins who seemed to be the butt of every joke. When she finally got sick of it all, she got up and left without a word. As she walked away, she could hear Ron saying, "Geez, what's her problem?"

As she passed the Slytherin table, Malfoy caught her eye and threw something towards her. When she caught it, she noticed it was a vial of sleeping aid, most likely stolen from Slughorn. She turned to thank him, but he was already in conversation with Zabini and Nott.

For the first night since her drunken slumber, Hermione did not wake up in terror.