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TW: mentions of death

"D-do you... do you think that it is… easier, on the other side?"

One tear, transparent and glistening, rolled down Hermione's cheek. It turned black because of the soot on her skin.

"I-I don't know. They… they say that it's… peaceful." The brown-haired girl tried to comfort the victim, somehow.

A few minutes before, Hermione was running through the corridors of the castle. Avoiding the beams of light which were flying around her. They were so colourful.

Hermione loved colours; they made the world prettier, more welcoming. But she hated those colours, especially the vivid green.

She couldn't find Harry or Ron. Instead, she had come across a person who was lying on the ground, still conscious. Hidden behind a wall of rubble.

Hermione had known this person since her first year at Hogwarts, for seven years that is. A friend who was part of her life. Hermione did not want her friend to pass away. Not now. Not during a war. Too young.

No.

Freezing, out of breath, Hermione had then rushed towards the victim.

She had kneeled by her friend's side and now she was holding the translucent hand. Hermione didn't dare to squeeze it too tightly, she was afraid it would worsen the suffering.

"Will I… will I be able t-to… to do magic… where I-I am going?"

Hermione smiled, slightly, wiping away the salty water drops that were dripping on the corner of her eyes.

Another victim of the Battle was leaving Hermione, and the Gryffindor didn't know if she would be able to stay with her friend until that one last breath. She had to go back to the battlefield.

Hermione felt her heart tear apart. Just like the parchment that she would rip when she was not satisfied with her work.

Hermione's brown eyes never took off her dying friend's. She didn't have the courage to lower her gaze. She knew that the person's body was in bad shape. The limbs and bones had been smashed by the huge stones which had fallen.

"If you keep believing in it, it will still be there." Hermione sobbed, while trying not to shiver so that she wouldn't scare the wounded person.

And she could comprehend if her friend didn't want to believe in it anymore.

"I… I don't want to leave him. He… he w-will suffer if I…"

"It's okay to let go, I'm here." Hermione wanted to fondle the victim's forehead, but it was speckled with red dots. "You have the right to go, to no longer be in pain."

Hermione knew that her words were helpful, relieving.

But she couldn't save her friend.

Grinding her teeth, Hermione pressed her hands against her ears, she wanted to deaden the horrors that were played on a loop in her head.

She was tired of hearing those cries of pain, those last deep breathes which embodied death. Just like she wished she could never picture them again.

Those memories of that night in May, where Hermione had met death in every corner of the castle.

She was walking with slow steps in the corridor. Eyeing the surrounding, furtively. Everything had been rebuilt.

Perhaps way too perfectly.

Why did this wall look the same? It had killed a person who meant a lot to Hermione. She did not want to see it.

It was too much.

In the distance, Hermione perceived some words which were pronounced by the Headmistress McGonagall. She was paying tribute to the victims of the war. What an odd way to start the school year.

Hermione screwed her face up with anxiety. She had not run away from the Great Hall to still hear them. The laughs, the crying. Because the former transfiguration teacher had ensured that good memories would also be brought up during her speech.

It was as stabbing as a funeral, as if through these words, they were burying those dark times to move on to a better year. Colourful anew.

And Hermione couldn't get over her trauma. She was struggling to cope.

But she had no other choice. She never wanted to come back here.

"You're alive, Miss Granger, consider yourself lucky."

Hermione tried to fight back a nervous laugh when she remembered those aloof words.

After all, weren't the living the ones to be pitied?

Hermione ran a hand through her tangled hair, and she started running. She needed to go out, to escape this suffocating and mournful atmosphere. She was feeling like she could still smell blood, smoke.

Why did she come back?

While she was going down the large stairs, Hermione suddenly reminded herself of the reason why she was here. It hit her with full force.

The traumas of the war were so overwhelming, she had almost forgotten her main aim.

She had to do it, at all costs. And she hoped that it would help her overcome her sorrow.

Because Hermione was now on her own. The Golden Trio no longer existed. It was just a myth, part of History.

Harry and Ron were the heroes of the war and they lived as such. They didn't need to repeat the seventh year.

Whereas Hermione was just the girl who had helped them. Who was nothing but a student.

And Harry and Ron did not talk to her anymore.

Well, maybe "did not talk to her anymore" was a euphemism as their friendship had taken a really bad turn.

Harry and Ron hated Hermione. Since the month of July, the love they had for their best friend had turned into hatred. It was fulminating, sudden.

The witch feared that her other friends, those who had decided to come back too, were to go down the same path.

It probably was the case already. In the Hogwarts Express, nobody had deigned to sit with her in her compartment.

What worried Hermione even more, was that it would certainly get worse over time.

Because they didn't know everything.

Yet, she couldn't help but miss Harry and Ron. She was not angry with them. She couldn't be crossed with them when they had been through so much. The past year had been so cruel and tragic.

The vagaries of life.

Hermione understood the resentment they felt towards her. Sometimes, she even thought that she deserved it.

But she always ended up telling herself that she had no choice.

Hermione had to focus on the reason why she was back. It was all that mattered.

Finally, she reached the entrance hall. She rushed out, throwing herself into the invisible arms of the thin breeze. It immediately calmed her down. Her internal pains were slowly disappearing.

Hermione leaned against a wall of the vast frontage made with stones. Fortunately, it was pitch black night, and it prevented the witch from seeing the grass, the gardens where, again, too many people had perished.

Observe.

But what was she supposed to observe? She didn't know how nor where to start.

It couldn't be that intricate. Hermione was, ever and always, the insufferable Miss know-it-all.

Then why did she feel so helpless, almost lost? It distressed her, to not find answers to her questions.

It wasn't usual.

Perhaps it was well and truly a new year, a new life that had just begun.

Crack. A branch was cracked in half.

Hermione, who had let her head fall against the cold stone, positioned herself properly and narrowed her eyes.

Draco Malfoy had just emerged from the shadow that the torches hung on the wall couldn't illuminate.

The brown-haired girl held her breath for a second, before clenching her fists. He was here.

How did he dare? Hermione hadn't seen him on the train, so she had thought that maybe he had gone back on his decision. She had thought that he would avoid the chance to return to Hogwarts. Just like he had fled the Battle.

Coward.

But Malfoy was back, even though he did not deserve it. He was just late because this spoiled rotten kid did as he pleased. No surprise here.

He had not changed. Perhaps he was even worse. He had the audacity to stand there, in front of the castle. After all he had done, making a pact with the devil for two years.

Malfoy was dressed in black all over. From head to toe. The same way that he had dressed back on the first day of their fifth year.

Hermione felt her blood boil when she saw him approaching the entrance. She was furious, so much so that her lips started to tremble. She then sucked her teeth.

With his nose in the air, one hand in the pocket of his trousers, Malfoy walked in a way that could have been elegant, if Hermione had not been so disgusted by who she was staring at.

His other pale hand hung loose; he was twirling his family ring around on his finger.

His white-blond hair was gleaming under the moon, like the reflection of a star. Because Malfoy's hair had never got dirty, contrary to Hermione's.

However, it was not perfectly slicked back. Some strands of hair fell over his forehead, almost in front of his eyes, because it had grown quite a lot.

That was not the worst thing. What was absolutely upsetting was his face. Cold, empty.

There was no regret, no sadness in his deathly grey look. As if nothing had happened and that he was ready to put his mask back on. The mask represented the awful person he had been at Hogwarts. Terrorising all students.

Or maybe… maybe it was…

The redness in his eyes. That's why he was late.

Hermione was aware of the situation. A certain Slytherin group just couldn't overcome the disastrous consequences of the war. They had not all been Death Eaters, but their parents were. And that was enough for them to have their life ruined.

This year was going to be way tougher than the previous ones, and not just for Hermione. Their deplorable past was following them like a ghost dragging around a burden. But they had run the risk.

To accept the loss of their prosperity, of the reign they had established at Hogwarts since their first year, they had found a new reason to live.

Vices utterly addictive.

Malfoy was no exception.

The other side of the coin.

Finally, as if she had been waiting for this since his arrival, the blond-haired boy set his eyes on Hermione. He didn't stop, he weighed her up as he continued on his way to the castle.

Then, a smirk formed on his lips. It was vile, mocking, nearly inhumane. The expression on his sharp face was the same. Ruthless, icy.

In his look, there was a glint that Hermione had never seen before. A glint that was devilish, ill-intended.

"Pathetic isn't it, Granger? To end up alone?" He spat with his deep voice.

He still had this aplomb in him. He was not afraid to speak to her, to look for trouble, to push her to the limit. Even though she and her friends had exterminated his evil group of Death Eaters.

Hermione didn't look away, not even for a second. She even had time to give him a mean smile, teeming with assertiveness.

If you only knew, Malfoy.

And the Slytherin disappeared, leaving behind him the sound of his shoes that were slamming against the floor.

Hermione sighed, exasperated, her teeth clenched. It was late, it was getting cold outside. Yet, she didn't want to go back inside.

She hated him with all her being. She thought she could forgive him for what he had done to her and the others because the Battle had taught her not to be bitter.

She was incapable of doing so.

And Malfoy did not give her any good reason to do it.

Hermione got lost in her thoughts for a few minutes, before cursing.

"This git should've ended up in Azkaban, just like his father."

"Is the brightest witch of her age talking to the moon?"

Hermione turned her head on her left, her heart pounding wildly.

Even though she had immediately recognised his mellifluous and smooth voice, she was still surprised to see him next to her.

Just like she was never getting bored of this blue and green ocean that his eyes were made of. And it was the only one she loved to swim in.

"Is the bookworm who doesn't honour his house running away from his friends? Just for me?" Hermione retorted, with a mischievous smile.

"I'd rather run away from life in general, but it's harder. It goes by so fast, it's inexorable."

A bigger smile sprawled on Hermione's lips.

"You're so poetic tonight, Theodore, what did you read?"

Instead of wasting his time by answering, Theodore Nott came closer to Hermione and he put his large hand on her hip, pulling her against his torso.

"Theo…"

A shiver threatened to erupt up and down her spine. She couldn't resist the urge to bury her face in his neck. She inhaled lengthily, enjoying his scent that intoxicated each of her senses.

She felt relieved when she realised that he was sober.

Theodore lowered his head until he reached Hermione's ear. His hair slightly curled tickled her cheek.

"I missed you, Hermione." He whispered, softly.

Hermione felt him smile against her earlobe.

Her shirt wasn't put properly in her skirt, which exposed a tiny part of her bare skin on her waist. Theodore soon noticed it and his hands slid up her ribs, raising her shirt. While doing that, he didn't take his eyes off her.

Hermione's cheeks were now bright red. Her shyness got the upper hand over her. Theodore was so forward, tactile. She wasn't used to it. Ron had never been like that with her.

For a few seconds, Hermione found herself thinking about this summer.

Because in this whirlwind of rough times, Theodore was like the sun in her misery.

"Fuck Hermione, you are a wonder." Theodore growled as he was slowly sliding out, his cock almost out entirely, before thrusting in her again. More deeply. He fucked Hermione into the mattress while staring at her eyes that were still innocent. His hips were slamming into her thighs. "You're so…"

He couldn't manage to speak properly. As he was on top of Hermione, he was captivated by what she was offering him. Her naked body. Purely divine. She couldn't stop whining, feeling her cheeks blush.

The sensations were new to Hermione, her toes curled as the pleasure went through her body. Seeing that he was the one who made her feel like that turned Theodore on. Way more than he had ever been.

"F-fuck Hermione…"

He fucked her harder, but he tried to stay gentle. He would never hurt her.

Hermione's back arched and she was now crushing her breasts against his chest. Both panting for air.

To think that she had confessed to him that she was afraid to disappoint him because she lacked experience.

She felt so good. Especially when her walls were clenching around his hard cock. Hitting her sensitive spot.

He had been waiting for this for so long.

If someone had told her that one day, she would end up with Theodore Nott, Hermione would have laughed in this person's face. She still couldn't quite understand.

Hermione bit her lower lip, holding a giggle back.

"Are you making fun of me, Hermione?" Theodore teased her, fixing her with an intense look.

Offended, Hermione frowned.

"Of course not, I…"

Theodore didn't give her the time to say more. Mildly, he dug his nails into her hips and pushed her against the wall. Earning a soft moan from Hermione.

Like this, their lips smashed together in an explosion of feelings. He kissed Hermione fiercely and wrapped his long arms around her waist, breathing heavily. She loved when he did that.

Even though they could get caught at any moment since they were outside the castle.

And Hermione started to wonder how Theodore's friends were going to react when they would find out.

It was like walking into the lion's den.

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