Chapter Ten:

Says by Nils Frahm

January 7th, 2000

She wakes on Friday morning to the sound of her own screaming. Hermione can't remember what she was dreaming about exactly, but she remembers the feeling. The panic rising within her, the adrenaline coursing through her body as she screamed and screamed.

She barely makes it to the toilets, emptying the contents of her stomach, with nothing but bile coming up. Hermione hasn't thrown up from a dream since her eighth year at Hogwarts.

Ginny would stay up with her on most nights because she was terrified to fall asleep, terrified to close her eyes, terrified to dream. Nothing but nightmares waiting for her like a tidal wave.

She brushes her teeth, getting the taste of acid from her mouth, sending an owl in to Beatrice telling her she won't be in today. Pulling on her coat and hat, she locks the door and heads into muggle London.

During her eighth year, all of the students who returned were sent to a mind healer once a week. She remembers showing up every Friday and not saying anything constructive for the first four sessions.

Hermione continuously repeated, "I'm fine, there are other students who should be in my place. I promise you, I'm fine." Watching as the healer scratched her notes, kind eyes holding sympathy for her.

But she wasn't fine. All those nights awake with Ginny, trying to talk about what happened. When she did manage to fall asleep she would wake up terrified, dripping in sweat. Silencing her curtains helped with the screaming but she would wake everyone when she ran to the bathroom to heave up everything.

At her fifth appointment, the mind healer finally asked her a question that made her think.

"Where do you feel most safe?" Hermione remembers that she couldn't answer at the time, but she thought about it for weeks.

Home wasn't an option, her parents on the other side of the world with not a single memory of her. Growing up she was an only child and the product of two only children. Her grandparents had passed away while she was still young so it was always just the three of them.

She refused to keep in touch with her parents' friends and allowed herself to be forgotten.

Hogwarts no longer felt safe. The second she set foot in the castle for her last year she remembered grabbing hold of Ginny's hand and squeezing tightly. It was as if nothing had happened and that's what made it so much worse.

The blood and rubble had been cleaned and cleared. Everything, the bridge included, was repaired. All of the guards put back into their sleep, hopefully never to be used again.

Walking down the halls with first years who had no clue that someone had been brutally slaughtered in the courtyard. Meals were the worst part, having to walk into the Great Hall and sit at a table that was once used to identify the dead. The younger students laughed and carried on because they weren't there, they didn't understand.

She doesn't wish that upon her worst enemy.

The sight of Molly clutching onto Fred's lifeless body and wailing. The sight of Lupin and Tonks, Colin, Lavender…their skin cold when she leaned into them to say her last goodbyes.

As she steps away from the apparition point and onto a side street in the centre of London, she feels truly calm since the last time she escaped into the muggle world.

Not a soul looks at her when she enters the café, ordering and settling into a comfortable chair tucked in a corner. She pulls out her book and reads in peace, the world continuing on around her.

She does this for a few hours, letting her thoughts drift, ordering more cups of tea and finishing her book. For a while she just stares out the window, watching as everyone bustles by.

When she gets bored of just sitting, Hermione gets up and walks the high street, window shopping and looking at all the muggle fashion. She finds her scar doesn't burn as much when she's amongst muggles, when she's calm and not terrified of being recognized.

She's browsing near the front window of a shop when she catches a familiar shape out of the corner of her eye.

Once again, Draco Malfoy is waiting at a light to cross the street. She squints, not believing it to be him, but his smart wool coat and platinum blond hair are hard to replicate.

There aren't as many people out this time, the Christmas rush is over and he stands alone on the street corner. Leaning against the light pole, she flip flops back and forth between staying put and following him.

When the light changes, she's out of the store before she can even think, following him down the street, hoping to blend in amongst the thin crowds. She just wants to know why he's here, why she keeps running into him. Why is he encroaching on her space? What's a pureblooded wizard doing in muggle London?

He runs a shaking hand through his hair, it seems worse than the last time she saw him. Biting her bottom lip, her heart sinks into her chest in worry.

Why would the ministry torture them?

His gait is long and she struggles to keep up, tripping over an uneven slab of pavement and making a terrible strangled noise as she catches herself before hitting the ground.

This causes him to turn, ever so slightly in her direction before picking up his pace.

"Dammit," she mutters, squeezing past a couple before watching him duck between two buildings. Breaking into a run, Hermione flies into the alley after him, catching sight of the end of his coat swishing around another corner.

Breath ragged, she manages to get around the next corner but can't see where he's gone. Stopping dead in her tracks, the alleys are tight, meant for storing garbage and entrances to apartments. Her head swivels, searching when suddenly all of the air leaves her lungs.

"Are you following me, Granger?" he snarls, stepping into her space, hands on either side of her head as he pins her against the brick wall. "Afraid I'm going to blow something up? Perhaps take my anger out on a few muggles?" He's so close to her, she can smell his cologne. A mix of rich mahogany and a hint of lavender.

She avoids his gaze, trying to squirm out of his trap but he just pushes closer, placing his knee between her legs.

"N-no…I-I just…I—" Her words are minced, tongue stuttering as her heart hammers wildly in her chest. She tries to reach for her wand, tries to grab hold of her bracelet, tries to do anything. But she's shaking so violently, her breath coming out in quick puffs against his face. She can't move, can't breathe, feeling trapped like an animal in the cage of his arms.

In one quick movement, he grabs hold of her wrist, pinning it above her head. He presses it against the brick, causing her to cry out. She can feel his hand shaking as she struggles against him.

Hermione meets his gaze, hiding her fear, stamping it down, pushing it aside.

"For Christ's sake, can't even let me have this can you?" he growls, nose almost touching hers, his grey eyes holding nothing but fire. Her arm aches, she knows her coat is pushed up, scar exposed for the world to see.

"Wh-what?" she says, confused at what he means. His face falls, mouth pulling in a snarl as he releases her so suddenly she almost falls onto her hands and knees.

In a split second he turns away from her, like touching her repulses him. "This." He gestures for a second and she tilts her head, rubbing her wrist. "This little piece of normalcy, where no one knows who I am. They don't recoil when they see me walk by, throw glances of venom in my direction." There's pain in his voice, he's composing himself before he turns back around.

"But y-you were found not guilty. The ministry pardoned you, there sh—" Her heart slams in her ears, she can barely hear her own voice as it echoes in the tight alley.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" She cowers at his raised voice, the look in his eyes terrifying her and she can hear the cry that escapes her lips. "Fuck!" He grips his hair with both hands, turning away once more before slipping down another alley.

Hermione sinks to her knees, holding her stomach as she's wracked with brutal sobs, the adrenaline and fear coursing through her whole body. Malfoy has awakened something within her she never thought would stir.

The fear that courses through her veins isn't of him, but of what others have held her to. The perfect pedestal that everyone has placed her on. Fear of disappointment. Fear of being unable to break the mould like Malfoy. Fear of carrying the weight of a golden girl.