Draco opened his eyes. Immediately, existential thoughts assaulted him, as if they had been coddling him in his sleep. It seemed far away, but he realized certain things that he had been brooding over for a long time: he wanted to stop being such a dick, it was wearing him out. He just didn't have the strength to stop. What a stupid bloody paradox. It was difficult for him to shake off his mentalities and opinions that had been conveyed to him as basic principles for so long. Only, now that the war was over, now that the former supporters of the Dark Loge were on the run from the Aurors, now that the reign of the Purebloods would never take place, and that the prejudice against the different blood status was now seen as racist and dangerous... Now all of this... Draco was finding it terribly difficult to let go of his ways. The post-war era had marked a turning point in the Wizarding World, ruling everyone as equal regardless of the 'status' of their blood.

Draco gritted his teeth. Now it was him and his prejudices that were being singled out, when not even six months ago half the Wizarding World was cheering and hoping for the final extermination of the Mudbloods. He was beginning to understand why Granger, and everyone else for that matter, was sick of the insults about the status of blood. It was hollow, ancient, and closed-minded.

Yet Draco was superior, and he just bloody knew it. No matter what anyone else might say, he attributed his intelligence, wealth, and family prestige to his Pureblood status. And yet, you may think you're clever because you're a Pureblood, Draco thought, but you forget that Granger matches your intelligence, if not surpasses it...

Thinking of her, he took the time to put his mind back in place and remembered the night before. He'd actually gotten chills seeing Granger like that last night. Seeing her screaming, crying, throwing a fit... it was bloody hell for him. In the end, he was pleased with what he had done yesterday. He had comforted her, at least soothed her, he was sure of that, at least. He'd shared his alcohol with her and... Merlin. He'd said a lot of things. Far too many things. You could say that Draco Malfoy was rude and arrogant, but yesterday he had redeemed himself completely. He knew that she must have fallen asleep with a calmer mind, lulled by alcohol.

A faint glow lit up the room, the only source that allowed him to determine that the morning was just beginning. He ran a hand through his hair, closed his eyes and then waited a few minutes before opening them again.

He waited quietly, watching the dawn break through the window panes. After struggling to get up, he passed through the common room on his way to their shared bathroom. The common room was empty. To his surprise, Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He figured she must still be asleep, but it was already late and she would have to go to class very soon. Not his problem, they were not going to actually start waking up each other up.

He ate his breakfast directly in the apartment and brushed his teeth. His partner was still not up... God, she was sleeping hard! If she misses her fucking classes, she'll blame me...

He went to her room and knocked on her closed door. "Hey Granger, get up already!"

When no answer came, he knocked again, harder. "Bloody hell, don't make me waste my time!"

Still nothing. Draco almost broke the door pounding on it. "I'm coming in, Granger. Please be fucking dressed." He opened the door, only to find no one there. What the fuck?

She must have gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast instead of here before I got up... But when Draco realised that he had gotten up before the sun had fully risen, he felt a little uneasy. It meant that Hermione had run off somewhere in the middle of the night or early morning. He shrugged, trying to shake off the worry. Meh.

Gathering up his school books, he walked down to the Great Hall, not knowing exactly what the uncomfortable feeling was that still made his gut all scrambled. Without thinking, he began walking to the Gryffindors' table, but halfway there he turned around and slammed his fist into his forehead.

It's not my fucking problem, he thought, let her fend for herself... As far as I know, she's probably curled up in a corner catching up on her studies by scribbling down notes for bloody classes she's no longer paying attention to.

Harry, Ginny and Ron were sitting around their breakfast and had seen Malfoy approach and then walk away.

"What's got into him?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, "but I'm worried about Hermione. She hasn't come down yet."

"Yeah, that's strange," Ron shot back, "that doesn't sound like her!"

"Well," Ginny sighed. "Maybe she's still asleep…"

"Malfoy would have woken her up I dare say..." Harry retorted with a frown.

"Harry," Ginny replied, "I don't think Malfoy would do anything to ensure that Hermione goes through her lessons normally. But she'll come down, don't worry!"

"Let's hope so."

When Harry thought about Hermione's strange behaviour the night before, a worry settled in the pit of his stomach, unwavering. He put his spoon back in his Cheerie-Owls bowl.

"Didn't you guys notice something different about her yesterday?" he asked.

Ron and Ginny looked at each other then shrugged. "She seemed fine, mate," replied Ron. "She was good ol' happy and clever Hermione."

"But that's the thing. The day before yesterday, she was… gloomy and sad. Something's changed overnight."

"Don't worry, Harry," said Ginny softly. "She'll come around. Grief's a bitch. It does weird things to people."

Harry didn't want to convince himself that Hermione was unhappy, but he had no doubt that her grief was affecting her more than she let on. He swore to himself that he had to talk to her today. But where was she? Where had she disappeared to?

When Draco noticed that Granger was not at her House table either, he became more and more anxious. He kept telling himself that she had probably gone out for some fresh air by the lake early, or suddenly decided to make a morning Head Girl tour of the hallways, and would be back for the start of class. Miss-know-it-all wouldn't miss her bloody important classes, would she?

In Metamorphosis, second class of the day, Hermione still hadn't shown up. Ginny was getting frantic, while Harry and Ron were worried sick. A bad feeling hovered in Harry's stomach and almost made him nauseous. What was she doing? Why had she been acting so strangely the day before and now she was gone, vanished?

When the class ended, McGonagall waited for the students to get out before she called out to all three of them, "I notice Miss Granger is missing. Do you know where she is?"

"Erm...actually," Ginny said uncomfortably, "we don't know."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Um... yesterday afternoon."

"Okay. Well, thank you. I'm sorry, as any deliberate absence, I have to deduct five points for Gryffindors."

"But, Professor—"

"No 'but'. I'm sorry, but I have to be fair. Surely, you understand."

"We do."

"Now, try and find her. Search the castle, I authorize it. Miss Granger is not usually one to miss classes and even if I have to exercise my authority in this situation, I don't want to become worried."

"Yes, thank you Professor," said Harry.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, you will search from the dungeons to the Owlery. Miss Weasley, search the ladies' room and the library. She's not outside, our detection system would have tracked her. She's still inside the castle. Please send her to me when you find her."

The three of them walked away with a grimace, following the professor's directions. They went to lunch before starting the search, worry clenching at their stomach. Hermione couldn't possibly miss two meals!

Draco was seated with Blaise and Pansy for lunch.

"Oh, sweetie pie!" Pansy squealed as she pressed herself against Draco. "Why aren't you eating?"

Draco pulled away, then glared at her. "Let go of me, Pansy! I'm just not hungry."

"But Drake…"

"Shut up, Pansy!" Blaise shouted sharply.

Pansy looked hurt, suddenly glazing at Blaise. "Don't talk to me like that!"

"I just mean, you've got to hold your horses…"

"I was just being nice—"

"Well, stop being nice," Draco snapped. In spite of everything people thought, him and Pansy had never been a thing. Well, not officially. They snogged maybe twice, like two years ago, when he had less important things to think about.

Since their return at Hogwarts after the war, relationships were difficult within Slytherins. There were those who had belonged to the Dark side, either by being Death Eaters themselves or quietly following their parent's path, waiting for their turn to receive the Dark Mark. And there were those who were not old enough to really grasp the full extent of had been happening. The "Innocent" Slytherins, and the Bad "Defeated" Slytherins. Most of the eighth year Slytherins were Defeated, but a lot of them were just bitter about their defeat in the Battle, others were simply scared of fellow Death Eaters such as Draco. Not everyone came back, though. Even in other Houses, a lot of seats were available. Parents preferred to let things cool down a bit before sending back their children. Blaise and Pansy were basically the only two who stuck with Draco.

She said nothing more. Blaise moved his head closer to Draco's, "So, where did your Head Girl go? I haven't seen her in first class."

"I don't know, damn it! How is that my fucking problem?"

Blaise's eyes widened. "Draco, calm the fuck down. I just want to help you! When did she last show up?"

"Sorry Zab, I'm just a bit on edge, that's all. I don't care about her whereabouts, but why does it fucking bother me? I don't even know where or why she's hiding! I don't bloody understand why she's doing this to me, but yesterday we drank—"

"Why is she doing this to you?" Blaise repeated, scoffing. "Draco, you're delusional... Granger doesn't care enough about you to disappear just to make you lose your mind!"

Draco sighed, annoyed, "I'm not losing my mind." But Blaise was about right. "I'm not hungry anymore, anyway. I have to go back to get my books."

"Whatever you say, mate! I'll go to the Owlery to write to my Mum."

"Why? She in trouble again or something?"

"Nothing serious. The jewels stolen this summer, like I told you. And the divorce lawyer is kind of a dick to her, and it's just too damn complicated. I've just been writing to her to make sure she's fine."

"That sucks, man. Well, I'll go up to my place and meet you afterwards. Give me more details then."

"As you wish! I'll be up there."

"Got it. See you."

Draco left the Great Hall with an almost angry step. Pansy finally looked up from her plate, hands almost shaking. "What have I done to you?" she said quietly to Blaise.

"Huh?"

"I mean, you were rude earlier. I didn't like it."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up, "I'm… sorry, I guess."

Pansy scoffed, "Oh, please, you're not."

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing—"

"Pansy…"

"I'm just fucking tired of being pushed aside all the bloody time."

"It's Draco's business."

"We used to have fun together! Us three! Granger was just another random subject that we used to laugh about."

"I guess it's not like that anymore."

Pansy swallowed the lump that made her throat throb. "What changed?" she scoffed. "She's still a Mudblood, as far as I know!"

"Pansy!" Blaise hissed, leaning towards her above the table.

"What? What the hell are you gonna say, Zab? You gonna tell me that now, Granger is the saint Gryffindor female savior that bloody saved the fucking world from ending?"

"Actually, yeah, something like that."

"Come on! Have you seen her? She looks like a fucking depressive translucid ghost."

Blaise jumped to his feet, suddenly very tired of talking with her. "The world has changed, Pansy. Time you wake up. Just fucking move on from her already. She's just another random student here, give it a rest."

He left quickly without looking back. Pansy's cheeks flushed. How could that fucking Mudblood, without even being there and talking with them, take up so much place at their table? How could she have caught Blaise's attention and turned Draco all weird? That stealing selfish hag…

She was looking down. It was so high. So damn high. A single fall would definitely kill her.

The Owlery was high enough and out of sight to do what she wanted to do. She had spent the rest of the night standing on the windowsill looking at the stars. She had been determined for a whole day to end this whole horrible fucking life she was leading. But now that she was standing right here, right above her certain death, she lacked the push to do it. Funny how Wizards can't kill themselves with their wand. They had to resort to Muggle old-fashioned ways. Eventually she had just sit down, her legs dangling in the air. She closed her eyes.

She saw her brother, his lifeless body lying in a pool of blood. She never actually saw him this way, but her nightmare had fucked up her mind. She saw him challenging her to a race down the street. She saw him ruffling her hair while she yelled at him, annoyed. She saw him returning home after his job interview and proudly telling everyone he was now officially an Auror. She saw him coming home that day, upset and on the verge of tears, without knowing what to do so she just prepared a late-night snack for him. She saw him waving his wand to help clean the table. She felt his hugs. His brotherly touch. She smelled him. She heard his voice.

She saw her mum crying over the sink. She heard her dad sobbing in the shower. She had heard them talk about taking a trip to help them relax while Hermione would be at school. She saw her mum lighting a candle in her brother's bedroom like it was a bloody shrine or something. She saw her dad unshaved popping pills to help him sleep. The Grangers were miserable.

She saw Draco on the train being an insufferable prick. She felt his harsh words thrown at her, like she was the plague. She saw him coming out of the bathroom half naked. She smelled him, his scent was like wilderness and cotton, which was terribly male for her. She remembered bits and pieces about their alcohol-induced talk, and how he had spoken about the way he was raised. He knew he was arrogant and yet he couldn't stop and she wouldn't be the one to save him. She annoyed him simply by being there. She was existing, and this was reason enough to make him hate her.

She stood up. Just get on with it. She would put an end to her name. She didn't leave a note, and now she wondered if she should have. Maybe people would like to understand? Are we supposed to write something?What if we just don't want to say goodbye?

All this suffering was too much for such a small useless witch like her. She felt misunderstood. She felt pitied. She didn't want to talk anymore, that much she was sure of. What was keeping her on Earth? Nothing. Fucking nothing at all. She would never allow herself to be happy again. Because then she would feel guilty. The very thought of smiling and being happy made her so uncomfortable that she felt nauseous. You can't afford to be happy when a tragedy like this hits you. It would be an insult to the memory of her brother. You can't fucking smile anymore when your brother is dead.

They walked down the hallways to the Owlery. The two best friends still hadn't found Hermione and there was only the Owlery and the Astronomy Tower left to search. How did they wish now that the Marauder's Map hadn't burn in the Battle of Hogwarts…

"I'll go to the Owlery, and you go to the Tower, okay?" said Harry to Ron.

"Okay. If you find her, well…"

"Yeah, I understand."

They split up on a corner.

He walked along the wall with his fingertips sliding across it. His mother was having minor problems, nothing that put her life in danger, but he didn't like that. He wanted to make sure she was still okay and he wanted to send her a letter today.

And then, this whole drama about Granger missing. He hoped for Draco's sake that she would be found. Rather alive than dead. Draco's behaviour was getting frantic. Blaise knew his friend would never admit that he was actually worried for a Muggle-born. Besides, when he thought about it, it was odd for Hermione Granger to be missing all morning without a trace.

He climbed the stairs to the Owlery without making any noise.

She had searched the toilets and the library. But there was no trace of her best friend. Ginny was worried sick, but mostly angry. Hermione would have talked to her if she wanted to confide in her about her brother's death! Wouldn't she? She would have told her what she was going to do! But no! She had just disappeared!

All right, all right, Ginny. Calm down, girl. We'll find her, and you'll talk with her.

She turned on her heels and went back to her common room to wait for the boys before the afternoon classes began. She didn't know where they were anyway.

Draco had combed through the dorm a second time. He hadn't seen Granger, but he had found her wand.

Her wand.

Who would leave their own wand behind? No wizard or witch in their right mind would leave their wand behind. It was simply stupid and careless. Why would someone like Granger leave their wand behind? The only plausible explanation he could think of was that she knew she would no longer use it. Or maybe she had forgotten it? No, this isn't it.

He was furious. He angrily ran a hand through his hair. "What the fuck, Granger? Where're you at?"

He decided to go check Hermione's room one last time, but to no one's surprise, it was empty. What was he expecting? A bloody scavenger hunt?

He slammed the portrait when he got out. He decided to join Zabini at the Owlery, leaving Hermione's wand where he had found it.

Harry saw a shadow in the stairs to the Owlery. Someone was climbing them in front of him. He climbed faster.

The breeze blew through her bushy hair and she took a deep breath, looking down. She was shaking uncontrollably from head to toe. Just finish it. The last thought that crossed her mind was her brother's peaceful looking face. A tear rolled down her cheek as she leaned forward. She was finally ready.

Just as her right foot was about to lift off the floor of the windowsill, two strong arms grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. The Snake and the Lioness fell backwards and rolled onto the Owlery's floor.

Hermione started sobbing. The fall had made her snap out of her delusion. Her head was held firmly against Blaise's chest. Seeing that she didn't move at all, he pressed his palm to the beautiful brunette's head and held her to him, his heart pounding with stress. In the space of a few seconds, he noticed details that he hadn't seen when he had bumped into her last summer, and it frightened him. With his fingers on her, he could feel Granger's bulging ribs under his palm, she was even skinnier than when he had seen her, in a way he had never seen her during his time at Hogwarts. Her complexion was ashen, pale and sickly, her voice broken by tears and hoarse sobs of unexplained agony.

The legendary war hero Hermione Granger, radiant, mischievous and strong, was not the one in his arms.

Blaise was half seated as Hermione lay sprawled across the cold stones. "What the hell were you doing, Granger?"

Just then the door flew open, revealing Harry, completely stunned by the sight before him. "Hermione!" he bellowed.

Both anger and relief washed over him as he rushed towards her, but Blaise stopped him with one hand. "Hey, she's not okay at all—"

"Yeah, I know the story already," Harry gritted his teeth. "She's my friend, so move over." He just wanted to be left alone with her so he could have a long-awaited talk with her. He could easily guess what she was doing in the Owlery. He had a hard time believing that she had spent the day here, writing to her parents or anybody. Her good mood of the previous day suddenly had a total other meaning.

"Potter, leave her alone, she's really not all right," Blaise added.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Zabini? Get out of the way!"

Blaise clenched his jaw and stared at him. Potter didn't seem to know what Hermione was about to do... He hugged Granger tighter, surprised by his own protective instinct.

She was still crying. She couldn't believe what she had done. What she would have done, if nobody had stopped her. Hermione cried because she hurt so much that she was sick. Mentally, physically, spiritually sick. Sick of everything that was happening to her. She was sick of it all.

She had wanted to kill herself, and Blaise had guessed it just right. "Potter, I saved her life."

"What the fu—" Draco entered the room at that very moment. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Blaise touching Hermione, who was shaking like a leaf. Was Granger still in tears? He widened his eyes and looked at Blaise. Blaise shook his head, which meant "not now".

Draco moved towards them, but Harry held back his shoulder firmly. "Don't touch her," he hissed.

"Don't touch me, Scarface."

Blaise pushed himself off Hermione and stood up. The weak Lioness fell back to the ground without moving, her sobs getting quieter. Harry reached over and grabbed her elbow to help her up. "Mione..." he whispered. "I know what's going on… You're hurting. But make an effort. Please. Come on..."

"Can't you see that she's... damn it, Potter, just leave her be!" spat Draco, surprising himself.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry retorted. "We've been taking care of her for seven years."

For once, Draco was silent, clenching his fists as he watched Potter grab his best friend. If he was the one helping Hermione up, he wouldn't have done it so bluntly. Even if he was a Malfoy. He had manners with the ladies. Just as he thought that, the way he had treated her flashed in his mind. Well, he had not displayed yet the proper manners with her. But fucking Scarface was supposed to.

He's just gonna fucking hurt her... she's badly positioned, all twisted up...

"Potter—" he began. Blaise put a hand on his shoulder to silence him.

Hermione let her tears fall. She grabbed onto Harry's shirt to get up. He was hurting her with his grip on her elbow. Once she was on her feet she yanked back a little too sharply, and Harry didn't miss it. "Hermione, what's wrong with you? We've been looking all over for you!" He couldn't help but be angry at her. Very angry. Why would she do this? Why would she do this to them? To her own parents?

She didn't answer, just swept the room with her misty, glassy eyes. She had stopped crying and looked into Draco's eyes. She felt ashamed because of the moment they had shared last night. He had seen her miserable and vulnerable, and he had actually started opening up about his personal life. That, for them, was beyond the line. Their normal Mudblood-Pureblood line. But today, she saw actual concern in his eyes, but also anger. Anger? He's still mad at me? Then she met Harry's emerald eyes. What she saw there did not please her. It was shock, anger too, and... exasperation.

Harry took her hand to get her out of there, but she stood her ground. Harry didn't understand her. He didn't want to hear her explanations now. Well, not here. The ghostly wanderings of his grieving best friend were beyond his comprehension, he just knew she was hurting, but he didn't feel it was his place to analyze her emotions and play psychologist with her. At least, not now, not here, with them. Besides, she had made them believe that everything was okay when she was actually planning to… She had lied to them intentionally. She knew what she was going to do, and she had spent the whole day with them like nothing was going on. And for that reason, boy was he angry.

Both Blaise and Draco had worried looks on their faces and Draco wasn't even hiding it anymore. Blaise because he was genuinely concerned about the Gryffindor's sickly appearance, Draco because he feared his partner would blame him for the situation. He had said things to her the night before, he had made her drink too damn much, and she couldn't possibly have been thinking straight afterwards. Was this his fault, too?

"Thank you, Blaise..." were the only words Hermione managed to utter as she met his chocolate eyes.

Blaise smiled kindly, as if softened by her, and touched a strand of her hair with his hand, almost like he'd known her forever. Which was not far from the truth. Draco felt a pang of anger, but said nothing. How could Blaise be so kind to her? Was that what 'kind' was? Touching fucking hair? Had it been so bloody easy for Zabini to leave the racist Pureblood mentality behind? Why wasn't Draco able to do that yet, let alone do anything deliberately nicer?

"Harry?" said Hermione. "Go prepare for your class, I'll talk to you later."

"Hermione, damn it! Come on! Don't stay with those idiots!"

A flash of anger crossed the young woman's tired eyes. "First of all, you don't tell me what to do. And two, they're not idiots. And three, leave me alone. Please."

"And four," Harry snapped, "you act like you're someone else."

His words hurt Hermione deeply, but she tried not to show it. "I'm not the same as I was last year, Harry—"

"You're right. It's not Hermione standing in front of me anymore. It's a tomb."

"Harry…" Hermione whispered, breathless. "It's just not the right time…"

"Just come find me when you're done, then. Oh, and McGonagall wants to see you."

With that, he walked away and hurried down the steps, leaving her behind. He was gone.

Hermione had the feeling that her best friend had taken a part of her with him. Why had he been so cold when he knew she was grieving? Harry was the first person who should have understood her, after all he had been through. She knew him like the back of her hand. He had guessed, probably even before the others, what she had wanted to do, and he was angry at her. Because she had lied. Because she had acted like everything was fine. She knew she just would need to explain.

The silence between the two Slytherins and the Gryffindor became heavy, charged with tension. It was rather awkward now.

"Well, Scarface has other owls to pluck, it seems," Draco finally said.

The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts.

Bertrand Russell