The compartment door slid open, but it was as though time were moving at half speed. Hermione looked up to meet the eyes of Malfoy as he reluctantly joined them for their meeting. She had to bite back a smile when his eyes danced nervously around the space, looking for where he could sit.

"The seat near me is open," she offered, "I won't bite."

McGonagall had asked her to look out for Malfoy, since he was being asked to continue on in his service to the school. Hermione had thought it would be a massive pain, but Malfoy seemed different now. The years, the summer, they had changed him. He looked unsure. He looked lost. In some ways, seeing him on the train now, it reminded her of the first time they met. He had been kind to her then, before he had realized what she was.

Then his face changed, just as it had all those years ago. It was as though Hermione had issued him a challenge. She had seen this look before, when he took the Quidditch pitch or faced off against Harry and Ron. But it most reminded her of that day.

"I'm Hermione Granger." She held out her hand, ready to make a new friend.

"Granger? I don't recognize that name. Where are you from?" His eyes narrowed, and he looked suspicious, like she was trying to play a trick on him.

"I'm from Lavenham," she told him, pulling her hand back to her side. She fidgeted with the fabric of her robe. "And you?"

He turned his nose up at her. There were no respectable wizarding families in Lavenham. "You're from a muggle family, aren't you?"

Hermione's face was hot, and she turned away without answering. The sneering, hurtful, challenging face of the boy would be burned into her brain from then on. It was no surprise when she later learned about Draco Malfoy's parents, his pedigree, his charmed life. It was no surprise, but it didn't make it hurt less. Because the boy she saw first, who had welcomed her into his train car and asked her about her favorite books, could have made a wonderful friend. Until he felt challenged by her.

"I'm not scared of you, Granger." His reply was biting, but it wasn't exactly what she'd call mean, either.

The meeting went without another hiccough, though it was mostly an exercise in the two former enemies ignoring one another. Draco was quiet through the whole meeting, alternating between looking bored to death and looking irritated that he was stuck. The shifts were subtle. An uptick in foot tapping. A quiet sigh. Constantly turning his head to look anywhere except at Hermione as she spoke.

Hermione had been appointed Head Girl, since it would have been her position if she had returned to school. The headmistress felt it was only right that she be given the honor she was due. She tried not to take it personally that Malfoy found the meeting dull. It was scheduling of rounds and duties, after all. She took pride in the way everything fit so perfectly, and she didn't need his approval.

"Alright, that should be everything, I think. We'll have our next meeting on the first Friday after classes resume, just to make sure everything is still working with schedules. I know clubs and Quidditch will be setting practices and we may have to move some things around..." Hermione's voice falter as Draco walked out in the middle of her speech. Her hand drifted toward the hem of her shirt, but then she balled her fingers into a tight fist. "Have a great start of term, everyone."

Draco couldn't stand it any longer. Listening to her voice. Smelling her cinnamon and vanilla smell, like a damn bakery. It was driving him absolutely mad. He couldn't stand to be around her.

He thought apologizing would help. His Healer had suggested it, among all the other things he was supposed to do as part of his parole and healing. He was supposed to make amends to the people he had hurt the most. Granger was at the top of that list, after all.

He expected her to hate him. Hermione Granger, bloody Gryffindor Granger, bright stupid Granger. She was supposed to hate him, hex him, hurt him. It was supposed to be over as soon as it began. He would apologize, she would yell at him and tell him how worthless he and his apology both were, and then he could go back to feeling the wall between them. It used to be built from the bricks of supremacy, family tradition, and a whole lot of dirty laundry. Now it was supposed to be built from the bricks of her righteous anger, his stupid mistakes.

Then she had to go and destroy the foundation by inviting him to sit there, right by her side. Close enough to feel the vibration of her voice as she spoke about normal things like schedules. Close enough to smell her shampoo and the soap she used for her laundry. Close enough to hate himself for every terrible thing he had ever said to her, or thought about her.

Hermione Granger was an angel, and she would be Draco's destruction. She was the Garden of Eden, and he was a sinner cast out. Why would she show him a glimpse of the heaven he could never enter? It was unfair, to say the very least.

He had spent the summer thinking about Hermione Granger. She was the first to speak at his trial, and her words were absolutely the reason he had been given a second chance. Her words carried special weight since she came from the very background he had been raised to revile. She had spoken truth that day, a truth that he had never let himself believe.

"Draco Malfoy was a child. We were all children. He was raised by parents who felt superior, he was told he was superior. What young person doesn't want to feel special, important, powerful? So, of course, he would lean into that narrative. He became pompous, arrogant, and mean. He gave in to the teachings of the people he held dear, and it led him to be horrible to me and people like me." Her words were like a knife in his back. Draco hung his head, unable to look as the wizards and witches around him began to whisper darkly.

"But Draco Malfoy is not merely the sum of how he has treated those he dislikes. He is also a loyal friend to those he cares about. He went out of his way to help his friends. He risked his life to keep his family and friends safe in the face of death, even when he was frightened. Even when other men would have turned and fled."

Draco looked up, and hope dared to swell in his chest. His eyes locked with hers. It was like they were the only two people in the entire world.

"And when the time came...in spite of everything that passed between him and Harry...he lied. He lied, and he very well saved our lives. We would all be living in a very different world without Draco Malfoy's help. So I ask that you give him a second chance. Maybe he'll show the world the person he could have been."

Later, when Draco told his mother what Hermione had said, she wept. Her shoulders trembled as Draco held her close.

"That girl has saved you. She is an angel, you know," Narcissa had sputtered between her sobs, "especially with what your aunt did..."

Draco couldn't trust his voice enough to agree.

Since that day, Hermione had been the focus of many of his thoughts. The good, the bad. In his moments of strength and in the depths of his weakness she was there. But to be near her was a kind of torture he hadn't anticipated. To have her be kind, he didn't know how to respond. He didn't deserve it, to be sure. Goodness knew how he wanted it, though.

Draco's distracted thoughts followed him back to his carriage. He didn't notice that shadow that had darkened the corridor. He barely heard the spell being cast before he hit the floor. A pain like none he had ever felt blinded him. He heard footsteps, felt distantly that someone stepped on him, and then drifted away to a place of silent agony.