Hermione like to read late into night, because it gave her some time alone. To think and to relax. To recharge. She like the feeling of having the entire castle to herself.
It was late at night. Probably a little past midnight. Hermione was curled up in the sofa, reading, helped by the illuminated end of her wand, when she heard someone stumbling into the room.
The figure did not see her, but rushed past her into the common bathroom. The door was not closed completely, so the light spilled into the dark common room where Hermione was sitting.
She was about to return to her reading when she stopped.
It sounded like someone was choking in there. Concerned, Hermione made her way to the bathroom to make sure that whoever it was, was alright.
The sight she found chilled her to the very bones.
It was Draco Malfoy.
Except, it didn't look like him at all. Rather, it was the face, the body, the hair of Draco Malfoy. And quivering inside that shell was a person, a mess, who was crying into the sink and trying to mask it with the sound of running water from an open tap.
His tie was pried loose, for he hadn't yet changed. His collar was torn open, as though there had been no time to unbutton it. His head was bowed, and he was taking several short breaths. He splashed water onto his face. It didn't seem to help, but he kept at it, until his shirt was drenched. He placed his arms over the sink as though to support himself.
The person standing in front of the mirror was having a panic attack.
Hermione was rooted to the spot, unable to move.
And then, Malfoy made as though to straighten up, and Hermione fled.
Thoroughly horrified, she ran back to the girls' dormitory forgetting her book where she had left it, as though she were being chased by a shadow.
She bolted the door behind her, her heart pounding wildly inside her chest. When she had sufficiently calmed down, she made her way to her bed. Once safely under the covers, she reflected on what she had just witnessed, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind.
Focus, focus, she told herself. She needed to focus. She forced herself tolook at each thread one by one. That would calm her down. Analysing something always did.
Try as she might, she couldn't shake off the image of a shaking and sobbing Draco Malfoy.
She sat up, remembering vaguely that Harry had narrated something similar to her and Ron in their sixth year.
This, witnessing it first hand, had been far, far worse.
There was none of the suave, none of the arrogance. There was only fear, pain and panic emanating from him. There was only a broken human being before her.
How far the mighty have fallen, she thought and immediately chided herself. Even the Malfoys were human beings. Even they feel.
Focus.
It was the pure shock of seeing someone confident and arrogant reduced to a sobbing mess, she told herself. And the fact that she now felt sorry for someone who had always been her enemy.
Enemy. Come to think of it. Had he ever been an enemy, though? They sure had their many differences and spats throughout the school years. Those was normal. They were young and had many differences. Having fought a war, she had assumed that knew what an enemy looked like. The word now left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Draco had never been the enemy. He was proud, arrogant, spoilt, and a bully, but those were the results of his lofty upbringing, rather than characteristics of his malice.
She realised suddenly that she was being unexpectedly sympathetic towards someone who has always despised her.
It was just common decency. Basic humanity. She told herself 's why it affected her so much.
But then, it wasn't exactly true.
Perhaps the truth was that the only person you could afford to know about as much as your best friend is your worst enemy.
No, not an enemy. A house rival. A pureblood maniac. But not an enemy.
And she had already defeated the enemy.
No one really escaped the War unscathed, she always knew that, of course. But up until now, she thought it was a sentiment that only applied to the winning side. To her.
For the first time ever, Hermione was realising that Draco was as much a casualty of the war as she was. That Draco Malfoy was battling invisible demons that probably have been chasing him every night since the War.