Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.
Draco groaned and sat up slowly, trying to orientate himself.
He remembered standing in the corridor, watching Hermione. He had been nervous, on edge, unusual for him. A subtle shift in her posture, a small movement of her hand, had sent him reaching for his wand, acting on instinct. Always strike first.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
"Protego!"
The spells had collided in mid-air, his spell rocketing off hers, smashing the window between them. He remembered standing frozen, feeling the cold wind howl through the window, unable to comprehend the fact the she had not tried to curse him, but that he… he had made a mistake.
After that, it was a blur – Hermione shouting, a burst of red light, the feeling of being punched in the chest, and then waking up in the darkness.
Draco reached into his pocket for his wand, but found it missing. Had she stolen it? That would be understandable, given the situation. A few minutes of searching and several stubbed toes later, he found it, slightly scuffed by thankfully unbroken, more than he had hoped for.
"Lumos!"
Light radiated out from his wand, showing him his surroundings. He was in classroom, the rows of desks now slightly haphazard from where he had knocked into them.
He tried the door, grimacing when he found it to be locked.
"Alohomora!"
The door swung open, and Draco stepped out into the corridor, ignoring the glances directed at him by a trio of Ravenclaws passing by. He noticed that the window was fixed, with no sign that it had ever been broken. Hermione's work, doubtless. He walked passed it, heading to the Great Hall.
I should apologise to her, he thought, but rejected that idea almost immediately. Trying to apologise was what had led to this problem in the first place.
An apology. That was all he had wanted to say to her. Things were different, now that the Dark Lord was back, and he just wanted to apologise to her, alone, before anything happened. He couldn't talk to her in front of Potter or the Weasel; his pride simply wouldn't allow it. And now she'll never want to talk with me alone again.
Draco entered the Great Hall, and sat down next to Pansy at the Slytherin table. For the second time that day, he disregarded her, scanning the Gryffindor table, looking for Hermione. He spotted her, sitting next to Potter, facing him. When she noticed his gaze, she glared back for a moment, before shifting so that the Weasel blocked his line of sight.
It's no use. Whatever small amount of trust there was between them was gone now. What would an apology mean to her, anyway, in the face of what was going to happen? Nothing. Less than nothing. It would be best just to forget about it.
Hermione Granger, that talented Mudblood, had no place in his future. It was past time that he accepted that, and moved on.
He spared her another glance as he left the Great Hall, but nothing had changed. Nothing will ever change.
She had chosen Potter, and he was committed to the Dark Lord. That was final, and there was no escaping that.
For now.
A/N: Firstly, thank you to all of you who have read, reviewed and/or favourited this story!
This is the end of this story, so tell me what you think! A sequel might happen later, but no promises (sorry!). Constructive criticism appreciated!