Chapter 3: Acknowledgment

One guilty conscience was enough, but two was unbearable. For those first two weeks Hermione had realised that she had been growing aggravated, lonesome, and angry for no reason. Now she knew Draco was to blame. How he came to realise they were connected telepathically, she still couldn't understand. Now, his thoughts came tumbling down at an alarming rate. Most of the time, it just stressed Hermione, as there was already enough to deal with. But when she bothered to analyse his thoughts, she wanted everything to be different.

Draco let on that he was far more resilient than he was. Hermione had always believed that he could take anything, and come back still fighting. She'd hated to admit it, but he was persistent. That would be the only way to describe it, without offering extensive praise to his character. It was unnerving, and irritating, but no doubt admirable. Now, that she understood the inner workings of his mind, she understood the opposite to be true. He was utterly tormented. Draco felt completely isolated from the world; not wanted by his father, his friends, the enemies he'd fought alongside. In addition, she realised that somewhere he had good in him- he wanted to do right by people; which inadvertently only resulted in more catastrophe.

Anytime such sympathetic thoughts passed through her mind, she immediately tried to quench them; not wanting to feel such things for Draco. Of course, he only helped in crushing any sympathy she harboured.

Cute Granger, but I really don't want your pity. I'm just fine. He'd sneer down- what she'd begun to call- the 'bond'. Hermione had also attempted to just simply ignore him, in the hope it would just fade if not in use.

For the brightest witch of our age, I didn't expect you to be so desperately stupid. Pretending I'm not here won't do anything to change it.

Draco knew it was fool's hope, but he convinced himself that by consistently pestering her, his hatred for her would be renewed. But who was he fooling? He knew that deep down, he did it to provoke a reaction; to subtly shift their relationship. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Draco had complete access to her deepest, and most private thoughts, whereas unbeknownst to her, he was shielding his. Hermione would suspect something if she couldn't access them, so he showed her- reluctantly- everything, except how he felt. It was a strain on his magic, and left him going to sleep with a terrible headache, but it was worth it. His adept skill at occlumency meant that for now, Hermione would be none the wiser of his true intentions. It was too soon.

He awoke one morning to a tightening in his chest, short of breath and clammy; immediately sending him into a panic. But it wasn't him.

Hermione! What's wrong? No reply. Dammit, she couldn't be so stubborn as to put her safety at risk, could she?

Hermione! He demanded, panicked- though he couldn't be sure whether it was a result of her hysteria, or his concern.

I'm fine. Just a nightmare. Came the strangled reply. Draco fell back against the pillows, somewhat calmer, though the symptoms did not subside. Clearly her doing.

Tell me. Though phrased as a demand, he only meant to offer comfort, and was almost certain she would reject the offer and persist to ignore him.

It was the Final Battle…she began, and for a moment he was so startled that she'd responded, that he'd forgotten to listen. And then, while Harry and Ron lay dead at my feet…I apparated home. I was such a chicken, and I left. But when I arrived in the sitting room…my parents had been slaughtered. Draco hesitated.

Everyone's safe now...He's gone

Thanks, Draco.

He fell into an easeful slumber.

That had been the trigger. Hermione found that he was almost like a comfort, rather than a pest. Though she'd never admit that aloud. Whether he was aware of such thoughts, or had chosen to overlook them, Draco never commented. He still proved to be annoying, but not to the same extent. With Ron, only marginally improved since Fred's dead, Hermione really didn't have that many people to talk to.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, one morning as he came downstairs. She nodded, attentively.
"I'm sorry I've been so distant lately," he said. Hermione instinctively shook her head.
"There's nothing to apologise for Ron. It's been tough," she rested a hand atop his.

He's being attentive to get in your pants

GO AWAY

"Do you want to talk about it?" She offered. Ron shook his head, withdrawing slightly.
"I was thinking we could just go to Diagon Alley for the day?" he suggested.

Draco hadn't let the house in a month, but now he had reason to. Weasley would surely try to pull something. No one came out of hibernation for nothing.

You're a pig.

Draco chuckled, almost forgetting the bond. He made use of it, staying in constant contact, but she never made the first move. If it weren't for him, it most likely would lay dormant.
"Where are you going, dear?" Came the monotonous drawl from the drawing room.
"Just getting some stuff," Draco dismissed, but his mother simply raised a suspicious eyebrow in return.

People shot wary glances in his direction, moving aside to clear a path for him. That had been habitual since childhood. While other Hogwart's students had been shoved about in the swarm, as they eagerly searched for school supplies for the upcoming year, Draco had merely glided through the crowd, as though on a red carpet. And he had believed that he deserved such treatment. Now, they moved for different reasons. People honestly thought an eighteen-year old- barely a man- would cause a scene in a public place. Draco was no murderer. Yet his reputation preceded him.

He wasn't too sure when Hermione and the Weasel would arrive, but he had to find something to occupy himself in the meantime. It would be blatantly obvious if he were to linger in the streets, and then what? He knew he wouldn't approach her. He just needed to see her.

Hermione strolled through the chaotic streets, holding Ron's hand.
"Where to?" She broke their silence. Without a word, he nodded towards the Quidditch store. Usually, Hermione would protest. Harry and Ron were relentless about their love of the sport, and trips into town were one of the few times she grew lonesome for lack of girl company. Today was different, and she followed without complaint.

Ron disappeared amongst the isles, and Hermione occupied herself by the book section, trying to appear interested in The History of Quidditch. How wizards found enjoyment through it, she would never understand.

Didn't take you for a Quidditch fan, love. He appeared a few feet away.

And I see I'm still filth. She hissed down the bond, and Draco hesitated, confused. Can't even talk to me. Hermione didn't know why it hurt so much, or why she cared. She'd persisted to tell herself that her and Draco simply co-existed, but in that moment, she realised that she'd begun to view him as a friend; he was there for her and she could talk to him easily. But now, that he didn't have the decency to acknowledge her in front of others, she knew he would be ashamed to be associated with somebody so far beneath him.

Holding back the tears, Hermione sought out Ron, who had just finished paying. Quickly shoving her way through the crowd, she realised Draco was lingering by the door.
"Hermione." He nodded curtly, and she stumbled for a response; opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Not wanting to give him the higher ground she simply nodded and followed Ron outside.
"What was that about? Malfoy's gone completely insane!" He howled laughing.

"Are you going back?" Ron asked, legs resting on the coffee table, letter in hand.
"Of course, Ronald, aren't you?" she asked appalled. Hermione was over the moon. Having witnessed the destruction first hand, she'd expected the school to stay closed for at least a year, but they were making provisions. Every sixth year had been offered to return to repeat their final year. It eased some of her worries, for she'd feared she would be thrown out into the work force without any NEWTS. Now she had the chance to become a healer.
"It wouldn't be the same. I think I'll just find a job somewhere," he shrugged, almost indifferently. Hermione was comforted by the fact that Harry had somewhat valued his education, and would be going back. Ron, having the same train of thought, added: "Harry owled last night to say he's been offered a position as an Auror, and won't be going back." Well, Hermione would be the sole seventh year student returning to Hogwarts, to make something of herself.

Don't forget about me. Came the smug comment.