She pushed open the door with as much aggravation that she could muster, which transpired to be nothing more than a feeble shoulder shove. She leaned against the closed door, her head up and eyes closed counting to ten with as even breaths as she could manage. She wouldn't fall apart. Not yet. Not with so much left to do.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't the Gryffindor princess herself? I was wondering when you'd show your face around here'

Or perhaps she would.

That voice. Her eyes still shut she tried to place it. Familiar, but nearly forgotten. Memories tugged at the corners of her mind, snippets of a green and silver house tie, a white ferret bouncing in the court yard, a little boy using slanders he couldn't fully comprehend. The last time she had seen him – a young man, lost, tormented – walking across the rubble to his parents, his silver eyes turning back for just a second.

'Granger?'

Hermione shook her head. No. Not now.

Malfoy.

She opened her eyes. There he was, sitting at her desk like he owned it. If she had any energy left she'd blast him right off, but instead she glared at him.

He was taller, broader. His hair still that platinum blonde but cut short now. He stood straight, peering at her over his nose. He looked different, but his expression was the same. Looks like prison doesn't get rid of entitlement, she thought.

His eyes were still bright and focused – full of an intelligence Hermione had always secretly reminded her of herself. For a second she almost felt guilty for not finding out what had happened to him, but a stubborn bitterness bore its way into her. She remembered the ceiling of the Malfoy mansion, dark and glittering through the tears in her eyes. A pain that shuddered through her body so intense and relentless she still woke up in sweats. His face, peering over from the mantelpiece, unyielding. She was suddenly very aware of the 'Mudblood' scar on her arm, tucked just under the baby boy in nestled there. He had been a boy, she had been a girl and it felt like a million years had passed - but she couldn't help the past scratching at her mind.

'Why are you here Malfoy?'

He stood up and strode his long legs towards her casually. As it he got closer his gray eyes narrowed at the baby, mainly at his beautiful blonde locks.

'Well, a child that has escaped that nasty Weasley hair, I'd call that a miracle, won't you?'

His eyebrow raised at her and he smirked. It was a game she remembered, his taunts and jibes. But she wasn't playing. She scooted past him and slumped down into her chair. The baby stirred and she hushed him.

'He's not Ron's.' she said still looking down at him. She raised tired eyes to look back at Draco. He looked full of energy, almost buzzing. It was worrying. She glanced at her desk, a mosaic of different papers, scrolls, books that she didn't recognize. She attempted to scan a few but her eyelids where too heavy.

'I was going to say,' he drooled on, moving closer again and leaning on the desk opposite her, ' Didn't think the Weasle had it in him. Bet you broke the gingers heart, running off with some other man and...'

'Just shut it Malfoy.' Hermione snapped. The baby woke and started to drizzle, she tried to hush him and put her little finger in his mouth to suckle on. This seemed to calm him.

She stared at him again. He was growing heavy, her arms were tired and her injured hand was sore. But she didn't want to put him down. His little mouth pouting around her finger and his cherub face blotchy. He looked tired, fed up and about to wail again at any second. She rocked him slowly.

'He's not mine..' she breathed out. 'I...I found him, he was...crying.' She shook her head, avoiding eye contact with the ferret in the room. Her eyes watered more. No. She told herself. Not here. Not in front of this man. The baby drifted off back to sleep and she moved him onto her chest. He clung to her jumper like a monkey and instinctively she cupped the back of his head and rubbed in gently.

She finally looked up. Malfoy was staring at her as though he was actually seeing her for the first time since entering the room. She could feel his eyes burning into every bit of her, taking in every part of her disheveled broken appearance. And for a second she saw something she would never have expected to see in a Malfoy's eyes. Pity.

She felt sick. Pity from a Malfoy, from a man who had spent the last 4 years in prison. She didn't want that. He could stick his pity up his arse.

'Take a picture Malfoy it will last longer.'

Slowly he leaned back from the desk and she was happy for the distance. She watched him as he paced around the room slowly in silence. Finally he turned back to her.

'The Ministry needed experts in Dark Magic. Kinglsey offered me a deal. Prove the virus is of magical origin... and I'm so close, I'm certain it is.'

Hermione held her breath. It was all too much. Her vision blurred.

' You mean... we did this?' she whispered. She hoped she had misunderstood, but when he looked her right in the eye and nodded she knew it must be true. She couldn't take it anymore. She ripped apart right there.

Her family - dead. Gone forever. Because of the world that she had left them behind for, the world she loved more. All she could see were the hospital corridors, filled with the dammed and dying, blood soaked and sputtering. The smell embedded into her clothes. She looked down at the grimy cuffs of her jumper and stared. She could feel her breaths becoming quicker and shallower.

'Granger?'

She looked up at him, his mouth still slightly ajar as though he was about to say something else.

'Don't'. She said, barely a whisper, cracked and broken. 'Please, don't.' His eyes cut into her. He was merciless.

'Tell me what happened.' it was almost a demand.

She shook her head. His eyes looked over her hand, still bloody and wrapped in a tea towel. He took another step forward.

'Tell me Granger.' His gray eyes had gone dark. They were commanding, scary, and it was all that she could see.

'Everyone's dead. Everything's gone.' The words were scratchy as they racked from her throat. And the floodgates opened.

She sobbed.

The baby woke and she sobbed some more. She tired to stop but she couldn't, she was drowning. The agony of everything she had been holding back overwhelmed her and she burned with grief.

At some point she heard a door shut and she assumed he had left but she didn't care.

She couldn't think anymore.