Surprise! I hadn't given a date for the next chapter, so here it is!
I'm still on a break, though, I won't be resuming a regular rhythm just yet, but I wanted to at least post a chapter for July ;)
I'd also like to thank you for all the feedback you've given me on the last chapter, and also thank all the new readers who've joined us! It always means so much to me to see that you like my story.

Pansy felt her eyes fill with tears the moment Draco stepped out of her line of sight. Her heart was in her throat.

It was all her fault. She felt like she'd lost everything. How could things have gone so wrong? She felt drained, crushed, exhausted. Her world was falling apart.

Both her heart and head ached as she struggled to understand the astounding situation she was now in. Had she really lost everything in such a short span of time? How could she have believed in this feigned happiness?

She put one foot in front of the other, ready to catch up with her best friend and tell him how sorry she was, but Blaise grabbed her wrist to stop her. She turned a misty gaze towards him, confused by his gesture.

"What are you doing, I need to talk to him, I need to–"

"That's not a good idea, Pans'," he said darkly, shaking his head. "Let's not make it worse."

She pulled away from his grip and stared at him, the feeling of betrayal washing over her. She didn't understand anything any more, things were getting out of hand, she no longer felt as if she was in control.

"Worse? Are you really saying that to me, Blaise Zabini?"

"Pans'..."

"No! I refuse to believe that you don't want to make things better!

"And how do you plan to manage that? You saw, as well as I did, how angry Draco is! It would be pointless! He's as stubborn as you are. He'll refuse to speak to you until he's calmed down!"

She shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. It was surreal. She couldn't believe it was happening to her.

"We've ruined everything," she breathed, her sobs making the next statement barely above a whisper. "We've ruined everything."

She angrily wiped her cheeks and ran for the front door, without even looking up at the others. She grabbed her coat and stepped out into the cold winter air.

How had things gotten so out of hand?

This was all her fault. Everything was always her fault and she could never fix it. She needed some air. She wished she could sleep and not wake up again. She needed it all to stop. It had been going on for years, never stopping. She was out of breath from it all, her body and mind were screaming for an end.

Now that Draco had opened her eyes to everything, she realised how blinded she had been. She remembered Hermione's embarrassed looks, the meal she'd eaten with her head down and her attempts to talk. Each time, Pansy had cut her off excitedly by talking about their Christmas party.

Pansy walked a few yards towards the vegetable garden and sat down on a large tree trunk that bordered it. She conjured herself a packet of cigarettes with a wave of her wand and placed one between her lips once it was lit, but her heart continued to race. She could have smoked dozens of them if only it would have soothed the pain in her chest.

The angry, disappointed look Draco had given her haunted her with terrible guilt. She could see it in her mind, she could still feel his anger as he argued with her played on a loop in her mind. She'd felt so small, so insignificant at that moment. Incapable. Weak. A failure.

She looked up at the unlit window of her friend's room and wiped her tears with the end of her sleeve.

With another drag of her cigarette, Pansy wondered why she hadn't listened to Hermione?

She had felt that things were changing between them, that Granger was opening up and they were becoming friends, but she'd screwed it all up with her bloody selfishness.

The same selfishness that had led her to listen only to her own desires without opening her eyes when Granger showed every sign of refusing to take Draco in. That same selfishness that had made her so ecstatic at the idea of this catastrophic evening.

And Draco... She'd been thinking for days about all the progress he'd made, everything he'd achieved since his release from prison. Now she'd ruined everything.

How could she have been so stupid?

She was so disappointed, so angry. It was all her fault, isn't it? She had failed at the simple task of helping others. Should she have just kept to herself? Would everyone be better off? Did the others know she was no good? Were they too afraid to tell her?

Footsteps approached from her right and Pansy turned her head towards Theo. His face was closed off from any emotion, but she could see in his eyes that he was reluctant to come any closer.

She symbolically shifted on the trunk to let him know that he could join her. Once seated, he reached for her cigarette and placed it between his lips.

"Are you heading home?" Pansy asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat.

"They're tidying up for now. I think Harry wants us to do the night drive."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Theo shrugged, inhaling another drag.

Pansy had a lump in her stomach, she felt sick. She looked up at the sky, her bottom lip caught between her teeth

"Things will work out, Pans'."

She turned her head towards him. Theo was staring ahead, the cigarette between his lips. He looked serene.

"How do you manage to live?" she blurted out. " After all this, after all our failures and after everything you've been through."

He shrugged again.

"I survive. I enjoy myself. I keep hoping."

She laughed ironically. It sounded simple from his mouth.

"Enjoy yourself, Pans'. Enjoy what you've got, what you've fought for. Use it to give yourself the strength to carry on. Show them it was all a mistake, that you can keep fighting."

She swallowed.

"Go out, live. Fight. Enjoy."

oOo

The sun had not yet risen when Draco opened his eyes. He allowed himself time to recover before sitting up in bed.

The blankets slid down his naked torso as the events of the previous day came back to his mind. He ran a hand over his eyes and sighed.

The evening had been surreal. He could hardly believe his memories. Had it all really happened?

Had he really raised his voice at his friends? Had he defended Granger? Hermione? Had he really spent the evening chatting with her outside her room?

It all seemed so improbable, yet so pleasurable. He had regained some of his humanity, some of his personality. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.

It had felt good to finally act and raise his voice to all the intense emotions, anger, indignation, disgust. It had been so long since this had happened that their negativity hadn't even bothered him. He was satisfied to have been angry, satisfied to have finally acted and raised his voice. His voice.

He got out of bed and began his morning routine. He made his way to the bathroom and decided, for once, to take a bath. It was Christmas, after all.

As he brushed his teeth, he replayed his conversation with Hermione in his mind. Hermione. His perception of her had changed so much over the previous day. For several days, several weeks now, he had been trying to understand her, analysing her, scrutinising her choices, her words and her actions in the hope of getting to know her a little better. He'd been intrigued by her and curious about her for days.

However, with their discussion the day before... Things were changing. Drastically.

Hermione Granger was an interesting girl. In just a few months under the same roof, she had deconstructed the assumptions he'd made of her one by one.

Had she ever wanted to hurt him? No. He was certain of that now.

Was she just an insufferable know-it-all, as he had liked to think in his youth? No. He hadn't thought that for a long time.

Was she filthy, impure or whatever horror his father had planted in his head as a child? No. But he'd known that for a while.

Was she a perfect student with neat handwriting and hundreds of written reflections? No. Hermione Granger had messy handwriting and her hands were always covered in ink. He'd seen it on her shopping lists and over dinner after she got home from work.

Did she think she was above the rest? No. Quite the contrary, and he'd realised that recently.

Was she always followed by a long-haired white monster? No. Albert wasn't a monster at all, quite the opposite in fact.

Were she and her Gryffindor friends inseparable? No. No, far from it. He had seen how things had changed. Perhaps they had never been, only on the surface.

No. Draco no longer believed any of that. He knew her now, he knew her well.

Hermione Granger hated coffee.

Hermione Granger left cups of tea all over the house.

Hermione Granger didn't like peas.

Hermione Granger was messy.

Hermione Granger liked to garden.

Hermione Granger smoked. A lot.

Hermione Granger was right-handed.

Hermione Granger...

Yes, Draco could say that he knew her well. He'd watched her, lived with her and cooked for her. He had learned and understood who she really was. And that left him... speechless. He didn't know what to think. He didn't even know if he should be thinking about it.

When he got out of the bath, Draco had made up his mind. No. He wouldn't think about it. He would simply let things happen. Because it was simpler. Yes, it was simpler.

When he returned to his room, the pink basket had disappeared and he merely smiled. She was already awake, so he'd have to hurry up and get their breakfast ready. He entered the bedroom and automatically headed for his dressing room.

He froze when he opened it and saw the vast quantity of Blaise's clothes in it. He swallowed.

Something was wrong. This wasn't his life, it wasn't his life any more. He had lost control of everything. This dressing gown was perfect proof of that. It didn't look like him, it didn't belong to him. Those shirts, those trousers, those shoes... He didn't even like wearing them, he didn't like their texture, their colour. It just wasn't him.

He closed the doors abruptly and backed up to sit on his bed. Why did he only realise this now? It had been like this for months, it had been simple, it was his routine. Why was it bothering him now?

He ran a hand over his face.

He didn't need them any more. He didn't need all this, all this assistance. He was capable of looking after himself now. He was grateful for everything they had done for him, but... he didn't need them any more. He was fine on his own. He knew how to do all that, he'd learned.

His gaze fell on the pile of his old clothes on the only armchair in the room, then he looked down at the bag full of his belongings that Blaise had brought back from Azkaban all those months ago. It had his shoes, his jewellery and, above all, his wand.

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. This would be his new objective. He had to become independent, capable. If he could open this bag, he would be.

oOo

Hermione hadn't slept all night. The hours had seemed to last an eternity.

Insomnia was her oldest enemy. It hadn't knocked on her door for months. And this time the reason was simple: Hermione hadn't taken her potion, for fear that it wouldn't work properly. The effects had become even weaker, she was sure, to the point that she was waking up earlier and her sleep was restless. For now, she wasn't having nightmares, but she feared that her dark thoughts would come back to haunt her nights.

Additionally, the events of the previous day had shaken her enough for her sleep to be affected. Hermione had dreaded the possibility that her brain might take advantage of it and bring back a whole bunch of bad memories. She was afraid to sleep, afraid of reliving all her past troubles, afraid to close her eyes and see all their faces again.

So she found herself lying in the middle of her bed, brooding. She thought that remembering the events of Christmas Eve dinner would always be better than the memories of the war. She tried to convince herself of that, at least.

The only positive thing she could find in this sleepless night was the new motivation she had found for herself. It had been over three months since she had last changed the recipe to the dreamless sleep potion, thinking her efforts to improve it were in vain.

It was the Bowtruckle that broke the Graphorn's back, so to speak. Deciding enough was enough, she determined to resume her research as soon as the sun rose.

But when the sun finally rose and sleep deprivation got the better of her, she gave a plaintive groan and pulled one of her pillows over her face. She would have to wait until she was in better shape if she wanted conclusive results.

Later, when Hermione came down the last step of the staircase, she smelt the sweet scent of melted chocolate and sugar. Crepes. The scent effectively ended the bad mood she had been in since Draco had gone to bed. She smiled helplessly.

Albert noticed her arrival from his place by the fireplace and stood up, barking happily. Hermione had finally left the door to her bedroom ajar after suffering the squeaks of her dog when he heard Draco get up before her. She had to admit that she preferred him to go out, even if it was to meet Draco and get away from her, rather than have him stay and keep her awake. As catastrophic as her sleep had been for some time.

After a few days, Albert even began sleeping in the living room, on the large carpet facing the fireplace. She tried to convince herself that it wasn't serious, that she could get over missing him in his absence.

"Hi, there," she said in a whisper.

She crouched down beside him and snuggled up to him for a few moments. She had missed him during the night. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. A lot had changed recently. Perhaps too much. But Hermione pushed the thought to the back of her mind, she didn't need that. She didn't want to think about it.

She straightened up and entered the kitchen, Albert on her heels.

She immediately met Draco's eyes, who had turned when he heard her coming. He had put on a pink-checked apron that clashed with the rest of his outfit and made Hermione laugh. He frowned as he looked down at his body, then winced.

"It's all I could find," he justified.

"It's lovely. Suits you," she replied before biting her lower lip to stop herself from giggling again.

Although he seemed embarrassed by this remark, Draco remained silent and turned back to the hobs. Hermione took the opportunity to have a look at what he was cooking and confirmed that he was indeed preparing the crepes they had talked about the day before.

But that wasn't all. The counter was covered in a heap of breakfast snacks, all of which seemed to have been carefully prepared by the apprentice chef: Eggs, bacon, beans, bread, jam, scones... Draco had concocted what was becoming one of his famous breakfasts. He had made it several Sundays in a row, when Hermione took advantage of the weekend to spend more time in bed with a book.

She assumed that he was also taking advantage of this to cook for longer.

She sat down on a high stool and waited in silence for the crepes to finish cooking. She didn't dare start the kingly feast that was unfolding before her, without the man who had prepared it being seated in turn. So, she contented herself with watching him turn the crepes over and place them on a plate to her right.

He seemed surprised that she hadn't started eating when he put the full plate down with the rest of the breakfast. However, he remained silent and took a seat opposite her. And just as she was expecting him to start eating, he opened one of the drawers of the kitchen island, took out a piece of parchment and handed it to her.

She frowned as she picked it up. It was a letter addressed to her. Then everything became clear as she read it. The crepes could wait a little longer.

Hermione,

I don't know what to say about what happened. I'm trying to sort things out and understand each point of view, despite the fact that I've been away for so long. Maybe I'm not the best person to interfere, but I dare to hope that being external to the situation can help. I'm still so sorry, if you only knew how much I want to make it up to you.

Malfoy was right to lose his temper, I think it woke everyone up. Parkinson spent the rest of the evening out with Theo. She was still crying when she left. Harry and Zabini had a long chat while we were clearing up the kitchen. I think Harry blames himself. All the way home he kept saying he was going to change things, that he'd give everything he had to support you. Zabini was very thoughtful. I hardly know him, but he seemed troubled. It was a strange evening.

I wish I could be there for you, Hermione. I don't know how and I don't know if you'll accept, but I'm here. I'm here and I won't leave again, I promise.

I don't know if you'll answer me, but if you do, know that I'll be able to answer you. I bought a raven in a French pet shop. His name is Snape, I thought it was a fun tribute.

Lots of love to you,

Ginny

Hermione put the letter down, perplexed. She was both touched that Ginny had left her this message—unlike the others who had left without saying anything—and still angry with her.

She looked up at Draco, who was busy spreading melted chocolate on a crepe.

"Did you read it?" she asked out of curiosity.

He looked up at her and shook his head. Hermione nodded, not surprised at her housemate's lack of eloquence.

Things had changed between them. She felt like she'd found an ally, a friend. It was so different from her relationship with the others. It was natural, it was calm, it was peaceful. There were no unspoken words, no misplaced worries or sideways glances that suggested a lack of trust. She felt at ease with him.

Draco had resumed his task and she watched him for a few seconds, deep in thought.

She was still undeniably angry with Ginny. It had been so many years since they had seen each other... They had both changed a lot. Ginny was practically a stranger. What if they had nothing left in common? What if the distance had erased everything from their friendship?

Hermione bit her lip and chided herself for thinking like that. She wouldn't get very far with that kind of thinking. But did she want to?

She promised herself she'd think about it, make an effort. One day.

She reached for the teapot and poured herself a cup. For now, she would enjoy the peace and quiet.

And that's it! See you in August!
Thanks to Acciobraincells and rapunzerelli for their amazing work and help.
Don't forget to comment and follow the story to support me ;)