"I know this might seem a bit personal, but somehow I don't feel weird sharing this with you," he paused, while inhaling some smoke, "I've never felt warmth… It's stupid."

"I don't think it is," Malfoy paused, "You can tell me."

"I feel like nobody really likes me, and usually I don't mind. I always find things to do to distract myself from it, but sometimes I feel it so strongly. For instance, today. Even if nobody directly told me that they hated me or don't like having me around, I can feel it," Neville passed him the joint, "I noticed that people never really listen to me when I talk. They're always occupied with something else. They're either drawing, looking elsewhere, or seem distracted. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe talking about plants or astrology isn't interesting and that it's not about them not listening but more of what I'm talking about…but, it's just… Can I have a hit?" Malfoy passed him the joint, "I usually always try to talk about things I know others are interested in, but then I feel like I'm only living to please others, and it's fucked up when they still don't listen so I don't know what to do."

Our Slytherin knew that feeling all too well, even though his situation was worse. Even the simple gesture of smiling earned him death threats or was enough to get him kicked out of class. Draco walked around feeling constantly limited. He had an ocean's worth of thoughts but could only express them to the degree where they could fill a tiny plastic cup's worth. If he spilled even an extra drop, the world would go ballistic on him. The only person he could share at least half of the cruel ocean of thoughts in him was Theo and Granger, a quarter. There was his mother too of course, but he never really shared anything with her through words. They always had a more distinct connection, where a simple exchange of looks could share the entirety of their inner conflict with each other.

But everyone had their limit of how much they could take from the outside world and he could see that this was Neville's, "I'll listen."

Two very simple words, but they meant so much to our lost Gryffindor. It's always the ones we least expect, "You don't have to. I know you have bigger worries than my stupid feelings."

Draco looked at the sky, "What could be said of a person's character if Venus is in Gemini?"

Neville smiled at him. Draco certainly became good at making people go on their lengthy tirades.

…

Theo nervously waited in front of Harry's door. He didn't know how to present the cookies to him. All the ways he had come up with seemed cringe to death. Like how was he going to hand him the cookies? It seemed impossible. He wished that grown-ups still believed in Santa so that he could just leave it in front of his door and write "from Santa" on the packaging. He also thought of just leaving it there in a box, but he knew that Harry would be suspicious about it and probably not eat it since he faced quite an amount of people wanting to kill or poison him. It would be rather funny if after avoiding every possible killing machine sent his way, the 'Boy Who Lived' died by an innocent poisoned cookie. Now that would be a fucking tragedy. But why was it also the only way Theo could imagine Harry dying? Even in most of history the greatest warriors always died because of the dumbest reasons.

Fuck it.

He knocked on that damn door.

He could feel sweat trickle down his forehead as he waited those ten seconds that felt like fifty-five lifetimes.

"Theo?" Harry opened the door, with wet hair, only a pair of shorts, and a naked upper body. Theo quickly looked at the side and threw the cookies at his chest before walking out of there like a mom who was trying to shed a couple of pounds by walking as if she was running, "Theo, where are you going?"

Theo felt so embarrassed. He wanted to die.

Harry picked the little sachet of cookies from the ground, and started laughing, "What?"

He opened the little pouch and let the mouth-watering scent of freshly baked cookies infiltrate his nostrils. He took a bite and he was quite surprised at how familiar they tasted. He swore he had eaten cookies exactly like these before.

Theo came back into his room and started pacing around like a maniac, "What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. WHAT…"

Draco, who had just gone on a walk by the lake to collect some new rocks for him, entered the room while Theo repeated the same three words in distress like a skilled parrot. He quickly walked out of the room to let Theo have some time alone since he knew that he preferred processing things by himself and talking with him afterward. He decided to walk back to the lake to find some more rocks because from the level of distress he showed it seemed like Theo would need at least ten of them to go through this evening.

…

After seeing Seamus in that maniac state two days ago it made it easier for her to process that he not only tortured Draco but was also one of the people who tried to drown him. Seamus was still held in the interrogation room since he hadn't revealed who the other two people were. Somehow he also managed to not fall under the effect of Veritaserum which was quite impressive but it made her wonder about what else he might have done. Even trained Aurors couldn't fight the effects of Veritaserum that easily.

She decided to venture out on a walk to process everything. She walked by the lake to the spot where she had laid down with Draco after he had saved her from drowning. She liked this spot, but there was still the thought of what Ron had done in the back of her mind. It was like that annoying mosquito that constantly flies around your ear when you're about to sleep. She didn't feel anger towards him, but rather disappointment. The feeling was easier to handle because it wasn't the first time she had experienced it when it came to him. It was a feeling fourteen-year-old Hermione knew quite well when she had cried in the Prefect's bathroom for an entire night with her periwinkle dress torn to threads after their argument in the Yule Ball. What an idiot he was. But who thought he could be so malicious. There it was again, the disappointment turning itself into boiling anger. She quickly took some calming breaths while looking at the peaceful flow of the river and did that until she no longer felt that rising feeling of frustration in her chest.

That was in the past. Ron was no longer here and he wasn't her problem anymore. She had to accept that nothing ever stayed the same and whether people changed or not, it wasn't her problem. She was only responsible for herself and no matter how much she tried to help a person be better, it would never have an effect if that person didn't decide for themselves.

She had to accept people's boundaries and that there was only so much she could do.

Just like she knew that a hug could help Malfoy feel better, but no matter how right about it she was it didn't matter unless he decided to let go of his boundaries and accept her help.

As Draco scouted around the grounds for some rocks, he saw Hermione sitting by herself from a distance. She was the person he least wanted to see at this moment since leaving her like that in the hallway the other day was eating him away. He just remembered going blank after seeing Seamus and how Mcgonnogal treated him. He was so used to elders treating him like complete dirt that he almost felt like he was malfunctioning when Mcgonnogal consoled him in an almost mother-like way. Not that anyone could ever compare to Narcissa. And then Hermione kept on insisting was just way over his limit, that he panicked and had to leave. He didn't want her to witness him having a panic attack. He hated how vulnerable it made him look even if he had allowed himself to stare at her in class even after she had noticed. He had to take things slow. He knew that if he retracted back to his shell Hermione would break her way into them and that there was no escaping her anymore.

Or maybe he was completely delusional and she would try to knock on his walls a couple of times before she gave up and never sought him again. But again, she was the stubborn type. But even let's suppose that she tried to come after him, would it be because she was Hermione, the 'Most Stubborn Woman Alive' or because she cared?

But again, he didn't want to stay in this darkness forever. He always wanted to stay in that almost dreamlike state that was last weekend. He wanted to feel free like that again. He could see himself laying in bed with her forever and not worrying about anything, but unfortunately, the world was a fucked up place to have such dreams. This was the land of suffering where happy almost euphoric moments were brief and sad ones dominant.

There was one thing about sadness that he couldn't complain about though, it brought him solace. He has always been so overexposed to unpleasant experiences and moments that happy moments didn't seem normal to him. The odds were as rare as it was to spot Theo without a sweet treat in his hand.

He wasn't going to bring up anything about last time. He frankly didn't want to talk about any of it and wished to engage in a more lighthearted conversation.

"A rather interesting place to claim as a spot," Draco quipped as he sat next to her. Hermione turned around and felt a bit conflicted when she compared his demeanor to how he was when they parted last time.

"I find it quite fitting, actually."

"Ah, well let's consider another pair of perfectly elf-made shoes ruined then," the corner of his lips curled into a gentle smirk.

It could only be considered human for her genius mind to not be on top of its game at all times, "Huh?"

"I suppose you're not quite familiar with dark humor…or of course, there is the possibility that I said something way beyond the capacity of the brightest witch of her age," He stole a glance at her which created an odd sensation in his chest as he studied how the moon's gentle glow caressed her features. The moonlight took its place in her eyes, making them shine like stars and he found himself unable to look away. Yet, the pragmatic zone of his mind reclaimed its hold, manifesting as a tangible pressure pushing his head toward the river's direction.

Hermione scoffed, running a hand through her hair although she wanted him to have done it. The real reason she was out here, although she didn't want to admit it, was that it had been difficult to sleep without him. She had gotten quite used to the little spot she had made herself on his lap and the way his fingers traced her hair that laying her head in a blank, boring pillow now felt like resting on the cold marble. That's the price of experiencing such euphoria; you can never forget how it made you feel and almost nothing you do when you're 'sober' grants you that feeling. So, is it worth reaching the peak knowing you might never feel like that again or never finding out how it feels to spare yourself from feeling lost without it? "No, it's not that. I've just very recently decided not to use the full capacity of my genius on certain things."

"How unfortunate. My words are hardly the kind your mind would want to overlook," she smiled. As corny as it was, she did, "So, you agree?"

"When did whether I agree become of significance to you?" He had a momentary lapse, and she did not spare any mercy. He relished it, "But, I can't say I'm surprised that the possibility of your words being ridiculous didn't cross your mind."

"And why is that?" he said.

"You know exactly why," she made a face. He wanted to laugh, but he kept his composure. He almost felt uneasy at how easily she breached through his walls or at least sent signals forcing him to strengthen them. For most, it was easy to dodge and keep his stillness, but with her, not anymore. The longer he spent with her, the weaker his barriers got. He couldn't tell if he liked it, but wanting to spend most of his time with her should give him a couple of hints.

"I have no clue of what you're talking about," he liked playing these games. Before he thought that dragging out banter was a waste of time, but he realized how things can change with the right company.

"Malfoy having no clue about a topic? Well I guess I'm not surprised, you always did come in second after me in our finals," honestly it was what had allowed Hermione to sleep at night during those seven years and no matter how horrible he used to make her feel because of her blood status it allowed her to keep going. How can someone 'inferior' be better at school than someone who saw himself as superior? That's what she would ask herself when her ego would step in the way, but then of course the rather senseless and over-thinker part of her mind would take over and she would join his belief making her enter a world of self-hatred and shame.

"I did," his carefree tone was enough to make her forget about it all. It was just a stupid childish rivalry to make them secure in themselves, but what was the point? Look at them now. Broken anyway, but having him there made her feel less shattered. The wounds, the scars, the sadness, everything was still there but when he was around it felt like he painted her bubble of gray in pink. It was a color she associated with her childhood, the color of her bedroom wallpaper until she turned eleven, and fantasy. His presence made the world feel lighter and that was all she needed.

"Isn't the inner younger version of yourself kicking the air right now for what you just openly admitted?" she mused.

"I wouldn't know. That part of me is locked away in a place I don't think I could ever reach."

"Do you miss him?" she watched as he looked away for quite some time.

"Some parts of him," he was glad that he had grown out of the overly prejudiced and unexposed to the real world self, but he wished he hadn't seen such darkness as well. It was too much exposure in such a slight time frame that even thinking about it made him feel dizzy. If he were to characterize his whole life, he would say that it was pretty much like a cold, straight line. Then, throughout his fifth year, he could feel the rollercoaster starting to go up, higher and higher and he felt right at the top in the summer before his sixth year. The moment he got the mark he sensed the roller coaster embark on its downfall and everything happened so quickly after that. Each day when his Death Eater duties would come to an end he would think that what he had seen that day would be the epitome of darkness, but the following day would always prove him wrong. It got to a point where he would stop telling himself that at night, which helped him numb out to the occurings of the next day. He knew that he might've seemed careless in Narcissa's eyes, but that was the only thing that kept him alive.

How did he go from that to sitting next to her in nothing but stillness? It made him feel like an imposter, but he knew that he had to get out of this mindset. He had to live his life in the present and stop comparing his situation to before because anything other than now was just an illusion. It wasn't there anymore.

But even when he told this to himself, he could feel his mind trying to find counterarguments to his words. Even if it wasn't visibly there, he could still feel it in his chest. The goddamn fucking chest. Why did it have to keep everything in it, or was it just a reflection of himself? Was it him keeping them instead? Of course, it was him, he had control over his mind. Or maybe depending on occlumency to save himself, and considering that he was pretty good at it since he had always kept the dark lord away from the things he wanted hidden, made him believe that he had complete control of his mind. But maybe he was wrong, and that's why he kept those memories and feelings in his chest because it made him who he was. Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy. Maybe he was afraid to forget because that was the only thing he knew about himself. There was a certain fear that came with anonymity, but its bliss was also something to consider.

He wanted to throw himself into the unknown, and not know anything about himself or not calculate all of the possible outcomes that might happen. He wanted to be present right here without thinking about anything else. He wished nothing more but for his mind to feel like water at night, completely still while he absorbed the reflection of the stars. He wanted to absorb everything about the woman next to her.

Even though she wondered what those parts might be, she wanted him to say them in his own time. Time, what a frustrating, but beautiful concept. Even though most of the time she thought of it as the former.

She extended her hand towards his and held it. He glanced at their connected hands, a hint of surprise in his eyes, and felt pulled back to when for the first time she had held his hand to apparate them to the movie theater. He gave her hand a light squeeze before intertwining their fingers.

Had this been the key to happiness all this time? Such fools they were.

…

Theo had gone back to the kitchen for his second-day streak, and Luna happened to be there again. He would never have considered her as the baking type. In general, he could always tell between the ones who could bake and the ones who couldn't even crack an egg properly. This is purely without considering the shades of gray. There were obviously people who could cook at least an egg or the ones who would present themselves like they couldn't even though they could open a five-star restaurant leaving people to faint at how delicious the meals they would prepare would be.

So to say, Harry was one thousand percent the type to not be able to crack an egg properly even with the help of his wand.

Hermione didn't seem like she cooked at all, but if anyone were to challenge her, he was confident that she would be able to cook a good meal, or it could turn out disastrous but no one in their right mind would ever tell her so. He did not want to listen to two hundred hours of her firing every single argument into trying to convince him that his mouth palate was at fault and her meal was nothing but pure excellence.

Luna seemed like she could make good French toast or cook snails pretty well. That's it.

Now Draco was exactly the type that would never admit that he enjoyed cooking when his food could literally make you feel like you might start flying into another galaxy. He had witnessed it after begging him to cook for almost a decade for his fifteenth birthday. The taste of the cake and pancakes he had made him lived in his mouth palette still to this day. It was like a holy grail of tastes, and unfortunately, he had never tasted it again. But one thing to note was that the person had to be someone he cared a lot for. He would never do it for anyone else.

When Voldemort had locked Narcissa up in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, Theo would watch Draco through the mirror as he conjured his room into a kitchen to cook Narcissa's favorite meals to cheer her up. She loved a cherry parfait with coconut-scented granola for breakfast. That's how Theo knew it was for her. He would cast a charm to make it look like was carrying a napkin and descend to the dungeons.

"Did Harry like them?" Luna asked as she worked on the churro batter.

Theo's fear before descending to the kitchen had come true. He had secretly hoped she wouldn't ask. "I don't know, I was kind of in a hurry when I gave them to him."

"Oh, we can prepare another batch to give him if you'd like?" she offered.

"NO!"

Luna remained unperturbed by his sudden outburst, "Sorry… I don't know why it came out like that. I mean that I think it's fine."

"Oh, okay," Luna replied casually, reaching for a carton of eggs."Do you prefer frying the churros or eating it raw?"

"I actually never tried it raw. Maybe we can do half-half?" Theo suggested.

"Sure."

With a flick of his wand, he conjured another bowl and divided the batter into two before grabbing a spoon and digging in. The batter tasted like everything he had imagined—cinnamony, sugary, heaven. "Magnificent," he exclaimed, offering Luna a spoon.

"I think it could use a bit more cinnamon, don't you think?" she suggested. He tried another spoonful, "Maybe a dash or two," Luna nodded, adding two dashes and mixing it in, "I think this is it," Theo tasted it again, "Ah, yes. This is better."

She started frying them, while Theo conjured the table into a comfy couch and ate the batter. Immersed in his thoughts about this morning the batter almost vanished as he ate mindlessly. Even though the batter was now gone, there was something comforting about this whole late-night ordeal. It reminded him of when he was younger. He would always sneak into the kitchens to hang out with his nanny because that was the only motherly figure he could cling to. She had an affinity for sweets and would spend most of the time cooking, that's how he had found his passion for pastries and baking. Sitting there in silence, as he watched Luna fry the churros, made him feel warm once more.

"Do you know how to make ice cream?" he asked.

She was almost finished frying the churros, "It's actually what I'm best at."

"Really? What flavor?"

"Blueberry pumpkin."

"What? I've never heard of that flavor before," Theo remarked. Even though the pairing was odd, it didn't seem like it would taste bad, "Do you know how to make pistachio flavor?"

"I've never tried, but we can," She placed the freshly fried churros on a plate covered with napkins to absorb the excess oil and brought it to him, "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, of course," he scooted to the side. Theo tried to be present and savor each and every bite as he dipped the churros in chocolate sauce.

…

As Draco slowly opened the bedroom door, Theo rounded the corner and strolled towards their room, "Ah, caught you!" Theo quipped, causing Draco to startle momentarily.

"Do you really think I wouldn't catch you sneaking in after a one-night stand?" Theo teased, as they entered the room. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, anyone would jump in at the opportunity to collect rocks at 2 a.m. in the freezing weather," he retorted, reaching into his pocket and placing the rocks on Theo's table.

"Oh," Theo felt like a dick.

"The same could be said for you though. Why are you back so late?" Draco arched an eyebrow, awaiting an explanation as if he were a parent who had been up all night waiting to deliver a five-hour monologue to their child on the perils of staying out late.

"Ha, well I also didn't come empty-handed," He lent him the pistachio ice cream that he had sealed in a heart-shaped box–Draco's favorite flavor.

"What's this? Confused your lovers?" Draco mused.

"As if I would ever give you a chance," Theo lazily rolled his eyes, and plopped down on his bed, "Now, go on, open it, or do you need a hundred-step manual to do so?"

"Hilarious," Draco deadpanned and opened the box. The moment he lifted the lid, the strong aroma of pistachio wafted out, leaving him in awe, "Where did you get this?"

"I made it."

He immediately shut the box, "It's laced with poison isn't it."

Theo laughed like a high-society woman sipping tea at a royal gathering, "How did you know?" his tone drizzled with sarcasm.

"Talent," he reopened the lid and took out the container of ice cream before conjuring two spoons and handing one to him.

Between spoonfuls of ice cream, Theo inquired, "I saw you talking to Neville earlier. How did such a friendship or shall I say companionship arise?"

"He offered me a joint."

Theo nearly choked on his ice cream. "I knew that plant obsession of his wasn't so naive! Would you look at Neville," he laughed, "was it quality weed?"

"It was… decent," Draco admitted.

"Are you still high?" Theo asked.

"No, I only took two hits," Draco wasn't in the mood to get high. He had only indulged in it for the overall ambiance.

"What did you guys even talk about?" Theo tried to imagine what they would share with one another.

"Nothing much. His thoughts on this year, the war…"

Theo knew he wasn't sharing the full truth, but he also trusted Draco enough to know that it probably wasn't because of not wanting to tell him but more to preserve what Neville might have shared with him, which made Theo appreciate Draco more. He knew that Draco would never reveal his secrets to anyone, but some reassurance of that fact felt comforting.

…

The time for the most awaited therapy session had arrived. What would happen this time? Would they skip? Would she go off on a tangent about the process of coffee making? Or on how to train a dragon? Who knows? He wouldn't be surprised if she gave him a lecture on sex ed either. Everything was possible. The extension of her speech array was as limitless as the universe.

They both stepped foot in the room simultaneously. Hermione hadn't thought about her therapy partner for some time now. She tried to recall what she had talked about last time she was there… oh right. She pinched the bridge of her nose and cringed at herself for a moment before taking a seat.

Draco didn't bother with taking a seat; upon entering, he conjured the chair into a rug and lay down on it.

Hermione knew that all her progress had likely been lost by skipping the sessions twice and that no matter what she did he would never talk to her again. So was it worth pushing or should she stay silent for a moment to let him curse at her as much as he wanted? Then again he didn't seem like the type to do that. Had he even heard her enter? She pushed her chair backward until it made a loud squeaking sound enough for him to hear.

Even though Draco had previously never really tried to dive into a character analysis when it came to his therapy partner, he decided to give it a shot. He wanted to approach her in a less judgmental way. He didn't know what she was going through or how much the war had affected her, but he was sure that under all that talking lay a big issue. It could be a coping mechanism to cover up her trauma so that the real issues would never have a chance to come up to the surface. Or she wanted to feel seen or heard. Someone who is truly confident in themselves wouldn't need to prove anything to others, hence usually are the ones who talk less. These were only theories of course, but he decided that he would try to be kinder to her like Theo and Hermione were to him, despite knowing all the terrible things he had done.

"How are you?" He said.

Hermione, unsure whether she was in a dream, replied, "What?"

He knew what he had said was pretty loud and clear. Had no one asked her that in some time? "How are you feeling?" he clarified.

A small smile crept up on her lips. Wow. Maybe taking some time off was actually a good idea. It made sense. She had chased him too much and distancing herself had maybe attracted him to her. Or, he might have been jesting, giving her false hope, with no intention of responding for the remainder of the session after she had replied. These many assumptions at any given thing were such a bad habit of hers.

Yes, it's good to be careful or wake of things, but she was terrible at getting a grip on finding some balance. Yet, she wasn't even sure she was familiar with the term. What was balance after all? Once she wanted something, she would try to attain it with every fiber of her being and disregard everything else in her life until she accomplished her goal.

It wasn't a good way of doing things if she wanted to keep connections in her life. Many people tended to reach out once, or twice, but then just abandon her, except for Harry and Ron… But she wasn't like that to others. She understood that she wasn't most people's priority hence being ignored or not being able to hang out was a given and she would wait for them. However, she realized that most wouldn't reciprocate that patience. They would forget about her in time. She wondered why time and distance seemed to erode their feelings if they truly cared for her. If love decreases through life's givens then is it love to begin with? Shouldn't true love prevail? Then she assumed that those people's love was perhaps situational and temporary. And did she want to settle for that kind? No. She wanted unconditional love and the only two people whom she had truly received it were her mother and Harry.

"I'm…" How was she feeling? Definitely much better… She knew that because she didn't want to die today. She was looking forward to this evening. She and Ginny are planning to run away to Hogsmeade to eat churros and maybe go to London to watch a movie. She wanted to walk with her by the river. There was nothing better than going on an evening walk with a stomach filled with sweets and popcorn after watching a mind-altering movie and trying to decipher all the plot holes together. It was one of her favorite traditions to do with Ginny after she had introduced her to action movies when she was thirteen, "starting to feel less lost."

"What made you lost?"

Wow, Hermione was wrong. He was trying more. She enjoyed it.

She knew the beginning of her downfall. It was the moment after she had obliviated her parents. Her father didn't matter to her that much, but the way her mother had looked at her as if she had seen her for the first time. It crushed her. In her eyes, she was no longer her daughter, and that realization was enough to make her lose sight of her own identity.

"Losing all connection with my mom."

Her words were nothing but familiar.

"I know how that feels… She's always the first person you go to regardless of whether it's something good or bad, but then she can't be there anymore because of something you've done and you realize you have only yourself to rely on. You're burdened with self-hatred, but you must find a way forward because doing nothing would get you both killed."

How accurately he described her situation scared her. Had he obliviated his mother as well? "I miss my mom so much. She had to go through so much because of me."

Draco twirled with the stone Hermione had given her, "I miss her too. I still don't understand how she kept a smile through all the torment my father caused her. If it wasn't for me, she could've lived a great life, traveling, and dating whoever she wanted. She wouldn't have a reason to come back and I despise being that reason."

Even though delayed, Hermione could say that after such a personal revelation the actual purpose of the therapy sessions was finally coming into play and nothing brought her greater joy than this.

She wasn't going to thank him for opening up because it would remind him of the reality of what these sessions were about so she just let go and trusted wherever the conversation would lead.

"Now that you say it like that," she began, her voice thoughtful and analytical, "I can't help but think the same. I reckon I'm the only reason my mom stuck around was for me. They always argued and she always treated my mom horribly but she always did everything to shield me from this part of their relationship. I'm aware my mother isn't content with him. I believe she's hesitant to pursue a divorce because she doesn't want to break apart the family she's invested two decades of her life to preserve. Which makes sense. I don't know if I would have the courage to do so. Twenty years seems like a lifetime."

Divorce. It was very uncommon for wizarding folk to get a divorce so he suspected that she was either a half-blood or muggle-born, "Yet, we're close to twenty and it felt like it went by in the blink of an eye."

"I guess so," she agreed. He was a quite pleasant conversationalist when he engaged.

"What helped you feel less lost?" he wondered.

"It's not really a 'what,' but more of a 'who,' I think," she replied.

"What did they do then?" Draco asked.

"They made me feel warm again," she answered, her cheeks taking on a subtle rosy hue as she spoke.

"How? By giving you an extra-stuffed blanket?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes, retorting, "Yes, that's exactly what happened. I also received some fuzzy socks and a couple of new sweaters, and, voila, I suddenly came back to my senses."

"Ah, that's quite a tip you know. I might have to get some myself. What do you reckon is the success rate?"

"Hmm," she considered playfully, "Nothing below a hundred of course. Success is undeniably guaranteed."

"Quite the salesman you are. I have been influenced to purchase this 'back to the senses' treatment package."

"Woman," she corrected him.

"Oh, my sincere apologies," he replied with mock humility.

"I'll forgive you for this one time."

"Thank you. I feel indebted to you."

"Alright then, I won't pass up on this opportunity. I'll only grant you forgiveness if you bring this witty and talkative self of yours next time," she proposed.

"Deal."

…

Despite replaying her conversation with her therapy partner over and over in her head at night she somehow woke up relatively early this morning. Enough for her to do her full skincare routine, take a shower, and have breakfast.

As Hermione strolled towards the Great Hall, the crisp morning air colliding with her moisturized face felt nice. She felt clean and almost healthy again.

Theo called her over to the Slytherin table where he sat with Draco.

"Morning," she greeted the boys with a warm smile, noticing that Draco, despite his composed demeanor, was genuinely pleased to see her.

"Here you go," Theo handed her a sachet filled with churros.

"What's this?" she opened it suspiciously, raising an eyebrow momentarily at the sight of at least ten churros. "Did you perhaps add an illicit ingredient to these?"

"What is it with you two, always suspecting I'm drugging the sweets I give you? I prepared these all night for you, and this is how you treat me?" His acting was so realistic that Hermione couldn't tell if he was being serious.

His pending disappointment was confirmed when he got up and started walking away.

"Wait, Theo! I was joking!" Draco intervened, placing a restraining hand on her wrist.

"Don't take him seriously. He wants you to run after him," Draco reassured her.

"Malfoy, he looked hurt. I should still go check on him," Hermione insisted, attempting to rise, but Draco held her back.

He turned towards where Theo had gone, "Look."

Theo had sat next to Luna and they were laughing about something. When Theo noticed Hermione looking in his direction, he cheekily flipped her off, eliciting an eye roll from her.

Draco let go of her wrist and she opened the sachet again, scoffing, "I love how he thought I could eat all this for breakfast."

"I never understood his appetite," Draco admitted.

"Yeah," she smiled, reaching for a croissant. It felt somewhat unusual being alone with Draco amid a sizable audience. However, the looks they got didn't seem to bother them.

She was unusually silent today and seemed like her mind was elsewhere, "What are you thinking about?"

"Not much," she replied, although it was a blatant lie. She kept going back to how much she related to the way her therapy partner explained the conflicting emotions regarding his mother during the war. It made her feel less isolated in her struggle during that time. She genuinely wanted to know whether he had also obliviated his mother.

No matter how much she tried to convey this lingering sense of guilt to others, even though people tried to empathize she could tell by their eyes that they didn't understand how it really felt for her. Now she might have found someone who did which gave her tremendous relief. Even if the case was not a memory charm, from her therapy partner's words she could tell that it was at least something very similar.

"I have to go," Hermione suddenly announced, her desire to research any spells resembling the Memory Charm urging her to head to the library before class.

"Where to?" Draco asked

"The library."

"I'll join you."

"No. No, it's okay. I'll see you in class," she replied before walking away.

Draco wanted to know what bothered her and felt a strong desire to help her despite his aversion to meddling in others' affairs. He questioned the overwhelming intensity of this feeling and couldn't help but wonder how in the world he had ended up in the library.