Agreeing to meet Draco Malfoy at the Room of Requirement was perhaps one of the most foolish things she'd done in a while, and yet, Hermione didn't regret her answer.

Very well.

Hermione touched two fingers to her right wrist where Ron had left bruises. And where Draco had caressed the purple flesh beneath her sleeve with feather-light force. She hadn't been prepared for such gentleness. A part of her had feared Draco would do the same as Ron and leave marks, but he hadn't.

Draco Malfoy was cut from unrefined marble; he was all hard edges with a cold, heavy gaze. And yet, when he had touched her, his marble trace had been one of silk like a sculptor would carve the material to drape perfectly with their subject's form. He was clear-cut beauty and cool, lethal grace; and yet, Hermione did not fear him. She knew Draco to be cold and distant, and yet she had never felt so connected to him.

And yet.

Draco Malfoy was a paradox, a contradiction, an inconsistency. He was wrong and cruel and broken and—

Broken, Hermione realized. Like her.

She flexed her hand to rid herself of his touch as she continued down the staircase.

They were both broken. They both walked around with cracks in their flesh that Voldemort had created. As though they were glass, the Cruciatus Curse had hit them in the same spot, starting with small fractures before its power spider-webbed and Hermione and Draco were left in pieces.

Hermione shouldn't be drawn to Draco, and yet she was, and perhaps that was why. She shook her head as she came to the end of the stairs and strode down the corridor. That conversation with Draco would cause her to be late. Not that she entirely cared.

She rounded the corner and almost ran right into Headmistress McGonagall. Hermione yelped and righted herself. "My apologies, Professor," she said quickly and continued on.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

Hermione closed her eyes, hesitating a moment before she turned. "Yes, Professor?" she said, adding a tone of surprise to the word.

She raised a brow. "Come with me, please."

"Where, Professor?"

McGonagall did not smile. "My office, Miss Granger."

Hermione couldn't help the silent curse she let slip.

….

The walk leading to the Headmistress's office seemed too long, and Hermione knew she was in trouble, most likely for what happened in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall did not say a word—didn't even look back at her. So they walked in silence.

Once through the password-protected entrance and into her office, McGonagall sat down behind her desk and motioned for Hermione to do the same. She cut straight to the point. "You jinxed Gregory Goyle?"

Hermione sighed. She'd been right, and she should have known he'd snitch. "Yes."

"He called you a"—McGonagall's jaw muscles clenched— "Mudblood?"

Hermione crossed her arms and stared down Professor McGonagall. "A Mudblood bitch, to be precise, Professor."

McGonagall nodded. "I see." She leaned forward and folded her hands on the desk. "I appreciate your honesty, Miss Granger." Then, she opened a small tin at her left and placed a small yellow square in front of Hermione. "Have a lemon bar."

Hermione blinked and shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You've never had a lemon bar?"

"No, of course I have, but—"

"I doubt you've had any quite like these," McGonagall said. She waved a hand. "Go on, have a lemon bar."

After gaping for another few seconds, Hermione shook herself from the daze. "Thank you, Professor." She took a bite. McGonagall was right; the dessert had the perfect balance between sweet and tart.

McGonagall took a breath. "I know I don't need to say this, but I will anyway. You cannot jinx any student you have a problem with."

Hermione wiped a small bit of powdered sugar from her upper lip. "I understand."

"That being said," McGonagall said softly, "if you were provoked or acting in self-defense, I would be inclined to look the other way in terms of disciplinary action."

Hermione raised a brow. "I understand, Professor. I wouldn't ever—haven't ever—used magic against someone for no reason. I tried to walk away, but I'm tired of people like Goyle getting away with degrading those different from him. I lost my temper. I apologize."

"Oh," McGonagall sighed, leaning back, "I wish I had been there to see it." Hermione blinked but McGonagall continued. "I've never been fond of Mr. Goyle, but I think most professors are a little more wary of particular students since the war. The more dangerous ones, anyway." She sighed. "I understand if that thinking is taken too far, that can become prejudice, but as of right now, it's a precaution."

"I heard they're being interrogated weekly."

McGonagall nodded. "You heard correctly. It's in no way harmful." She raised her hands. "It's merely precaution."

Hermione nodded. "May I be dismissed, Professor?"

Instead of answering, McGonagall studied Hermione, her wrinkled face deepening in thought. After a few moments, she said, "How are you, Miss Granger?"

She shrugged. "Fine."

Professor McGonagall seemed to study her face. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Of course."

"Well?"

Hermione chuckled. "I can't imagine anyone sleeps well."

"Yes, but I am asking about you."

"You don't need to worry about me, Professor."

McGonagall inhaled and crossed one knee over the other. "But I do. I worry more now than I have for the past seven years. Potter and Weasley were the troublemakers, so I was used to their shenanigans, but you, Miss Granger, have always had a level head. It can be quite detrimental for someone with a level head to have their world turned upside down."

Hermione glanced away from corner of the office and made herself look McGonagall in the eyes. "My world wasn't just turned upside down—it was destroyed; permanently altered."

McGonagall glanced at a picture frame on her desk. It was a picture of Harry in his Quidditch uniform holding the snitch. Despite being covered in mud and soaked, he was grinning from ear to ear.

How she missed that smile.

"I cared deeply for Mr. Potter, but you are his family."

"Was." Hermione hadn't meant to say it out loud, but it came out anyway. "Harry's dead."

Thankfully, he hadn't decided to show himself in the office. Hermione didn't think she'd be able to stand seeing his corpse next to a picture of him so vibrant and full of life.

McGonagall swallowed. After a moment, she leaned forward and said softly, "You will always be family. Death does not change that. Family is much deeper than blood, and stronger than the ties to this life. Decades from now when you join Mr. Potter as we all will, you shall still be family."

Decades. Professor McGonagall said that with such optimism when Hermione should have died months ago. Instead, Harry died. He died to save her. He died to save everyone.

Then she remembered Malfoy. He had saved her too. He had survived. They both did. And they both bore the same scars.

He'd never looked so scared or sure of himself than when he'd dueled Voldemort. Hermione hadn't been able to take her eyes off him. She often forgot how good of a wizard he was. She also often forgot that Draco Malfoy was always right behind her in academics. Always second. He was smarter than she often gave him credit for. Perhaps she should stop underestimating him.

Those gray eyes flashed before her, and Hermione blinked.

Draco Malfoy was a distraction.

She moved her fingers against one another as if his ring were still there. Perhaps distraction was what she needed.

Hermione glanced up at McGonagall and realized the Professor had been staring at her. "I just miss him is all," she said quietly.

"As do I," McGonagall said. "Give it time and eventually it won't be so painful to think about him."

"You're not going to tell me to move on or forget about him?"

McGonagall's eyes were sad. "No, Miss Granger, because forgetting doesn't allow you to embrace even the good that was had during his life. Healing allows you to become familiar with the grief while choosing to focus on the happy memories. Remember the laughter, the joy, the good and bad, but don't let your sorrow shut Mr. Potter out. See the love that remains—because grief and heartache are proof there is still love despite it all."

Hermione let her words sink in. Though she didn't think she was capable of such a thing right now, she knew in her heart that Professor McGonagall was right.

Right now, seeing Harry's smile brought her pain and anger at the fact he wouldn't ever smile again. Maybe down the road Hermione would be able to see the same image and smile with him. One day she'd feel gratitude for the days spent with him and the laughter they shared.

Today was not that day.

Not yet.

She didn't look at the picture a second time and instead looked at the Headmistress. "Thank you, Professor. I'll certainly keep your words close as I navigate my life"—she took a breath—"without him." Hermione's chest tightened, and before the shaking could follow, she stood. "May I go now, please?"

McGonagall sighed and leaned back. "Yes, Miss Granger." She held up a hand before Hermione could turn away. "But, if you're ever ready to discuss what happened in May, please let me know."

"Thank you, but I'm fine."

"Miss Granger—"

Hermione tried to smile. "Really, Professor. I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. I'm just…working through everything."

Professor McGonagall stood and motioned to the door. "Please know that my door is always open." She gave Hermione a sad grin. "Now, go on. Get to class. I'll let Professor Hawthorn know you'll be late for Muggle Studies."

"Thank you, Professor."

Hermione could feel McGonagall's steady gaze on her back until she disappeared down the staircase.

….

Hermione had just turned into the corridor when an irritating voice sent ice into her fingers.

"Tattling on me to the Headmistress, Granger?" Goyle said, a sneer in his voice.

She whirled, clenching and unclenching her cold hand. "Do I look like I'm five, Goyle?"

"No, but you do look particularly haggard today. Something worrying you?"

Hermione scoffed, fingers curling. "And you look smarter than you are, but we all know not to judge something by its cover." She flipped her hair off her shoulder. "Get lost, Goyle."

Suddenly, Goyle was too close too fast. He slapped a hand against the wall by Hermione's head, his bigger form blocking out the light from the corridor windows. Though his brains didn't scare her, his utter size and strength was certainly intimidating.

He peered down at her, fury building in his eyes. "You embarrassed me, Granger."

"You did that all on your own."

Hermione tried to push past him, but Goyle shoved her back by a shoulder. "I should repay the favor."

"I won't stand here and be bullied by someone who's IQ is lower than his age."

Hermione made to shove by, but Goyle put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to the floor. "Then you'll sit."

Her heart beat faster as panic began to build. Her fingers twitched toward her wand, but she placated it. She wouldn't rely on magic to handle a bully like Gregory Goyle. No, she'd use her wits and physical strength if she had to. And she'd stand her ground.

She glared up at him. "If you put your hands on me again, you'll find yourself in a much worse situation than this morning."

A flash of hesitation. Then Goyle grinned. "Please," he whispered, "give me a reason."

Hermione reigned in her anger. He was looking for a reason to harm her. She wouldn't give him one. She shoved to her feet and stared Goyle down even though she had to look up at him. "Do not touch me again, Goyle," she hissed. "Now move, please. I have class."

Goyle didn't budge. He stared down at her, his beady eyes dark. "You should have died that day."

Her throat bobbed. "Yes, I should have."

"Malfoy saved you." That was certainly disdain in his tone.

"Yes, he did."

Though his expression didn't soften, Goyle shook his head. "I still can't figure out why." His gaze fixed onto hers. "What I do know is that you've ruined him."

Hermione narrowed her gaze. "Malfoy?"

"Who else?"

She scoffed and adjusted her bookbag. "I've done nothing. I don't even associate with him."

"Then tell me why he's so protective of you? He betrayed all of us to save your miserable life."

"It sounds like you should be having this conversation with Malfoy and not me," she muttered, at last shoving past Goyle. "Now leave me alone and let me get to class. If you have a problem with Malfoy's actions, then take that up with him."

"Oh, I already did," Goyle said, his tone smug. "And it felt good."

Hermione halted and spun around. "Then why are you bothering me?"

Goyle's hand wrapped around her arm like an iron cuff. "You have no idea what's coming," he hissed. A wicked grin picked at his mouth. "When the time comes, Mudblood, you'll be the first to go, and I can't wait to be the one to expunge this world of your filth."

At that, Hermione jerked out of his grasp, pulled out her wand, and said, "Lumos."

Goyle cursed and recoiled as the orb of light blinded him.

Though her heart pounded and Goyle's threat brandished her mind, Hermione made herself hold a mask of indifference on her face as she turned. She wouldn't let him get under her skin.

A shuffle of feet sounded and then Goyle said, "Thanks for giving me a reason, bitch."

That thread of self-control snapped and she whirled.

Hermione dropped her bookbag, not entirely sure what she'd do, but her blood pulsed in her ears. She wanted to wipe that smug scowl off his face, so she pulled back a fist, but before she could do anything she'd regret, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

Hermione reeled, expecting one of Goyle's Slytherin buddies, but it was—

"Let go, Malfoy," she hissed, yanking against him.

Malfoy didn't blink, yet he didn't appear angry. "While he deserves that, Granger, you don't need a detention this term. Plus, he can't handle more brain damage; any dumber and he'll be making Weaselbee look like a genius."

She yanked again and growled, "I said, let go."

Malfoy's throat bobbed, but he nodded and released her.

Though he hadn't hurt her, Hermione rubbed at her skin. She could feel him, and right now, she couldn't stand it. It reminded her too much of that day, and if she thought of that at this moment, she'd spiral. So she focused on her anger at Goyle as if that was a glue that would keep her from shattering. Hermione glared up at him. "Do not touch me again, Malfoy."

Malfoy blinked, but once again he nodded. "My apologies, Granger." He licked his lips and said, "It won't happen again."

Hermione wasn't really angry at Draco, but she wouldn't dare allow herself to feel anything else toward him. It was too distracting.

So she let her fury build and glared at Goyle. He glared right back.

Before walking away, Hermione glanced at Draco and said with barely controlled calm, "Ensure that it doesn't."