Despite returning to a relatively normal life (with a certain exception), there were still moments of fear and uncertainty when Hermione felt like she couldn't escape the trauma of the past. She would wake up at night from nightmares that were flashes of black and gray and red, where familiar faces were drowned out in scarlet waters and the world was shadowed in darkness.
It wasn't real, she told herself every time she woke up with a racing heart.
And although she wished she could banish the haunting dreams, they were the only disturbance in her otherwise uneventful days. Hermione felt that she should be grateful for that.
She reminded herself that some people had it worse. Some people had died.
You're fine, you're fine, she kept telling herself over and over again.
She could deal with this. It didn't matter that the Dreamless Sleep Potions didn't help.
She knew it wasn't healthy to ignore her problems when she often found herself lying in bed, drenched in sweat, and her scar burned from vivid memories that had played in her unconscious mind. She hoped they would eventually fade into a distant memory that didn't come with the acute pain attached to it.
She imagined that Professor Slughorn wouldn't believe her internal struggles when he found her giggling at Ginny during one of his Potions lessons and scolded them for their lack of focus.
It wasn't like Hermione to not pay attention to the lecture, but she just had this sudden urge to laugh. What Ginny was whispering to her might have been mildly amusing, but it wouldn't have been enough to trigger a fit of laughter from her, especially during classes. She was perplexed at her reaction, but she chalked it up to her struggles with the nightmares and her mind being a little hazy at the moment.
When Professor called out for everyone to pair up, he leveled his eyes at both of them, silently conveying the message that they shouldn't be partners. She and Ginny exchanged disappointed looks before her friend disappeared to claim a seat next to Neville, sending her a mischievous and victorious smile over her shoulder.
Hermione rolled her eyes, glancing around the classroom, when suddenly a tall figure obscured her vision, momentarily throwing her off guard. For a split second, she expected to see a blonde head of hair at the top and her pulse quickened.
Instead, she was met with a pair of bright blue eyes and a charming smile.
"Theodore Nott," she stated, more to herself than as an acknowledgment of his presence.
"Please, we're past the formalities," he replied with his charming smile still in place, despite her lack of enthusiasm as he made himself comfortable beside her. "And don't give me that look, love."
Hermione cocked her head at the endearment, but said nothing.
It was the second time she ended up in Theo's company and she was struck by a sense of conflicting feelings about him. He was being somewhat nice, but cocky, calling her love a couple more times to which she just rolled her eyes at that point. He also turned out to be more than capable in his potions skills, but didn't flaunt his skill, instead listening to her input in their work, and even managed to elicit a smile or two from her (not that she would admit to that, and it was more of a quirk of her lips, honestly).
"Well done!"
The sound of Professor Slughorn's cheerful voice disrupted Hermione's thoughts, drawing her attention to the teacher who was now looming over them, praising their work. She caught a cheeky smile spread on Theo's face and realized she must have been staring. She quickly fixed her gaze on the teacher, feeling a flush of heat creep up to her cheeks.
The Professor abandoned their table and circled around the room to assess everyone's finished (or not) tasks until he faced the class again to give out an extra assignment for those who were interested and then shoo them out of the classroom.
Hermione felt relieved.
She was already out of the door, trying to catch up to her friends, when Theo materialized beside her. She almost groaned in frustration.
Theo's face broke out in a grin at the sight of her growing displeasure. "Are you running away because you're starting to realize you can't resist my charm?"
"I think you're overestimating your charm, Theo," Hermione said with a scoff. "It's not exactly a rare talent to be able to string a few words together and smile."
She expected him to get offended, but instead his laugh filled the space between them and eased the tension in her.
The fact that she actually made a Slytherin laugh, and not at her expanse, stirred something warm inside her chest. Maybe the post-war life had begun to shift towards better times and this situation was just one of its pleasant surprises that she was only starting to discover now.
She almost walked into Theo as he suddenly stopped in front of her, pointing at his face.
"Maybe it isn't a rare talent, but this smile is one of a kind," he winked at her.
Having no remark to that, because his smile was quite nice, she decided to let this one slip.
After a hesitant pause, she asked. "Do you know if it worked?"
His eyes bored into hers as he replied. "Did what work?"
She withstood his gaze, trying to decipher if he really had forgotten what she was talking about—because if he had, then she swore to herself she would never help anyone, ever again—or if he was just messing with her.
"Oh, do you mean if defending Draco worked?" he finally said, stressing the word that she definitely didn't want to associate with herself and Malfoy, but she didn't detect any malice in his voice.
As if dealing with a particularly insufferable child, she threw her hands in the air and stalked off.
"You're so damn easy to rile up," he chuckled as he came to a step with her. "But to answer your question—yes, I think your kind words made a difference."
His grin widened at her scowl, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"As a thank you, I'm going to ace our extra assignment for the Potions."
"Our?" Hermione frowned. "Professor Slughorn didn't say we could work in pairs."
Although she had been temporarily sidetracked during class by… a particular distraction, she was fairly certain that the extra credit work was intended to be completed individually.
"He also didn't say we couldn't work in pairs," Theo swiftly countered.
Hermione remained skeptical.
"What makes you think I couldn't ace it myself?"
"Doubtful," he told her, enjoying her indignant expression. "I am better at Potions, after all. You're always welcome to prove me wrong," he said with a hint of challenge in his voice.
This wasn't the kind of gratitude she had expected to get.
The best thing about coming back to finish her last year was the fact that she shared the room with Ginny, since technically they were in the same year. Hermione lay on her bed with Ginny propped up beside her and the smell of fresh parchment filling the air. There were letters from Harry and Ron spread all over her bedsheets that they were currently going through, one by one.
Correction: Hermione was going through the letters, enjoying herself as she read over the familiar banter that the boys couldn't even keep off from their writing
(Hermione, don't listen—er, read what he's saying writing, I mean. It's a load of crap.
Hermione, you know how Ron is. I am not lying.)
She reread the part where they were expressing how much they missed her approximately ten times. All the while Ginny…
Ginny was staring at her from under her eyelashes in what she could only describe as an utter confusion; the letters all but forgotten by her.
"Are you going to finally cut it out?" Hermione asked her in exasperation.
Ginny just blinked at her.
Alright, that's it,Hermione thought as she picked up a pillow and threw it at her friend.
That finally seemed to trigger a reaction that ended in a very serious pillow-fight. Minutes later, spent and catching their breaths, Ginny decided to speak.
"You were smiling at him."
Hermione groaned in her duvet. "I was not!"
"He was laughing with you," Ginny continued.
"I can be funny."
"You and one of Malfoy's friends—Theo, as you call him, were seen laughing. Together," she said it in a tone as if she was trying to explain something to a five year old.
"I know!"
Hermione was sure that if she looked in the mirror right now her whole face would be adorned by a deep pink coloring on her cheeks. She could already feel the burn.
Hermione vividly remembered the frantic chatter about her encounter with Theo that morning when she had finally joined her friends in the Great Hall for supper. At the time, she had brushed off the avalanche of questions from Ginny who had leveled an angry look at her from across the table.
Now, with just the two of them in the quiet of the room, she could no longer avoid Ginny's interrogation.
Hermione had taken the time to reflect on her interactions with Theo—their seamless work together, easy banter, his friendly behavior—and nothing indicated that he was planning her murder. Was she being too naive? Too blind to see someone's true colors? Too tired to have to watch her back all the time because of whose blood was running through her veins?
If the war had left her broken, was it wrong of her to try and glue the pieces back together?
Was it wrong of her to not hate him?
"No," Ginny suddenly said, startling her. "Of course you don't need to hate him. This isn't what I meant."
Alarmed, Hermione stared at her friend, realizing that she must have vocalized some of her thoughts.
Noticing her reaction, Ginny quickly supplied. "You know what? Nevermind. I shouldn't be questioning you about who you spend time with. It's just that I'm worried about you, Hermione."
She nodded and there was a brief, awkward pause.
"Although I am glad it's not Malfoy you're giggling with," Ginny added as an afterthought, laughing lightly in what Hermione supposed was an attempt at easing the tension.
It didn't.
Silence ensued and Ginny picked up one of the letters from Ron, giving it her attention.
Hermione went back to wandering through her mind.
Her feelings for Malfoy were clear cut. Throughout the years she had experienced so much malice from him, she would overflow with negative emotions at the mere sight and thought of him.
But—
Just like Theo, she didn't hate him, either.
She supposed that, ironically, she could owe that to Theo.
She remembered when she had tried to ease the First-year students' fear of Malfoy—she had been afraid of confronting her feelings towards him, having to twist them into something positive and then feed those kids lies. And as she had stood in front of her small audience, their eyes big and innocent, she realized she couldn't tap into her anger.
Her anger had consumed her for too long, fueled by the unfairness of the world and the constant sense that no matter how many times she had proven she was something, it was never enough. She came to feel too exhausted to let it continue build itself inside of her and overtake her life.
Having been through what she'd been through, Malfoy and his cruelty seemed like just one of many struggles she had faced against society's beliefs—and she had faced far worse than his bullying.
She was sick of hatred that veiled itself into her world, trying to bend her to its will and spit her out even more broken and miserable.
"When I look at Malfoy, I don't feel anything," she admitted, watching Ginny's eyes snap back towards her at the sound of her voice. "I used to be angry—so angry, but I am tired of feeling this way. I don't want to have to hate anyone anymore."
Ginny's warmth engulfed her as her friend wrapped her small hands around her body.
She squeezed her back tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. Without saying a word, Ginny provided the comfort that Hermione desperately needed in that moment.
When she managed to take hold of her emotions, she broke the silence.
"And Ginny?"
She heard a hum in response.
"I don't giggle."
