The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet on this late October afternoon. Hermione Granger walked slowly, her books clutched against her chest. Since their return for this so-called "eighth year," an odd atmosphere lingered. The post-war weight affected everyone, but it seemed to hit one person harder than the rest.
Draco Malfoy.
She had been watching him from a distance since they arrived. Solitary, he always moved on the outskirts, his shoulders hunched under the burden of his past. While some had forgiven or forgotten the war’s events, that wasn’t the case for him. His old friends ignored him or looked at him with suspicion. The other students avoided him like a shadow too heavy to bear.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel a strange compassion for him. She knew the heavy burden of carrying a name, a reputation. But where hers brought admiration and respect, Draco's surname now carried the weight of shame and fear. People still whispered, still wondered if his loyalties could ever fully shift.
Today, she found him in the courtyard, sitting alone under a tree, his face hidden behind a book. She hesitated for a moment before making up her mind. Approaching Malfoy was always a delicate balance.
"Hi."
He didn’t immediately look up. The book – probably on some dry and dusty subject – remained his shield against the outside world. After a short silence, he muttered with little enthusiasm:
"Granger."
Hermione wasn’t discouraged. She sat down next to him, placing her things quietly.
"I thought you might like some company."
Draco slowly closed his book, as if the act carried a particular weight. He turned his head towards her, his grey eyes scrutinizing her with suspicion.
"Why are you here? Everyone avoids me, and yet you’re here to talk to me?"
Hermione sighed. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to force, but she understood his bitterness.
"Because I know what it’s like to feel alone."
Draco frowned. His eyes reflected a mixture of wariness and surprise.
"Granger, don’t compare yourself to me. You’ve always had your friends... Potter, Weasley. Me, I..."
He trailed off, as if realizing that confiding in Hermione Granger wasn’t part of his usual behavior. Yet, she remained there, calm, her hands resting on her knees.
"Maybe I do have friends. But that doesn’t mean you never feel lonely."
Silence settled between them, and Draco turned his gaze back to the empty courtyard in front of them. Hermione took that as a sign that he wasn’t about to push her away just yet.
"Do you spend all your days out here?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.
He shrugged.
"I don’t have anything else to do."
She smiled softly.
"You could come to the library, you know. I’m not suggesting we work together or anything, but... you might need a change of scenery."
Draco remained silent, but he didn’t immediately resist the idea. Hermione sensed that, little by little, a door was opening. Over the following weeks, she made small efforts to join him in the courtyard or the library, never imposing her presence, never forcing conversation. She simply sat beside him, diving into her own books while he did the same.
One day, as they were both reading, Draco broke the silence, almost absentmindedly.
"Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?"
Hermione looked up from her Potions textbook, surprised by the question. It was the first time he had broached the subject with her.
"I think it will take time. But you can’t stay trapped by their opinion, Draco."
He nodded slowly, but she could see the doubt in his eyes.
"That’s easy to say. You’ve always been on the right side. Me..."
Hermione put her book down and turned to face him.
"You’ve made mistakes, yes. But you’re here now. You’re trying. That’s what matters."
Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, something shifted between them. A fragile, yet real, connection was forming. She could see the uncertainty behind his sharp exterior, and something in her softened even more.
As the weeks went by, what had started as a simple attempt to offer him some company became something more. Their conversations grew longer, deeper. Hermione began to discover a side of Draco she had never imagined. He was sarcastic, yes, but also brilliant, and sometimes even funny in his own way.
One winter evening, as they sat by the fire in the common room, Draco murmured softly:
"You know, Granger... I think you’re the only person who talks to me like a normal human being these days."
Hermione smiled, feeling her heart tighten. There was so much sadness in his words, but also a glimmer of hope.
"Maybe because I know you’re worth more than you think."
Draco looked at her for a long time, then, without a word, gently took her hand in his. His fingers were cold, but the gesture was warm, hesitant yet meaningful.
And in that shared silence, under the stars shining through the windows of Hogwarts, something fragile and beautiful was born between them. Something that whispered of forgiveness, of healing, and of the possibility of love.
