Aftermath

T W O

The morning sun struggled to pierce through the heavy curtains of Hermione's dormitory, its feeble light casting ghostly shadows that stretched and faded against the cold stone walls. She stirred, the remnants of last night's anguish clinging to her like a shroud, an ache lodged deep in her bones.

The world beyond the castle seemed suspended in uneasy silence, as if it too mourned. Gone was the familiar chorus of students' laughter, replaced by a hush so profound it pressed against her ears, suffocating in its stillness. The first day of classes had arrived, yet it felt like time itself had paused, caught in the echoes of the past.

As she drifted through the castle's corridors, Hermione found herself lost in a labyrinth of memories. Each stone, each passage whispered names of those who would never walk these halls again. The staircases groaned beneath her steps, shifting like restless specters, bearing witness to her solitude.

The once-bright murals and portraits, their subjects frozen in timeless revelry, had become cruel relics of what had been. Their painted smiles, meant to bring comfort, now mocked her with a joy she could no longer reach. Even the very air felt different—hollow, laced with the ghost of laughter that had once filled every corner. The castle, ever alive, now seemed to mourn with her, draped in a grief that seeped into its very stones.

Her first class was Potions, a subject that had once captivated her mind. Today, however, the ingredients swirled in front of her, but she could scarcely concentrate. 

Professor Snape's voice droned on, yet everytime she glanced at Parvati, her heart seemed to get enveloped by this darkness, all she could think about was how their laughter punctuated the air like bubbles bursting. Instead, Parvati sat alone hunched over her copy of Advanced Potion-Making, her expression a mirror of Hermione's own sorrow.

As the class ended, Hermione gathered her things, and Parvati approached her, a hesitant smile crossing her face. "Hey, Hermione," she said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How are you holding up?" 

Hermione looked up at Parvati, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know... It's overwhelming, you know?"

Parvati nodded, her expression somber. "I know exactly what you mean. I still half-expect to see Lavender at the Gryffindor table or hear her laughing in the common room." She swallowed hard, her voice thick with emotion. "It's been tough. It feels wrong to laugh or enjoy anything, doesn't it? Like we're betraying them somehow."

Hermione met her gaze, and in that moment, they shared an understanding that transcended words—a bond forged in the crucible of grief. "I keep thinking about all the moments we'll never have again," Hermione admitted, her voice trembling. "It feels so... empty."

Parvati's lips quivered as she whispered, "I never got to say goodbye."

The weight of those words pressed down on both of them. They stood there in the corridor, two grieving souls leaning on each other before finally parting ways, burdened by sorrow yet comforted, however briefly, by shared pain.

Throughout the day, Hermione drifted through her lessons, her mind slipping in and out of focus. The words on the blackboard blurred into nothingness, and Professor McGonagall's lecture became a distant hum. Each subject was a haze, a fog of fragmented thoughts that danced just out of reach. By the time her last class ended, the walls of Hogwarts felt suffocating, each corridor echoing with memories of the past.

As she rounded a corner near the stairwell, lost in thought, she collided with someone—hard. Stumbling back, she looked up to find herself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. His platinum hair gleamed even in the dim light, and his expression twisted into irritation.

"Watch where you're going, Granger," Malfoy snapped, his voice sharp and full of disdain.

Hermione stumbled back but quickly recovered, her irritation flaring. "Excuse me? Maybe if you weren't skulking around corners like a cursed shadow, this wouldn't have happened."

His cold gray eyes narrowed. "Oh, forgive me. I didn't realize Hogwarts was now exclusively your personal space."

Hermione crossed her arms, her fingers digging into her sleeves. "I'm surprised they even let you come back after everything you did, Malfoy. Must be nice, slithering your way back into places you don't deserve to be."

A smirk ghosted across his lips, but it was laced with venom. "Charming, Granger. You think you're so righteous, don't you? Acting like you've got the moral high ground, when all you've ever done is look down your nose at people you don't understand."

Her hands curled into fists. "Understanding you? Why would I ever want to? You made our lives hell, Malfoy. You hurt people. And now, what? You think you can just walk these halls like nothing happened?"

His expression darkened, his smirk twisting into something colder. "And you think playing hero absolves you of everything? That your self-righteous crusade didn't leave collateral damage? Not everyone worships the ground you walk on, Granger."

She took a step closer, her voice sharp as a blade. "At least I did something that mattered. Unlike you, who spent years being nothing but a coward and a bully."

Draco's jaw tensed, a flicker of something dangerous flashing in his eyes. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"And I don't want to," she spat. "I don't waste my time on people who aren't worth it."

His laugh was hollow, dripping with bitterness. "Good. Then do us both a favor and stay the hell out of my way."

"Happily," she shot back, stepping aside with a glare.

Draco didn't say another word. He turned on his heel and stormed off, tension crackling in the air between them like static before a storm.

Hermione exhaled sharply, trying to steady the fury still coursing through her veins. She hated him. She truly did.