Aftermath

N I N E

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, her mind swirling with thoughts as she pushed her food around her plate. Ginny, seated beside her, glanced over with concern etched on her face.

"Oi, You've been awfully quiet today," Ginny said, nudging her gently. "What's going on?"

Hermione sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It's just nothing" she said, the name escaping her lips with an exasperated tone.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued.

Hermione looked at Ginny as the details threatened to overflow... "Draco.."

"Draco Malfoy, what about him?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know! He's just been... different lately. Almost pleasant. It's unsettling." Hermione rubbed her temples, the frustration bubbling up again. "One moment he's being insufferable and intolerant, and the next he's actually helping with the memorial planning. It's like he's turned over a new leaf or something."

Ginny's eyes lit up, mischief dancing in her gaze. "Sounds like someone has a crush."

Hermione's eyes widened, a flush creeping into her cheeks. "I do not have a crush on Draco Malfoy! He's... he's just—"

"Just what?" Ginny challenged, leaning in closer. "He's just being nice?"

"Ginny, stop it," Hermione said, annoyed. "It's not like that. I mean, he's still Draco. He's still infuriating and arrogant. He's just... tolerable at times." She felt her frustration building, and her voice rose slightly. "I'm only trying to be professional about this whole memorial thing. That's it."

Ginny chuckled, the teasing glint in her eye growing stronger. "Oh, come on! You can't fool me. You're definitely feeling something. Admit it! You're just trying to deny it."

"I'm not denying anything! I just don't want to have this conversation right now," Hermione snapped, feeling a wave of heat wash over her. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I need some air."

Before Ginny could respond, Hermione strode out of the Great Hall, the laughter of her friends fading behind her. She pushed through the heavy oak doors, stepping out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. The cool breeze brushed against her cheeks, and she headed toward her favorite spot—a large oak tree overlooking the lake.

Settling down against the tree trunk, she pulled out her History of Magic book and tried to focus on the words, but her mind kept wandering back to Draco. 

The gentle rustle of leaves above her seemed to echo her restless thoughts, each whisper a reminder of his sly smile and the way his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

She turned a page absentmindedly, her gaze glazing over the text that spoke of ancient wizards and long-forgotten spells. What was it about him that held her attention captive?

She sighed, leaning her head back against the bark, the rough texture grounding her in reality yet fueling her daydreams. It was as if the tree itself understood her turmoil, standing tall and steadfast in the face of her distractions. 

Images of Draco flickered in her mind—that snide remark that made her heart race, and the warmth lurking beneath his icy exterior.

A soft breeze stirred, brushing against her cheek like a ghostly caress, and for a fleeting moment, she imagined he was there with her, his presence a comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts. 

She closed her eyes, surrendering to the memory of their last encounter, the tension electric, unspoken words hanging in the air like a spell waiting to be cast.

"Focus," she murmured to herself, but the words on the page now danced mockingly before her eyes. With a frustrated huff, she snapped the book shut, deciding it was impossible to concentrate with his image burned into her mind. 

Instead, she allowed herself to indulge in her thoughts, the quiet serenity of the afternoon wrapping around her like a warm blanket, the world fading away as she envisioned what might have been between them.

The distant sound of laughter from the riverbank broke her reverie, and she opened her eyes, half-expecting to see him standing there, leaning casually against a tree, that signature smirk playing at the corner of his lips. But the only company she found was the gentle sway of the branches and the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush.

With a reluctant sigh, she pulled her book back into her lap, but her heart lingered somewhere between reality and the enchanting possibilities that danced just beyond her reach.

Why was he suddenly being nice? What did that even mean? She shook her head, frustrated with herself.

Hours passed as Hermione read, the sun slowly dipping lower in the sky, casting shimmering reflections on the lake. But her peace was shattered when she heard a familiar voice interrupt her thoughts.

"Oi, Granger... missed you in Potions today."

Hermione's stomach dropped at the sound of Draco's voice. There he stood, leaning casually against a tree a few feet away, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. A wave of heat rushed through her, flooding her with confusion and irritation. Was Ginny right? Was she actually developing a crush on Malfoy?

"I was busy," she replied sharply, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You know, doing actual work."

Draco's smirk faded, and his brows knitted together in mock concern. "Aw, come on. I thought we were actually getting along, Granger. You're not going to go all 'Mudblood' on me now, are you?"

The nickname stung, cutting deeper than she anticipated. "Don't pretend we're friends, Malfoy," she shot back, her voice edged with anger. "This is purely professional, and you know it."

He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of disappointment flashing across his face before he masked it with indifference. "Just when I thought we were making progress. So long, Mudblood." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving her feeling unexpectedly hollow.

As his figure receded, Hermione buried her head in her knees, letting the tears she had been holding back spill over. 

Why? Why did it hurt? Why did it matter what he thought? She cursed her emotions, her heart pounding in her chest as frustration mingled with a deeper confusion she couldn't quite name.

"I can't have a crush on him," she murmured to herself, wiping angrily at her cheeks. "He's just... Draco. The same boy who made my life miserable for years." 

But even as she spoke the words, her mind replayed the memories of their recent encounters—the teasing, the laughter, the strange but enjoyable banter that had begun to blossom between them.

It was infuriating. She had no idea what this feeling was, and she certainly didn't want it to be a crush. It didn't fit into her neat little boxes of logic and reasoning. How could she possibly like someone who had caused her so much pain?

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the grounds, Hermione took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The world felt upside down, and she wasn't sure how to navigate it. She didn't want to analyze it, didn't want to give in to the confusion swirling in her heart.

But as she sat there, staring at the rippling water of the lake, she knew one thing for certain—things were changing, and it terrified her. 

The boy who had been her enemy for so long was suddenly a figure she couldn't ignore, and the emotions it stirred in her were not something she was ready to confront. Not yet.