D.
Draco went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, something he hadn't done for weeks since he started dating Hermione.
He opened the door and he felt all the old emotions rushing back, all the anger, regret, guilt, and contempt.
He looked around the drab bathroom, and it looked how he felt.
He thought of Hermione talking with Harry, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. He was so special, more special than him. She chose to spend time with Harry instead of with him.
He felt anger well up inside of him.
"AAAAH!" he let out a scream and punched the mirror in front of him.
The glass broke, cutting his arms and hands. He was bleeding, but he didn't care.
He wanted someone to comfort him, but Hermione thought he was in the library. There was nobody there.
H.
"Hey, I'm going to go join Draco in the library. I'll see you later," she informed Harry.
She went down into the library, expecting to see Draco, but he wasn't there.
As if on instinct, she went to Myrtle's bathroom. She opened the door and saw that Draco was cradling his right hand.
"Draco, what happened?" she half-screamed and ran over to him.
"I...I got mad," he admitted.
"Here," she said, and mumbled a spell. His wounds closed up, practically healed.
"Why were you so mad?" she asked.
"It's nothing," he said, trying to brush it off.
"It's obviously not nothing if you punched the mirror," she said, eyeing the glass shards in the sink.
"Okay, I was...jealous of you and Harry."
"What? Why?" she asked, confused.
"It's just you're so close with him, and I feel like you're closer to him than me."
"Of course I'm close with him, he's my best friend! But you're my boyfriend, and that's something totally different!"
"I know, but you spend so much time with him ever since he got back, I feel excluded."
"Draco, I can't just abandon my friends to be with you."
"I know that, but you could at least try to spend more time with me!"
"I haven't properly seen Harry in a while, Draco! What do you want me to do? Cut myself off to only be with you, all the time? I'm sorry, but that's just not how it works."
She left the bathroom, tears stinging at her eyes.
Six years later
Hermione sat at the bar, her eyes closed. She shouldn't order another drink, but she found the words coming out of her mouth anyway.
It was her fifth drink, and she could feel herself getting progressively more drunk.
Two hours later, she stumbled out onto the street. She started walking toward her car, but decided against it. She leaned against a fence post, but fell instead. She was about to hit the ground when she felt strong arms holding her up.
"Urgh, what-"
She looked up and stopped talking.
The familiar blonde hair and stormy grey eyes stared at her.
