"Why did you do that?"

With Hermione's entry into the Head Common Room, this was the first question fired at her. Draco was standing a few feet away, his wand raised. His arm was steady but his eyes couldn't differ more.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione kept her bag on the desk and began taking out her books, her back to him.

"Why did you tell them the password?"

"Who said I did?"

"Maybe the fact that only you know it apart from me and McGonagall told me. I'm not a fool."

"Oh, that's good to know."

Draco stepped closer to her. "Answer me. Why did you let them inside?"

"Did it help?"

"Answer me!"

Hermione sighed. "Look, I'm tired of providing explanations to people who don't respect a good gesture, so you can stop waiting for me to tell you that. Figure it out on your own if you're so smart."

Hermione sat down on the chair, opened her book, and began reading. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy walk to the sofa and flop down. He leaned back, his palm covering his eyes.

She felt the words tumble out before she could stop them. "No, seriously, did your friends help? How are you feeling?"

"Figure it out on your own if you're so smart," Draco replied, repeating her words.

"Okay then," Hermione snapped. "I'm sorry for thinking you'd reply. Of course, I'm a fool for expecting a civil conversation from you."

She resumed her work, though her words hung in the air for quite some time. Draco felt torn. Part of him wanted to kill her right then, but the other part wanted to blurt out everything he was feeling. Why, he didn't know. Perhaps because he knew she didn't care. 

"I'm not good," he said quietly.

Hermione looked up from her book. "Sorry?"

"I said, I'm not good. Blaise and the rest only worsened it."

Hermione got up and walked to the sofa opposite him. "Try talking about it. It helps."

Draco sighed, took a deep breath, then said, "They kept trying to convince me it was going to be okay, that my father would be released soon, that my mother would come out of hiding safely in a few days. But I know it's not going to happen. My father's in Azkaban for as good as his entire life. But that's not even close to what's affecting me. It's not so much as the grief as it's the guilt."

Hermione was confused. "Guilt? For what? Like survivor's guilt, that you couldn't be there to help?"

"No," Draco said. He wondered why he was telling everything to her, a Gryffindor Mudblood, a rival at best. But it felt good taking it all off his chest, so he didn't stop. "It was me who got my father arrested in the first place."

"What?" Hermione thought she heard wrong. Why would he do that?

"I know," Draco continued. "My father disowned me this summer, accusing me of things I didn't do. I left my house. I was just so angry and blaming my father so extremely for everything wrong in my life, I wrote to the Ministry and got him arrested."

"And now you feel guilty for his arrest and even though you're not too attached to him, you feel responsible for your mother," Hermione said. Draco only nodded.

Hermione thought of something appropriate to say. "Look, Malfoy, I'm not going to tell you it's going to be okay, because I know it's not. I don't know what you did was right or not, because as much as Lucius deserved this, he's still your father, so I'm not going to comment on that. Maybe I would've done the same thing if I were you. Maybe not. But I can tell you the guilt's going to get better. It always does. By the time, I'd recommend something to distract yourself."

"Like what? Homework?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Something you're interested in. Like Quidditch," Hermione said. "You must not forget you've got an upcoming match against Ravenclaw in a few weeks. They're so going to defeat you utterly."

"You seem very confident about that," Draco said, suddenly feeling a lot lighter. As much as he hated to admit it, but talking to someone had indeed proven good. 

"Oh, I am," Hermione said. "They've been practicing like crazy. Your team has been on the pitch, like, twice?"

"Don't worry about us. Slytherins can only lose if Gryffindors like you support them, which is never."

Hermione smiled. She was glad to see that arrogant, snarky, smirking Malfoy making a reappearance. Deciding it was time to go, she picked up her bag and went outside. She'd complete her homework back in Gryffindor common room.

Leaving Malfoy at the windowsill, she walked out and made her way back. She was quite close to the common room when she saw Ginny poke her head around a corner.

"Come this way," she whispered, giggling.

Intrigued, Hermione followed her. Harry and Ron were there as well.

"What a lovely meeting spot," Hermione said. "What's going on?"

"Peep 'round the other side," Ginny said. "And keep your voice down."

Hermione went to the far side of the corridor and took a glance, then immediately withdrew her head back with a startled breath. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, you didn't call me here to witness Neville and Luna snogging!"

"Oh, we certainly did," Ginny said, grinning. "Now let's go surprise them!"

"No!" Hermione whispered-shouted indignantly, but Harry was already gone around the wall. Neville's sudden exclamations told her that Harry had done his job. She followed the others.

"Come on, it's enough that you know about us, you can stop ruining our moments!" Neville said, a brilliant shade of pink, while Luna had gone back to her dreamy self the second Harry had interrupted and was saying something that sounded like, "We must have left Wrackspurt trails behind us." Ginny, Harry, and Ron high-fived each other, then they all began laughing uncontrollably.

It was then that Hermione felt it. A pang of rage, so extreme, so full of bloodlust, she felt like killing Luna on the spot with her bare hands. The next second, there was a blast of pain in her left hand. She gasped suddenly. Fortunately, no one noticed. She breathed out, "Guys, I need to go to the bathroom," and ran out.

She clamped her mouth shut and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, feeling the pain getting more intense, the blood seeping from her sleeve. Gasping out the password, she locked herself in her dormitory. Stammering out the silencing charm, she fell to the ground, pulling back her sleeve.

It was the Hogwarts Express all over again. Bellatrix was carving out her arm, the knife tracing the letters. Hermione screamed, cried, thrashed around. She could feel the blade pierce her skin, cutting into her veins, sending jolts of pain through her. Sobbing, she threw back her head, wanting to cut herself off from reality till it was all over.

And finally, it was. Hermione was left moaning and gasping on the floor. Slowly, very slowly, she got up and scourgified the little pool of blood that had collected by her arm. Removing the silencing charm, she walked to the bathroom, wincing when her sore arm made contact with the cool water from the tap. She sighed as the water seeped the pain away. When she could finally bear to remove her arm from under the running water, she looked at the scar. It was as raw as that night in the Malfoy Manor.

Hermione had nightmares of Bellatrix torturing her all night.

***

Draco felt good. Better than he had in quite some time.

He didn't know why talking to Mudblood Granger had felt better than talking to his best friends, who were some of his sole companions on this earth. His hunch was that Hermione was more distant to him than a first-time stranger, and telling her about everything was like writing it down and then throwing it so far away it wouldn't come back.

Anyway, he'd made a decision. He'd made it two minutes after he'd gotten that letter from his mother. Now it was just more firm.

He was in the Slytherin dormitory, looking around his bed and shoving everything scattered here and there into his trunk. A pair of trousers here, a quill there... He didn't believe he was such a bad organizer.

"Leaving Hogwarts?" Pansy asked sarcastically, entering the dorm and sitting down on Blaise's bed beside Draco's.

"You're not supposed to be here," Draco said. "It's the boys' dorm."

"Are you actually caring about that right now?" Pansy scoffed. "Anyway, where are you leaving for?"

"I'm shifting to the Head Common Room," Draco said nonchalantly, knowing full well now that he was caught there were much less chances of him actually making it there.

"No, you're not," Pansy side-eyed him. "Are you feeling off-color or something?"

"I'm fine, but I figured I just needed a change of location."

"A permanent change of location?"

"Let's just say I'd like that."

Pansy got up and snatched the shirt Draco was currently in process of folding hastily. Then she pushed aside the trunk on the floor and sat down in front of him on his bed, hands folded.

"Out with it, Draco Malfoy. You know I won't let you get rid of us this easily."

Draco exhaled sharply, choosing his words carefully. "The thing is, I'm feeling a lot better today than I have in a long time. And from here, I can see that this dorm has too many bad feelings attached to it. I've spent night after night here, trying to make sense of my life, regretting my choices. Today I can see that I need a fresh start, now that I'm willing to make one. So I need a new location, a new bed that hasn't seen my despair like this one. This is just a small beginning to leave my past behind because I'm ready for it now."

Pansy looked at him, then swallowed. It was a long moment. Then, very unexpectedly, she came at him and hugged him.

"I'm glad you're feeling good, Draco," she whispered close to his ear. "And I'm glad you're finally ready to not let the past trouble you anymore. I just hope this new beginning is the best thing for you."

She stepped back, helping Draco fish out his belongings from the bedside table, under the pillows, even under the bed. Pansy recoiled when she found an underwear inside his bedclothes, and Draco snatched it back and stuffed it in.

"I'll leave you to have a last look," Pansy said, then exited.

Draco, feeling very affectionate towards Pansy just then, walked to the door and took everything in. It wasn't like he was leaving forever, after all, but he still felt a connection to the room he was now abandoning.

He dragged out his trunk, then looked back at those green curtains around the four-posters. He watched them disappear as he closed the door behind him.