Hermione had never been happier than she was when Harry and Ginny's celebratory dinner was over. It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy the company of her best friends, but she just wanted to be alone in her flat. Ever since the war, that was how she liked it. She began to wonder if she herself needed someone to pull her out of her shell, and the idea made her laugh. She was grateful for the laugh because she needed a moment of joy no matter how small.

Although Hermione just wanted to sit on the sofa for the rest of the evening after returning to her flat, she decided she would wrap her presents. Christmas was still a few weeks away, but she needed a distraction. There wasn't a better distraction in her life at the moment than Christmas wrapping. Especially the excitement she got when she imagined her friends unwrapping their presents with smiles all over their faces. That made her happy, that made her smile, and she knew exactly how she was going to spend her evening.

However, only an hour and a half into wrapping, Hermione found herself falling asleep. The wrapping paper surrounding her created a cushion for her body and caused her mind to dream about Christmas — a vast contrast to her usual nightmares. She was only asleep for a couple of minutes before someone knocked on her door.

One knock was all it took to wake her up. The sound startled her so much she could feel her heart beating inside her chest. Giving herself a few moments to calm down, she convinced herself it was probably only Ginny or Ron or Harry. After all, who else would be visiting at this time of the night?

"Coming!" She called as she made her way over to the door even though she wasn't in the mood to entertain. She was having an enjoyable night being alone with the presents, and she didn't want the rest of her night ruined. It wasn't as if her friends would ruin her night, but she didn't want them asking her are you okay? anymore. However, she knew that if she were in their shoes, she would most likely do the same exact thing.

Opening the door, her smile faded when she saw Narcissa standing there. "May I come in?" Narcissa rushed before she walked past Hermione without waiting for an invitation.

"Of course," Hermione muttered sarcastically under her breath as she closed the door. "Would you like some — "

"No, no tea tonight. I realize how late it is in the evening, and I'm sorry for stopping by on such short notice," Narcissa began as she wrung her hands nervously. "Have you talked to Draco at all?"

"Oh," Hermione whispered as she remembered standing at the front gates of the Malfoy Manor only hours before. She wasn't brave enough to knock on the door and keep her promise of helping Draco. Seeing the looming house before her was enough to send her running away. "No, I haven't."

Hermione watched as Narcissa's expression changed from worried to annoyed. The blonde woman didn't appreciate Hermione's response. After all, she asked the young witch to help her son two nights ago. When was she going to start holding up her end of the deal? "I asked you two nights ago, Hermione, why has it taken you so long?" Narcissa gave Hermione the same look the young witch always received from the Malfoys during her time at Hogwarts, and although Hermione was still broken inside, this was not something she was going to put up with in her own home.

"Why? Let me tell you why, Narcissa," Hermione began as her temper rose. "Maybe because going to your manor gives me certain memories I don't want to relive. Maybe, being around your son reminds me of the constant teasing and mudblood name calling he would always do. Maybe, being around Draco reminds me of the pain that I myself have. Maybe, it hurts too much, and I need time to process it all. Did that ever occur to you? So, don't you dare come into my flat, reprimand me about my timing as I deal with a nightmare from my past." Hermione was angry, and although Narcissa wasn't in the mood for an excuse as to why Hermione hadn't yet visited Draco, she also wasn't expecting an actual reason. A reason that even Narcissa herself could understand.

"I see," Narcissa muttered as she cleared her throat. The distressed mother didn't know how to reply to the young witch. After all, Hermione was right. Narcisa had no right to demand so much from a young girl who was broken herself.

"And if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my Christmas wrapping." Hermione didn't want to talk with Narcissa any longer because their conversation was both irritating her and spoiling her evening.

"Of course," Narcissa whispered as if she was appalled that a muggle born was ordering her around. However, she respected Hermione for having the guts to be so honest with a Malfoy.

As Narcisa walked over to the door, she let her hand linger on the brass knob before she turned around to face Hermione one last time. "I only wondered if you talked to him because he seems to have gotten worse in the past couple of days. I fear that soon there will be no hope at all." With that, Narcissa left before Hermione could even reply.

Hermione was too distracted to wrap her presents after Narcisa left. Instead, she was curious about why Malfoy was getting worse. What happened in the last few days that triggered him? Was it because he saw her, Ginny, Ron, and Harry? Or was it something else?

Even in her dark times, Hermione was selfless. She forgot about her own pain as she thought about his. After all, it had been three years, so what was going on in his heart that caused him to become more bitter? Maybe, Hermione thought after a moment, it doesn't even have anything to do with the war. Maybe, Malfoy has his own war inside of him, a war that just can't be won.

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Draco stood at the front gates of his manor and wondered what he was going to do next. He knew he had to go through with his plan as soon as possible if he wanted Potter to surrender, but he still had no idea how he was going to carry this idea out. He had thought it over for a few days, but he still didn't know exactly how he was going to capture Granger. "Coward," he muttered to himself. "That's all you are. That's the only reason you haven't walked up to Granger and killed her off. Coward," he spat under his breath as he looked disgusted with himself before sadness washed over him. He then had to tell himself to calm down as his fingers gripped around the bars of the gate as he tried to overcome his emotions.

"Draco," he suddenly heard from behind. Immediately turning around, he straightened himself up and pretended there was nothing wrong.

"Mother," he greeted Narcissa with a cold nod. He hoped she hadn't been standing there long and saw him almost fall apart against the gate.

"Where are you off to?" She asked him softly. She wanted to see if she could still carry on a conversation with her son, or if that was lost too.

"What's it to you?" He snarled as he tried to pretend he wasn't falling apart a few moment ago. "I can do whatever I please. I'm not a child anymore." The look on his Mother's face almost broke his facade, and Narcissa caught this. It was only there for a second, but it gave her hope that her son was still there. That he wasn't lost entirely.

"Yes, you are. You've grown into a young man, Draco. Just know that no matter what, I love you," she told him softly as she tried to convince him of the truth.

"I know," he whispered, barely even audible, before apparating and leaving Narcissa alone with nothing but her hope to keep her company.

Draco didn't like to be hostile toward his mother because it made him angrier inside every time he did it. However, he needed to be strong and pretend as if he was not actually broken. It wasn't that difficult to put on another face since he had a lot of practice, but it was exhausting. He was tired of pretending all the time and tired of being tired. The war was over, he should be healing and making himself better like everyone else was. Instead, he was making himself bitter and burying himself lower into his shell. He was fading away, and he knew this, but he refused to do anything that would help him. His bitterness was too far gone to turn back now.

However, as he sat in the Leaky Cauldron once again — sipping on Firewhisky — he tried to convince himself that he was doing what he was supposed to do. Isn't that what Voldemort would have wanted from him? To continue what was needed to be done? To tear apart the Golden Trio? "I need to do this," Draco told himself under his breath before taking a long gulp of the alcohol and embracing the burn as it went down. "I need to do this," he whispered again. It wasn't as if he doubted his plans, he just needed to hurry up with it. What if Granger moved away and he wasn't able to find her? What if someone else got to Harry Potter before he could? The possibilities seemed endless, and all that Draco knew for sure, was that he wanted to be the one to do this. He wanted to tear apart Saint Potter, he wanted to tear down the Golden Trio, and he wanted to kill Granger. Voldemort might've died three years, but he chose Draco, and Draco wasn't going to fail him. Not this time, not ever.

Three glasses of Firewhisky later, and Draco was feeling lightheaded and very brave. It wasn't the smartest decision to find Granger when he was slightly drunk, but he had the bravery he needed. Plus, too much time had already passed. He needed to find her, and he needed to do it before the alcohol disappeared from his system and his cowardice attitude returned.

Trying to keep his balance, he stumbled out of the Leaky Cauldron and down Diagon Alley as he asked anyone he could find if they knew where Hermione Granger lived. He didn't pay attention to the fact that he was Draco Malfoy — a person that was hardly ever seen outside among other wizards. And he most definitely didn't pay attention to the fact that he was drunk and asking around for the same girl he called a mudblood all those years ago. People were going to talk, but he didn't care. All he cared about was Granger and the blood he was sure to spill before the night was over with.