Breaking Down Walls

Hermione sat in the front seat of her car. It was pelting rain outside, so hard that the windshield wipers were constantly dancing back and forth. Her father was driving her to King's Cross Station, where she would board the Hogwarts Express for the seventh and final time. The gloomy weather made her think about the war. It was ironic that she was supposed to "start fresh," as Harry called it, and her attitude only sunk lower with the morbid atmosphere. It made her think of him. His touch, the way he laughed at every joke she told, and finally the kiss they shared at the final battle. She felt happy and real around him, like she meant something. But now it was all gone.

"We're here honey," her father declared brightly. He looked up and smiled warmly. "Is everything all right?" Hermione gave him a sharp nod, a peck on the cheek, grabbed her trunk, and made her way towards Platform 9 3/4. Her father stared after her, not even receiving a goodbye. At least Harry's still here, she thought as she ran through the wall. And besides, I'm Head Girl, it's what I've always wanted! She sighed and stepped onto the train.

"Hey 'Mione!" Hermione turned around to face a beaming Harry Potter. Unlike her, he was trying to be optimistic, and bury all the hurt away.

And death, she thought.

"Hi Harry," she returned sweetly. "It's good to see you." She brushed past him and left him gawking behind her. How can he take all this so well? she pondered. Oh well, different people handle trauma different ways. She smiled to herself, and walked straight into her worst enemy.

"Oh sorry I... Malfoy."

"Mudblood," he sneered. "Already can't get enough of me, I see. I may just have to file a restraining order, seeing as I'm stuck sharing a dorm with the likes of you all year." He smirked.

"What in the name of Merlin are you talking about Malfoy?"

"It seems you haven't heard, Mudblood, but I have been made Head Boy. No surprise there of course." The famous Malfoy smirk was still plastered on his face.

"Sod off ferret, I don't have time for this rubbish," she snapped.

"Oh, touchy, are we? What's the matter, is Saint Scarhead getting all the publicity, and poor Mudblood Granger is left in the gallows? How sad, I think I'm gonna cry." He sniffled and wiped his arm across his face.

"And poor Malfoy, stuck in his father's shadow, never making a name for himself?" she retorted.

"That's no way to talk to your superior, filthy Mudblood."

"You say that like it's still offensive." She was raising her voice.

"Why you little-"

"ENOUGH!" Both heads flinched at the harsh tone, which could only belong to one person. "That is no way to start off the school year, as heads, and role models for the rest of the school! You both should be ashamed of yourselves." If looks could kill, Professer McGonagall's eyes would be shooting Avada Kedavra at them. "Now, would you please follow me to the Head's compartment?" Hermione sighed, and she swore she could hear Malfoy look up to Merlin. McGonagall strode off at a rather quick pace.

"Merlin woman, it's not like the bloody compartment's gonna dissappear," Malfoy mumbled.

Hermione chuckled.

--

Hermione was sitting in Dumbledore's office.

"What do you mean, up to something? The war is over! Voldemort is dead!" she shrieked.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied in his usual softspoken voice, "I am aware of Tom's death. The reason for my suspicion is that when the Order's most skilled Legilimens tested Draco, he found a 'blank section,' or so to speak, in his mind. Draco is a very trained Occlumens, so-"

"You think he's hiding something," she whispered.

"Exactly, Miss Granger."

"And you want me to find out what it is."

"If you are willing. Now I understand you have been through a lot-"

"I'll do it," she blurted. Hermione blinked, and a single tear splashed on her lap. She could feel herself trembling as she tried to form words. "He would've wanted me to,"' she choked.

"That is very noble of you. You are a Gryffindor for a reason, Miss Granger."

--

"Bloody hell Granger, how long have you been in there?" Malfoy was pacing impatiently outside the bathroom door.

"Sod off Malfoy, I'm almost done!" she yelled from the shower.

Malfoy glanced up to the heavens.

"Well hurry it up, I have to use the loo and take a shower, and we've only got twenty bloody minutes 'till potions!"

Suddenly the water shut off.

"TWENTY MINUTES? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE? WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE TO THE FIRST CLASS OF TERM!"

He gave up on taking a shower.

--

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, there you are. I was afraid you weren't ever going to join us! Being the gifted students you are, that would have been a disappointment." Slughorn resembled a five year old receiving his first toy wand. "Take that station in the back. You can be partners today."

"Brilliant," Hermione muttered sarcastically. Malfoy cursed under his breath.

"As I was saying, today we will be brewing Living Death. Some of you prepared this last year, and for a few of you, two years ago, when Harry here actually claimed the prize." Slughorn was glowing with pride. "Once again, the prize is a vial of Felix Felicis, for both partners who can successfully brew the potion. Everyone must work together. If one person is doing all the work per team, that team will be dissqualified. Is that understood?"

The class murmered in response.

"Good. You may begin."

"I'll go get the ingredients, and you read the directions, okay?" Hermione ordered.

"Don't get used to me listening to your madness. I just want that vial," he replied. "Why are we even retaking this bloody class?"

"Because we want to do well on our N.E.W.T.'s."

He snorted.

They actually worked together quite well.

Both being on the same intellectual level, they could catch each other's mistakes, and add new tricks of their own.

They finished first.

"Merlin's beard, it is perfect. I dare say it's the best I've ever seen!" Slughorn was hovering over their hard work. The five year old look once again reigned on his visage. He strode immedeatly over to Harry and Ginny's potion.

"Are you quite all right, Harry? This isn't your best," he commented, obviously very disappointed.

Hermione knew it was because he didn't have the book. She smirked.

"Careful, Granger," Malfoy teased. "That face of yours almost looks like a Malfoy smirk."

The smirk twisted into a scowl.

"No way, Malfoy," she said too defensively.

He smirked himself.

--

"Ae Chermynah, nisch wok in potons toda."

"Swallow your food, then talk, Ronald."

Hermione dropped her fork. She head snapped up, realizing her mistake, to meet a very confused looking Colin Creevy's gaze. He suddenly became very interested in his ham.

"Are you all right, 'Mione?" Harry asked, concerned. "You've been acting quite odd lately."

"Am I alright? You're barking!" Hermione could feel the anger and frustration clawing at her stomache.

"Did something happen today? Did Malfoy do something?" Harry narrowed his eyes.

"For being the age's savior, Harry, you can be so thick!" The claws had now climbed up to her heart. "Your best friend is dead!"

It was Harry's turn to drop his fork.

"Don't."

"You can't ignore it any longer! It happened!" The claws were climbing again, up her chest and through her neck. Hermione was livid. She stood up abruptly and stormed out of the Great Hall. Before she reached the exit, she saw that one person was staring. One person had witnessed the entire charade.

Malfoy.

He wasn't scowling, or even smirking. He just stared. He lost someone too, she thought. Crabbe.

She didn't know that Malfoy was feeling exactly as she did right then. He too had claws scraping inside him, eating him alive.