She went to the sentencing for Harry. Or at least, that’s what she told herself. Ron had been going with him to all the other days of the trial, but George was desperately in need of help in the shop, and in spite of having finally passed her seventeenth birthday, Molly Weasley would not allow Ginny in to the public gallery. So Hermione offered to go. She had been doing her best to avoid the trials; she didn’t need to remember it all again. It hadn’t always been possible though; in this one, she had been called to give evidence. Her experiences at Malfoy Manor were more than enough to qualify her as a witness in the trial of Draco Malfoy. Harry had been called too, and both were able to testify that though Draco had been there, he had not directly done anything and had even resisted identifying them, showing his reluctance to be involved in the darker elements of the Death Eaters activities.

While she had sat in the witness seat, Hermione had done everything she could to avoid making eye contact with Malfoy. She was prepared to testify because she believed that justice had to be done properly in this new world, but that did not mean she could like him, or forgive him for the years of torment.

In spite of her best efforts, however, she had at one point, turned her head briefly to the place where Draco sat and in those few seconds, he shifted slightly and their eyes locked.

What she saw there shocked her. This was not the Draco she thought she knew. Gone was the defensiveness, the arrogance, and in their place was a scared, defeated boy. The only thing she could read in his eyes was tiredness, and a longing for it all to be over. He had no grudge, or axe to grind anymore. He was, after all, only the same age as Hermione herself and had been through equally as much pain and trauma during the war. It just happened that his side had been the one that lost. And now he was paying the price for that.

His worn, beaten face had haunted her mind after that day. She avoided going to court again for fear of having to confront him again, and not wanting to acknowledge the emotions that had welled up in her at the sight of him. For the first time she was able to feel something more than hate for Draco, and it scared her. Her dreams, usually dominated by thoughts of Bellatrix storming in to The Burrow to finish the job she had started, were joined by a new face, except this face did not cause her the same fear and pain that her torturer’s did. The sight of Draco in her dreams calmed her, helping her to fight off the demons in a way that only one other person had ever been able to do. She would wake up in the morning feeling rested and comforted but overwhelmingly guilty that it was Draco, not Ron who had helped her to feel that way.

It did not help matters that Ron was so busy. If she had been able to distract herself with his company then perhaps she would not have found her thoughts wondering to Draco so frequently. But left alone for most of the day, and with little else to do but begin studying for her final year at Hogwarts, she became more and more distracted by the sight of Draco, unable to shift it from her mind. She analysed every second of their shared look, and it was easy to convince herself that perhaps he had felt the same connection as she did at that moment. She found herself looking back on all the times they had interacted, and everything they had said and done to each other. She wondered for a while, if perhaps there had been more to his previous behaviour, but quickly shrugged this off. Draco Malfoy hated her; he always had and always would.

Nonetheless, Hermione felt almost nervous as she entered the courtroom on the day of the sentencing, and there was a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach. Her eyes immediately found Draco who looked, if possible, even more defeated. His face was tired and drawn and he had obviously had enough. It seemed to Hermione that he almost didn’t care what happened to him. This time, rather than avoiding him, Hermione found herself staring at Malfoy, studying every part of his face. In spite of his tired, worn appearance, Draco was actually quite attractive, and with his arrogant veneer stripped away, Hermione was able to see it for the first time.

The sentencing passed quickly and Hermione heard almost nothing of it, her mind too distracted by thoughts of Draco Malfoy and her study of his face. She only realised it had finished when Harry and the other observers stood up and started shuffling from the gallery.

“Hermione? Are you coming?”

“What, oh yes, sorry, I got distracted. What happened?”

Harry shook his head. “I thought you weren’t paying attention. He got a suspended sentence. He’s free, for now, but any step out of line in the next ten years and he’ll be straight to Azkaban.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied faintly. She hadn’t really known what to expect; she hadn’t been following the trial very closely, but Harry didn’t seem too surprised so she supposed it must have been the obvious verdict.

As they filed out of the courtroom, Hermione saw Draco standing a little distance from the doorway, seemingly alone. Without thinking, she made her way over to him.

“Draco.”

“What?” he spat turning around, his face hardening into its more familiar expression.

“I just wanted to -”

“What? Gloat? Tell me how I never would have got off without you? Just leave me alone, Hermione.”

“I…okay, I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice fading. Whatever she thought she had seen in his face in the courtroom had obviously been in her imagination. Draco Malfoy would never feel anything but hate for her. One thing stuck in her mind, though. For the first time that she could remember, he hadn’t called her Granger or Mudblood.

“He called me Hermione,” she whispered to herself, as she made her way back to Harry, a faint smile on her face.

Perhaps there was hope for Draco Malfoy after all.