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Hermione hadn't slept well all summer, but to be fair, her summer was far from relaxing. The Final Battle may have been won, but the trials went on right up until the first week in September, and she and Harry and Ron testified at over half of them.
On top of that, whenever they weren't becoming familiar with all of the Ministry's courtrooms, they were helping McGonagall with the rebuilding. The Headmistress seemed determined to ensure that Hogwarts would reopen on time for the new school year, and with the dozens of volunteers that showed up almost daily to help her, there was no doubt that it would.
So, Hermione attributed her poor sleep that summer to the stress of the trials and the hard work she was putting in rebuilding the castle. However, the first day of the term, she couldn't use that as an excuse anymore.
That night, in the Eighth Year's dorm, she jerked awake not two hours after she'd gotten in bed. Her dreams had been full of those she had lost, the things she'd been through, and the things she'd done. She had no desire to close her eyes again that night.
She left her room, sneaking past the still and silent forms of the others, and made her way to the Common Room. It had been her intention to sit by the fire, but she saw a hand slung over the top of the sofa, and immediately changed course.
Her hand was on the knob of the stone doors that opened to the rest of the castle when the person on the sofa decided to let her know they were awake.
"There's curfew."
Hermione turned, and saw Draco Malfoy sprawled out carelessly on the cushions. Something sharp almost left her tongue, but then she saw his eyes: slightly red, puffy, and with the lines of someone who likewise could not sleep.
She swallowed her words and used them instead to cast a quiet Disillusionment charm before she left.
Hermione didn't wander the halls every night that first week, but she was close to. She slept fairly well the second night, but the third and the fourth night she was back to the corridors. The fifth night she told herself it was setting a bad precedent, and stayed sitting awake in bed, falling back asleep an hour before dawn to the worst nightmares she'd ever had.
When she couldn't fall asleep at all the sixth night, she threw up her arms in exasperation and left the dorm, storming past Malfoy who was on the sofa again. This time, however, she went a little further than the corridors.
Her wandering feet carried her right out of the castle and straight to the Forbidden Forest, although she didn't really notice until she stumbled into the clearing that was the home of the Forest's herd of thestrals.
The thestrals moved to accommodate her presence, but seemed totally unconcerned about her intrusion. Hermione was surprised, but as they moved silently, she spotted a person lying on the back of thestral in the middle of the herd.
It was Luna, of course. There was no mistaking the blonde Ravenclaw, and she was the only other person Hermione could think of who would be out here, anyway. Luna's head turned towards her, and she smiled, raising a hand to beckon Hermione nearer.
Hermione hesitantly walked forward, but the thestrals still did not seem bothered, merely blinking at her with large, curious, and surprisingly soft eyes.
"Hello, Hermione," Luna said, and it was odd to hear her speak when it had been quiet for so long. "Can you not sleep, either?"
"Not tonight," Hermione said, not really wanting to admit to Luna (or herself) that this was a problem. Luna just smiled serenely.
"You're welcome to join me anytime."
Hermione was suddenly sure that if she spoke she would cry, and so she only nodded in response as Luna closed her eyes again, and the thestral beneath her wandered away.
She didn't stay much longer, outside thoughts creeping in and making her aware of how late it really was — or early, depending on the perspective. When she got back to the common room, Malfoy was still there on the sofa. It appeared that he, at least, had found sleep, however tumultuous it might have been. The blanket that had been tossed over the back of the sofa was twisted in knots around his legs, which were moving fitfully, his breathing was quick, and she could see his eyes moving behind his lids.
She couldn't do nothing, and so she strode over and grasped his upper arm with one hand, gently shaking it. Malfoy came awake with a whimper and a gasp, and she felt him tense as his eyes opened and met hers.
Hermione withdrew her hand self-consciously, but Draco's gaze didn't waver. Something unnameable was growing there between them, but before it could reach a boiling point, he ripped his eyes away.
"Thanks," he said, hoarsely.
"Of course," she murmured.
She only realized as she walked up to her bed to catch the last few minutes of the night that she'd thought of him as Draco.
Two nights later, falling asleep proved impossible, but when she entered the Common Room, she found Harry on the sofa instead of Draco. He looked up at her as if expecting a lecture about staying up late, but Hermione just shook her head.
"Come on, then."
"Wait," Harry said, "Ron's up, too."
He scrambled to his feet and returned shortly with Ron in tow. None of them spoke as Hermione led the way; the most noise they made were the vague noises of curiosity as they reached the Forest. Once they reached the thestral's clearing, Hermione felt more than heard the boys' abrupt sighs of relaxation.
"This is nice," Ron said, smiling softly as a curious foal nudged its nose against his hand.
"I guess we're not the only ones who can't sleep, huh?"
Hermione followed Harry's gaze and saw Luna and Draco sitting cross-legged on the cabbage-grass in the middle of the herd. She waited for Harry to display his usual antagonism towards the blonde Slytherin, but she was surprised when he shrugged and flopped back on the grass himself without a word of protest.
A year ago — Merlin, three months ago, even — Hermione would have thought something was wrong with a Harry Potter that didn't think Draco Malfoy was Up To Something. But that was before the end of the war; before the hours and hours of long gruelling trials. Hermione hadn't talked to Harry about it, but she knew that all he wanted now was to be done with it all, and get a little rest where he could.
She left Ron and Harry petting the thestral foals, and approached Draco and Luna.
"Come join us, Hermione," Luna said, without opening her eyes as she approached.
"What are you doing?"
"We're trying to access our cores," Luna explained.
"Really?" Hermione was intrigued. Accessing one's magical core was usually only possible when a witch or wizard attained either great power or great age, and it was not an easily acquired skill. Once mastered, a witch or wizard didn't need to rely exclusively on their wand to conduct their magic, since they had direct access to their core.
"Yes, it's a very delicate process."
"Bloody impossible, she means," Draco snorted, rolling his eyes.
"Why are you still trying it, then?" Hermione asked, with more amusement than accusation. The corner of Draco's mouth quirked in amusement.
"Meditating's almost like sleeping."
Well, if that wasn't a convincing endorsement, Hermione didn't know what was. She dropped to the ground next to Luna and Draco.
"Where do we start?"
Hermione didn't think she made any headway the first night, and realistically she wasn't sure she ever would, because she couldn't find any books detailing exact steps on how to establish a link to her core, but the Forest was welcoming, the thestrals were peaceful, and other people were there almost every night. Over the next few weeks, pretty much everyone who had fought in the Final Battle and come back to Hogwarts at some point ended up in the clearing to find some rest in the trees.
She saw Neville, Susan, Padma, Hannah, Ginny, Seamus, and even Parkinson, Zabini, and Theodore Nott once or twice; not all at once, and not all together, but they all eventually wandered in and were greeted by Luna, who, if Hermione didn't know better, would swear she lived there.
They all looked like Hermione felt: a little lost, and more than a little tired.
More often than not, Draco was among those who were drawn to the clearing, and they would spend the hours in silent meditation, either to attempt to reach their cores, or just to calm their minds enough to try to sleep. They rarely spoke, and generally kept to light conversation when they did, but then there were other nights, like tonight, when they both struggled to find any semblance of relaxation, and had nothing better to do than talk.
Hermione attempted to meditate for all of ten minutes before opening her eyes with a sigh. According to the latest book she'd found in the Restricted Section, clearing one's mind was the essential first and only defined step to reaching one's core, but it just wasn't happening tonight. Draco was lying sprawled back on the cabbage-grass, obviously having given up meditating as well.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked him impulsively.
"Do you remember the first day back?" he finally said after a minute. "Right after we got off the train?"
Hermione remembered it quite clearly, but she hadn't realized Draco had seen her.
She had already been in her robes when they arrived at Hogwarts and left the compartment to save them a carriage and give the boys privacy to change. It had seemed most everyone else had been slow to change as well, and there were only a few others headed towards the carriages with her.
One of those had been Draco Malfoy.
She'd watched him carefully as they walked, noting that there was a curiously somber look about his face, and all the swagger was gone from his stride.
A very small girl in the blue-trimmed robes of Ravenclaw, who couldn't be more than a second year, had bolted past Hermione, and then turned, pointing the carriages out to her friends running up behind her.
"Look," the girl cried, "the carriages pull themselves!"
In shock, Hermione had frozen, and noticed in the corner of her eye that Malfoy had stopped, too.
They couldn't see the thestrals, Hermione had thought, as the other second-years (which they must have been, if they hadn't seen the carriages before) gathered around their friend. She'd hardly known how to react, but she finally smiled. Wasn't this what they'd fought for, after all? This little girl could not, and now hopefully never would, see a thestral.
With a shake of her head, she'd looked around for the nearest empty carriage and had seen Malfoy still standing, eyes fixed on the second years. To her surprise and fascination, as she'd watched him, a tear slid down his pale cheek. He'd lifted his hand slowly to wipe it off, and then Hermione had looked away, feeling that she would be caught if she stared any longer.
Despite her efforts, it seemed he had noticed her anyway.
"Yes, I remember," she said softly.
"She tried to sneak back in to fight," Draco said. "I ran into her, after — after the Room. I didn't even think, I just… cast."
He paused, pressing his lips together so hard, that for a second that she could see them blanch even in the light of the moon.
"I Imperioused her."
He said it with such revulsion that Hermione nearly winced.
"I think I would have done the same," she admitted, and his eyes flew to hers in surprise. "I wouldn't have wanted her to end up out here. Not that this is horrible, or anything, and you're actually very — well... you know what I mean."
"I'm actually very what, Granger?" The corners of his mouth were lifting, like they were flirting with the idea of smiling. Hermione was very glad that the relative darkness hid her blush.
"You're very good company," she said defensively, "and don't call me that — it's Hermione."
He didn't seem to know what to say to that, and they fell back into silence again, but after that night, she felt like something was different between them. She couldn't name how, exactly, but it was so obvious that even Harry and Ron noticed it.
"Did something happen in Nature Club?" Harry asked her over breakfast in the Great Hall later that week, catching her as she glanced away from Draco at the Slytherin table.
"Nature Club?"
"S'what we're calling it," Ron said through a mouthful of waffles. "Luna Lovegood's Nature Club."
It was weirdly accurate, Hermione thought. She liked it.
"Don't let her change the subject, Ron," Harry said, pinning her with insistent green eyes. "So, what's up? Have you finally decided you fancy the blonde git?"
"Harry!"
"That's a yes, mate," Ron laughed. "Pay up."
Hermione watched in disbelief as Harry passed several Galleons over to Ron, who accepted them with syrup-sticky fingers.
"It's ok, Hermione," he said, tucking the coins in his robes, "you don't have to use that 'meditating to reach our cores' excuse anymore. Just, y'know, don't go snogging all over the place where we can see it."
Hermione tried to protest that they really were working on being able to reach their cores, but it fell on deaf ears; the boys had already begun discussing who had the best chances in the upcoming Ravenclaw v. Hufflepuff Quidditch match. She was hardly in a good place to be thinking of a relationship, she thought, trying not to quietly panic as breakfast wrapped up. For Merlin's sake, her mental state was so fragile she couldn't even sleep full through the night!
She managed to distract herself from thinking about it all day in classes, but after dinner not even revising for Ancient Runes could keep her mind from wandering back to what Harry and Ron had said that morning, and she gave up all pretense of working, throwing on a cloak and going out to the Forest early.
Unsurprisingly, Luna was already there, quietly meditating. She opened her eyes briefly and smiled at Hermione as she approached, but didn't say anything. Hermione was grateful for the silence as she joined Luna on the cabbage-grass.
For some reason, maybe because she was feeling very motivated to not think about Draco and the feelings she might or might not have for him, tonight she found it very easy to sweep everything out of the way and let her mind drift in a vast expanse of nothing.
She felt herself relaxing into it more and more, unaware of how much time was really passing, when abruptly, there was something else there: a softly glowing red light.
If she hadn't already cleared her mind, she would have wondered where it came from, but Hermione just let herself slowly draw nearer to it, until she was close enough to touch it.
A sort of fizzy sensation filled her entire body, rather like the feeling she'd had when she went to Ollivander's when she was eleven and her wand —
"Oh," Hermione breathed quietly.
She'd done it. This was the core of her magic. It felt like a warm hot meal at the end of a cold day, or like what she imagined getting a full night's sleep would feel like.
"You did it."
Hermione carefully opened her eyes, afraid she'd lose touch with it if she changed anything, but the feeling stayed steady. It was fully dark now, and Luna had wandered off. It was Draco that had spoken, sitting next to her with a stunned look of awe in his eyes.
"Yeah," Hermione said breathlessly. "I did it."
"Try something," he urged her. "Without your wand."
Hermione nodded, and making sure she kept a hold on her core, she spoke the words of a charm they'd learned last week from Flitwick. She wasn't really sure it would work, but she felt her core briefly surge, and then flower petals began drifting down from the sky all around. She heard several cries of delight from whoever else had made their way to Nature Club tonight.
"Brilliant," Draco said, smiling even as petals landed in his hair and all over his robes.
Hermione laughed, for the first time in a long time not feeling as if she were stretched thin, and when she leaned over and dropped her head on Draco's shoulder he slid his hand into hers, and she knew that eventually, they'd all be alright.