Draco had looked at her, and for a second he had been all sweet, smirking, drunkenness, and then pain had twinged at his features. Reshaped them. Like looking at Hermione had hurt him. And Hermione didn’t know why, because he wouldn’t fucking talk to her. It didn’t make any sense, and she wanted it all to make sense. So she could fix it. Fix everything. Hermione was so tired of all this hurt and confusion, just so bloody tired. All she wanted was for it to be easy for a little while – was that really too much to ask?