"What about me?" Draco croaked, his throat was raw, and he took two quick, shuddering breaths. "Why couldn’t she have loved me enough to stay?" he asked into the void, his voice weak and hushed. He suddenly seemed very like that small 11-year boy that Hermione watched from the train window nervously kiss his parents goodbye and join their classmates on his first journey to Hogwarts. The boy that looked around with the same uncertainty that she did, his eyes much like her own, desperately searching for some source of comfort in a world that was so big and unfamiliar. But now, they stood on opposite ends of that train. That big, unfamiliar world swallowed him up, it ripped away everything he held dear, and anything he ever cared about and dropped him at the bottom of a pit. No way out, not if he tried. 