If we turn our attention back to the moment Draco was punched, we might be able to understand how he managed to find Hermione through the darkness of night.
"Do not tell anyone." Draco threatened Goyle and Crabbe, his face grim as he watched the three small figures moving hurriedly across the grassy slope. The two of them were stunned by the dramatic scene and hurriedly nodded to Draco.
Hermione's punch had come too suddenly.
Draco was caught off guard and completely bewildered.
For the past three years, his relationship with Hermione Granger had been entirely free of violence, and he had never imagined he would be struck by her again.
Counting his previous life, this was the second time he had heard her say those words... "bastard," "disgusting little cockroach"... he covered his nose, and a sharp, stinging sensation instantly shot from the tip of his nose to the back of his head and into his heart.
He gave a helpless, bitter smile, a smile that looked worse than weeping.
Fate! Given another chance, and he was still cursed with the very same words.
Is he really that bad?
Draco was utterly dispirited.
"Draco, your nose is bleeding..." Goyle stammered. In his haste, he swallowed the toffee in his mouth whole, choking and coughing.
A warm trickle gradually seeped out from between his fingers.
For someone as image-conscious as Malfoy, a nosebleed was certainly undignified.
"We will go with you to the lavatory..." Crabbe blinked, puzzled, and offered a rare sensible suggestion.
"No! I shall go myself, you two go on." Draco said wearily. "Get to training. Hit three hundred Bludgers today, three hundred each."
"But..." Goyle said worriedly.
"Training, now, immediately!" Draco snapped, hurrying towards the nearest boys' lavatory, leaving behind the words, "Do not follow me!"
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, staring blankly at his retreating figure.
The lavatory was empty.
Only Draco Malfoy stood there, frantically turning on the tap. The cold water stopped the bleeding, and his blood-stained robe was tossed aside.
He leaned on the sink, staring at the boy in the white shirt in the mirror amidst the rushing water, trying to understand what the person in the mirror was thinking.
Merlin, what exactly had he done?
Had he ever kissed her? When?
He had kissed her? Was that why she had been avoiding him lately?
Draco pursed his lips, looking at his own furrowed brow, and dug fiercely into his memories.
Could it be that he had inadvertently mistaken memories of this life for those of his past life, and locked them away using Occlumency?
Trembling, he opened the sealed compartments of his mind, searching through every possibility, hoping to find something. However, apart from making his face grow paler and paler, he found nothing.
It is so disheartening. Whether it is this blank memory, or Hermione's fists all over again.
She had struck him once before, over Buckbeak. In this life, he had kept his distance from that hippogriff, yet he still could not escape this brutal punch.
Hermione Granger, as always, has a remarkably strong grip when she is angry.
The pain was so intense, both physical and otherwise, that Draco smiled bitterly at himself in the mirror, his mind in turmoil.
She had clearly been angry. Such fury was rare to see from her.
Her furious words had carried an unusual signal.
"After what you did to me, you actually said you thought of me as a sister?" Her tearful accusation flashed through his mind again, her eyes red and swollen.
Merlin, what heinous thing he had done to her, and when he had kissed her, were questions only Hermione herself could answer.
Merlin above, he had absolutely no idea!
However, her next sentence had been that she did not want to be his sister.
What did that mean... was it the meaning he suspected?
He stared at the wretched, melancholy boy in the mirror, unsure what to do.
Admit it, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger is certainly not just a sister to you.
At first, he had still been able to fool himself.
In first and second year, he had harboured no untoward thoughts... she had simply been a lively, endearing, and somewhat headstrong little girl who needed coaxing, care, and a great deal of brotherly concern and affection.
But as she grew and matured, she became not only endearing, but ever more so.
She revealed to him a side of Hermione Granger he had never had the chance to know in his previous life.
She looked after him. She spread butter on his toast and handed it to him as naturally as anything.
She casually straightened his tie, tightening it as she went. She fed him his medicine, wiped his mouth, and even held him, gently patting him to sleep.
She chased away the desolation the Dementors had left in him.
She cast Drying, Cleaning, and Warming Charms on him from beneath the stands, making those bleak training days more bearable, even something to look forward to.
She stood up for him. She clashed with the Hufflepuffs in the library, defending his dignity as Slytherin's Seeker.
She argued with her dormitory-mate over some ridiculous prophecy... she did not even believe in Divination, yet she would not allow anyone to say he was doomed.
In the Quidditch stands, she was the first to cast the Patronus Charm, trying to protect him from attack.
She helped him.
She secretly took him, invisible, into the Forbidden Forest.
She translated Herpo the Foul's difficult notes for him.
She analysed every student in the school, trying to work out who had opened the Chamber of Secrets.
She even trusted him. She kept a great many secrets for him, despite her deep suspicions.
The secrets of the Forbidden Forest, the secrets of the Bludger, the secrets of the Basilisk, any secret at all.
She gave him warmth and comfort.
She had reached out a friendly hand to him on the Hogwarts Express. Flying with her made him feel truly alive.
She had embraced him warmly by the stands, rekindling his fighting spirit for Quidditch.
Noticing he had not eaten dinner, she had secretly brought his favourite food to the Astronomy Tower to settle his stomach.
She had stroked his hair as he slept, giving him the most wonderful afternoon he had ever spent in a library.
She added a touch of sweetness to his bitter life.
She had saved him a slice of birthday cake. She had made a fun afternoon out of a Muggle skateboard.
She had tried to lift his spirits with Muggle music. She had capriciously swapped his iced coffee for her own. She had made him eat a great pile of chocolate.
She had dragged him around Muggle streets, refusing to let him shut himself away indoors, and forbidding him to rub his temples over some headache-inducing book.
She was a natural at solving puzzles. He had relied on his memories of his past life, and even then he had struggled to work things out.
But she seemed to piece the details together effortlessly. Who else could have imagined that the Basilisk travelled through Hogwarts by way of the pipes?
Who else could have guessed that Remus Lupin might be a werewolf?
She had a gift for putting what she learned into practice. She studied every charm meticulously and with great care.
She always earned praise from Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall. Even the spells he cast without much thought, she could quickly learn, and often cast better than he did.
She was undoubtedly a top student.
Who else could have brewed something as advanced as Polyjuice Potion in their second year? Who else would voluntarily take on so many subjects and achieve such outstanding marks?
She always said he was her favourite study partner, but was she not his too? Who would not be captivated by such a clever, diligent, and capable girl?
He enjoyed their seamless collaboration in Potions. A single glance, a single word, and they knew exactly what the other meant.
No further explanation was needed. That unspoken understanding always brought a knowing smile to both their faces.
She always tried to understand him, to uncover his secrets.
She said he was brave, though he had never thought of himself that way. She had dragged him into teaching the Patronus Charm, letting him experience the pleasure of being respected by students from other Houses.
She said he was kind, even though he had only kept Lupin's secret out of a wish not to meddle. She even said he was gentle, as if she could find some other emotion in his indifferent eyes.
She said she liked his smile. She said his smile was very handsome.
Hermione Granger.
She always seemed to be trying to find something that should not exist in Draco Malfoy's dark soul, some glimmer of humanity.
What was most alarming was that she always seemed able to find some dubious piece of evidence to justify the reasonableness of her thinking.
She understood him. No one else could understand him as she did.
Merlin, he loved her. He loved everything she did for him.