A/N: This is a Dramione fic, starting the summer after book 7 ends. It is written in the EWE style (Epilogue? What Epilogue?), and I'll try to stick to the characters as much as is possible in a Dramione story. (ie: Harry and Ron will not immediately become friends with Draco after a single meeting.) Beyond that, I have no expectations for this story, besides the fact that being my first, it will probably be complete crap. Oh well. Here goes.
Hermione slowly walked down the stairs in the Burrow. Her head was cloudy; it was early. She glanced at the clock, but then remembered that it was the Weasley family clock, and couldn't tell her the time any more than a mouse could.
Well, she thought, that would be an interesting transfiguration lesson, turning mice into clocks. Challenging. Though she constantly worked hard during the school year, she still remembered a number of classes where she had been bored out of her mind because she already knew the material Professor McGonagall was going over. Despite that, Hermione had paid close attention, as always, in case she mentioned something that wasn't in the book.
She walked into the kitchen and looked at the digital clock on the counter. It read 4:37. This clock was a recent addition. She and Harry had worked very hard to get it installed in the house without Mr. Weasley tampering with it. They had also had to place a number of protective charms around it to prevent future "examinations" as well. Hermione had personally put a charm on it that supplied it with power without the need for electricity, seeing as the Burrow had never been wired for it.
To console the rather depressed Mr. Weasley, they had pooled their muggle money and bought him an iPod, which he absolutely loved (once he figured out how to work it). They suspected he hadn't been able to resist tampering with it, either, since its speakers now played snatches of Celestina Warbeck at random times, (a decidedly non-muggle singer) and Hermione thought she had heard it muttering to itself one day. She would be worried, but she knew the only thing Mr. Weasley was more passionate about than tampering with muggle technology was avoiding sentient magic. His paranoia was admittedly justified after their second year encounter with Riddle's diary, but it had been amplified when Ron let slip about how he was affected by the locket horcrux during the previous year.
Hermione was not up early for any particular reason. She simply couldn't sleep. She still had bad dreams about the battle at Hogwarts, though they had gotten less frequent as the summer progressed. She knew she couldn't complain; she got off easy compared to Harry.
Despite, or perhaps because, he had personally vanquished Voldemort, Harry had woken Ron nearly every night for the first month of summer, thrashing in his sleep on his cot in Ron's room. After that, he simply moved to the attic, which had been recently vacated by the ghoul. When it had found out its occupation of Ron's room (pretending to be Ron with spattergroit) was only temporary, it had up and left one night, leaving a smell of sulfur behind that Ron had still not managed to completely get rid of.
Hermione walked towards the door out to the garden. She always liked the garden at the Weasley's, even with the gnomes. They didn't bother humans at night, provided you stayed away from their holes, and it was so peaceful there. Of course, she knew that having broken up with Ron the two days before, she probably wouldn't be able to enjoy her place of solitude much longer. The Weasleys would never kick her out, but she was going to leave; it would just be too awkward if she stayed.
She resolutely pushed thoughts of Ron out of her mind. She wouldn't sully her last night of peace by thinking of him. She lay on the ground, heedless of the dirt sticking to her nightshirt. She stared up at the stars, contemplating.
Her thoughts invariably strayed to the war, as they always seemed to in her moments of quiet reflection. But this time her mind was not filled with visions of terror or the memory of pain. Instead, she remembered the final battle, and that triumphant, stunned feeling that everyone had gotten when they finally realized that Voldemort, the epitome of evil, was finally gone. The elation didn't set in for a full five minutes beyond, at least not for Hermione. She had just been so glad it was finally over.
She wandered among her memories of that day: seeing Luna and Neville finally kiss, kissing Ron herself after he suggested they save the house elves (she felt a pang in her heart at this, but pushed it away), Harry and Ginny had finally been able to be together again… Then her thoughts wandered to one face in the crowd, one she hadn't even thought of until now. A single, pale face, with platinum hair that just fell into his eyes.
She knew his father was a Death Eater. She knew he was a Death Eater. She still loathed him like any good Gryffindor would loathe a Slytherin. Yet all she felt now was sadness, and a sort of pity, as she remembered his lone unsmiling face amidst the reveling crowd.
She wondered what had become of Draco Malfoy.
A/N: This first chapter was just set-up. That's why I'm posting the second and third chapters at the same time. Not too much action until later on (I have a feeling this is gonna be a long one).