Disclaimer: I own nothing (seriously, poor college student, lol, I haven't a penny to my name). JK Rowling retains ownership of all her lovely characters and world building, I am just a privileged guest to share my inspiration based on her work.

Warning: May contain explicit language, sexual references, and violence

Chapter 1: Back to the Beginning

31,536,000, the number of seconds since I'd been at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 3,000. The number of lives lost in the war against Voldemort. 1. The number of days it had taken to flip my life upside down.

We all were dealing with the losses of the war, and the final battle, in our own ways. People considered me lucky. I was alive, my family was alive. At least, my birth family. But the family of friends I had built for myself? Fractured... broken.

Broken. That's how I felt some days, waking up to the awful realization that it was not a dream. They're really gone. Like a bomb sinking through the cavity of my chest, the grief consumes me all over again.

There are days I forget to grieve; blissful and short retreats. There are days I feel guilty for letting smiles back into my life; days I feel guilty when a single loss eclipses them all; days I forget the many, and grieve just one.

"Hermione! Wait up!"

Harry looks energized, his expression hopeful, though I can tell by the worn lines under his eyes he hasn't been getting much sleep either. In retrospect, Harry deals with loss better than most, I think to myself. A bitter seed in my conscious reminds me that he's had practice.

His hand grips my shoulder, tight enough to remind me there is feeling outside this eminent numbness. The slightly awkward embrace is comforting and supportive and I repay him with a small, tired smile.

"How was your summer?" Small talk is easy. Almost free.

"I saw the Dursleys." That's an answer in itself. Harry's voice doesn't convey the same bitterness or irritation I'd expected. He must have noticed my curiosity, because he voiced my concern. "It was... nice." The word sounds like a euphemism on his tongue. "I needed the closure."

That I understood. "Are the others almost here?" I feigned disinterest even though the nervous bundle in my stomach told me otherwise.

Harry's eyes flitted downwards to his watch, and a moment later, he snorted derisively. "Funny. I keep checking this watch for the time out of habit, but it doesn't work. It hasn't ever since..."

Harry read my expression and his laugh died with his awareness. His voice trailed to a soft murmur. "ever since it got blasted by a Death Eater... I'd chuck it, but it was a gift from Lupin..."

The silence weighed heavy between us as we gave this pregnant pause as tribute to the memories of Tonks and Lupin.

Harry broke the silence by answering my question. "You know them, they always run behind schedule."

I nodded and not-so subtly moved so his hand slid from my shoulder. Not in a defensive way, but rather as a sign to show I needed my space, both physically and emotionally.

The arrival of Luna and Neville gave Harry interesting conversation, and I was blissfully relieved of the task of filling in the awkward pauses. Neville chatted enthusiastically about the prospects of our 7th year, while Luna watched me out of her neon bedazzled spectacles.

I was considering contributing something to the conversation, before I seemed unsocial, when a sturdy pair of arms slipped low around my waist, pulling me against a burly frame.

My head rolled back against Ron's chest, amber honey curls spilling down across his torso as I met his sky blue eyes. He gave me a genuine if grim smile before planting a tender kiss on my forehead.

He buried his nose in my hair, inhaling my essence as I chuckled, his warm breath tickling my scalp. "'Mione." He whispered it reverently, like a prayer.

1. 2. 3. My heart thumped hard and fast and I forced it back. "I missed you," I confide in him, and he seems pleased by this, the egotist that he is.

Seemingly aware of his infatuation and rude neglect of his friends, Ron transitions into a more neutral position where I am tucked into his side, as he greets Harry, Neville, and Luna warmly.

Ginny's cart rolls through the brick wall moments later, and Harry strides off mid sentence to greet his girlfriend. I watch with interest, amazed at their wordless greeting, a very public and intimate embrace. They seemed oblivious to the crowds of people around them, caught up in their own world.

War does that to people, I conclude. You forget about what used to be important and begin to realize that the only guarantee is now, and it's best to capitalize on it.

After catching up, our group boarded and comfortably settled into a compartment, Ron, myself and Luna on one bench, and Harry, Ginny, and Neville across from us.

Harry and Ginny had barely surfaced for air, yet Neville seemed undisturbed, continuing his conversation with Luna about Herbology.

I lean against Ron, inexplicable exhaustion overwhelming my muscles as I yawn profusely. Watching Neville and Luna converse, I wonder, for not the first time, if there is a future between them. Familiarly, I start to see the lines being drawn, predestined from the start. Neville, the oddball outcast matures into a hero in his own right and ends up with Luna, the eccentric champion of individualism and patron of honesty and loyalty. Ginny, the athletic, talented, long neglected little sister is finally noticed and adored by her longtime crush, Harry... Harry... well, he's just Harry. The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, Triwizard Champion, Youngest Seeker in a Century, and Terminal Procrastinator.

I smirk at the thought. And of course, last but not least: Hermione Granger, the bookworm who finally grew into her looks and breaks out of the friend zone by snagging her best friend, Ron, the third and essential part of the Golden Trio. I pause and wonder exactly what qualifies Ron to be my soulmate.

He is funny, and before the war, that must've been why I loved him. I think some of that has left him, on account of the grief. I can't blame him for that, we've all changed. I think he will go back to his dynamic self in time, and I might even return to my overachieving, know it all, smarty pants self but right now, being a know it all takes too much energy.

I've just snuggled myself into a comfortable nook in Ron's side, when my bladder informs me of an urgent situation that no, cannot wait.

I let out a dramatic, irritated sigh as I sit up and rise. "Be right back, I'm going to make a run to the bathroom," I inform Ron, who is asking me with his expression why I've disrupted our comfortable cuddle.

I pause and halfway expect a "Wait a sec, I'll come with you!" from Luna or Ginny, as girl protocol dictates, but neither makes an offer. Ginny and Harry, like a pair of sea lions, seem to have run out of air and come to the surface for a break from their makeout to snuggle. Neville and Luna are chatting so animatedly, I hate to break it up.

I slide open the compartment door and step into the hall a bit shakily. I never quite got the hang of walking on a moving train.

Half stumbling, half dragging myself down the length of the hall, I hold on to the railing dearly while making my progression.

"Granger! What! The! Hell!"

I glance up to see what has warranted this angry address, and catch a view of a very angry looking Malfoy. It pleases me that he isn't having any more luck walking on the train than I am.

"Malfoy? Why are you here?" My voice lacks its usual contempt, as I'm generally flabbergasted to see him at all. Returning for a 7th year was optional for veterans of the Final Battle. The Ministry didn't really see a point in forcing so many students to readjust to school life, and they thought it would be best if everyone had the option to move forward.

Malfoy always held a sort of contempt for the school in general, and I couldn't imagine him wanting to be at Hogwarts if he didn't have to be.

He sneered at me with what I deemed an unnecessary display of viciousness. "A better question would be why on Earth didn't you report to the front car? I've had a bloody miserable time searching every contemptible cart on the whole bloody train looking for your sorry arse."

I didn't know what to say to this. "Er... sorry, what?"

Malfoy let out an exasperated sigh, shooting me a very Malfoy-esque glare. "Head Boy and Girl assignments! You were supposed to pick yours up in the front car! Dear god, please tell me the war hasn't made you an idiot Granger... I don't want to spend a whole year..."

Malfoy's stream of complaints ran on, pointing out my many defects. My mind was reeling. Head Girl? Me? But I wasn't even a real 7th year... I thought they'd leave that position to one of the younger students...

"Head Girl? But... what? We're not even technically students..."

Malfoy's ramble cut short. "You didn't even know? What have you been doing, hiding under a Mudblood rock all summer?"

1. 2. 3. Everything went blank.

***Author's Note***
Hello Everyone! I hope you enjoyed this introduction to my story. Mostly this chapter is setting up the new, post-war dynamic between the Golden Trio and Hermione's general frame of mind beginning the story. I haven't written in quite a while (life gets busy and hectic), so I'm still searching for my niche where I can fully slide into the perspectives of the characters and really wreak havoc ;) So you'll have to be patient with me as far as grammar goes. I'm a long time "3rd person" writer, so I find myself accidentally referring to Hermione as "she" when I should use "I".

The description is pretty short, so basically my pretense for this story is revolving around each character's struggle to readjust to civilian, student life following the war, and how Hermione in particular conflicts with trying to return to the girl she was, while coping with the emotional and mental aftermath of loss and trauma. If you're confused about the Ron/Hermione situation, and how this is a Dramione fic, it starts out HermioneXRon, but evolves from there. The whole Draco/Hermione Head Girl/Boy theme has been covered a lot in fanfiction, but I'm hoping I'll bring a new light to the psychological aspect of their experience by really illuminating the effect of war on the human mind, with elements of survivor's guilt, PTSD, depression, OCD, and more.

Thank you again for showing an interest and reading! I would absolutely LOVE feedback and comments (whether it be positive, or constructive), so yeah, please read and review!

PS. I have a question for the readers; would you like to see this story continued as Hermione's perspective, or would you welcome intermittent chapters from Draco's first person perspective?