- (Just want to add that i've never actually written anything like this before so it's probably not very good and i'm sorry for any mistakes!) Hope you enjoy it :-)
Hermione's POV
Hermione enters Florish & Blotts, a place that she had spent most of her time these past months, it was quiet and noone bothered her. She liked it that way. It gave her time to think, not that she ever stopped thinking, she didn't seem able to. About Fred, and Lupin, and Tonks... and all the others that died. Reading seemed to help. She thought maybe if she filled her head with enough facts she wouldn't have enough room inside her brain for the thoughts keeping her up at night.
It's been months since the war ended, but things aren't the same. I thought maybe I would feel normal again, or that I would feel anything. But no. All I feel is numb, exactly how I felt throughout that damned war. Only now, there's nothing to fight for, nothing to make me care. We got what we wanted, we won. Voldemort is gone, forever. Yet part of me wishes I could go back, I miss feeling scared and I miss the overwhelming sense of happiness when we got one step closer to killing him. Now i'm forced to go about my day as though nothing happened, nobody died and that I actually care about well.. anything.
Hermione sighs heavily and continues browsing the aisles of Florish & Blotts, without
noticing the tall white haired young man enter, looking as exhausted as she did and almost as sad.
Draco's POV
Draco enters the store with a light jingle of a bell and glances around. He notices the wild brown locks as she turns a corner around an aisle and freezes. She seemed familiar, too familiar. It was Granger. She hated him, loathed him even. Of course, he hated her too. She was a mudblood. Yet for some reason he found himself desperate to talk to her. It had become a part of his daily routine over the years, making fun of her. He missed that. Sort of. He resisted the urge and forced himself to examine the rows of books in front of him, of which he had little interest in.
Ugh. Is there nowhere in this damned world that I can be alone? I hate this. I have felt so alone since the war, I picked the wrong side. They all have each other and the closest thing I ever had to a loving family was ripped apart when he died. And what's left for me? I'll always just be the one that sided with you-know-who.
He suddenly found himself replacing the book he had been staring intently at back on its shelf and starting down he aisle he had seen Hermione walk down. He didn't know why, but he wanted to talk to her. He needed to talk to her. It was a long shot, she was most likely going to leave the moment she saw his miserable face but he didn't care, he was too alone to care.