Honesty had never been hard for Hermione. It came off of her lips like music, taking with it any chance of impending doubt and guilt. Well typically that was the way it worked. Tonight, however, she couldn't seem to fathom the possibility of uttering the truth to the people who she had once been close to. Had been. She sighed, blinking away the stinging in her eyes.
Peering from the rebuilt entrance of the great hall, she peered into the sparse eating area. Gone were the four tables representing opposing houses and instead large oval shaped tables that seated at least twelve littered the room. Many of the tables stood empty or seated only one two or three people. Toward the entrance of the hall a group of three ate in silence, two heads of red hair and one of shaggy black. Even from a distance Hermione knew it was them.
Ron was facing her though he hadn't looked up from his food, as he stirred it aimlessly. His brow was furrowed, bridging over his pallid blue eyes. He had let his hair grow longer, she noticed, though he was in much need of a trim. Harry, sitting profile to Hermione, looked completely depleted, though he was trying to lighten the mood, she could tell, as he was smiling and talking animatedly to the placid faces of Ginny and Ron, though his eyes remained dead looking. Ginny sat impossibly close to harry, and had a thin pale hand threaded through one of his. Dark bags hung from beneath her once bright blue eyes and her copper mane of hair was pulled back severely into a bun. All in all the looked like shit. She felt a surge of guilt wash over but it was quickly squashed. She wasn't their perfect, reliable Hermione Granger anymore, she wasn't their protector. Things had changed.
There was no way she would be able to talk to them, they were practically strangers. A year without correspondence, and the deeds of supposed friends had destroyed what was once The Golden Trio. She could simply tell them the truth and...And what exactly? Hope they don't hex in an instant? She chuckled to herself. They could certainly try. She bit the inside of her lip, thinking. And what about what I know? Should I simply pretend that it didn't happen, and forgive them?
Hermione ran a hand through her dark pixie cut that curled delicately around her ears and against her forehead. Her eyes quickly scanned the great hall, looking for a mop of blonde hair. Merlin, where was he? They were supposed to be doing this together. She could feel her anxiety mounting as she realized that prat wasn't in the hall. She would have to do it alone. And on the first day of the second semester. Why had she even come back?
Letting out an explosive breath she adjusted her plain school robes. Her robes hung open at the front revealing a plain short sleeved button down blouse that stood starkly white against her tanned skin. Suddenly the garments, despite a cooling charm, felt stifling hot and without a second thought she shimmied out of it and slung it over her arm. Cool air attacked her bare legs and arms and she sighed in relief.
She would explain to her friends why she had been missing, why she hadn't spoken with them since the battle...and they would forgive her. Not believing herself for a moment she closed her eyes briefly, and took a breath. with one last futile glance around the Hall, Hermione steeled herself and walked purposefully across the Great Hall.
Harry stopped talking as she approached, though neither Ron nor Ginny looked up from their food. Disbelieving green eyes widened as she came to a stop next to him, and for a moment Hermione lost her resolve. Oh merlin, i can't do this. Why hadn't she just turned back around and head to the library?
"H-Hermione…?" harry asked on a breathy whisper
Ron and Ginny in unison looked up with neck breaking speed, and all between them was quiet.
"Hello, guys…"
The whispers didn't bother him. At least that's what Draco Malfoy told himself as he walked from the entrance of Hogwarts and into the brightly lit foyer. Students milled about but their movements slowly ceased, the further her walked. He could feel the stares, hell he could feel the tension in the air, the tension of quickly building violence. The hair on the back of his close cropped hair tingled. Ignore it. The front of his hair lay long and slicked back over the shaved underside, a style he had recently acquired after an unfortunate incident during the war. Damn Fiendfyre. Damn Crabbe.
He gripped his wand tightly in his hand, not bothering to hide it. Higher up on his arm, The Dark Mark gleamed against his tanned skin, just as garish and unwelcome as the night it was forced into his flesh.
Just breathe. He swallowed thickly and ignored the students who glared at him as he passed. He wasn't a stranger to disdain and hatred, especially when they were wielded against him. If any of these tossers knew just how misplaced their anger was, they would have been directing that rage at a completely different source. He walked through the entrance of the great hall and surveyed the room. Where on earth was she? He had already checked the library. Damn it, woman i know you can't do this alone. A dagger of icy protectiveness pierced his aloof demeanor. It didn't surprise him though, after a year of watching over her. He was her rock, that much he was certain of, the only source of comfort she had had since the war. And he'd be damned if he let her down now. One more sweep of the room with his pale grey eyes showed him his target. Releasing a sigh of relief Draco stalked toward the former Golden Trio.
Merlin help me.