Hermione sat in the very back of the library, attempting to study for the upcoming Ancient Runes pop quiz that the professor had told her, and her alone, would be handed out tomorrow. Studying, once her favorite past time, often used as an escape from the world around her, was now a struggle and a burden as everyone knew where to find her and constantly pestered her or stared at her, whether with awe or pity it didn't matter, both were annoying and unwelcome.

After the war had ended, Ron and Harry had petitioned the Ministry of Magic to excuse them from their final year at Hogwarts, but were denied. Hermione was at first delighted, wanting nothing more than to return to a well-worn routine, but quickly realized that wasn't how things would ever be again. Each class had empty chairs, left behind by students who would never return; each person, student and teacher a like, avoided certain hallways or classrooms, haunted by the memories that magic couldn't wipe away. Too many people could see the terrifying thestrals that pulled the carriages to the castle.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the "Golden Trio," the heroes of the wizarding world – a weight none of them cared to carry, but that none of them would turn their backs on. They continued on, day after day, acting as if everything was normal, wishing others would do the same. Ron and Hermione kept up the charade of a relationship, even though they both realized soon after the Battle of Hogwarts that they could never be together in that way. Their friendship was defined by what they had been through together, and apart, and neither could help the other move on, which is what they each desperately needed.

They walked each other to class, held hands in the Great Hall, and gave shared quick pecks goodnight, if only to encourage others to believe that life could go on. Ron had a secret relationship with Luna Lovegood, which was going quite well, and Hermione was ... well Hermione was coping in every unhealthy way she could think of, not wanting to truly attach herself to any one person and drag them down with her.

She was in the library, staring at her books, reviewing these facts in her mind and planning her next outing, when she realized the library was suddenly quiet. It was a silence to rival that which Ms. Pince had enforced and which the new librarian had never been able to achieve. Hermione let out a sigh she hadn't realized she had been holding in, not caring what caused the decrease in noise, but appreciating it for the few seconds it was going to last.

She heard it first and then saw a wand being pushed slowly into her field of vision as she held her head in her hands, elbows on the table on either side of the large tome of Ancient Runes she was reviewing. She moved lithely in one fluid motion, standing up while pushing the chair she had been sitting in loudly across the stone floor, wand raised and ready to meet her attacker.

Before her stood Draco Malfoy, the last person she had expected. Not even pureblood Malfoy had escaped the war unscathed, a fact she was constantly reminded of as she saw him throughout the castle alone, always alone. All of the children of Voldemort's deatheaters now avoided each other like the plague and avoided Draco most of all.

He hadn't moved an inch since she had risen from her seat. He didn't seem affected by the sudden movement or the loud sounds she had caused. Instead, he slowly lifted his hand from his wand, leaving it next to the book she had been reading, and walked back to his chair at the table next to hers.

"What's this?" she questioned, the tension in her voice evident.

"You need people to leave you alone and no one will come near me," he said matter-of-factly before continuing, "I figured someone should benefit from my magnificent ability to be ostracized and I knew that you would be more comfortable if I was wandless."

She quickly retrieved his wand from the table, never taking her eyes off of him. She watched him carefully for a few minutes before returning to her lesson. They sat like that for an hour. She held both wands in one hand, occasionally using the tip of one to turn the page, and he sat at the other table, reading The Daily Prophet. Eventually, Hermione interrupted him.

She stood beside him, her book in the crook of her left arm, bearing most of its weight against her hip, pointing both of the wands at him with her right hand. "After you," she said without any feeling in her voice, pointing towards the library entrance. He understood, and walked out before her into the more public area of the library. Once there, surrounded by students and professors, she handed him back his wand and walked out the double doors without so much as a thank you or an acknowledgement of any sort.

He had expected that.