Nothing's mine. Just trying to give a character some well deserved (in my opinion) resolution. Open to feedback and suggestions, just keep it constructive please.
It was her first official day back at Hogwarts since the war. She felt a glimmer of that inquisitive thirst that always filled her at the beginning of each year, but this year it was dampened by the events of the past months.
She alone had decided to return. Ron had started going with Fred to the joke shop over the summer. At first, his mother had sent him to make sure Fred didn't do anything stupid, but soon enough, Ron was going on his own accord,. He seemed to be equally as willing as Fred to lose himself in the put on amusement of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
Harry had gone to work for the Ministry. Kingsley had offered him a job as an auror, and though he was supposedly going through some kind of training, she had a feeling that he was just as likely to be the one training as the one being trained.
She'd considered not coming back. She'd thought about finding a job at the ministry herself or even taking some time off to do her own research and think about what to do next. She'd spent a month looking for her parents but realized almost immediately once she found them that returning their memory might be impossible. The guilt from that decision weighed heavily on her, but she imaged the guilt she would feel had they been killed would've been insurmountably worse.
Nevertheless, she would find a way to give them their memories back; she wasn't one to give up. She'd decided to commit as much time as possible to researching charms and potions that could be useful. Her current interest was researching whether some derivative of veritaserum could be used to reveal the truth of their identities to them, but she hadn't gotten anywhere yet. In the meantime, she was content to know that they seemed happy, despite the pang she felt in heart every time she thought of them.
At any rate, she was here now. McGonagall had offered her a room of her own near the faculty quarters and suggested that she undertake an independent study of her own design during her time at the castle. She assured her that she would be able to sit for any NEWTs that she desired to take, but she didn't think Hermione would benefit from sitting alongside the current seventh years in the traditional classes.
Hermione had agreed almost immediately. The stability and quiet of her own place to live, the idea of finishing her education and access to the largest wizarding library in Britain.
And so she found herself hurrying down the hallway, dodging a group of first years and narrowly avoiding Peeves, before finally arriving at her destination.
The library was quiet and mostly deserted. She made her way back to the table she preferred and set her bag upon one of the empty chairs. She pulled out the potions textbook she'd been using to research the relative stability of powdered moonstone when exposed to different kinds of metals and unceremoniously flipped it open to the bookmark.
It seemed only minutes had passed to her, but soon, the lights in the library were flickering out and Madam Pince was informing her the library would be closing in five minutes.
"Surely an exception can be made," Hermione stated, thinking that she'd rather not lose her train of thought, but Madam Pince was nothing if not a stickler for the rules, and in five minutes time, Hermione was throwing her bag back over her shoulder and heading for the door.
The walk back to her room was almost eerie. During the day, she could almost forget how that wall had crumbled or that student's older sibling had been killed, but at night, there was nothing to distract her from giving into the memories of the horrors she had experienced only months ago.
She had almost reached the private room McGonagall had offered her for the year when a small cough startled her from her thoughts.
Draco Malfoy stood a few feet away from her with his eyes hidden behind his hair as he dug through his bag for something. Her first thought was alarm, but then she remembered that part of his avoiding Azkaban was a period of probation involving his continued education (which seemed rather insane to her, considering what a danger he'd been to the place during the war), and she reminded herself what she'd seen him do in the end and what Harry had told her about his mother.
Taking a calming breath, she spoke, "Are you lost?"
He looked up at her, clearly unaware that she'd been standing there. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before answering, "no. No, I'm not lost, Granger. I've only lived here for almost half of my life."
"That's rather an exaggeration, don't you think?" she replied.
He said nothing and went back to digging through his bag, muttering something about a "bloody key."
Hermione had just decided to ignore his presence and keep walking when he looked back up at her with exasperation.
"Did you need something?" she asked. She didn't particularly want to bother herself with whatever his problem was, but she couldn't help but help people who needed it. Ron thought it was because she was such a know-it-all she couldn't stand to let a question go unanswered. Maybe he was right, but she didn't think the reason mattered so much as the part where she was helping people.
He sighed audibly. "McGonagall gave me a key. Why I couldn't have a room with a portrait, I don't know. Why the thing can't be unlocked with a spell, I don't know. And now I can't get in." He shook the handle of the door in front of him for effect.
She had no answer for this. Her room had a portrait, and she doubted she knew any unlocking spells that he hadn't already tried.
"You'll just have to go see McGonagall then," she finally said.
"Yes, well if it were that easy, I would've done it already, wouldn't I? I may not be the brightest witch of our time, but I'm not Weasley either."
"That was uncalled for," Hermione said quietly. She looked away from him and moved to continue her walk down the hallway.
"Wait," he called after her. She hesitated, but she didn't turn back towards him.
"I'm…well I'm not going to apologize," he said dryly. "They do call you the brightest witch of our time, don't they? And Weasley is something of a dunderhead."
She closed her eyes as she felt annoyance rising up within her. She decided the best thing would simply be to ignore him, so she started once again down the hall.
"Will you just…" she heard his footsteps come up behind her, and she darted away from him as her wand flew out of her sleeve and into her hand.
"Bloody hell, woman," he cried, taking a step away from her with his hands in the air. "Calm down, will you? I'm hardly dying to be your friend, but you realize I'd be condemning myself to a life in Azkaban if I so much as looked at you the wrong way?"
She knew he was right, but she couldn't shake the unease she felt at his being so close to her, at his talking to her.
"Look, mud- mmm," he cut himself off and pressed his lips together uncomfortably. "Granger. I don't want your help, but I don't want McGonagall's more. Your kind of her lackey, aren't you, can't you do something?"
Hermione made a face at him and scoffed. "I'm sorry, did you want my help? Because you're acting like a right prick, and I'm not feeling inclined to do anything for you."
His eyebrows shot up. "Learned a few words from Weasley then?" he sneered. "Just get me into my bloody room, and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the year."
She started at him blankly, not sure whether she was going to give into her nature to be helpful or to leave him to sleep on the cold, stone floor of the hallway. Her Gryffindor nature finally won out.
"Fine," she said raising her wand again. He visibly flinched, but all she did was say, "accio."
They key in question flew out of his pocket and into her outstretched hand.
His cheeks colored in embarrassment; he hadn't even thought to check his pockets, he'd been so sure he'd dropped the key into his bag.
She held the key out to him, and for a moment, neither of the them moved.
He finally reached out and took it. He turned to the door and opened it, not bothering to spare her a glance as he stepped inside the room.
"You're welcome," she sarcastically. His only response was the slamming of the door.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. She once again began walking in the direction of her room, thinking that if she never had to run into him again, it would be too soon. Unfortunately, she would run into him again the very next day.