The halls were silent. The statues returned to their original places, though some of their pedestals were completely demolished. The paintings spoke in hushed tones as if the darkness still walked around them, eavesdropping. There was a tangible feel of relief…and the smell of smoke and burned flesh.

The war was over, but there were so many casualties hardly anyone was celebrating. They were mourning their losses. Everyone was gathered in the great hall, assembling and awaiting the next step in recovering from this horrible period of gloom and despair. The war was over, yes, but the outcome was far too saddening. Witches and Wizards surrounded the deceased crying, wailing, and sobbing. It was too much for Hermione Granger.

She knew it would come to this. The grieving would come and never leave, she thought. Soon she felt sick and dizzy knowing it was only seconds before she would collapse in a heap and follow the others' examples. Ronald. He was gone, and she couldn't fathom why she only felt a small pang in her chest, not the life-consuming heartache she thought she would have felt for Ron. She was now more preoccupied by leaving and not being spotted shedding tears, for she did not want to be pinned as weak.

As she ran through the crumbling corridors and under dangerous archways she let only a few tears slide down her cheeks. They ended up on her throat as she reached the courtyard. The wetness only made the biting cold even chillier. She wore only a simple thin brown jumper and Muggle jeans. The sun was not helping her at all. Her hair was as unruly as ever and only made finding a path to the grounds that much more difficult.

Everything was in ruins. The bridge to the black forest completely collapsed. Hermione took a walk through the arches to the Black Lake, blindly stepping over stones the size of a Hippogriff.

She thought back to the times she, Harry, and Ron had walked this way to Hagrid's cabin. It seemed like ages ago that they ran laughing. She missed those days ever since they had gone into hiding. Now it would only be her and Harry. It wouldn't be the same.

As she walked on she thought she saw a shadow moving in the distance. Near the lake. She wondered absentmindedly if the giant squid was still there, curling its tentacles towards the sun in hopes of finding warmth like she tried. She stuffed her hands into her jean pockets finding a simple ball of lint in there. The reflection in the water was of the setting sun and backdrop of the Dark Forest lined up. The trees suddenly seemed ominous again but Hermione could not, for the life of her, figure out why.

The shadow at the edge of the lake shifted confirming Hermione's thoughts. There someone out here, possibly wishing to avoid the crowd like her. Or maybe planning a trip back home.

Home. She thought of home. Where would she go now that the war was over? Would she search for her parents and go back with them? Could she even find them? This thought worried her and she proceeded towards the cold waters. The tears had not stopped and in her blurred vision she could just make out a body suddenly standing and facing her.

Her footsteps were silent. She merely kept walking as the body in front of her tensed. She could not make out any features but her tears were running out. Hermione hadn't cried as much as she thought she would. The curiosity of this possible stranger cleared Ron out of her head, if only for a minute. She didn't want to dwell on him. She didn't want to cry again. She hated crying.

The horizon was no longer the pink-orange of dusk but the light blue-purple of twilight. The light was faint but the moonlight shone, only just, enough to make out the white blond head of Draco Malfoy. The last person Hermione thought she would see here. She had thought that the Malfoys left as soon as they could to avoid any confrontation. But here was the youngest of them, with tears of his own streaking his face.

Hermione knew her face was pink with cold, her lips chapped but she couldn't help but look at his face and compare. She hadn't seen him since the incident at Malfoy Manor but even then he looked healthier than this. Now his cheekbones protruded noticeably, his skin paler against the bones than parchment. The hollows under his eyelids and the gaunt look in his once bright grey eyes startled her. His wrist at his sides seemed too thin and frail and his usually lanky body seemed thinner and even more delicate. He no longer looked the part of a snotty cocky Slytherin. Hermione thought he looked like a fallen angel.

And she stared at him for a while. And he stared back. They didn't move a muscle, did not twitch, simply stared. A million thoughts ran through Hermione's mind but she didn't dare speak and ruin the moment of silence that spoke louder than words ever could. Malfoy looked away first. He spoke as well, and Hermione couldn't help but notice the vulnerability and regret in his voice.

"Granger…" Her name, just above a whisper. Just her name but that was all it took for him to break again. And Hermione couldn't just stand there. As he crumbled to the ground she found her arms around him in an embrace too familiar, but they needed this, both of them. They needed someone to hold them and not speak, not remind them of what they had lost. For her, a beloved friend. For him, his sanity.

His skinny arms held her as well as he poured his heart out to her in the form of salty tears. They fell into her hair, but Hermione could care less at the moment. She was helping this man, for he was turned a man too soon, forced to grow up by all he had seen. As did she but she never minded. Hermione knew they would grow up eventually, only it happened sooner than expected.

The few moments that Draco and Hermione shared at Hogwarts that did not include insults or hexes were quite sweet. A shared kiss was one of them. She had found him, alone, in the abandoned girl's lavatory, tormenting himself over a mistake he had made. Hermione was sure it was all a ruse, but why else would the Slytherin Prince be crying? It must be for a reason. He had shouted at her to leave but she wouldn't. She was too stubborn. He had then found himself sharing his secrets with her in a way he felt should be forbidden. Her compassion and understanding had caused him to react irrationally. He needed someone and she was just there. He had given a chaste kiss to her lips that resulted in six months of secret meetings and whispered conversations in empty corridors. They soon acknowledged that their relationship would never be accepted so they parted ways. They never spoke again but stole furtive glances at each others' way just to make sure they were there, that the person they loved was real. And they were.

During the war they thought frequently of each other, wondering if they were holding up fine.

At Malfoy Manor, when the Golden Trio were brought to Draco's home, he reacted. Seeing Hermione so beet and tired roused his emotions. He helped them escape. And he was to go to the light side. But his parents were punished on his behalf.

Hermione will never forgive herself for causing him so much pain. But she needed him, and he needed her. So she kept him company that night at the lake. Even though she was freezing her face off, she stayed with him. And Draco Malfoy kept going back to Hermione Granger.