Hermione's first day of classes went by quickly. She barely felt the time pass as she soaked up her professor's lessons like a sponge, answering questions at every opportunity. It was almost as if she could lose herself, she could pretend the war didn't happen when she was in her classes, absorbing information. She could pretend she was still 11, stuck still in that magical time when nothing was serious and everything amazed her. She could pretend her life wasn't a mess. She could pretend that she wasn't entirely alone in the world. She could pretend that the past year of her life hadn't taken away everything that she had loved.

The war robbed her of her family, her mother and father's memories were deemed irreversible, a side effect of using a memory charm to erase something so large as a child from their memories; they would never look upon her face and see their daughter again. The war robbed her of love, and she was fully confident that if it had not happened, Ron would have fallen for her and her for him. But, as it happened, he became immersed in his fame and he never saw her more than a friend (at times, with benefits). Hermione certainly did not encourage that, though. The war robbed her of friends, of innocence, of laughter and good memories. It robbed her of restful nights, good dreams, and a sense of comfort. The only things war gave her were awful, horrifying night terrors, and more than a few bad habits, like forgetting to eat. War left her with the feeling that someone was always watching her, a feeling she would never be truly free of. War gave her the habit of sleeping with her hand on her wand, the habit of waking up at ungodly hours of the night because it was the safest time to be awake, when no one else was.

Hermione found it very comforting that she could forget all of that, for just a little while. She knew she was a ghost of her former self. But there was no way to completely come back from it, and she was thankful that those around her could relate. There was no way to explain the horrors of war to an outsider, so having the survivors together, the returning students all sharing a common room together, it brought a small comfort. It was good to know that if any of them ever wanted to talk about it, although it was doubtful any of them would, they could all relate.

She sighed and pushed her lamb stew around on her plate. Her appetite had diminished as images of the war appeared behind her eyes. She put her spoon down after a minute and just sipped at her pumpkin juice, faking a smile at whatever nonsense Seamus had just rambled about. Neville was chatting with Ginny about some Romanian root that grew as tall as giants. Dean was heartily eating his meal, while Seamus chattered at him and Hermione both.

Across the room Malfoy sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, at least three seats away from any other student. He was again dressed in all black, sitting perfectly still, staring at an empty plate with little focus. Hermione took the time to study his face, which she hadn't previously done very often. He had a very pale complexion normally, but he seemed almost translucent now, small cuts littering every visible surface of his skin. He looked as if he would blow over if a strong wind blew through. Her brows furrowed in concern.

"Does Malfoy seem off to you?" Hermione mumbled quietly to Dean, who sat next to her. He chewed a piece of meat thoroughly while throwing a glance at the man in question before he turned back to her and swallowing.

"Looks like a bloody mess," he said with a shrug, "bastard was always a prick, though, probably got banged up by someone before he got here." He brushed it off. It made sense; the Malfoy's had plenty of enemies nowadays, and they were rarely seen in public anymore. Lucius Malfoy was locked away in Azkaban. However, due to Harry's vehement insisting on their behalf, Narcissa and Draco had been spared the same fate, and received each a six month sentence of house arrest, and three years of community service. They were only a year in, but they had thrown countless events to raise funds for Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Diagon Alley. They funded a large portion of the rebuilding efforts in the nation, and they supported a new organization that delegated in giving comfortable lives for victims of the wizarding war; muggle and wizard alike. Outside of these events, however, they were rarely spotted. Many people spoke ill of them regardless, and rumors often circulated that Draco was a werewolf or vampire, or veela, or some other mythical creature, because he had not spoken to anyone, even his friends, since the end of the war. And the fact that whenever he was seen in public, he was often standoffish and shaking, or having trouble breathing.

Hermione nodded, but she couldn't keep her eyes from glancing at him periodically throughout dinner. He didn't touch any food, but he repeatedly took gulps from his goblet. Daphne and Pansy had tried to start a conversation with him, but he shortly stood and left the room, leaving them with miffed expressions.

Shortly after Seamus and Dean stood and she followed. They wandered the abandoned west wing, taking the many turns to their new common room.

"'Mione?" Seamus asked as they reached the warmer part of their journey. "Why did ye come back to Hogwarts? I mean, Harry and Ron both got into the auror program, so why 'int you?"

Hermione smiled easily at him, "Oh, I got the same offer, but I decided against it. I wanted to come back, I…I just needed a break from life." She frowned slightly. "And I don't want to be an auror." She added. Hermione wasn't sure exactly what she wanted. Something to do with magical creature rights, perhaps. Or healing.

"Blimey, I wish they'd give me an offer," Dean scoffed, throwing an arm over Hermione's shoulder and pulling her close to his side. Hermione was comfortable here, in the arms of a friend.

"I've chased down dark wizards long enough, thank you," Hermione said with a small smile. They had reached the fountain.

All three drew their wands and tapped it to the water three times. "Quindecim Amicus," they whispered and, just like the night before, nothing happened. But they knew now that they had changed the water to a fog, and they entered. As they reached the common room, they heard loud shouts and slowed in the doorway.

"You can't just ignore us!" A female voice shouted, sounding rather enraged. "We're your friends, we've waited almost a year for you to get better, but you won't let yourself! Mate, you've got to let us talk to you!" It was Pansy, shouting madly as Draco Malfoy sat in a chair by the window, not paying her any mind.

"She's right mate," Blaise said quietly, putting a hand on Pansy's shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"He knows I'm right." She spat at Blaise. "I'm his friend, Zabini, back off."

Blaise put his hands above his head in an "I give up" position and walked over to a couch.

Pansy waived an angry finger in Malfoy's face, "You don't get to treat us like this. I know you've been through hell, but we all have. You don't get to sit there and just...just look at me, Draco." She was begging, and she knelt in front of him. She reached out to put a hand on his cheek but he turned to face her. He didn't say anything, just looked at her. She pulled her hand away. "We miss you, I miss you." She admitted in a weak voice, her large dark eyes staring hopelessly into his cold grey ones.

She remained kneeling, at his feet as he stood and stepped around her. He walked slowly, which seemed to be his only pace these days, until he reached the hallway to the bedrooms. He looked around at each one of them- Blaise resting on the couch looking after him with a frown, Pansy still on her knees by the chair with tears in her eyes, and the three Gryffindor's in the doorway, shocked still.

He was breathing heavily, Hermione noticed, as his eyes wandered over his friends. He grabbed for the hallway's sturdy wall, leaned on it, and continued to leave.

"Malfoy," Hermione called after him, the emotion from the events in the room filling her voice. He turned back, his eyes gazing at some spot beyond her. Her brows furrowed, and she wished more than anything that he would spit a derogatory phrase or some lude comment, or even just smirk at her. That would be normal. That would give her some comfort.

She didn't say anything after that, she couldn't think of anything to say. She didn't know why she said his name. Perhaps she figured he would surely insult her given the chance. She was wrong. Everything was wrong.

After a while, Malfoy turned away again and disappeared down the hallway. Pansy still sat there, on her knees in front of an empty chair. Hermione walked towards her, her heart beating painfully for the girl. But Seamus grabbed her arm and held her to him and walked to a couch where he sat, and she sat with him, grasping his hand tightly. He smoothed her hair and if her grip pained him, he didn't let on. Her eyes didn't leave Pansy, who remained there for another hour before she stood and left the room, her red rimmed eyes kept to the floor.

Hermione spent the night in Seamus's arms shamelessly. He was sweet and willing to hold her, and she couldn't complain. But her mind wouldn't let go of visions of war, and of grey eyes, of broken house mates. Her heart ached for hours on end until she fell asleep against his chest.

She dreamt of a dragon in chains, flying over the world, with holes in his wings. Large claws stretched out passed those wings. She was clutching the back of his neck, just above where his wings came together. He was flying towards the shore of a black beach, and as they touched the ground, a large huff came from his chest. She slid from the beast, and she wasn't afraid when he turned to look at her. His large eyes studied her and she walked past his enormous, elegant scaled face. His gaze followed her and her eyes never left his. She placed a delicate hand on his snout, and again he huffed. The force of the air blew her hair from her shoulders and pushed her dress around. She smiled, and turned away, toward the water.

When she woke, she could still feel the chill of the water, the feel of his scales on her hand, and the sand between her toes. But soon it faded, and she felt Seamus pull her tighter into his arms, and press a kiss to her hair. Moments later Dean stormed in and pulled Seamus from the bed rather aggressively, yelling about adulteration. Hermione left quickly to get ready for her classes. As she darted out the door, she bumped into Draco Malfoy, and she felt rather than saw his hand grab her. It felt oddly familiar. Her own hand had landed on his chest, and through his thin skin she could feel his chest heaving irregularly.

"I-I'm sorry," She stuttered, pulling her hand away. She noticed that his stayed. His eyes met hers before darting into the room beyond her where Seamus lay on the floor, and Dean smacked him ruthlessly. His eyes found hers again, and stayed there. "I didn't see you, I'm sorry," She said more articulately.

He nodded and still looked into her eyes before finally releasing her arm. "Alright," he said quietly, and walked away without looking back. She stared after him until Dean came into the hallway.

"What're you looking at, Hermione?" He asked, looking down the empty hall. "We're going to be late to advanced potions."

Hermione ran to her room then, brushed her teeth, charmed her hair into a neat braid, and changed into fresh robes. Seamus handed her a bagel in the common room and they all left for class.

Upon arriving, they were informed by a bubbly Professor Slughorn that he had taken upon himself to pair them up himself to build house unity.
"Headmistress McGonagall has suggested the idea to me last night, and I believe we could all benefit from this. And we are all on the same caliber here; don't worry about getting a faulty partner. Alright, that said, Mister Thomas and Miss Parkinson. Mister Malfoy and Miss Granger. Mister Finnegan and Miss Greengrass. Mister Longbottom and Miss Davis. Thank you."

Hermione crossed the room to sit next to Malfoy in front of his cauldron in silence. They were lectured briefly on pepper up potion before he encouraged them to make some of their own. He added that the winner would be giving theirs to Madame Pomfrey and would be given extra points. Hermione rolled up her sleeves, as was usual when she began her potions. That was, until she noticed Malfoy staring openly at the scar on her forearm.

She froze momentarily, unsure of how to react. Flashes of his face, disturbed and helpless, appeared in her mind from the night she received it, crying on the floor of his home. She decided to ignore the stare and begin the potion. He began crushing ingredients and she felt relief ripple through her at his silence.

Their potion had won; of course she didn't expect anything else. Malfoy had always been just behind her in potions, and she was always best. Aside from the year that Harry had cheated with that book. Slughorn had happily awarded them five points each and whisked away their vials to Madame Pomfrey.

Draco left quickly with no regards, and Hermione waited for Seamus and Dean as they cleaned up the exploded mess of goop that Seamus had accidentally created.

That night, Hermione lie alone in her own bed. She struggled to fall asleep, eventually resorting to a sleeping potion. And as she drifted off, a lone silver dragon filled her dreams again, this time flying her over a great forest, breezing low enough that she could hear the birds singing in the trees. She sighed sleepily, clueless to the figure sitting beside her bed, their hand rested gently on her head.

A/N: Hi guys. It's been a very, very, very long time since I've touched this story. I'm not sure how this chapter fits with the previous one. Let me know. Thanks for reading.