Normally, she would have gone to lunch with the boys, but she was so upset and disappointed in herself she went instead to her room and curved her hunger with a small handful of peanuts from the jar by her bed. Not like they would miss her. Not like she needed to be eating so much anyway. All the negative thoughts that she worked so hard every day to get rid of starting flowing back to her and she bitterly tore open the cover of Advanced Potion Making to see where she had gone wrong. If she couldn't fix the past, she cold at least be prepared for the future, and while she didn't plan to ever need to brew a poison, it may come in handy one day. Maybe it would win her a prize. Maybe she would poison Voldemort. That would be a laugh.
Since she had the afternoon off, Hermione decided a walk around the grounds might clear her head. If she felt sprightly enough, she might even visit Hagrid. She grabbed her cloak, as it was becoming a peckish September, and made her way down to the common room. She spotted Ginny by the fire in Ron's preferred chair, talking with Dean and Seamus, but she didn't stop to say hello. They didn't notice her. She climbed out the portrait hole and walked briskly down the corridors, deciding to reroute her trip and stopping at a familiar door on the third floor.
The Sorcerer's Stone had once lain beyond this door. That night had been the beginning of so much change. Hermione never thought she would be a key player in a war, but it was beginning to look that way. She put her hand against the wooden door. It had seemed so much bigger back then. Now she had much more frightful things to consider than a door, and yet how formidable it had seemed to her. Perhaps one day should would look back wistfully and think of how formidable the Death Eaters had seemed, only because she was small...somehow she doubted it. She bit her lip and felt her eyes sting. She simply didn't know how she would get through this, how it would all play out. Would she lose Harry? Ron? And what of the countless others at the school she knew by face but not by name? How could she protect them? She couldn't even protect herself. If three first years could get past Dumbledore's protective measures, what hope did they have against an army of Dark wizards?
She heard a tumbler click, and the door swung open. She jumped back in surprise, her heart racing. The boy walking through was equally surprised apparently, his eyes widened, throwing dark circles into relief. When Draco realized he was looking at Hermione Granger, he scrunched up his face and pushed past her, but she grabbed his arm and challenged him, "What are you doing down here?"
He bit back, "This is open space, Granger, I'm not breaking any rules."
"I happen to know there's nothing beyond that door that should interest you," she contested.
"Well I don't know why I came out that door any more than you do," he grumbled, leaving Hermione perplexed.
"And just what door did you expect to come out of then?"
"With any luck, one where I wouldn't have to deal with you!" he roared.
"Draco...?" her voice had lost any edge, his comment stung so much. He hadn't spoken to her like that in years, ever really. She knew he wanted to keep up appearances for their safety, but no one was here now. Why couldn't they, for one stolen moment, be friends again? She put her fingers gently on his arm; his skin was hot with anger. "Have you been crying?" she asked.
He looked down at her and scowled. "Like you haven't," he said and tore his arm away. He had walked about ten feet when he turned around and added, through clenched teeth, "There's a war on here, in case you haven't noticed. Toughen up." And then he turned and left.
Hermione stood there only a moment longer, shocked tears in her eyes, and continued in the opposite direction down to the grounds. She walked under the stone archway of an outdoor corridor around the perimeter of the castle, her feet hitting stone but her surroundings showing her the grassy hills and trees blowing in the wind. She always imagined that this was what college would look like: and old castle and lots of open air and natural landscaping. She had always planned on going to Harvard, until one day she found out she was a witch and her schooling took a new turn. She supposed she still could go to college. Or rather, one could. Not her. Draco was right, there was a war on, and she had been drafted. Whatever plans she had for the future had to be put on hold. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Noble? Disappointed? Probably a bit of both. Sure she wanted to be of value, but she was no soldier. Maybe joining the Order was just as crazy at her age as becoming a Death Eater, but Draco wasn't...she stopped her thoughts there.
She passed by Luna, who waved cheerfully in her direction but continued chatting with her Ravenclaw friend. Hermione nodded hello at the two as she passed. This was how most of her friendships were, if you could call them friendship. Vague acknowledgement of each other, most likely due to their shared past in Harry's ridiculously dangerous life. Honestly, that boy. He was more trouble than anyone Hermione had ever met or read about, including Tyson the Troublesome, a rebel leader during the Elvish Uprising of 1412. And yet, the thought of Harry made her smile. At least she had one friend who vaguely understood what it was like to be an outcast. She had had a much better friend, once, but even Draco couldn't understand her when it came to her home life. How could he understand a life he'd never seen?