I wanted to say thank you to Cece 001 and Queenbooknerd for reading and reviewing!
(Don't own Harry Potter, wish I did though...)
Hermione's shoes softly clunked as she ran down the stone stairs. Her leather book bag swung rapidly at her side. The stone passages were barren of other students. Luckily for Hermione, only the paintings witnessed her hasty retreat. She shook her head as she quickly made her way towards the Great Hall.
"Watch it, girl!" scolded an elderly man from a large painting as she nearly walked headfirst into the stone wall.
What in the world was wrong with her? She thought as she chewed her fingernails absentmindedly. Her pragmatic brain unable to grasp her current emotional state, or that she just checked out Malfoy. Not only had she seen him in such a state of undress, but she had gawked! Her mind raced as her feet carried her in the direction of the Great Hall.
The vast room was glowing faintly, the ceiling mirroring a cloudless sky. A soft pink glow to the east as the sun began to rise. Candles, though no longer floating overhead, glowed from a variety of candelabras adhered to the walls.
Hermione sighed as she made her way to the farthest of the four empty tables and dropped her bag on the bench.
The castle's occupants were quietly awaking from their dreams and currently, the Great Hall was silent. With a deep sigh, Hermione laid her cheek onto the cold mahogany of the table. Her eyes directed at the blushing glow at the east of the hall.
Her thoughts drifted to the past year. Her life had been tumultuous, rushed and chaotic. She had little time alone, while she hunted Horcruxes with Ron and Harry. Even following the war, others surrounded her, whether at the Burrow grieving the loss of Fred, or at the Ministry taking part in the post-war legal trials. In those long days, she had often wished for solitude. Wow, what a difference a few months can make, she thought.
When she went to Australia to find her parents, it all had changed. They welcomed her, but kept an uncomfortable distance. She spent days alone, mourning all she lost in the war. Mourning the loss of the relationships she once had. Mourning the loss of her childhood. She obtained the privacy she craved, but the silence was absolutely deadening. Nothing would ever be the same. She mourned this the most.
Hermione's warm breath created a damp mark on the dark wood of the table, as her breath caressed the glossy surface. She missed her friends and her family, knew she had to move on. Everyone else was, why couldn't she?
A faint pop startled Hermione from her thoughts.
"Miss?" said a pale house-elf to Hermione's right. Its grey eyes as large as saucers. "Would Miss like anything for breakfast?" the tiny house-elf squeaked.
"Oh. Yes. Thank you." She stammered. "Toast, marmalade and earl grey tea with cream, please." The little elf nodded once and vanished with a pop. A second later, her breakfast appeared on the table.
As the grand hall began to illuminate, faculty and students began to sleepily wander in. Hermione had pulled a book from her bag in a half-hearted attempt to study, but after reading the same paragraph for a third time gave up. Her eyes inadvertently continually strayed from the page, as she looked over at what was once the Slytherin table. Though currently empty, she soon expected a pompous Draco to arrive. She scowled at the spot he occupied yesterday as she angrily drank her tea.
"Do you see a smoleggber over there, Hermione?" said a loud, dreamy voice next to her.
Hermione coughed harshly as the hot tea slid down her throat directly into her lungs.
"Luna!" Hermione said between gasps. "You startled me!"
"Sorry, Hermione." Luna said softly, her eyes fixated on-the-spot Hermione's eyes had just been. "I don't see the smoleggber." She sat next to Hermione and brought her hands softly to her chin. "Hm. Maybe it crawled under the table?" she stated, tilting her head to the side. Her blue eyes abnormally large.
"Um. Yeah. Maybe." Hermione said, as her coughing died. A small smile pulled at her lips as she carefully pulled her class schedule from the pocket of her bag.
Unfortunately, due to the war, Hermione would complete seventh year classes a year behind, thus her class was dubbed the "eighth years". Since her class was older (all of them of age and older), the faculty had deemed it appropriate for them to complete classes separate from the seventh years. The older students also had private bedrooms within each respective common room. With their class size significantly smaller than the others, all the houses would complete classes together.
"Transfigurations, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione read out loud. Today would be relatively easy, scheduling wise. She had a number of open periods and planned to take full advantage of the library, including the restricted section. Headmistress McGonagall has granted this odd collection of students additional privileges within the school thanks to their age and participation in the Final Battle. As adults, they were allowed to visit Hogsmeade on the weekends unsupervised, and had extended curfews.
Hermione felt a slow smile crept to her lips. A familiar warmth filled her chest as she remembered why she returned. This. Classes, education and the smell of old leather-bound books in the library. This was why she came back. Regardless of all the fear, pain and suffering that had occurred, she found solace in Hogwarts.
She tucked a stray curl behind her ear as her eyes lifted from the yellowed parchment; her smile fading instantly. Across the room, a pair of blue eyes meet her own. Draco was staring directly at her, his chin resting softly on his hand, supported by a muscular forearm. His signature smirk slowly materialized on his lips as their eyes met. Hermione blinked, surprise plastering her face. How long had he been sitting there? She thought as her cheeks radiated a new heat. Hurriedly, she lowered her eyes to her lap. His gaze continued to burn into her skin. She didn't dare look back up.
"Definitely a smoleggber." Luna said dreamily beside her, staring vaguely in Draco's direction.
