Epilogue:

There was something peaceful in the quiet empty space of the stacks. The scent of dust and decay of books filled the air around her as she took up her favorite forgotten corner near the window. The leaning stack of books beside her was her only company as the lantern flickered beside her. She had always thought it was absurdly dangerous to have open flames around the rotting texts, but this was Hogwarts and Hermione doubted that there weren't protective spells around the texts. She wouldn't dare to test it though, the thought of holding the book over an open flame in order to test a theory was far too outrageous to even contemplate, but Hermione would be lying if she said that she hadn't thought of the possibility before.

Truthfully she loved the thrill she got when she bent the rules from time to time. Her best friends, Harry and Ron were mostly to blame but she couldn't kid herself into thinking it was all their doing. After all she revered herself as the brains of the operation and took pride in doing so. The old her wouldn't even believe the terrible choices she often made in regards to the rules, the old her would balk at the ideas that she came up with in order to disregard rules all together. The old her would sneer at the person she had become, but truthfully Hermione didn't give a shit. She had made those decisions to the best of her abilities and would not feel guilty for them, or most of them.

In truth Hermione couldn't balk at most of her decisions except for one. One decision that even she couldn't believe was of her making, one decision that had the guilt in her building as she looked up from the fluttering light to behold the boy rounding the stack corner. His stark blonde hair smoldering in the candlelight as his eyes beheld her curled beside the window.

"Granger," he said carefully as he surveyed the space around them. He held a book in one hand and a plate of food in the other.

"No one's here," she whispered as she closed the dusty text and set the book on the stack.

"Then why are you whispering," he scoffed, rolling his shoulders as if to ward off the tension building there. He set the plate of food down alongside the book he was carrying.

"I…I don't know," she said carefully before uncurling her legs and sitting just on the edge of the windowsill. "You do know that food isn't allowed in the library right?" He gave her a wicked smirk, one that she used to scoff at but now…

"Always the rule follower aye, Granger," he scoffed. "I see you've been busy," he nodded towards the stack of books as he took another step forward.

"Studying," she said simply as she felt the space between them go taut.

"Ever the overachiever," he sneered, but it lacked that usual bite. She gave him a half smile as she stopped a few feet away. It was an intentional distance.

"What can I say," she said observing the space, but he didn't close it.

"I hated today," he said quietly and the lack of bite in his voice had her heart aching.

"I know," she whispered, letting her head fall to her hand, where the red mark from Umbridge's punishment was just disappearing thanks to a tonic she had whipped up. He took another step as his fingers brushed against the red marking on her hand. His hands were cold, but gentle as he brushed his thumb gently atop the marking.

"I…I'm sorry Hermione," he said with a remorseful tone, a tone she wasn't even aware he possessed until this year.

"It's not your fault Draco," she said looking up into the boy's eyes. Eyes that before made her stomach turn, but now did something else entirely.

Draco Malfoy with eyes as cold as snakes and knack for cruelty was not the best decision she had ever made. But as she looked into those eyes, the same eyes that once had her seeing red, now she only saw the fire in them that matched her own. Draco Malfoy, who had once been her enemy and was now something more. Draco Malfoy, who no one else would believe had a different side to him entirely, was touching her and looking at her in a way that made her melt from the inside out.

She felt her body warm as his hands moved up her arms, leaving a trail of fire as they went. His fingers danced along her skin as if they knew the way to make her squirm, she supposed they did at this point. His fingers brushed lightly up the side of her throat and had her moaning softly as he traced the delicate arch of her neck and the soft skin of her cheek, until they ran across the pinks of her lips. She let her eyes flutter closed as they did, enjoying the feel of them as they brushed gently, a gentleness she never thought possible from the Slytherin prince.

The space between their bodies dissipated with each longing second until she could feel the warmth of his breath skate along her mouth. Her stomach coiled in anticipation as her own hands found themselves tangled in the front of his robes, fingers straining as they pulled him closer to her. She wanted to feel him against her, she wanted to taste the salt on his lips and the savage hunger in his eyes. She wanted him.

"Hermione," he whispered onto her lips as he tilted her face up.

"Draco," someone called from the library entrance and like a bucket of water, Hermione and Draco threw each other apart.

She snatched up her book from the top of the stack and readjusted her skirt as she sat back into the alcove, trying to force the redness of her cheeks to disappear. He straightened the top buttons of his robes and brushed his hair from his face just as the two boys rounded the corner.

"Draco," one of the boys called as they beheld them both, "Well, well, well, what did you find here Malfoy," Crabbe said in a ruddy deep voice. Hermione bristled at the tone, but kept her sights on the book, ignoring the sneering boys.

"I was just on my way out boys. Lost my appetite at the sight. Come on," Draco said as he turned and stocked for them, snatching his book and dinner plate. In a matter of seconds his entire demeanor had changed. Gone was the tenderness in his voice, gone was the concern.

"Why the rush when you found such an appetizing meal," Goyle goaded as he stepped closer, but Draco placed himself carefully in front of her. Not enough so that it would seem he was protecting her, but enough that Hermione thought he would.

"She's not worth our time," Draco growled.

"I don't know about that," Goyle said as he sidestepped Draco. "Filthy mudblood out late, all alone. It would be quite a devastating blow to Potter."

She could feel her insides coiling as she tried to ignore the backhanded comment. She could feel her restraint shaking.

"Imagine Weasley's face," Crabbe barked a laugh. "Pathetic cunt."

"Bugger off," Hermione growled as she finally looked up. Malfoy stiffened.

"What did you say to me Mudblood," Crabbe growled as he stepped closer, Draco stepped behind them as they advanced.

"You heard me you big prat," she snapped, throwing her legs over the edge.
"You got a mouth on ye don't you," Goyle said beside Crabbe as they moved in closer. Draco not far behind, eyes wide as he subtly shook his head.

Stop engaging. He warned, but Hermione couldn't help it.

"Piss off," she snapped and Goyle launched forward, shoving her back. In an instant Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the fat of Goyles throat.

"Don't…" she hissed through her teeth.

"Or what," Goyle laughed hoarsely, he tried and failed to appear unshaken. "What will you do, mudblood."

"You don't have the stones," Crabbe stammered, his voice unsure as he held his want beside him.

"Try me," she dared, pushing the tip of her wand deeper into the fat of Goyles throat. He swallowed.

"Alright," Draco said, his face had gone bone white as he gripped Goyle and Crabbe's shoulders. "We will leave," he said hoarsely. She didn't move.

Draco pulled them both backwards, Goyle lifting his hands in a non threatening manner, but the stark anger there was prevalent. They sneered at her as they backed up, Draco practically pulling them along until they were ten steps away. Draco finally released them.

"Come on," he said as he grabbed his book and plate again.

Goyle sneered at her before he spat on the ground near her. "Filthy mudblood." He turned the corner, Crabbe fresh on his tail as he hurried beside him. Draco stood, staring at Hermione as she let her wand fall to her side, but her face still stone cold, his a fresh mask to match. They looked at one another in the dark fleeting candlelight. The air around them smelling of decay and lies.

"Granger," he whispered carefully, all manner of kindness gone.

"Malfoy," she parroted as he turned on his heel. He followed after the set of Slytherin boys, the secret of their rendezvous still hidden. It was a lie, she knew. A lie she needed to tell herself in order for the truth of it not to bury her whole. It was a lie she told herself and the people she loved around her. It was a beautiful lie.

Chapter 1:

It was difficult to imagine herself anywhere after the war, to imagine happiness and contentment. It was difficult to smile and act as if life was full of magic, even when it was. The war changed people, it changed her, it changed them all in more ways than they could have imagined. Most of all it changed the ways that she looked at the world and in the ways that she let the world look at her.

Hermione couldn't imagine what it felt to be warm and safe, to feel all of the comforts of life once more and more importantly what it would be like on the other side. It had been months since she felt those things, far before they started on their search for the horcruxes, far before the death of Dumbledore, far before it all. There was no safety anymore and they were all enemy number one.

Hermione sat along the riverbed, running her fingers through the cold rushing water. Her clothes hung from the line nearby as the sun filtered through the lush canopy above. The cool morning air smelled of fresh rain and dewy leaves as she finished washing her hands in the river. She had loved this place as a child, she flinched as her parents' faces flashed through her mind. She tried not to think about them, especially on the bad days.

They had hit a roadblock this last month on the search and were coming up with no easy solutions as the world around them crumbled. The quiet determination was dissipating from them as their spirits were low. They had successfully found one horcrux in months of searching and supplies, allies, and hope was running low. The last safehouse they found themselves in had been sacked only days after they left, leaving no survivors. The guilt was astronomical.

She could feel her foundations cracking as she could see Harry's and Ron's doing the same. They were tired, scared, and alone. Hermione tried not to think about how alone she felt at times when Harry and Ron would lean on one another. The two of them had built their friendship up as she had pulled inward. After her final year at Hogwarts she wasn't sure how she was even functioning. Her heart strained and she cursed the bloody waste in her chest.

"You've done no good for me," she whispered to it as if it could hear her threat.

She took in a deep inhale as she wiped her cold hands on her dusty trousers and stood, surveying the quiet woods around them. They had been fortunate here, no snatchers, no prying eyes had dared venture this deep into muggle territory. She felt at home here, but never safe. She pulled her wand from her pocket and turned to mutter more incantations and tighten up the wards nearby. It had become her daily ritual.

Wake up. Wash up. Ward up.

The three W's. If she survived the war she wondered if she should write an entire book on the three W's. She scoffed at the absurdity as she continued down the invisible wall. Stopping to tap on it with her wand, spending an exuberant amount of time testing and retesting the strength of them.

"Everything alright Hermione," a voice called from behind and she turned to survey the cold faced Harry, dark sleep mused hair blocking his eyes as he ducked out of the tent.

"Fine," she said simply as she turned back to her task. She had been distant recently, truthfully she had been distant for a while.

"The wards okay?" he asked as he stalked up beside her, running his hands through his messy locks.

"Yeah," she said in between incantations.

"Ron made breakfast if you're hungry," he said as he watched her. She nodded.

"Hermione," Harry said her name as he grabbed her wand hand gently, pulling her away from her task. She let out an annoyed snort, she hated being disturbed in the middle of her work. "Please." She surveyed the serious look in his eye and softened her scowl.

"Harry, I'm fine," she said, but even she didn't believe a word of it.

"That's a lie," Harry said. "Hermione, I'm worried about you."

"There is nothing to worry about," she lied again. Harry only snorted, releasing her hand as he shook his messy hair.

"We've been friends for years Hermione, I know when you're not ok," he said. "You haven't been yourself."

"None of us have been ourselves," she countered.

"True, but you have been…"

"Busy."

"No that's not what I mean," he said, letting out an exaggerated breath. "Distant."

"I'm right here Harry," she snorted, taking up her wand.

"Are you?" He asked as his eyebrows knitted together. She inhaled a deep breathe as she continued on with the wards.

Conversation over.

Harry sighed as he turned back towards the tent. "I…I'm always here Hermione if you need to talk. Even if it's about him."

She felt her heart strain with the words. That bloody pathetic waste of flesh. She didn't say anything as she listened to his steps retreat back towards the tent and when she felt the air of the forest once again rushing for her she let out a strangled sob, a tear falling down her sodden cheek and cursed herself for the gesture.

"No more," she whispered to her withered heart. "You don't get to cry over him any more."

And so Hermione did her three W's.