Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling

Looking Forward, Looking Back

1/1

She knew they were down there talking about her, worrying about her. It was of some comfort, it was good to know that they cared about her. But they just didn't understand. Sure, they had experienced loss in all this fighting, but they could have their loss right there in front of them. They could accept it and try and move on. She didn't know what had happened to Draco. Was he alive? Was he dead?

What the bloody hell had happened?

It seemed impossible for someone to just walk outside, and never be seen again. Did he go back to Voldemort? to try and prove that he was on their side? Or did they find him, and deal with him on their own? Or did he run by himself? If he did, where? There were too many questions, and there was no answers for any of them.

It made it near on impossible to concentrate on helping Harry, though he was understanding about it all, really. He knew why she was so distracted. And he did his best to empathize, plus, he was better than Ron. He made an effort to accept her relationship with Draco, where as Ron would just stand to the side and shoot dirty looks at them, or make snide comments when he didn't think she was listening. He had held back on that now, for which restraint she was grateful. But she knew, she could tell that he didn't like it.

That wasn't her main concern at the moment, however: Ron just wasn't important to her as he used to be. He was still one of her closest friends, and he always would be. She just had different priorities now, and priority one was: Get Draco Back.

She didn't find the situation remotely funny, but she could see the especially dry irony in the situation. A boy she had, over six years, grown to despise, to loathe with every fiber of her being, had become so very important to her. In the days following his 'disappearance', she had been a wreck. She couldn't eat, she barely slept, her nerves played havoc on her. It had gotten better over the days, but it was still hard. Every little thing reminded her of him. The sugar bowl: he had exactly one and a half teaspoons of sugar in his coffee in the morning, as he positively abhorred tea. It had taken weeks before she stopped crying at the smell of coffee in the morning. She still couldn't drink it.

It was cold, stone cold, was her main thought as she tried to get the fire in the kitchen going. She wanted to get the fire going before Mrs. Weasley came in to start getting the breakfast. It was the least she could do for her. She constantly ran around after everyone, while Hermione herself was next to useless in the kitchen, so this was the only way she could see herself being of use.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs startled her for a moment, but she continued on placing the wood in the stove. She assumed it was Mrs. Weasley.

"What on earth are you doing Granger?"

Malfoy.

"Getting the fire started, what do you think I'm doing?" She snapped.

"Wasn't entirely sure, don't you have House Elves for those kind of things?"

"No we don't." She got up of her knees, wiping her hands on her pants, "And if we did, I'd still be doing it. We are not reliant on House Elves here Malfoy, you'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, I can tell," he said disdainfully, looking around the kitchen, "Doesn't look like an Elf has touched this room in years."

She could feel her temperature rising, "Is there something you wanted Malfoy?"

"I was hoping for some breakfast," he said, sitting down at the table, "Any chance of some?"

"You'll have to wait," she answered, sitting down opposite him. "I can't cook, so you'll have to wait till Mrs. Weasley comes down."

"Well I'm shocked," he said, placing a hand on his chest, "Hermione Granger can't do something! What is the world coming too to!"

"Shove it Malfoy."

"Oh the language, it's so harsh to my virginial ears."

"I'd be surprised if there was anything virginial left," she retorted.

"Touche Granger."

She afforded herself a small smile, best not to let Malfoy see it. It was one thing to enjoy the conversation, an entirely different kettle of fish to let him know.

"So has the Weasel left you anything of that ilk behind?"

Her head snapped up, "Excuse me?"

"Did Weaselbee leave you anything of value to share, or did he blow his wad on Brown?"

"Oh my, you little... I really do not want to have this conversation with you. Whatever happens between Ron and me , and what happened between him and Lavender is none of your bloody business," she snapped, pushing her chair back.

"Good morning," Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully as she bustled into the kitchen. "You two are up bright and early."

Hermione gave her a small smile, glad that she had arrived when she did. She couldn't let Malfoy get the better of her. Riling her up about Ron, and Lavender. Prat!

"Now who's up for some breakfast?" Mrs. Weasley asked, tying an apron around her waist.

"Sounds wonderful, let me help you," Hermione said, with one last glare at Malfoy, she left him sitting at the table.

"...I think he's dead."

Hermione stopped in her motion towards the kitchen, listening as Ron explained his thoughts on Draco to Harry. He was wrong, she was sure of that. She just knew he wasn't, she would know if he was, she wasn't sure how or why she felt that way. But she knew she would feel different if he was gone.

"But he isn't," she heard Ron say.

"So he doesn't have him, and that's a bloody good thing. For Hermione at least."

"Thank you Harry," she whispered to herself. It felt so good to hear someone say what she was feeling. It validated her thoughts to her. Harry understood and he agreed with her. She continued on her way into the kitchen.

Harry was standing beside the sink rinsing a cup, and Ron was reading the day's paper. "So what's happening?" She asked sitting down opposite Ron, and taking an apple out of the bowl in front of her.

"What, other than us hitting the books, and trying to figure out what the next Horcrux is supposed to be?" Ron asked, "Nothing, same as yesterday, and the day before, and if I remember rightly, just like the day before that one."

"Aren't you Mister Positive today," Harry said.

"Ain't a whole lot to be positive about, anymore," he answered quietly.

"We will push on regardless," Harry said, joining them at the table. "So what's the plan? Books, or books?"

"I vote for books, with books coming in a close second," she smiled at him. He had matured a lot since that night when Professor Dumbledore died. He knew the seriousness of the situation, but he was much more relaxed about it all now.

"Books it will be then," he laughed, getting up he exited the kitchen, off for another day of pouring over the books, searching for something, anything that would lead them in the right direction.

"Coming Ron?" Hermione asked, getting up, "It's sure to be thrilling."

"Won't it," he said, "I can hardly contain myself."

Well, this was productive. The books were there, all the information they could possibly need on the founders of Hogwarts, and other notable wizards and witches, and they were coming up blank.

Harry and Ron had given up about half an hour ago, and were now throwing fruit back and forth between themselves. She wanted to give in, but she couldn't. It was too important, there was too much riding on it. The future of the Wizarding world, if you will.

"Nice one, mate," she heard Harry laugh, so she looked up from her book and saw what was so funny. Ron missed Harry by a long shot, and now the wall had a new feature, an orange embedded in it. "Good thing you ain't a chaser."

"Will you two focus, already?" She snapped, "This is important, really important. I need your help."

Harry, at least, had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, Ron just looked miffed. Right, who cares about the fate of everyone, lets throw fruit!

"Of course Hermione, sorry," Harry said, sliding in next to her, "So where are we?"

"Nowhere," she sighed, pushing the book away. "There is no mention of Slytherin's locket in any of these texts, I have no idea what to do, where to look. It's one bloody dead end after another."

"We'll figure it out," he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder, "We always do."

"Not always," she said quietly, "Last term we didn't, it was right in front of our face, and we missed it all. We let our own personal issues and feelings get in the way of what was important."

"You mean with?" Ron said, nodding his head upwards, referring to Malfoy, who was more than likely in his room, where he had remained since his arrival.

"Yeah, amoung other things," she said.

"We can't focus on that Hermione, there are other things that matter now," pulling a book towards him, "Like figuring out who the hell is R.A.B., things should hopefully fall into place after that."

"Hopefully..." she trailed off, as she heard someone enter the room. No one normally bothered them when they went in her, glancing up quickly she braced herself.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry snapped from beside her. They may all now be on the right side, but there were still six years of animosity to get past.

"Just wondering what the Chosen one and his devotees were up to," he drawled, coming over to the table, "Studying, I see, getting a jump on next year already, Granger?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron muttered.

He ignored him, he was looking at the titles of the books they had gathered on the table. "Bloody hell, this is some dark reading material, what the hell are you lot up to?"

To be continued...