She had been sitting there for nearly two hours now he noted. He was inclined to leave her to it. After all, she wasn't your typical Hogwarts student. Not only was she of age, but she had also spent the large majority of her teenage years facing terrible evils, and in the end being a third of the group that brought about the downfall of one of the most evil wizards of all times.
He wasn't surprised that she seemed to be having some sort of crisis, and he knew, at times like these people were best left alone. At least for a little while. His curiosity did lead him to wonder about the circumstances which had led the young witch into his establishment that afternoon. Post traumatic stress? He wondered. It wasn't unheard of, and he knew that at the very least she had undergone a cruciatus session courtesy of the demented Bellatrix Lestrange. He also heard whispers of a battle with He-Who-Will-Never-Be-Named-Again in Godric's Hollow when she had accompanied that boy in his crusade to bring an end to the bastard.
Even now he was nearly two years dead; Aberforth couldn't help but feel a bitter angriness towards his brother. Using people, no he corrected himself, using children as pawns in an adult's war. What did he expect would become of those children after? Of course, Albus had been proven right and Voldemort was now dead, but looking at the broken girl before him, he couldn't help but wonder if the end really did justify the means. 'The Greater Good' he thought venomously.
Surely his brother could have at least let them share the burden, rather than leaving three underage wizards on the run for almost a year seeing the most terrible of sights. Nightmares, he was positive, would be an everlasting aftermath of their experience. Not that he knew exactly what went on. From what he could gather, very few actually did. Potter, the Weasley boy and Granger had always divulged the information on a need to know basis, and as far as they were concerned, nobody had a need to know a lot of it.
He watched her drain another bottle and place it in a line amongst the other two she had already quite successfully put away. He watched as she stared absentmindedly ahead for the briefest of moments before moving onto the next bottle. Even before today, he had noticed the change in her since the war had ended. Even when she was at her most comfortable surrounded by family and friends that haunted look remained in her eyes. Innocence was always the first casualty of war. He had seen it many times, but it never got an easier.
He was sure many in his position would have tried to comfort her, he was also sure that is why she had found her sanctuary here rather than the various other places she could have gone. People would say that she needed to talk to someone, but as far as he was concerned, she was as much an adult as any of them and as such was the case, she had earned the right to choose to talk when she was damn well ready. People might not have been able to see it, but this was his mark of respect. He wasn't like the others that fawned over her and her friends, and for this he knew she would be grateful.