Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with, the Harry Potter universe in any way.

Chapter 1

It was a fortress of solitude, the old castle. Every living soul but one had left some days past, save for her. Though, she did wonder, from time to time, what was left of her "soul". Was it enough to be considered a soul; was she enough to be considered human anymore?

She thought not, even if everyone else would disagree. To her, nearly all of life had turned into a mucky grey. Like polluted snowfall; quiet… disgusting… saddening to witness. Save for loved ones, what had once meant everything to her now meant nil.

If anything, she hadn't expected this to be the outcome after years of hope and fighting.

A small, cold, mittenless hand reached out from the alcove and into the light snow that would very soon become a heavy comforter of flakes that would turn all of the world visible to her eyes as white and pure as she'd been when she'd first entered the halls of the ancient school. And, oh, how she missed those days. All of it. Every minute. Of all the good times, and bad times, and everything in between. When she was that girl with drive and stubborn Gryffindor courage.

A puffy cloud of a sigh left her lips as she looked down at the courtyard, mesmerized by the ghosts of she and her old schoolmates walking and sitting about on warm days; laughing and dreaming. It seemed so long ago, and she supposed, what with only being eighteen, three years was quite a few in the general scheme of things.

One, two steps back took her from the edge of the archway, and then she turned swiftly to take down the grand staircase to the enormous double doors that led to the courtyard. She stepped in the shallow snow in her burgundy boots, their soles, at least, seeming thick enough for the journeys ahead. Not that the journey to Hogsmeade was that long of a walk.

If she was any less familiar with her surroundings, she may not have been able to make her way through the storm, which grew heavier with each step, and all without moon or wand light. She had her wand, no doubt, but it wasn't necessary. There was only snow and cold, and the witch found these companion enough as she walked to the small town, reaching its border shortly after leaving Hogwarts' sound walls.

It was ten past six, according to her mother's old watch, and that meant that Puddifoot's was open.

The truth of it was that the elves could have accommodated her every culinary wish had she asked, but she found there to be no need to ask them to get the kitchens going for her alone. Besides, she'd recently become a fan of the Madam's latest seasonal menu item- eggnog creme brulee- and it had been worth the walk the night before, as well as Christmas Eve. Tonight would be no different.

Besides, she needed each and every excuse to leave the school in the blizzarding background and clear her head. She should have left for the break, but being alone had seemed so much more enticing than sleeping on the couch of her parents' tiny flat, the one they'd established upon returning from Australia with their memories newly intact. She really should have been with them, but she didn't want to pretend. Not around them. They'd know that she was this empty shell of Hermione's past self, and she wouldn't be able to explain to them why she felt the way she did now…

Or didn't feel… since the war ended and everything changed.

She strolled past the tracks, past the Broomsticks, which was oddly lively on this, a Tuesday night. She passed the dark windows of Zonkos and Gladrags, and turned past Skrivenshaft's on the corner, walking the last few yards up the cobbles to the glowing yellow lights of Puddifoot's.

For a moment, just a moment, Hermione Granger felt… happy. She wasn't the biggest fan of pink and frills, but she was happy to be in the warm and welcoming restaurant, her stomach set on a meal that didn't rely solely on elf-labor. This, only for the witch to pull back the hood of her cloak and allow her eyes to rest on the only other customer in the restaurant.

At the bar, with his back to her, sat Draco Malfoy. She assumed it was him, considering he was one of the two platinum blondes she knew, and considering the elder was now serving fifteen years (before being considered for parole) in the new prison built specifically for Death Eaters, there was only one possible option.

The sight of the younger Malfoy froze her boots in their spot, the witch moving her shoulder out of the way as the door tried to close on her frigid form.

She didn't know why she stood and stared at the back of his head, but she did, only to be interrupted by the Madam herself stepped out of the kitchens beyond the bar. In one hand she held a large bowl of what Hermione supposed was soup, and in the other her wand levitated a tray with tea service. Her face grew a large grin as she noticed Hermione standing by the door.

"Back again so soon, Miss Granger?" The Madam asked in her thick Scottish accent. Hermione's eyes flickered to Draco, and she noticed the long lines of his back went rigid at the sound of her name. Puddifoot moved to place the fare in her hands on the bar before Draco, who kept face front, but added for the newly arrived witch, "Would yeh like your usual seat, and a spot of tea? And could I interest you in a bowl of my butternut squash soup? Just made it a few hours ago."

A/N: Thank you for reading. I plan on having somewhere near 10 chaps to this, each only 1,000 words each. I have a few already written. Please, fave, follow, an review.