Overture {Dramione}

Learn to be Lonely

Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
You've always known
Your heart was on its own

----

Life after Ron was built around little instances and reminders. Less socks to pair after the laundry, removal of any and all Quidditch related items from the flat, buying 2% instead of whole milk.

Life after Malfoy, after Him, was like losing memories. Big, gaping holes of something that once was. You can feel the memories blurred in the back of your mind, but the more you reach out the farther repressed they become.

She missed him, she decided after a long and exhausting week with Ginny, Harry, and James. She loved them. Loved watching her friends as parents, loved listening to James struggle in his desperation to talk, the coos and babbles he'd make instead.

But, she tried to distract herself with them. Having taken off of work the few days following the trial, desperate to surround herself with things that did not remind her of Malfoy, she found herself clinging to the Potter's open door policy.

They distracted her by exhausting her. By the end of each day, she was so emotionally worn that she didn't have the energy to be upset over Malfoy or consider what this all meant for her career.

She was still under his thumb. The connections she made were not her own, but Malfoy's. And what did that mean for her future job prospects? Even with a successful trial, who was to say that Mary Parsons would offer her the job if Malfoy had something to say about it?

It was frustrating, the conflicting feelings she had about him. She trusted him, but she didn't. She cared for him, but she didn't. She missed him, but she didn't. Because she didn't really know who he was.

Was the Malfoy she knew the true Malfoy? The coward, the tormentor, the arrogant ferret? Or was he who she had come to know? Gentle and passionate and devoted?

Or could they coexist? Could Malfoy be both things?

Hermione sighed, pressing her fingers to her eyes and pressing lightly until bright spots appeared behind her eyelids. She promised herself she'd return to work today, to sit at her desk and keep her head down. Just as she should have done from the beginning.

Her desk felt foreign to her now. She had become to use to Malfoy's large, sleek wood desk that she had forgotten all the dents in hers or the way the bottom drawer didn't open all the way. It didn't feel like her own anymore; another thing Malfoy took away from her.

"Hermione."

She removed her fingers from her eyes, blinking away the bulbs of color. Mary grinned down at her.

"I'm so glad I caught you, I know you took off a few days — well deserved by the way!— but I was hoping to talk to you. Do you mind?"

She gestured to the open door of Mr. Burk's old office, the place Mary had been using as a makeshift setup.

It was empty now. Without the man's poorly decorated knickknacks and unmatching furniture, it looked beautiful. Sophisticated. An office Hermoine always dreamed of having for herself and yet, she only felt dread.

It was her fault Mr. Burk wasn't here, if only indirectly. And now it was being taken from her too.

Suddenly, the door shut and she was engulfed in a tight hug.

"I know this is unprofessional," Mary mumbled against her shoulder. "But thank you. Thank you."

Hermione stood awkwardly, her arms stuck at her side until Mary finally let go. The older woman wiped a small amount of moisture from the corner of her eye.