She felt foolish. For not expecting the crushing blow, for even feeling it at all. She was twenty-three years old, for Merlin’s sake. She was Hermione bloody Granger. She’d taken down a xenophobic murderer, faced the crowds that paralyzed her, and left the safety of Scotland to reenter society. Oh, the irony that all it took was Draco bloody Malfoy to humble her to her boots.