The Malfoy library was dead silent, even though everyone in the house was in it. Draco sat with a tumbler of Firewhiskey in his hand in an armchair that was the furthest from the rest of the people. Hermione watched him with a worried stare. She saw how he tried to keep his guard up but the more time without the ring on him passed, the more he seemed to be unwell. Her feelings were stirred up, there were a million things that she had to say and ask about. But not now. All she could do for now was watch him come to terms with what he did from afar. Every time Hermione thought of the things he said she felt tears in the corners of her eyes. She discreetly wiped them with the corner of her sleeve, reminding herself that she wasn’t allowed to cry over it. After all, she was the reason why Draco carried the ring on him.