In all fairness, she'd been born in the year before most other students in her original class, and she'd been forced to take a year off of school. Most young women her age had already made decent headway in their careers and in scouting out prospective mates, if that was what they wanted.

While Hermione agreed with his solemn sentiment, she still offered him a small smile. "And having your life or your death mean something greater than yourself is even more difficult. And it's also not for everyone. My friends and I had our chance to try and become martyrs; those of us who've survived are going to attempt the mundane for a while and see how that suits us."

Or, at least, she'd been trying to go for the mundane, before a fade rift apparently ate her.

Hesitating for a moment, she asked, "Are you afraid of mages? I can't speak for them, of course, but I mean you no harm. You probably knew that when you saw me under attack by messenger birds."

Though pretending that this was all just another trip down the rabbit hole and not at all a potentially scarring and life-threatening venture, she sighed and looked to the road head. "I appreciate your assurances. In the mean time, I suppose all I can do is try and make myself useful, at least insofar as research."