Chapter 2
Hermione stared up at the familiar castle landscape she used to call home, a small, contented smile on her face. It had changed so much, yet somehow looked exactly the same.
Professor McGonagall had insisted she could just Floo in, but Hermione liked the trek from Hogsmeade to the grounds. It gave her time to reflect, to take everything in and remind herself why they were all still here.
She would be staying at the castle for three days to conduct her semi-annual audit on the classroom curriculum. For the most part, everyone had always been in compliance with her rigorous expectations. Professor McGonagall — Minerva, she had to remind herself — was doing a fine job running the school, not that that had ever been a surprise to Hermione. There were new faces to the staff since reopening Hogwarts, but those who had survived came back to their posts. One of the most surprising returns had been Professor Snape. She would have thought he’d want to stay as far away from the school and the general public as possible, but she understood the need for familiarity.
That, and she really didn’t know him at all.
He looked better every time she saw him. She felt more concern for him than anyone else on the staff roster, purely because she had been integral in his recovery. She had been the one to stop the bleeding and dump an anti-venin down his throat when he was passed out in the Shrieking Shack before they’d run off to find Voldemort. She hadn’t even known if it would work, she had been running off blind hope and silent prayers to a god who never listened. After the dust had settled and they’d won, she and McGonagall had gone down to the Shrieking Shack to retrieve his body. When they’d lifted his pale, limp form, he’d startled both of them by making a small noise of discomfort in his unconscious state. They had never rushed so quickly to the infirmary in their lives.
Given his prickly nature toward her, and the rest of the world, even after all these years, she knew he didn’t know she’d been so involved in saving his life. She had sat by him every day, when she could, waiting for him to wake up. Madame Pomfrey had assured her the worst was over and he just needed to sleep it off, but she hadn’t been convinced until she saw him open his eyes. He hadn’t remembered the encounter, but she would never forget it. He had thrashed, tried to curse them, use his voice before it was ready. She had never seen him like that before. It had both terrified and saddened her beyond measure.
Now, when she saw him, she discreetly looked him over for any sign of distress. He had gained weight, but was still in shape — from what she could tell with those thick, woolen robes he always wore. His eyes were still dark, sad, but he didn’t look as sickly as before. He was alive and that was all she cared about.
//
“I’m so pleased you made it,” McGonagall gushed as she hugged Hermione close. Porters came to take Hermione’s trunk to her usual room in the staff tower.
“So lovely to see you again, Professor— Minerva, sorry,” Hermione laughed breathily as she squeezed her former mentor back tightly. “This is a much-needed breath of fresh air for me.” AKA, a break from Ronald and his incessant badgering as to why she traveled so much. Why she wouldn’t give him children. Why she wouldn’t do this, that, and the other.
“You’re always welcome here, you know that,” McGonagall said with a smile, pulling back from their embrace. “Are you hungry? The children have just broken from classes but dinner will be soon. I can contact the elves to—“
”No need,” Hermione said with a small laugh, her hand raised. “Don’t bother them. I’m fine until dinner. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just go get settled in. A change in shoe is necessary,” she sighed, looking down at her aching feet in heels.
“Of course,” McGonagall said with a nod. “I’ll see you at dinner then, Hermione.”
”See you,” Hermione responded, watching her walk in the other direction and almost immediately begin telling off a couple of older kids for being too affectionate. Hermione’s smile grew and it was like being transported back in time. How she missed when things were as simple as being scolded by her head of house.
Hermione took her time on the trek up to the staff tower. Students bustled by, some of them recognizing her, some of them not. She wasn’t surprised. Even after everything had happened, and the beefed up curriculum educating children on their history, both magical and muggle, kids didn’t pay attention or care. She was glad they had the luxury of not having to pay attention. It was a privilege she’d never been provided in her life, especially now. But it was nice to see children behaving as children without another care in the world. It reminded her the world was back to normal — as normal as it could be.
Opening the door to her room, Hermione sighed in relief. Her trunk was closed on the bed and sunlight streamed through the window. The sun was beginning to set and she had the most beautiful view of the Black Lake from here. On her visits, often she’d just sit in the windowsill and watch the sun go down and the moon come up, watch the stars dance over the reflection of the lake, watch the beautiful grounds go to sleep and wake back up again.
Sleep didn’t come easy to her, not that it had in over a decade. The night terrors still persisted, despite regular therapy, and she had become numb to dreamless sleep and calming draughts. She had, more than once, considered asking Professor Snape for any recommendations, but had swallowed that urge every time. Asking him would either land her in a cesspool of venomous remarks from him, or a litany of uncomfortable questions that neither of them were in a position to discuss with one another. Instead, she grit her teeth and bared it.
And drank too much coffee.