The Intern

Since the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione’s old school had never felt like the same refuge it had been growing up.

Throughout her eighth year, she’d kept her head down as she’d walked through the halls and avoided places that had once brought her joy. Each one of them was stained, tainted with a memory of gore, tragedy, or fear from the battle itself and the months leading up to it.

Perhaps if she’d returned to school with Harry and Ron at her side, Hermione would have felt better able to face those memories, but alone, eighth had year passed in a blur. As she always did when trying to escape something painful, Hermione had lost herself in work, spending every spare moment with her head in a book.

After her late graduation, she only ever returned to Hogwarts to attend regular catch-ups with McGonagall. Today, she made her way to the visit the headmistress with Malfoy in tow.

They apparated to Hogsmeade and walked the familiar route to Hogwarts, a sickening cocktail of nerves and determination churning in Hermione’s stomach. The weather matched her uncertain mood; ominous grey clouds drifted overhead, spitting the occasional drop of rain one moment and parting to reveal a beam of sunlight the next.

Though anxiety plagued her, she was eager to make this meeting a productive one—to discuss practical ways to help the disadvantaged children they’d encountered last week and to prove her worth better than she had when speaking with Poppy. Malfoy must think her useless after her reaction to the orphanage, not that he’d voiced such an opinion.

Most of Hermione’s meetings with McGonagall were casual. Occasionally, she sought career advice from her former teacher, but more often than not, they simply discussed life and chatted as friends.

Since her parents were no longer part of her life, McGonagall was the closest thing Hermione had to a guardian. Their relationship helped to ease the constant pain of her parents’ absence, quieting it to a dull ache.

Malfoy hadn’t brought up the conversation about Hermione’s parents since she’d admitted her actions and she was grateful for that. She hadn’t spoken with anyone else about it since the war. Her closest friends knew, but most either seemed to have forgotten her decision or simply chose not to ask about it to avoid upsetting her. Telling Malfoy about it, even briefly, had lessened the burden of the secret for a while.

“Is this your first time back since school ended?” she asked as they approached the old castle. Each year, it looked smaller to her.

He nodded, sliding his hands into his robe’s pockets. He stared at the building, appraising it like one might an enemy. She didn’t miss the tension in his hunched shoulders and flexing jaw.

“As you probably know, I was placed on house arrest for the rest of the summer after my trial, without access to my wand for the year. It was an unproductive time. I spent a lot of that year brooding, trying to find someone to blame for everything that happened to me. Early on, I was angry at my parents, but I came to admit that I hadn’t been passive in my decisions. I could’ve chosen a different path, even if the consequences would’ve been challenging. Eventually, I started taking accountability and planning how I might be able to move on from it all. My mother found a mind healer for me to speak with. That helped a lot.”

Hermione raised her brows. She’d considered seeking a mind healer for a while following the war, especially when nightmares chased her from sleep days in a row, leaving her shuffling through the Ministry’s hallways like a zombie, but she never quite plucked up the courage to follow through with the intention.

She stayed quiet, letting Malfoy carry on, as if she wasn’t there.

“When I’d worked through most of those unproductive feelings, I knew I wanted to finish my education. I ended up retaking my sixth year exams first, since my involvement in the war had severely affected my grades, then I took my seventh year.”

“But you didn’t come back to Hogwarts?”

He shook his head. “McGonagall actually visited my house after I wrote to her explaining my desire to complete my schooling. She, my mother, and I had quite a blunt conversation about it all. While she seemed happy to hear about my change in attitude, she had concerns about my safety if I was to return to Hogwarts. Too much of the school year had passed for me to re-join at that point, so I would’ve been waiting for the following year regardless, but the war affected everyone at Hogwarts, even the years below us. McGonagall believed I would be an easy target for any resentment other students held, even though I would have been returning as an older student and would’ve been a stranger to most of them. The Malfoys’ involvement with the Dark Lord was so widely known. It made sense that people would want to dole out some punishment if they got the opportunity.”

“But you received a punishment after your trial, and you were a child during the war, just like Harry—like all of us! If anyone still deserves a punishment, it’s the people who allowed you to become involved in the war at all.” She frowned at him, but he kept his gaze forward on the approaching castle.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“Unfortunately, not many other people see it that way. I often find myself stumbling into a jinx or hex when I have to go to Diagon Alley.”

Hermione’s frown deepened. “That’s disgraceful. I thought, with everything in the press, people had been more forgiving towards you.”

“That’s certainly my mother’s intention. It usually seems to have the opposite effect.” He shrugged, as if trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable direction their conversation had taken. “It didn’t matter when I was retaking my sixth year, anyway. I worked just as hard to finish my studies at home. Theo and Pansy actually joined me. Neither of them wanted to go back to school, either. It was good for all of us to have the mental stimulation.”

“It’s admirable,” Hermione said, noting how his eyes flickered to her, guarded. “A lot of people would have left their education behind. Harry and Ron certainly never thought it was important to complete it.”

He gave her a wry smile as they entered Hogwarts. The musty scent of the old halls immediately took Hermione back through time. No students were present, since the summer holidays were still in session, but Hermione gazed around as if she might see younger versions of her friends rounding the corners.

“I can’t imagine you here for eighth year without the rest of the Golden Trio in tow.”

She breathed a short laugh through her nose. “It was hard enough getting through that year without them here to distract me, although I’ll admit I missed the noise of having friends around.”

“Who did you hand out with instead?” he asked as they began walking the winding route to the Headmistress’s office.

Hermione shrugged. “No one, really. Ginny and I spent time together, but she had her own friends. I only came back to finish my studies, so I spent most of my time in the library or studying in my room.”

“I suppose that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Brightest witch of her age and all. You always were a swot.”

She elbowed him with a playful scowl. “You were just as studious as me. Don’t forget, I saw your grades in your job application. Besides, do you think I was unaware of my competition for the top grades, even in our lower years? You were a real threat in potions.”

He fought a failing battle against a smile.

Reaching McGonagall’s office, they quickly received admission. Tension continued to line Malfoy’s frame as they reached the top of the stairs, emerging into the familiar old office that had once belonged to Dumbledore.

Headmistress McGonagall awaited them behind her desk. She had already laid out a selection of drinks and treats for their meeting. She rose as her guests entered and rounded the desk to give Hermione a hug. Malfoy’s eyes widened as the headmistress pulled him into one shortly after, but he recovered enough to pat her awkwardly on the back before she stepped away.

“I’ll admit, I never expected Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy to reach out to me for a meeting such as this. The few times I observed the two of you together, it usually involved a great deal of bickering.” She raised her brows at them, her smile crinkling the soft ski at the corners of her eyes. Taking the seat on the far side of her desk, she motioned for them to sit and tuck into the array of refreshments.

Hermione smiled back, sheepishly. “We’ve been making amends.”

“Quite.” The headmistress sipped her tea, averting her gaze to Malfoy, whose cheeks had flushed a shade darker.

“As I explained in my letter, Malfoy has started working at the Ministry with me,” Hermione said, hoping to bypass the small talk and get straight to the point of their meeting.

As much as she enjoyed catching up with McGonagall, she’d delayed this long enough; her trip to the orphanage had filled her with a renewed sense of urgency.

“We wanted to speak with you today about some of our wider goals that specifically affect Hogwarts and what it might take to achieve those, or at least to start making headway in the right direction.”

McGonagall took another slow sip and placed her teacup down with a gentle clink, buying herself some time to think. “Yes, I read the brief outline of those goals in your proposal for this meeting. You primarily hope to adjust the way Muggle-born students are introduced into Wizarding society, is that correct?”

Hermione nodded. “Among other things, but that is a major part. We also hope to adjust and improve the curriculum for Muggle studies and to set up some support systems for in-need students following the effects of the war. Muggle-born students were hit particularly hard and the current aid does not extend far enough. We’re in contact with some orphanages to understand the extent of the problem, but have more work to do in terms of finding the most suitable long-term solutions.”

McGonagall offered a dry, wordless noise of agreement. “Yes, I did wonder if this trip was linked to the rather generous donations the Malfoy family recently made to certain orphanages that house several of our students.”

Hermione’s head snapped in Malfoy’s direction. He avoided her stare, straightening in his seat.

“That had no connection to our goals in arranging this meeting, it was simply a coincidental attempt to help those in need,” he said hastily to the headmistress.

“While I am pleased to see such a positive change in your attitudes to Muggle-borns, Mr Malfoy, even you do not have enough money to fix every issue in the Wizarding world that affects them.”

“I do not claim to, Headmistress. Granger and I are well aware of the efforts we will need to make in terms of fundraising. We hope to draw up the potential costing of our goals with you today so we are better-placed to form a long-term fundraising plan.”

McGonagall gave a slow nod. “A sensible suggestion. Though, limited funding is not the only barrier you will face. The current curriculum and methods of introducing Muggle-born students to the Wizarding world are well established and many people do not see a need to alter them. Changes to those processes will be slow and challenging, if they are possible at all.”

Malfoy whipped out his notebook, within which their goals were listed with extensive notes on the practicalities of each, including potential action steps and pricing estimates.

“Perhaps we can show you our ideas in more detail before we consider the obstacles we will face,” he suggested.

McGonagall nodded for them to continue, sitting back and letting her two former students speak at length about their plans. Minutes stretched into hours as they discussed their lengthy ambitions.

The headmistress offered praise and encouragement as equally as she doled out critiques and challenges, but overall Hermione left the meeting at Malfoy’s side feeling like things were finally moving in the right direction. The time ahead of them would be thick with challenges and obstacles but she was hopeful that they would overcome them and make a lasting difference.

After agreeing on a date for a follow-up meeting, the pair bade McGonagall goodbye and left her office. Hermione was the first to break the quiet between them as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Malfoy, what did Headmistress McGonagall mean about your family making recent donations to the orphanages?”

He shot her a wide-eyed glance. “Oh, nothing, I’m sure.”

She frowned at him, placing her hands on her hips. “You’re lying to me.”

Malfoy took a deep breath and blew out a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. Stray blonde strands fell back down against his temples.

“I made some small donations to try and improve the immediate experience of the children.”

“Small donations?”

“Galleons, mostly. And a few copies of the most recent books they’ll require for their schoolwork in the upcoming year, and some fresh uniforms.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s amazing!”

He shifted with discomfort, staring everywhere but at her eyes. “It’s not much, it’ll only really help them until the end of the next school year.”

“It will make a huge difference! Even having to share between fewer children will help them extensively.”

He finally looked at her, frowning at her misunderstanding.

“I bought enough that each child would have a fresh uniform and the appropriate schoolbooks, Granger.”

Her eyes bulged. “Malfoy, that’s huge! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged, looking away again. “I didn’t do it for recognition. I just wanted to help them. McGonagall pointed out that my money alone won’t solve everything, but I can help a little.”

She stared at him, shocked into silence. Malfoy moved to walk away, prompting her to jog to catch up with his long strides. They strolled beside each other through the school, Hermione silently admiring Malfoy’s donation before she fell back into her usual memories of the school that had once been a home to her.

When they found themselves at the edge of the Great Lake, they agreed to linger before heading back to the Ministry. They sat side by side on the grass. While they’d been in their meeting, the sun had chased away the morning’s bleak weather. Golden rays warmed Hermione’s skin as she tilted her face up toward the blue sky above.

“Was it as bad as you expected?” Hermione asked, glancing sideways at Malfoy. “Coming back, I mean.”

He leaned back on his hands, gazing over the sparkling water. “I suppose not. It was as strange as I expected, though.”

She nodded in agreement, considering the memories being at school elicited. “I think it’s more strange that we’re sitting here peacefully beside each other.” A grin erupted across her face at the thought. “The Draco Malfoy I knew at school would never have lowered himself to hanging out with a Gryffindor, let alone a Muggle-born.”

He grimaced, but tried to maintain the lightness of their conversation. “Particularly not one with such a good right hook.”

Hermione winced at the recollection of punching Malfoy in the nose. He’d deserved it, but that did nothing to stop a flush of heat rising in her face.

“We make a good team, though. Imagine the havoc we would’ve caused if we’d set aside our differences at school.”

A line appeared in his brow. “Havoc?”

She nodded, enthusiastically. “Pairing up for all the group assignments, studying together rather than competing for the top spot. We would’ve really challenged the teachers to improve their work ethics. I imagine we would’ve graduated early.”

Malfoy barked a sudden laugh, his smile lighting up his entire face. “Of course that’s Hermione Granger’s idea of havoc. You know we’re both far too competitive for that. I’ve never seen you more motivated than when I scored a higher grade than you on a potions assignment in fourth year. You were in the library for a week straight.”

She conceded the point with a wry smile. Water lapped at the shore in front of them, soft and quiet against the earth. Birds dove and flitted against its surface in the distance.

“Granger—Hermione.”

She glanced up, surprised to hear her name from Malfoy’s lips. Her stomach fluttered at the sound of it.

“I know you always stop me before I can say it, but I truly am so sorry for how I treated you in school.” He met her gaze, earnestness shining in his grey eyes. “You never deserved it, we both know that. I wish I could change it. I’m working hard to be better, but I still need you to know that I regret every taunt, every attempt I made to drag you down. I don’t blame you for hating me back then. I should’ve spent more time questioning the lies my parents told me. Of course Muggle-borns aren’t inferior. You are and always were the most brilliant witch I’ve ever known. I was just too blind with jealousy to admit it back then.”

She swallowed, giving herself a moment to process the apology. When she was younger, regularly dealing with Malfoy’s cruelty, she had often imagined this moment. However, after everything they’d both been through, the apology gave her less satisfaction than she’d once imagined it might.

“I forgive you, Draco. I never hated you, not really. Though, I much prefer the man you’ve grown up to be.”

A small smile curved his lips. “Me too, Granger.”