Chapter 2
The first official day of classes arrived with a crisp September breeze curling through the open castle windows. The scent of morning dew clung to the stone corridors as Hermione Granger made her way toward the Prefects' Lounge, her badge polished and robes crisp and free of even a solitary crease. The morning sun caught the glint of her Head Girl pin, a symbol of both authority and responsibility, and one she refused to take lightly.
As Head Girl, Hermione had committed herself to ensuring the success of Hogwarts' new House Unity Initiative. The planning period she had arranged with the other prefects that morning would be key in setting the tone for the year ahead, and she was coming wholly prepared.
Her carefully organized notes were spread neatly across the center table when the prefects began filing in. A few offered polite greetings; others exchanged nervous glances, clearly aware of the undercurrent that had lingered since the war's end. The previous evening's Sorting Ceremony and welcoming feast had felt lighter than expected, but she knew tensions remained. This was a school still in the throes of healing after all.
Hermione cleared her throat, summoning focus. "Good morning, everyone. Thank you all for making it here so early. We have quite a bit to cover, especially regarding the House Unity event scheduled for the end of the month, but I’ll get to that in a bit."
The soft scratch of quills followed as they recorded her words. Practical matters. Checklists. Timelines. They seemed to be a dedicated and diligent bunch, and for that, Hermione was grateful.
Before she could properly launch into the unity initiative, the door opened, and it was Draco Malfoy appeared at the threshold, his expression composed but his robes were slightly askew, as though he'd been rushing. He offered a brief nod in her direction before speaking quietly, "Apologies for my tardiness.” Had his voice always been that deep? “I was escorting a first-year who got turned around by the Grand Staircase." With that, he took a seat, taking a moment to adjust his robes before turning his full attention to her.
Returning hers to the meeting, Hermione continued with offering the Slytherin another glance. "The House Unity Initiative will focus on collaboration between Houses, encouraging teamwork through activities designed to build morale and promote campus-wide comradery. Each prefect will be assigned a mixed-house cohort to mentor. The objective is to create an opportunity for students to form community by connecting with peers they may not typically look to due to things such as house rivalries or simple convenience."
She went over all of the details, assigning groups to prefects and distributing briefs with all of the necessary information. Her words remained precise, anchored by all of the hours of preparation she'd logged leading up to her return. If her pulse was too quick, her voice too carefully measured, no one seemed to notice and it was the first time she’d felt properly in control in longer than she could remember.
Once she’d gone over everything, she paused, scanning the room. "Before we continue, are there any questions or concerns?"
A younger Hufflepuff prefect raised her hand, her face kind but unsure. "What should we do if some students feel uncomfortable working with others who families were... uhm…well, y’know, on the opposing side? Some of them are really anxious and I’m not sure how to reassure them."
Hermione inhaled slowly. Thankfully, she was also prepared for this. "We can't change the past. But we can choose how we move forward. This event is about collaboration, not erasure. If anyone feels unable to participate respectfully, alternatives can be discussed on an as needed basis. But I encourage you all to consider what rehabilitation truly means and requires. No one here has been untouched by the war. We must be mindful of that."
Silence lingered for a heartbeat until a single voice cut through it, measured and calm. Malfoy.
"Granger's right,” he declared, his voice bereft of any pompous attitude, just matter of fact, if not a bit…compassionate? “No one expects trust to rebuild overnight. But perhaps we should consider a support group - voluntary, of course - open to anyone who feels the need for it. A space for students to express concerns without judgment. There are still those carrying the weight of grief - or guilt. Pretending the tension isn’t there won’t make it disappear. But understanding might help it fade.”
Hermione blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice, but caught herself and nodded. "That's an excellent suggestion, Malfoy. We can coordinate with the Heads of Houses to explore that option further. Any other questions?"
The remainder of the meeting went smoothly, the prefects dispersing with their assignments and notes. Hermione lingered behind to gather leftover materials, rolling up parchment and stacking abandoned quills. She noticed Draco remained as well, methodically sorting remaining handouts into piles.
When the table was nearly cleared, his voice broke the quiet. "You handled that well, Granger. Glad to see your attention to detail is still alive and thriving."
She looked up, traitorous cheeks warming at his words. First he’d agreed with her, and now he was issuing praise? Had she somehow entered an alternate reality? Blinking, she shoved the thought away, managing a small, polite smile. "Thank you, Malfoy. Your suggestion for the peer support group was quite…insightful. Thank you for sharing."
Draco shrugged, his gaze flickering back down to the papers. "People need stability. Structure helps."
They worked in silence for another moment after that, tidying the rest of materials in preparation for the class that would soon be occupying the room. Hermione had almost managed to fall into autopilot when she and her cleaning companion both reached for the same stack of parchment at once. His hand brushed hers, brief but warm, and her body went still at the unexpected contact.
The tension was palpable, heavier than the absence of words between them. She opened her mouth, uncertain of what to say, but he had already drawn his hands behind his back, his jaw tightened and his sharp features tensed.
"I should make sure I'm not needed by any wandering first-years before my next class," he announced suddenly, before adding a cordial, "Good day, Granger." Without any further preamble, he bowed his head to her and turned for the door, leaving Hermione alone in the classroom, the echo of his retreating footsteps filtering in from the corridor.
As she looked from the empty doorway back to the table, one thought lingered stubbornly in her mind.
Since when did Draco Malfoy know what a bloody 'peer support group' was?
The first official week of classes at Hogwarts had only just begun, yet Hermione found herself already buried to the neck in responsibilities. Between mentoring first years and checking in with the other prefects, managing her independent studies, and getting ahead in her classwork, it seemed she didn't have an unoccupied moment to spare.
At times, it felt like she was holding it all together by sheer willpower.
Her personal to-do list seemed endless: coordinating the mentor groups for younger students, adjusting patrol rotations, and finalizing plans for the House Unity event. Despite the workload, there was an odd sort of comfort in the structure, a steady rhythm that kept her mind busy. If her schedule was full, there was less room for intrusive thoughts, less time to linger on the cracks still healing in both the castle and herself.
By lunchtime, Hermione nearly forgot her promise to meet Ginny and Luna in the Great Hall. The sudden chime of the bell echoing through the corridors jolted her from the ancient runes text she had been annotating in the library. She hurried down the marble staircase, the scent of roast chicken and warm bread already drifting up from below. Somehow her hunger had fallen to the wayside, but now that a meal taunted her, it slammed into her with an aggressive growl.
The Great Hall was alive with chatter when she arrived, the four long tables buzzing with life. Students debated everything from their summer escapades and new classes to the bizarre rumor that Professor Trelawney had enchanted her teacups to scream whenever someone asked for sugar. For a breath, the sheer normalcy of it all felt like a warm blanket.
Ginny spotted her first, waving her over with a grin and scooting aside to make room at the Gryffindor table. "You nearly missed lunch. Did you get hexed by a stack of textbooks?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, setting down her bag with a thump. "Very funny. I'm just swamped with start-of-term. You know, just casually keeping the school from imploding and all."
Luna, seated across from them, offered her usual airy smile. "You know, Hermione, you might be holding up Hogwarts with sheer determination alone, but perhaps try a cup of moony dew tea. It's brewed from petals that only bloom under a full moon—excellent for clarity and stress relief, though I've heard it occasionally howls if you oversteep it. Or at the very least, you could charm your books to whisper soothing affirmations while you're studying."
Ginny snorted. "I'm pretty sure Hermione runs purely off stress and caffeine, Lu, but maybe you could let me know where to find that tea before Quidditch season kicks off."
Hermione gave a half-hearted smile, grateful for the break from endless planning and easy conversation. "It's not that bad, really. I just want this year to be...different. Better, you know. For everyone."
Ginny softened. "It will be. You've done more than enough, Mi, and you should be proud of yourself. I know we all are."
The words lingered longer than Hermione expected, a reminder she hadn't known she needed.
Later that afternoon, the reality of just how many responsibilities she'd committed too truly set in. Professor Flitwick had requested her help coordinating tutoring sessions for the younger students, which required drafting even more schedules, negotiating time slots between prefect duties, and ensuring the Heads of Houses had approved the final plan. The parchment stack on her desk grew thicker with every hour it seemed, but it felt productive. Tangible. Controllable.
When she finally returned to the Gryffindor common room for the evening, the fire had dimmed to a steady glow. Harry and Ron were seated near the hearth, deep in a game of wizard's chess. Ron's triumphant grin suggested he was winning.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry called as she entered. "How'd your day go?"
Hermione sank into the armchair opposite them, letting her bag slump to the floor. "If I spend even one more second today reviewing the patrol schedules, I'll be assigning rounds based on lunar phases and birth charts."
Ron glanced up, trying not to laugh. "Keep that attitude up and they'll have you running the Ministry's Department of Overthinking in no time."
Hermione raised a brow. "Says the bloke who once spent fifteen minutes debating whether it was more efficient to tie his shoelaces clockwise or counterclockwise."
Harry snorted, and Ron made a face but didn't argue further. The quiet crackle of the fire filled the space between them, a rare moment of calm that felt closer to the way things had been before the war.
As the evening wore on, the common room slowly emptied, the younger students heading for bed while the flames dwindled to soft embers. Hermione remained at the corner table, parchment spread before her as she drafted letters to the Heads of House regarding Flitwick's tutoring request. The delicate scratch of her quill was the only sound - until a soft knock echoed from the portrait hole.
Frowning, she set her quill aside and crossed the room. It wasn't horribly late by any means, but it was still odd to have any visitors at this hour. When she opened the door, she couldn't disguise her surprise when she found Draco Malfoy standing on the other side, his pale hair slightly mussed and a neatly rolled scroll under one arm.
"Granger," he greeted, his tone formal but not cold as he held out the scroll to her. "My notes for the Prefect meeting. I forgot to give these to you, but I thought they could be useful to your planning."
Hermione blinked, momentarily disarmed. What was happening? "Oh. Ehm, thank you. That's...thoughtful."
He tilted his head slightly. "Well I can occasionally be useful when permitted."
But there was no bite to his words, only that same quiet calm she'd noticed earlier.
As he turned to leave, Hermione found herself speaking before she could stop herself. "Malfoy?"
He paused, half-turning. "Yes?"
"About the Prefect meeting. The support group...it really is a good idea."
For a heartbeat, he looked as though he was waiting for her to take it back or perhaps even mock him, but when she did neither, he smirked. Or maybe it was a smile. She couldn't be sure. "Careful, Granger. If you continue to sing my praises, I fear the wizarding world may crumble under the notion that their golden girl supports the ideas of war criminals."
Hermione stood frozen, Malfoy's words echoing louder than they should have. War criminal? Is that what he thought of himself? The casual jab lingered between them, sharp despite the sarcasm.
Before she could respond, he shifted his weight slightly, glancing past her toward the dim common room. "Anyway, just wanted to hand those over. It's getting late and I should cover my rounds before curfew. Goodnight, Granger."
And with that, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving her standing there, the weight of the parchment lingering in her hands.
She closed the portrait door after a moment, frowning as she unrolled the scroll and skimmed the contents. His handwriting was neat, elegant even, and the notes themselves were...extensive. Detailed suggestions on support group logistics, including points she hadn’t even considered and practical steps for managing participation. Thorough, efficient, and clearly thought out. It was...unsettling. When had Malfoy become so meticulous about anything that didn’t involve self-preservation?
It was Ginny's voice that broke the introspective quiet as Hermione turned to return to her table. "Hey, you alright? You've been down here for ages."
Hermione jolted, clutching the parchment to her chest in panic. "Merlin's beard, Ginny. A little warning next time!" She let out a breath, shaking her head at the redhead as her body released the tension. "But yes, I'm nearly done here. I'm just...finishing up. I'll be up soon."
Ginny studied her for a moment longer, then offered a small smile. "Alright. Don't work too hard, Head Girl."
As Ginny disappeared back upstairs, Hermione stared once more at the notes in her hands, the flickering firelight dancing across the parchment.
Not even a full week back, and Hogwarts already felt like it needed a therapy owl, an infinite supply of calming draught, and an entire trolley of biscuits.