Olive Branches
Hogwarts, 1998
The first week within the Hogwarts corridors was quiet. Students shuffled from common room to class, class to the Great Hall, and then back to their common rooms. They kept to themselves and their small groups. Even Peeves seemed to lay low after the trail of slug slime he had left behind during the start of the term feast. Meals were awkward at best, but Hermione found them torturous. There was never a moment of peace while in the great hall. The younger students stared and whispered loudly; usually, they gossiped about Hermione but sometimes they could be heard discussing Malfoy and his lot.
The first few days, students attempted to sit by house but the faculty quickly rearranged them. Unfortunately, while Hagrid could lift an entire bench of students and move them and Flitwick could cast a levitation charm to deposit students at their rightful table, there had been no rule to mingle at their new tables. Hufflepuffs would gather at one end of the table, and Ravenclaw students would huddle in a tight group deep into their schoolwork. Gryffindor and Slytherin would shoot glares at each other across the jam.
Hermione discovered that classes would be the same as meals, houses stuck together at their tables in class. Unfortunately for Hermione, while she was friendly with the seventh years in Gryffindor, she did not know the younger students well. When everyone split into their friend groups during classes or meals, Hermione felt a little lost. She hadn’t made an effort to create a friend group outside of Harry and Ron, she never thought she would be at Hogwarts without them. Now she was regretful. Ginny was a friend, but was it because Ginny and Hermione were forced together by their relationships with Ron? She loved Ginny, but she knew she was not Ginny’s best friend. She had grown closer to Neville and Luna, but she still missed her best friends. If you could be homesick for a person, that was exactly what the pain in her chest would be.
All twelve eighth-year students had Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing on Tuesdays. It was the only class that did not integrate them with the seventh years. If Harry was there, he would be grinning a self-satisfied smile at being right about John Dawlish taking over the class. Hermione made a note on the parchment to send him an owl informing him before she remembered that Dawlish would be absent from the Auror department. Even as a fresh-faced auror, Hermione guessed Harry would notice Dawlish’s absence. She pulled an elastic from her bag and pulled her curls into a sloppy bun at the top of her head. Hermione covertly checked out the pairs that had formed as she pulled out her quills, notes, and book. In the back corner of the room, Smith was sitting with Susan, heads bent together whispering. Neville and Padma were together at the table in the middle of the left row. In front of them, Tracy Davis and Mandy Brocklehurst were settling into the spot at the front of the room. The Slytherins had commandeered the tables in front of Hermione. Something was missing. Hermione glanced around the chamber again. Everyone had paired up, yet there were only eleven of them present. Malfoy was not here yet. There was only one open seat. Hermione’s eyes widened in horror as Dawlish and Malfoy entered the room together. Both men came to the same conclusion Hermione had. Her new tablemate stopped in front of Nott and Zabini’s table. His voice was low and he gestured wildly towards the back of the room. Hermione could guess what they were speaking about, her face heating up as Zabini shook his head.
“No thanks, Mate. I think the swots should stick together,” Zabini jerked his head to the empty spot next to her. Malfoy leveled a hard stare at him but Zabini just chuckled.
“Gentleman, if we could stop holding up my classroom?” Dawlish raised an eyebrow at the pair and gestured for Malfoy to take his seat at Hermione’s table. Malfoy’s nostrils flared as he inhaled a breath and moved next to her. He dropped his schoolbag with a thud and glared straight ahead as Dawlish began his lesson.
“I am John Dawlish. You can call me Dawlish. Or Professor. All of you know me, some of us meeting in unfortunate ways.” His tone was no-nonsense and Hermione felt the tense energy rolling off Malfoy.
“Like when you arrested me in Flourish and Blotts?” Goyle called out. He grinned and Hermione assumed he was joking until the former Autor ran a scarred hand over his stubbled chin, already exasperated.
“As an example, yes.”
“Ha! He dragged my father through the Forbidden Forest by his hair. It was amazing!” Nott crowed, looking like a kitten who had gotten into the cream. Dawlish raised his eyes to the ceiling before continuing.
“As I was saying, welcome to Hogwarts' very first specialised Defence of the Dark Arts class. Due to the,”, Dawlish cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised as he paused to consider his words, “well, unusual circumstances of your seventh year, Headmistress McGonagall and the Ministry requested this class be separated from the rest of the curriculum. Today, I want to see what you know and where we should start.”
For the rest of the hour, Dawlish called each table to the front of the chamber, the seating arrangement doubling as their partners. He would check his notes and then call out a spell. They started with simple spells like protego and stupefy. Then he moved onto jinxes. Pansy performed a beautiful bat-bogey hex on Goyle that would have made even Ginny envious. Through every exercise, Dawlish would check that both parties consented before allowing magic to be used. Hermione wondered if it had something to do with the magic of their shared common room.
Near the end of class, as each table performed their last set of spells, Dawlish dismissed them, until only Hermione and Draco were left.
“The Patronus Charm. Headmistress McGonagall says this is a charm you mastered in Fifth year, Granger?” Dawlish looked up from his notes.
“Yes, Professor. Harry learned it from…from Professor Lupin sir. He taught it to the rest of us.” Her voice wavered on Remus’ name. They pretended not to notice. Malfoy’s eyes widened and for a moment, Hermione could have sworn fear lit up his face. It was gone in moments and she questioned what she had seen.
“Absolutely not. I refuse. I have complied with everything else in this assessment. Class is 5 minutes past and I have places to be.” Malfoy summoned his bag and attempted to exit but Dawlish’s barreled chest filled the doorway. Malfoy tried to push past him but Dawlish might as well have been a stone wall.
“As your advisor, Mr Malfoy, I sincerely hope you are not planning on abandoning your first class.” The two men stared each other down.
This must be part of the agreement to keep them out of Azkaban. Is that why we have advisors this year?
Hermione was starting to piece together all of the constraints they were under:
House arrest.
Reparations.
Mandatory schooling.
Complete studies with an overseer.
How many things were Malfoy and the rest supposed to do to be considered exonerated?
Hermione could tell Malfoy was debating if he could call Dawlish's bluff. Deciding that the man was serious, Malfoy sneered but dropped his bag once again on the stones.
“Well, let’s see it, Granger. I want to see the ‘Brightest Witch Of Our Age’ show off a bit more.” Malfoy smoothed back a lock of stray hair and glowered at her. Hermione narrowed her eyes, she knew he was posturing but any feelings of empathy quickly evaporated at his tone.
She took two steps back, giving herself room as Malfoy propped his hip against the Professor’s desk. Dawlish remained in the doorway. She stood in the middle of the first row, pulled her wand, and froze. The Patronus Charm was at its base level a spell about happiness. Hermione had many happy moments in her life, yet at this moment, under scrutinisation, she faltered.
“Come on Golden Girl, I have other classes today.” Malfoy made a show of casting a tempus charm. Maybe Hermione had been wrong about Malfoy earlier. Maybe he did enjoy goading her just as much as Harry and Ron. Though it did give her the edge she needed.
Hermione drew her wand and smiled sweetly at Malfoy, remembering the crack his nose had made in Third year when she punched him. She angled her wand towards the ceiling and began to rotate her wand tip, twisting it horizontally towards Malfoy and Dawlish. As the words left her lips, so did the bright silver form of an otter. It zipped right towards the wizards, the air around it causing blonde tendrils to fall out of place. As it rushed towards the door, Dawlish moved out of its way.
“Very good, Hermione! Not many Aurors could have done better. Have you been able to use it as a messenger, yet?” He must have been able to tell by her face because he quickly jotted down a note and turned to Malfoy.
“Alright, Malfoy. Your turn.” Both turned towards Malfoy, who had seen the opportunity and now stood in the corridor.
“The Patronus Charm is advanced magic. It is not a required spell for NEWT levels for Defence Against the Dark Arts or Charms, which I am late for.” Malfoy did not say goodbye as he turned on his heel and left, leaving Hermione to follow in his wake to Professor Flitwick’s classroom. She had attempted to smile at Dawlish, but he was already at his desk making notations on the piece of parchment.
✧✧✧
In the following weeks, Hermione would shuffle to class, trying to pair with Neville as much as she could, however, Hermione did not share nearly enough classes with him to avoid Malfoy altogether. They were still paired in Dawlish’s class and sadly in Slughorn’s as well.
The night before Halloween, Hermione was sitting in the common room, her head leaning back against the crimson cushions of the sofa. The first few days, the sofas had remained sapphire but it had quickly devolved into a game when on the third night, the sofa was a deep red. Hermione wasn't sure, but she would have put a knut on Neville, who was the one to change the colour originally. From there, the sofas never remained the same for more than a class or two. When Hermione had come into the common room, they had been emerald.
Currently, she was deep in thought, piecing together the puzzle that had been plaguing her. She had realised early on that she and the snakes had the same timetable but they each had their mentor to report to. Some of the pairings, like Neville and Professor Sprout, were obvious; it wasn’t until Hermione had observed each of the Slytherins in meetings outside of classes with Dawlish that she realised Dawlish was more than filling in as the DaDa professor. He was a probationary officer. Hermione was unsure why she was surprised by this. John Dawlish had been tapped to take over the DMLE and still ended up at Hogwarts. It made sense they would send their best to keep an eye on the baby death eaters. The thought that Hogwarts had become a prison made Hermione's stomach roil.
“You're not going to be sick are you Granger?” Pansy's voice made her dip her head between her knees, hair touching the ground. “You'll get vomit in your hair.” Hermione could hear the disgust in her tone.
“Go away, Pansy. I am not going to be sick. I simply have a headache.” Hermione waved her hands towards the scrolls and books on the table. “I have another paper to write for Slughorn and…” she trailed off, not wanting to admit that Malfoy and Theo were right behind her in the ranks and it made her uneasy. Pansy’s friendliness also made her uneasy, but the heiress was insistent.
Maybe it was part of their release, befriend the one person you tortured relentlessly. Or it has to do with the looks she and Neville keep giving each other. The thought of something happening between Pansy and Neville settled in her stomach like a bludger. She had always been fond of Neville and did not want to see him be at the end of another Slytherin prank.
“Granger, you really don’t look–” Pansy interrupted her thoughts again and Hermione let out a disgruntled groan.
“Just sod off Parkinson!” A flash of disappointment skated across the petite girl’s face before it shuttered. That bit of humanity made Hermione do the unthinkable. She reached out and grabbed Pansy’s wrist, pulling her to a stop before she could storm off.
“Wait, sorry. I’m…just. That was unwarranted.” Pansy yanked her arm from Hermione’s gentle grip but did not walk away. Hermione blew a curl from her eyes and sighed.
“Sit down. You hovering is not helping.” Hermione smiled as Pansy wrinkled her delicate nose at the thought of sitting on the Gryffindor red sofa. With a quick flick of her wand and a nonverbal spell, the sofa was again acid green. Satisfied, Pansy settled next to Hermione, tucking her legs underneath her.
The other witch stared at Hermione, waiting. The only other occupants in the common room were Neville and Padma lounging on the floor in a corner, textbooks spread out around them as they leaned over their notes. Padma was immersed in their Herbology work but Neville kept glancing at the sofa and the pair of witches. Hermione smiled at him but turned back to Pansy, who had removed her shoes and tie, draping the latter on the back of the sofa. The dull echo of the seconds passing awkwardly between them enunciated by the clock behind them. She wanted answers and Pansy was one of the few who would be able to answer them.
“You traded one prison for another and then house arrest to castle arrest.” Hermione cringed. She was not one for subtlety, but her question came out more blunt than intended.
“Yes. I thought that was obvious, Granger. They say you are the brightest witch of her age and that is what has you looking ill?”
“Please don’t. That moniker is ridiculous.” Hermione had been embarrassed when Remus had said it in third year, but now it was annoying when people touted the phrase at her. Many in her year were intelligent, Pansy herself proving herself several times over in Potions.
“No need for modesty. You’re brilliant. Own it.” Pansy said simply. Hermione waited for the high-pitched laugh Pansy usually emitted after a compliment aimed at her, it never came. “Now if you would do something about your hair, maybe grow it longer, well then you would be the total package.” Pansy took a moment to scrutinise Hermione, “And maybe your eyebrows.”
Hermione resisted the urge to touch her brows. They were fine. What would Pansy Parkinson know anyway?
“Parks, are you slumming it with muggleborns now?” Malfoy’s droll voice carried across the quiet chamber. “If you need homework help, you know I would be more than willing to assist you.”
“Sod off, Draco. Granger and I are becoming friends. You know Dawlish wants us to branch out from our…how did he put it?”
“I believe it was ‘crew.’” Draco supplied.
“Is that why you have been more civil towards me?” It made sense that the friendliness of the Slytherin girl would be another check on the list of requirements the Ministry had given the former Death Eaters. Hermione was unsure why the thought of being another box on a list made her chest twinge. Pansy just lifted a shoulder demurely.
“Parks, you ready?” Theo Nott shouted from the doorway. His demeanour perked up when he noticed Pansy and Hermione together with Malfoy looming over them.
“Oh good, Curls can come too. She can add it to her community service or something. Oi! Greg! Put the book down and make haste.” Hermione glanced over at Goyle. She had assumed he was dozing by the fire, but now realized he held a leather book in his hand.
“You always interrupt at the best parts. Anne and Gilbert were just about to kiss.” Hermione couldn’t contain the rise of her eyebrows. Goyle was reading muggle literature.
Before she could make a comment, Pansy grabbed Hermione’s hand and all but frogmarched her to the doorway, where Nott looped his arm through hers. The pair steered her towards the Great Hall with Malfoy fuming behind them.
This was the first of many meals Hermione would spend sitting between Pansy and Theo. Hermione continued the habit solely because Malfoy did not want her there.
✧✧✧
“A party? Are you sure it was McGonagall? Did someone use polyjuice?” Ginny gaped at Neville.
“I don't think so. McGonagall would not be that careless with her hair.” Neville looked so serious, that Hermione had to stifle a laugh behind a cough.
“Explain from the beginning Nev. What exactly did they say?”
Neville cleared his throat and in a high-pitched register, imitated a perfect copy of McGonagall.
“ ‘Mister Longbottom! Might I have a word?’ ”
Neville then dropped the Scottish accent and spoke normally.
“And I said ‘Yes Headmistress?’” and then she was all ‘This time of year is always a great excuse for festivities. Might I suggest a get together amongst the eighth-year students’...” Neville stopped mimicking the conversation when Ginny cuffed him upside the head.
“Neville! Just tell us what happened!”
Neville grinned at the redhead and summarised how the headmistress thought that the best way to bring the mismatched group together was to throw a party on New Year's Eve. A party did sound like fun and Hermione had become closer to Theo, Pansy, and Greg.
“I think it's a great idea.” Hermione jumped in before Ginny could derail the plan she could already see forming behind Neville’s large brown eyes. Hermione also knew that Neville had an ulterior motive for wanting to throw a party, a petite raven-haired motive.
“Is everyone invited or just the elite eighth years?” Ginny wondered aloud, Luna humming in agreement. This shocked Hermione, she had assumed none of the younger years would even want to attend a party with the Slytherin’s present.
“McGonagall suggested we keep the gathering small, the eighth years and a few select other students.” Neville voiced Hermione’s concerns. “I am not sure inviting a bunch of people would be smart. It’s bad enough Susan and Smith will need to be invited.” The animosity within the castle was palpable. Coming from Susan Bones, who had lost her entire family because of Voldemort’s reign. Zacharias had always been critical of Harry, though Hermione had always thought he was jealous of the attention Harry had received. Unfortunately, the blonde Hufflepuff was only worse after Ginny hit him with that impressive Bat-Bogey Hex after they returned from the Ministry in Sixth year.
“Maybe they won’t attend if we make it known it is a reconciliation party?” Hermione suggested though she wasn’t sure if any others would come out of the dorms to attend an event geared towards putting the past away. Hermione wasn’t sure if she was mature enough to let the past lay, especially since Malfoy still couldn’t stand her presence. It had been two months now and he would still sulk and make snide remarks about hanging out with swots until Theo or Pansy informed him that he was at the top of half their classes. Hermione had tried to extricate herself from the Slytherin group, but Pansy refused to let her go. Goyle went as far as to compare the whole situation to a kidnapping.
“Your biggest concern will be getting Draco on board with a party.” Three heads came up to stare at Blaise Zabini as he forced himself into their circle, making Ginny fall into Luna’s lap when she took a step to make room for his taller frame. Both girls turned as red as Ginny’s hair and avoided each other’s stare as Ginny righted herself.
“We do not need Malfoy’s approval to have a get-together.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
”I would rather eat Doxie eggs than ask Malfoy’s permission.” Malfoy may not insult her blood status anymore, but he had other ways of getting under her skin, namely beating her in Potions and Charms.
“No one is going to ask Malfoy to show up. We are just going to have a good time and he will come out of his cave because his fear of missing out is a design of his upbringing. Malfoys are never excluded.” Zabini’s smile reeked of a scheme, but Hermione was unwilling to try to decode what he was up to. The group settled into seats and began to discuss what would be needed and who they would invite, Hermione attempted to keep the gathering small, and she could only hope the others would agree. At the end of the planning, she was shocked to see Zabini was still there, offering ideas on food and how to convince the house elves to make a few special things.
“Don’t look so shocked, Longbottom. If Pansy can turn a new leaf, so can the rest of us.” He winked at Neville as he left.
✧✧✧
As the winter holiday commenced, Hermione was thrilled to be done with exams. Harry had invited them all to Grimmauld Place for Christmas but Hermione had decided to stay at Hogwarts, along with Neville, Luna, and Ginny, whose parents would be in France with Bill and Fleur. She was not sure when, but outside of Malfoy, she had started to consider Slytherin’s friends and it felt wrong to abandon them to a mostly empty castle. Most of her waking hours were spent in the library, a table away from Malfoy. Everywhere she went she was accompanied by Malfoy’s lean shadow. They shared classes, meals, the common room, and study schedules, even rotating around the same friend group. She was cordial, but she would not consider it friendly. Malfoy was, of course, frosty any time she approached him outside of the library. Within the stacks, they called a truce. No vocally, but by action. She lent him a quill, he would angle his Potions notes.
Currently, they were sitting across from each other. The library was quiet, only the crackle of the lanterns keeping them company. Her stomach rumbled so loudly, and Malfoy did the unthinkable. His slender fingers slid a sleeve of digestives across the table to her.
“Your rumbling stomach is disrupting my intellectual pursuits, Granger. Quiet down so I can translate this.” When she simply stared at him, he nudged the sleeve of digestives again. “I didn’t poison them. We are not on that chapter in Potions yet.”
“I know why I am here on a Saturday evening Malfoy, but why are you?” The question came out unbidden, Hermione had no sooner thought it and it was leaving her lips. She popped half a digestive in her mouth before she could say anything more. He was quiet for a while and she thought he would not answer but then, in a voice so low, she almost missed it.
“I am here for the same reason you are; the quiet around the castle lets in the thoughts, but here, I can pretend it doesn’t feel like it did that night.” Hermione let the words sit between them. She did feel the heaviness of the castle like it was holding its breath for something. The quiet had stirred her nightmares and Hermione was using the library as an excuse not to return to the dormitory. Did he also have nightmares? Hermione knew they all had trauma from the war, but what made Draco Malfoy hide in the Hogwarts library?
”The library is now closed. Please return your books to the cart. No checkouts.” Madam Pince’s voice echoed across the vast library, repeating every few seconds. The announcement startled Hermione from her thoughts and as she looked up, her eyes caught on Malfoy's. He looked away and hastily gathered his schoolbag. Clearing his throat, he looked at Hermione.
“Come on, Granger. Might as well walk back together. I overheard Peeves talking to that Gryffindor ghost on the way here, you don't want to be caught out by him tonight.” He did not look back at her to see if she followed. He straightened his robes, shouldered the dragonhide bag, and left her standing there. Staring after him, she could see the smirk he was trying to hide. With no other choice but to follow the arrogant git out, she flicked her wand to collect her various books and parchment and picked up her pace to catch up to Malfoy at the library doors. She shuddered to think of what Peeves could be up to, and even Malfoy thought it would be better to travel back to the common room together. They walked in silence, though Malfoy shortened his long strides so she could keep up, he did not slow his pace. Hermione shook her head, Malfoy was turning into an enigma.
✧✧✧
Hermione woke screaming. Her throat was ragged and her sleep shirt was sweat-soaked. She wrapped her shaking arms around her knees as her heart settled. It was that dream again; when Bathilda Bagshot’s skin dripped around her and Nagini violently shredded through her body. In the dream though, Nagini latched onto Harry, fangs slowly sinking to him as her eyes changed into Voldemort’s, gaze never leaving Hermione as Harry screamed for her to figure it out. How to stop the snake from devouring him? How to save her parents. How to find the Horcruxes. He screamed at her for failing them all.
Hermione was glad she had cast a silencing charm on her bed. The nightmares were getting worse the closer the holidays came. She knew it was because of the trip to Godric’s Hollow.
Just a dream. We are safe. We won. The war is over. It was just a dream. Harry is alive. I saved my parents. We are safe. We. Are. Safe. Rocking back and forth to calm herself, Hermione repeated the mantra a few times. She tapped her fingers against her bare arm, the touch calming her even more. Eventually, she moved to the washroom attached to the chamber to splash water on her face and change into one of Harry’s old quidditch uniforms she had pilfered. She crept from the dormitory, the soft breaths of Padma, Pansy, and Mandy the only noise in the sleeping dorm.
Low embers glowed in the hearth as she settled into one of the armchairs. Staring at the coals, she let her mind go blank. The citrusy smell of the common room mixed with that of the fire soothed her in a way that her coping mechanisms did not.
There was a noise from beside her and she was startled to see Malfoy lounging in the chair beside her. He had his socked feet propped up on a cushion, grey sleep pants and a long sleeve shirt rumpled enough that she knew he had also been pulled from bed tonight. His posture was casual enough, but there was a tightening in his jaw as he looked at her. His eyes scanned her curled position in the chair.
“M…Malfoy.” She greeted him, the unshed tears blinked away as she focused on him. Dark purple smudges under his eyes, his clenched jaw. She knew she looked the same. Having something in common with Malfoy was disconcerting.
“Granger.” His tone was stiff as he nodded at her. “Here for a nightcap?” He did not smile at her and there was an edge to him that she had not seen in months. He offered her a bottle of Ogden’s but she shook her head. Alcohol would not help, though she had tried in the past.
“No. Bad dreams.” She turned back to the fire, his gaze too intense to hold. She desperately wished she had put on pants. The wizard hummed in acknowledgment before going silent again. They sat like that; Malfoy with a glass tumbler of amber liquid and Hermione with her thoughts. At some point between her arrival and Malfoy’s, another log appeared on the fire. The flames warmed her bones as the chill of the dream slowly disappeared. Her trembling limbs started to relax and just as she had started to close her eyes, Malfoy spoke.
"We all have scars, Granger. Some wear long sleeves, we leave the lights off when we undress. We hide them away for as long as we can until we forget that they are there.” Hermione’s eyes travelled to his forearm, his shirt sleeve pushed to his elbow. The Dark Mark was a harsh blemish on his pale skin. Ragged at the edges with raised angry scars, as if someone had attempted to peel back the skin there. She knew he had been marked, but knowing and actually seeing the mark on his body felt different. She could not stop the small inhale of breath, Malfoy hastily pulled down his shirtsleeves.
“Others, we try to scratch the scars off, creating new ones in their wake. But trying to destroy them or cover them does not mean they don't exist. We have to learn how to live with our scars, and if we don't, the nightmares won't end because we aren’t moving on. We are simply existing until we can.” His voice was coarse with sleep and firewhiskey and for the first time, Hermione Granger wondered what it would be like to kiss Draco Malfoy.