Chapter 1
“Fred died, because of you! I lost so much during the war- my family lost so much! How can you even talk about moving on from that?” Ron had been yelling at her for nearly an hour by now. They’d just returned from the five-year memorial at the Ministry and, as everything related to the war did, this turned into a big fight. She was at a point where she just wanted to move on – move forward. Somehow, Ron had kept her from doing so the past five years and it was slowly eating away at her.
During the memorial, Headmistress McGonagall had once again asked her to accept the position of DADA professor, but Ron didn’t want to move to Scotland and wouldn’t let her go on her own. He’d kept her in this little grief bubble that she couldn’t get herself out of. The whole Weasley family still living in wizarding Britain was in that bubble and she was afraid of being as alone as she knew she would be if she left.
She’d turned to alcohol as a way to numb the pain she constantly felt. Not only because of the war, but moreso because she felt stuck. Stuck in a life she didn’t want anymore. Stuck with a boyfriend who kept her stuck and didn’t want to move forward in life. She felt hopeless, afraid to lose everything and everyone and she just couldn’t cope with it. She knew it had gotten out of hand when she slightly splinched herself while apparating drunk. It was a wakeup call and she decided to cut off the alcohol completely.
It made everything painfully clear, now that she wasn’t in a constant state of half-awareness all the time. She knew that she couldn’t stay with Ron anymore. He wasn’t good for her mental health and she was afraid she’d relapse if she didn’t leave. The only problem was that she didn’t have anywhere to go. The Weasely's were her family and Harry and Ginny lived in the States, where Ginny played Quidditch, so she couldn’t go to them. She was utterly alone.
“How can you even consider McGonagall’s offer? You might not understand why I can’t go back there permanently, but you could at least try to sympathise.” He did this constantly. He pretended like she hadn’t lost anything. Like she didn’t obliviate her parents, who – after she’d gotten the spell reversed – didn’t want to talk to her anymore, because they didn’t trust her. Like she hadn’t seen Lavender being mauled to death by Greyback or countless other classmates being killed. Like she hadn’t starved herself for months to make sure he and Harry ate enough and weren’t as hungry as she was. Like her pain and her feeling didn’t matter. Like only his heart had changed and his soul had changed. That his life had changed and Hogwarts had changed, and she had not.
“The world fucking changed, ‘Mione and now you just want to go ahead and move on?” Normally she would just sit there, listening to him ranting about how horrible he had it and complaining about others moving on with their lives, but she couldn’t take it anymore.
“What are you talking about, Ron? You don’t think I have lost anything? That I haven’t felt pain like you have? You keep pretending like you are the only one that has lost anything. Like Harry losing his parents made the war easier for him, because he didn’t have anyone to come back to. Like I lost nothing, whilst I lost everything. I lost my parents, I lost friends, I lost myself. How can you not see that. You… you just see me as a bloody crow - you all do. Blaming me for Fred’s death, even though I wasn’t even near him when the explosion happened. You keep huddling together to remind yourself of what you’ve lost and never looking away from the nest you’ve created. It keeps you stuck, Ron. It pulls you – us - down and keeps us from flying away and I- I can’t do it any longer. It feels like you’re smearing tar on my wings every single day.” Tears had started to run down her cheek. “I didn’t put those bones in the ground. I didn’t put those bones in the ground and you keep acting like I did.” Her heart hurt for the life she was giving up, the life she knew, but at the same time, she felt… relieved. “I have to go,” she whispered.
She went up to their room and started to pack a bag. She packed as much as she could, because she didn’t want to have to come back here ever again. She heard the door slam and knew he’d gone to the pub. She didn’t want to still be here when he returned, so after shoving the last things into her bag, she quickly made her way to their floo. She gave their living room one last look, before shouting for the Ministry and leaving her old life behind. It was late, nearly midnight, which meant that the Ministry was completely deserted. She didn’t have a direct connection to her destination, so she made her way to King’s Cross Station and got on the train. She liked travelling by train anyways, it gave her time to read. She could never read much at home – her old home – because Ron always complained about her not doing the choirs. Looking back, she felt like she’d been more like his mom than his girlfriend.
After hours of sitting in the train, either reading or staring out at the scenery passing by, she made it to Inverness. It was early in the morning, about eight o’clock and she had to transfer to a smaller train that went less frequently during the day, which meant that she had to wait a while. She made her way to a little café and ordered herself a coffee. She hadn’t gotten a letter back yet, but she had used Ron’s owl, so the chance of her letter actually having been delivered was quite slim. She just hoped that she’d be welcome.
She boarded her last train, before arriving at her location and appreciated the idyllic look of it. She was quite anxious where her life would go from here, but at least the heavy weight that she’d been carrying since moving in with Ron – and subsequently becoming neighbours with nearly all the Weasley’s – had been lifted. She sighed and picked up her book, finishing the last chapter. It felt symbolic. She’d finished the last chapter of her old life, closing that book and was ready to start a whole new one.
It had taken her more than fifteen hours, travelling the muggle way, but she was finally standing in front of the familiar gates. She had never done this before without some sort of guardian to let her in, so she wasn’t sure how to make anyone aware of her arrival. She couldn’t just walk in; the gates didn’t open on her command. She was just thinking about a solution, when the gates suddenly opened. She peered down the avenue of trees that laid behind the gates and saw a tall figure walking in her direction. She slowly took her wand out of her pocket. She had no idea who or what to expect, but the war had made her incredibly cautious.
As the man kept coming nearer, she recognised the blond hair. She knew he was the Potions professor, but why was he here? Had she set off some alarm?
When he finally stopped in front of her, however, she could she the confusion in his eyes and knew that he had not know that she was here. “Granger?” His voice had gotten deep.
“You can call me Hermione, you know.” She pointed out. It had been years since he’d apologised and she deemed it silly to still call each other by their last names.
“Hermione,” he tried out. “What are you doing here?” He looked puzzled – rightfully so. It was rather odd of her to be here.
“I came to take McGonagall up on her offer. I sent her a letter, but I fear she might not have received it. I used Ro-” her voice broke and she released a sob. She had barely shed a tear since she left, only crying when she told Ron she was leaving. Apparently, now was the time for her floodgates to open.
“Shit.” He stepped towards her, only to back away again, as if he was worried about her not wanting him to touch her. Eventually he seemed to think better of it and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed.
“It’s alright. Is it okay if I apparate us to my house?” She looked at him, mystified. “You can’t apparate on Hogwarts grounds.” He gave her a small smile. “I don’t live on Hogwarts grounds, Hermione.”
A few seconds later, she was gently pushed onto a couch, as Draco made his way to the kitchen. He came back out with two glasses of orange juice and Hermione gave him a strange look. He chuckled. “When I told my friends that I wanted to get sober, Theo bought me a few gallons of orange juice every week. He said it was to heal my inner child. Something with his children really liking orange juice. I never really understood it, but I still appreciated the sentiment. It kind of stuck.” He shrugged.
“Thank you.” Hermione gave him a soft smile.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He carefully tried.
Hermione looked at the glass in her hands. She wasn’t entirely ready to talk about it, so she decided to steer the conversation towards Draco. “How long have you been sober?”
“Six months on the dot.”
“Why?” She knew the Snakes liked to drink a lot, so why the sudden change of heart.
“Because of you actually.” That made her look up at him, surprise clear on her face. “Theo told me about you splinching.” So much for Healer/Patient confidentiality, although she didn’t think that existed in the magical world. “It made me realise that it could’ve easily been me. I was drinking way too much at the time in an attempt to suppress the pain, but it didn’t work anyways. I started to see a Mind Healer after I stopped drinking and that really helped.” She nodded. She should probably look into that as well.
“I left Ron.” If he was sharing, she might as well chip in. “He… he was so stuck in the past – the war. They all were. I told him that I was considering taking the DADA position and he lost it on me. Told me that I didn’t understand why he couldn’t come back here, as if I hadn’t lost anything. I just… I feel like I’ve been ready to come back here – to come home – for so long and he never cared about what I wanted or what I needed. It was exhausting.” She quickly wiped away a lone tear. “It felt like he was blaming me for everything he lost, like I killed Fred. Like I was trying to hurt him by wanting to move on. I never wanted to forget about everything and everyone, but I just wanted to move forward.”
“None of it was your fault, Hermione. You didn’t put those bones in the ground. Everyone’s life changed, the world changed. It’s not strange for you to want to move forward. To not stay in the past.” That made her tears fall freely. She hadn’t known how much she’d needed that assurance. That she wasn’t in the wrong here.
“You’re welcome to stay here. It’s quiet, life goes slow here. No one will tempt you with alcohol, we’re both sober. I have a guest bedroom and it’s yours if you want it. I’m just glad you’re here.”