1st September 1998
The train didn't feel the same. The familiar sounds of Harry and Ron's laugh because they were winding her up or the incessant snapping of Colin Creevey's camera following the Golden Trio's every footstep were a thing of the past. Merlin, Hermione even missed the squawk of Lavender's shrill voice, if only for the fact it reminded her of simpler times when her biggest worry was Ron's love life and whether or not he would notice her in the quidditch stands that day.
What an idiot she had been.
Now, as her slow and steady breaths fogged up the window of her lonely compartment the reality of what going back to Hogwarts would really be like for Hermione started to plague her mind. But before she could dwell on it to much the train came to an abrupt stop. She collected up her bag and heaved it onto her shoulder before exiting onto the platform. The bustle of people served as the perfect distraction to the pit in her stomach and the anxiety in her chest as Hermione left any doubts she might have about 8th year in Hogsmede Station. Or at least tried.
....
You wouldn't think that Hogwarts had been half reduced to rubble at the hands of war. Mcgonagall had spared no expense to restore Hogwarts back to how it was and it showed. There wasn't a single piece of evidence to show for the battle that took place here. The battle that killed countless people and ruined so many lives. Well, at least they had bothered to put a shiny, gold plaque above the entrance to the great hall to commemorate everyone's efforts. Hermione wondered if the First years could even see that high up let alone make out the tiny inscriptions:
Battle of Hogwarts: 2nd May 1998
What a load of shit.
As she sat down on the Gryffindor table decorated with roaring red table cloth and a buffet to feed most of Scotland, Hermione supposed no one forced her to come back to this place. She had Ministry of Magic job offers coming out of her ears and enough gold in her vault courtesy of Shacklebolt himself to be set for life but Hermione couldn't shake the voice in her head that told her to come back here. When the war ended she was convinced that she had washed herself of this place but as soon as her owl delivered the letter about 8th year and being able to continue her studies here Hermione was writing a letter back accepting the offer before she really had time to contemplate it.
Maybe it was the fact Hermione had a heart the size of the Black Lake and felt as though she owed this to those that she had not been able to save. Her classmates who spent their last year here being tortured by the Carrows whilst she was chasing Harry around England for Horcruxes. Hermione had defeated Voldemort people would say as they sang her praises but she hadn't, not really anyway. Harry held the wand that did it. Harry died to save everyone. But Hermione? Hermione had just used books written by other people whilst Harry had made the gruesome and hard decisions.
So here she was sat in the same place she had sat since first year but the ginger head slotting into the seat next to her wasn't the boy it normally was but rather the female counterpart in the form of Ginny Weasley.
"Hi Hermione! Feels weird to be back doesn't it?" Ginny uttered around a piece of chicken she had just began to tuck into.
"It's definitely strange" Hermione agreed whilst looking up to Mcgonagall.
The normality radiating around the room unsettled her more than she cared to admit. The first years paying rapt attention as Mcgonagall read out the names to be placed under the sorting hat. The squeals of the newly housed children as they ran to the table and smiled when they saw a friend they had made on the train that day. Even the chatter of Gryffindors already wondering when quidditch trials were starting. Did nobody else feel it? That hole in their chest that threatened to swallow them whole if they even thought about it for a second. That if they didn't dare to let a peak of pain shine through because if they did they could crawl up into a ball and cry for hours at the sheer amount of guilt and remorse weighing on their shoulders.
Hermione frowned. This is exactly what she was afraid of. How alone she was going to be whilst here without her usual companions, drowning in her guilt with no one to reach out a hand and pull her out of it. Taking a deep breath she glanced around the room to take a look at the other 8th years.
A few faces she recognised from the other houses but it was mainly Slytherins that had been made to come back here as part of their probation. Pansy Parkinson, Goyle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and of course Draco Malfoy. He was the one that piqued her interest the most. Hermione took her time studying this particular death eater. You could see the aftermath of the war and him being put on trial in front of the Wizengamot day in day out had took its toll. Whether it was the cheekbones that had become even more defined reminding Hermione of the edge of a razor blade or the lean frame that had filled out to make him look almost muscular she couldn't tell. All she could gather was that these past months had aged Draco Malfoy. At least she wasn't alone in that because Hermione certainly felt like she had to do a lot of growing up to do very fast. It was inventible really when you held the responsibility of people's lives in your hand.
As she sat there for another 20 minutes slyly casting looks over to the slytherin table or rather the Platinum blonde sat there she finally heard the dismissal of all houses to make their way to dorms. One of the privileges of coming back here for another year is that all 8th years got their own small common room and bedroom. Hermione was grateful for the reprieve of putting on a brave face everyday if she had to share a room with the other girls. I think a small part of her also knew the human sized gaps left by her previous roommates would have been too much for her to ignore.
Pushing away her hardly eaten plate she got up and put her satchel securely over her shoulder and stood to wait for Ginny. Hermione felt two piercing grey eyes burning holes into the side of her head and whilst she told her self not to look up she did it anyways. She felt something strange inside of her chest as they held eye contact. He looked at her as if the same thing had just struck him in the chest like a dart hitting the bullseye. Draco furrowed his brows into an unpleasant scowl and Hermione was flooded with the reminder of exactly where she was and who she was making prolonged eye contact with which made her instantly break the odd staring competition they were having. Rubbing at her chest to try and soothe the ache that had now blossomed there Ginny looked at her with a baffled expression.
"What's he looking at the scummy little death eater" she remarked scrunching up her face in something Hermione could only describe as pure disgust.
"Not sure. Let's just make our way to the dorms, Ginny" Hermione replied not having the energy to be thinking of the world's worst insults to give to Draco Malfoy.
After the war it had all just seemed so futile, these silly little house feuds which had been dragged out since the founding of Hogwarts were so small in the grand scheme of things. The idea that people could blame an entire house for a war most of them had no choice in was ridiculous. Some believed that the world was black and white but realistically it was made up with shades of grey in-between. Means and ends. Love and war. Everyone had their reasons on what they did in the war and Hermione wasn't going to sit and judge anyone when it was a matter of life or death. Hermione had killed, had bled, had fought and came out on the other side and however anyone else had done that wasn't her business.
....
Hermione finally found her way to the 8th year common room door which was just a staircase across from the Gryffindor portrait and stepped inside after muttering the password muffiliato she took in her surroundings. Whoever had decorated this place had kept in mind there would be more than one house and managed to incorporate neutral colours into the furniture. Black, grey, white they all gave a clean and fresh look to the place. This definitely trumps the grimy, old fading red decorations that looked like they had been in the Gryffindor common room since the dawn of time. The most appealing thing in the room was the cracking log fire which cast a warm hue over the common room. Hermione could see herself now curled up with a good book in the nearest armchair with a steaming mug of tea in her hand. Wonderful.
The other part of the room had a small kitchenette attached which looked like it could just about squeeze two people in accompanied with a balcony on the other side that had two chairs and a small table. It looked dreadful to sit out there at the moment but when the summer came back round she could see herself catching some sun in attempt to blissfuly drift away. That's all she wanted to seem to do lately, drift away. From responsibility. from people. from life.
With that in mind she found the will to drag her self up the stairs to the room with her name written on the front door. As Hermione opened the door she quickly glanced back to see who the room next to hers belonged to and read the name Pansy Parkinson. Not wanting to chance another awkward encounter with a Slytherin she scrambled into her room and quickly closed the door behind her.
Hermione once again took in her surroundings and decided this room was perfect. The single canopy bed was surrounded by thick grey curtains and matching white linen. She even noticed the little en suite bathroom which already looked like it had been stocked with everything she could possibly need. Her favourite thing of all was the bay window seat that had a view over the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts. How was she ever supposed to leave this room?
Before Hermione had any notions of holing herself up in this room forever and never coming back out she noticed her trunk had been delivered to her room already and decided to get unpacking out of the way. Hermione had packed the bare necessities and a couple of personal items such as a delluminator from Ron, an invisibility cloak which she was immensely grateful for and a framed photo of her parents.
Her parents.
Jack and Jean Granger. The most loving, supportive parents anyone could ask for shipped away by their teenage daughter to the otherside of the world without one memory of her or who they were. When Shacklebolt had told her the emotion Hermione put into the obliviate had made it irreversible a part of her broke away and died that she wasn't sure she could ever get back. The people who had raised her into the woman she was now and taught her the fundamentals of life could never be apart of her life again.
Hermione swallowed the hard lump in her throat and wiped away the tears pricking her eyes refusing to let herself think about the hard decisions she had to make during the war then placed the photo on a stone mantlepiece jutting out of the wall. Out of sight.Out of mind.
She picked out some pyjamas from the trunk and proceeded to get changed in-front of the mirror attached to the wardrobe. Hermione didn't like to look at what stared back at these days because all she saw was a hollowed out version of the Golden girl everyone knew and adored. She was ghastly pale and more skin and bones than anything else these days, the only thing that remotely resembled her old self was the untameable locks of hair thrown up into a bun on top of her head. The eye bags under her eyes only seemed to become darker due to bad habit of insomnia she had developed over the summer.
Turning away from a version of herself she didn't like Hermione fished out the Muggle sleeping pills from her trunk and swallowed it down with a glass of water she had gotten from the small bathroom. These pills didn't make a lick of difference to stop the reoccurring nightmares haunting her every night but she liked to believe one night they could. It varied between her arm being carved into in the middle of the Malfoy Manor drawing room leaving a permanent scar that burned every time she woke up or a version of the battle where Harry never comes back to life.
Feeling her eyelids dropping off their own accord Hermione began to feel very sluggish as she usually did when she first took one and crawled under the crisp new covers. This sleep would last two hours maybe three because of the long day she'd had but whatever rest Hermione could get she would take. She slowly drifted off as a memory she knew all to well appeared in her nightmares but this time she wasn't being held down by a woman with dark eyes it was a boy with piercing grey eyes.