August
Sundays at the Weasley house were possibly the best lazy Sundays that Hermione had ever experienced. Everyone slept in, except for Molly. She usually couldn’t sleep for more than half an hour at most. George, Percy, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie stopped by for a late lunch that turned into dinner that sometimes turned into a drinking game or two. That would eventually turn into a big party. Finally, it would end with Molly Weasley giddy that her adult children were having a sleepover.
This Sunday was different in the norm only for the fact that Arthur was mostly quiet the entire time. According to the Prophet, the trial finished but was waiting for a verdict. Once more, no one knew what it was that was being tried. People speculated, but no one had an answer that satisfied all possibilities.
Ron had come back about a week after Harry had the terrible nightmare, but neither Ginny nor Hermione spoke of it. Ron constantly was holed up in his room, or out running errands. Both Hermione and Harry thought that this Sunday in August, one of the last two Sunday’s Hermione and Ginny would be at the Burrow, Ron would be there. Shockingly, he wasn’t.
Harry walked up to Ron’s room, and found it empty. Thankfully, Molly provided a quick answer. “He says he had to run an errand. He’ll be late. I’ve already fixed him a plate.”
“What errand?” Hermione asked.
“He didn’t say, dear.” Molly shrugged.
Hermione instead tucked in focusing on her casserole and bread rolls that Molly had spent the day making. George and Ginny were cackling with a secret joke, and Harry looked apprehensive.
“It’s always when the two of them are laughing that ends up in a prank.” He muttered to Hermione, who giggled.
Glasses of wine were poured and the family moved into the living room chatting with each other. Percy brought three huge bottles of wine, and Molly felt so embarrassed that they didn’t have wine glasses, but it was just the same taste in a chipped mug. It also felt more Weasley that way.
When the second round of glasses were poured, that’s when Ron walked in, his face was blanched, as if he had just dunk it in freezing water for an hour. His hands were fists in his pockets.
“Ron! There you are.” Bill called, handing him a mug.
“What’s this?” He asked, eyeing the wine suspiciously.
“Wine, Percy brought it.” Hermione supplied.
The living room had gone quiet looking at Ron. He drank the wine and turned sorrowful eyes to Hermione.
Hermione and Harry frowned at him.
“I… I have something to tell everyone.” He muttered.
“You look like you’re about to hurl.” Ginny scoffed.
“I feel like it.” Ron cleared his throat.
“Well, out with it.” Percy nodded.
“Probably best to be out with it in the bathroom, Percy.” George commented.
The group laughed, except Ron.
“Uhm… mum… dad… you’re going to be grandparents.” Ron started.
Eyes snapped to Hermione, who was staring at Ron as if he grew a second head.
“Alright Hermione!” Ginny called.
“I’m… no… I’m not… Ron… What are you talking about?” Hermione stuttered.
All eyes flew back to Ron.
“Oh no.” Fleur muttered.
Ron tossed back the last of his wine.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Hermione asked, her heart beating so fast it may explode.
“I… I got a girl pregnant.”
Silence.
Then an explosion of sound. Harry and Hermione stared at Ron dumbfounded while the whole rest of the Weasley’s began to shout and talk over each other.
It died down when Hermione stood. “What are you saying?” Hermione asked, staring at Ron.
His eyes were filled with tears. “I never meant it to go on for this long, Mione, you have to believe that.”
Her chest was caving in. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t think. Her vision was blurring into a cloudy mist. “What?” she choked.
“Parvati Patil and I… we reconnected at the memorial. She understands what it’s like losing a sibling and---” Ron started to explain.
“OH FUCK YOU RON!” Ginny shouted then turned to Molly. “Sorry mum.”
Molly was just staring agape at everyone.
“Gin.” George coughed.
“No! No! He does this! He does this all the fucking time!” Ginny yelped.
Ron sighed, closing his eyes. “I don’t go around and---”
“Not that! No. You go around all the time saying: ‘Poor me, youngest boy of the family! No one understands what I go through.’”
“I don’t sound like that.” Ron snapped.
“Do you not think we’re not suffering? Do you not realize that I noticed it took George eighteen fucking months to laugh again? Do you not realize that Percy still hasn’t forgiven himself? I lost one of my best friends, one of my brothers, and look I haven’t once slept with anyone else but Harry. Sorry mum.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “That’s… quite alright… dear.”
“Don’t use Fred’s death for cheating on the best damn thing that has ever happened to you.” Ginny spat.
“I…” Hermione started to speak. The whole of the Weasley family stared at her. Then, she grabbed the most filled wine bottle and ran to her and Harry’s cabin.
The next morning, Hermione padded out of her room. Into the breakfast nook where Harry sat reading the paper. He looked up with a closed lipped smile.
Hermione pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “Hangover.” she whispered.
Harry gestured in front of him, where he had a hangover potion, and a hearty breakfast of sausage and scrambled eggs.
She muttered her thanks and sat down.
“How much wine is left?”
“None.” she said and downed the potion in a gulp.
“Just… clarifying… it’s over, between you and Ron?”
She corked the vial and set it down roughly on the table. “Yes.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I had no idea, Mione. I swear. I’m so sorry.”
“What happened after I left?”
Harry sighed. “George decided to intervene.”
She looked up from her plate, eyes wide, cheeks coloring. “Oh no.”
“Uhhh… didn’t need to know that… you two found… comfort in each other. That led to Ron attempting to punch him. Bill held Ron back.”
Hermione buried her face into her hands. “Oh no.”
“George then specifically mentioned finding comfort in your mouths… Molly fainted.”
“Molly fainted?” Hermione screeched.
“Ginny and I got a kick out of that one though, don’t worry.”
“I’m glad.” Hermione scoffed, sarcasm dripping from her mouth.
“Ginny jinxed Ron. Ron attempted to fight George… again.”
She set her elbows on the table, feeling tears prick her eyes. She pressed her forehead into her palms.
“I don’t know why then Patil thought it was a good idea to visit. So that just added more flames to the fire.”
Hermione sobbed softly and Harry scooted over to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Then Ron demanded to know the timeline between you and George to prove I guess that you were in the wrong just as much as he was.”
“It was…” Hermione sat up and wiped her cheeks. “It was shortly after the funeral for Colin Creevey after Ron and I broke up. Not much happened, we just… kissed.”
Harry nodded. “Exactly what he said. Then we were up until five in the morning. Arthur got an emergency floo.”
“Emergency? What happened?”
Harry hugged her gently and stood to make tea. “The Malfoy trial ended.”
Hermione stared at the back of his neck. “What?” she hissed and scrambled for the paper.
“Lucius was handed the first death penalty in…”
“Nearly two centuries! Does it say why?” Hermione exclaimed.
“No.”
Hermione skimmed through the article. “Narcissa is set to be relocated to… New York?”
“George seems to think that it’s possible that they have family ties out that way. Percy thinks it’s because MACUSA wants to bring up charges against her.”
“And the only heir, Draco Malfoy has been cleared of all charges. He plans to attend Hogwarts this fall…Oh my wizard god.” Hermione breathed.
“Sounds like you’ll get a study buddy after all.”
She laughed rolling her eyes. “Funny. But cleared of all charges?”
Harry handed her the tea. It was too strong, but Hermione didn’t mention it. “Gin is of the opinion that it’s because he was so young and Voldemort forced him to be a Deatheater.”
Hermione skimmed through the article again, trying to pick up anything new. A sliver of what the trial was even about. She knew it was the trial to determine their guilt, but the public was not made aware of the evidence that the ministry had discovered against the Malfoy’s.
“Did Arthur say anything?”
Harry shook his head. “He heard someone yelling for him in his study, ran in, then ran out. We didn’t figure out why until the Prophet came in. Apparently, the jury came up with a verdict last night.”
“Bloody Gryffindor loyalty. I don’t understand why he won’t tell us. We testified! We wouldn’t take it to the press.”
“Oh, Percy has stated he will for sure take it to the Prophet.”
“Bloody Percy.”
Harry snorted.
“But death row? Gods.” Hermione breathed.
Harry nodded. “Shacklebolt is deciding the punishment now. Lucius has requested for anything but the Dementor’s Kiss… and it appears he’s going to honor that.”
Hermione sat back. “I wonder… I wonder why. Not even Rebastan Lestrange got the death penalty, and… well… he tortured Neville’s parents and killed so many witches and wizards.”
Harry shrugged.
“Is there a date for his death?”
“Are you thinking of attending?”
“No. Maybe. Yes. No. I don’t know.” Hermione struggled with herself. On one hand, he wanted to see the light go out of his eyes, on the other she didn’t know if she could willingly watch a man die in front of her.
“They haven’t said. The Prophet says that it may be years before it goes through. There’ll be appeals.”
She sighed. “Maybe we’ll find out what he did then.”
A brown owl swooped in and landed gently on the breakfast table in between Harry and Hermione. It held out its leg to Hermione. She detached the letter, and the owl remained in place.
She frowned and unrolled the letter.
Ms. Granger.
Please meet me in my office tonight at 6, Floo will be open.
Regards,
Headmistress M. McGonagall.
“What is it?” Harry asked, stroking the owl on the head with a cautious knuckle.
“McGonagall wants me to meet her tonight. Six.”
Harry hummed.
At five forty, Hermione walked the short distance to the burrow. Avoiding looking at Ron’s room or in the general direction of his room, she located Molly in the kitchen.
“Hermione!” Molly cooed and rushed to her. She swept her in a hug.
“Molly, it’s fine.”
“Oh. Please stay. Please. You are like a second daughter to me. I always wanted girls, and I was absolutely charmed with just Ginny, but then Ron and Harry brought you home, and I couldn’t lose you, dear. Please stay.”
Hermione felt hot tears come to her eyes. “Of course.”
“I don’t know where I went wrong!” Molly sobbed loudly.
“Oh, Molly. Not your fault.”
“I raised him just like I did with all my other boys and none of them ever did this! None of them. I swear.”
“It’s okay, Molly. It’s Ron’s fault. Not yours.”
“Be nice if you’d avoid my name anywhere near ‘fault’,” Ron grumbled.
Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet, as she pulled away from Molly. She stared at him open-mouthed.
Ron sported a cut nose and a black eye. He had a small picture in his hands. He looked at Hermione with remorse and anger. Hermione distantly wondered who punched Ron in the face. She really wanted to thank them.
“Ronald Weasley!” Molly scolded.
“I’m just… Parvati wanted me to give this to you.” Ron sighed and handed Molly a little wriggling picture of a sonogram.
“It’s… it’s a boy.”
Molly stared at the sonogram then tucked it in her apron. Her eyes misty. “Go back to your room,” she ordered.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Mum, I am eighteen. You can’t boss me---”
“You watch what I can do to you, Ronald! I brought you into this world and I will take you out of it if I so choose.” Molly scolded loudly.
He held his hands up in surrender, he looked to Hermione. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
Hermione nodded.
Then Ron turned to leave, back up the stairs. Hermione let her heartbeat settle, then turned back to Molly. Who was staring at the picture of what was to be her first grandson. She traced a finger over the baby’s cheek. Hermione wished nothing more in that second to be in her shoes. Not as a grandmother, but maybe as a mother. She had hoped that it was Ron next to her, but those plans toppled so quickly down. Now, Hermione wasn’t even sure she wanted to be a mother anymore.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Molly. I was wondering… could I borrow the floo? McGonagall is wishing to see me tonight.”
Molly blinked up at her, suddenly remembering Hermione was in the kitchen with her. She stashed away the picture immediately. “Of course, dear. You know where it is.”
“Thank you.” she leaned in and pecked Molly’s cheek.
She walked to the den where she saw George laying on the couch. He cocked his head up. “Hello.”
Hermione smiled at him. “Hello, you.”
He sat up. “I just… I was about to come over.”
Hermione blushed. “Oh?”
“I… you know… that thing I had with Angelina, back then?”
“Yes.”
“It’s starting up again, and I wanted to say I… I just wanted to say… that.”
“Oh.” Hermione nodded.
“But Ron is a bloody prat for letting you go.”
“Very kind of you to say.” Hermione smiled at him and checked her watch.
“Are you going somewhere?” George asked.
“Yes, McGonagall’s office, she wishes to speak with me.”
“Oh, I bet it’s head girl.” George remarked.
She snorted. “We’ll see. Usually, they send the letter out. Remember Bighead Boy?”
“Ah, classic.” George smiled, then stooped down and kissed her cheek. “See you, ‘Mione.” he winked then apparated out.
She shook out her hands, then walked to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of floo powder, she tossed it in and waited for the flames to turn the familiar emerald green. Once they did, she stepped in and spoke loudly. “Headmistress McGonagall’s office, Hogwarts.”
Instantly she was pinched, pulled, and sucked into the chimney and deposited unceremoniously in the office of McGonagall.
The previous headmasters' paintings all were pretending to be asleep. Including Snape.
“Ms. Granger,” McGonagall said while behind her desk.
“Headmistress.”
She waved her wand, two chairs appeared. “Sit.”
“Is someone else joining us?” Hermione asked, choosing the chair to McGonagall’s right.
McGonagall opened her mouth, but suddenly the flames roared behind her, and turned emerald green. Out of the chimney, also unceremoniously dropped on his arse was none other than Draco Malfoy.
Hermione stared at him, and he stared back.
“My apologies, I was told six.” he cleared his throat standing. His hair that used to be combed back with thick gel now was cropped short and his hair was fine as thread. His hair color had also changed, a deeper yellow now instead of his father’s ice blonde hair.
“I think you will find that you were on time, Mr. Malfoy. It’s Ms. Granger who is chronically early.” McGonagall nodded.
He walked over.
“Sit. Please.”
He took the chair opposite Hermione. Since the Quidditch tryouts, he had gotten dangerously thin. His cheeks sunk in, and the bag under his stormy eyes was massive and heavy. She was staring.
He looked at her steadily. “Granger.” he nodded.
“Draco.” she nodded back. She used his first name. Why did she use his first name? She groaned inwardly.
“I’ve called you both here today to discuss something with you.” McGonagall started. She looked at them through her glasses, lips thin. “I wish to make you, Ms. Granger, head girl and you, Mr. Malfoy, head boy. It is a decision I have not made lightly. Once this is announced, if you accept, I am sure both of you may understand the responsibilities, seeing how you were both prefects, but I want to warn you both that there will be… some adverse reactions to the two of you.”
They didn’t need to ask why. They both knew exactly why. Draco, newly cleared of all charges, and a defected member of the Deatheaters. Hermione, the muggle born girl who helped defeat Voldemort. Also, the rumors of all the young adults of Hogwarts propelled nearly all of them, including the least of them, into fame. It was like they were celebrities because they were.
“It is my goal to present that Hogwarts is a place for second chances. It is a place for everyone. Muggle-born, pureblood, or half-blood, are welcome here at Hogwarts. Any bullying or hatred towards any of these groups will not be tolerated.”
Hermione looked over to Draco, who shockingly was looking at her with wide eyes. He blinked rapidly, then turned his eyes back to McGonagall.
“Understanding what I expect of you two, or do you want me to put it in more plain English?”
“It is understood, profess… I mean headmistress.” Hermione nodded.
Draco nodded in response.
“There will be no fighting. If I must intervene to solve the problem quietly, so be it, but do not let it escalate. I hope to see the two of you put the past behind you and start fresh.”
Mudblood. The words echoed in Hermione’s head like a bell. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. If only McGonagall knew exactly what she was asking of Hermione. If she only knew that the Malfoy Manor still haunted her worst dreams.
McGonagall sat back. “Good. I expect you two to be on the Hogwarts train in the Head Boy and Girl’s cabin on September first. Ms. Granger, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a moment while I have a word with Mr. Malfoy.”
McGonagall stared evenly at Hermione as if she didn’t just grow two heads. Hermione wrinkled her nose in confusion and stood. “Sure.” she managed and paced briskly out the door.
Hermione sat her hip against the wall and pinched her bottom lip. In the darkest of nights, she sometimes felt the scrape of his sleeve against her cheeks. The honest sincerity in his eyes as he said those words echoed like bells in her head. “Hang in there, I’ll get you out.”
Those words with the phrase mudblood over and over in her head.
She still had the handkerchief. Still stained bright crimson with her blood. She had shoved it in her pocket when they arrived at Shell Cottage. Nothing she did got the stains out. She tried all the muggle ways and all the magical ways, and nothing even dimmed the stain.
She gently tugged on her left sleeve to reveal the ood of the word mudblood. This was another thing that refused to come out. She, Molly, Ginny, and Fleur one month tried nearly everything in their powers, and in the books, they had read in fading or erasing scars. Nothing seemed to work. She resolved to the thought that she was always going to have these scars and that the handkerchief was always going to have her blood-stained on the monogrammed initials “DLM”. She hoped that one day they would fade and with them the nightmares and the panic attacks.
At the trial, she said that he wasn’t maliciously cruel. He never toyed with someone’s feelings in order to get their hopes up. When Harry, Ron, and Hermione had first arrived at his house, he refused to identify them. What were his real motives? She wondered. Was it to get out of the Deatheater’s? Was doing nothing really saving the three of them? Was giving her hope that he’d get her out a brave thing?
She closed her tired eyes, the hangover potion wearing out hours ago, but she didn’t take another. Behind her lids, Draco’s eyes bore into hers, once more at the manor. He shook out his sleeve, wiped her cheeks. Pressed the handkerchief into her arm. He was so rough, but tender, in his actions that day. If Hermione had the energy, she would’ve scrambled away from him, but after nearly a half-hour of being tortured, she was boneless and looking for an oasis.
She didn’t mention this in court, and maybe she should’ve, but when Dobby had grasped Hermione’s hand, she looked up to find him. Surely he wanted to go with them? His lips quirked into a smile, he was forcing his breathing to slow. He mouthed something to her, and he nodded. She stared nearly asking him to repeat himself, but it was too late. They were at Shell Cottage in a blink, and she had collapsed into Ron’s arms.
Blinking her eyes open, she noted the time. Six fifteen. Doing the math, the corners of her lips tugged down.
They had been in there for nearly ten minutes, but to her, it felt like hours. Drawing her wand she approached slowly and was surprised to find that there were no silencing charms on the door. She pressed her ear to the old wood. Holding her breath, she listened.
“She figured it out with him in under a month! With me, she probably already knows.” Draco cried.
Hermione frowned. Figured out what?
“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall tried.
“Weasley probably told---”
Hermione got a loud zap to her ear “Ouch!” she heard herself saying and then flushed deeply when she noticed the voices stopped.
“Some other time, Mr. Malfoy. Ms. Granger, please stop lurking at the door and come in.”
Embarrassed, Hermione walked in. Draco’s shoulders were practically up to his ears. His head bent.
“Sit, Ms. Granger,” McGonagall ordered curtly.
Once Hermione settled, she spoke again.
“Head boy and girl have extra responsibilities, I’m sure you both remember your head boy and girl in your years here, but I will outline them for you to be sure you know what is to be expected of you. In addition to your schoolwork, every week you must check the wards, the first few weeks myself or Professor Slughorn will join you both on how to check them. Including the ones in the Forbidden Forest. You will be required to patrol the castle a few times during the weekday, except for the weekends. My advice is to take it in shifts. In case of emergencies, the teachers and staff here may require you to watch out for the younger students, and if the need arises, protect them. Given both of your histories in the dark arts, I am assured that neither of you needs training in this area.”
Hermione remembered setting up the wards and protective spells in the various forests that she, Harry, and Ron camped out in. She remembered the sticky hot nights and the ice-cold nights. She remembered daydreaming of a hot steaming bath.
“In the past, the heads typically got a room or an office, each. Unfortunately with the castle still being rebuilt, and a nasty swamp curse, all we have to offer currently is one room for you to share. Your desks will be there. Will that be a problem?”
Both shook their heads, not looking at each other.
“Good. I am glad. Every two months your portrait will require you to change your password. Here is the password until October.” she transfigured a slip of paper into each of their hands.
Amortentia.
She used to smell Ron in the potion. Ron’s hair, fresh-cut grass, and new parchment. Now she wasn’t sure exactly what she smelled now. She caught the hint of something she couldn’t place.
“After October, you are welcome to share the password with me, but it is not required. If however there is an emergency---” her eyes glanced over to Draco. “--- I have a password that will reset it. If you both would like, to visit the room and get things set up for yourselves the way you would like it right now you’re more than welcome to. Come September first, I don’t think you will have time.”
“Thank you, Headmistress.” Hermione nodded.
Draco nodded his thanks as well.
McGonagall waited for a beat before smiling. “Now unless you have questions, I believe this meeting is concluded. Come back to use the Floo when you’re ready.”
The two stood and McGonagall waved her arm to open the door.
They both got to the staircase when Hermione suddenly realized. “Oh, I don’t know where the Head Student office is, do you?”
He was ahead of her, his hands in his pockets as he walked down. He paused and looked up at her. His eyebrow raised. “Yes.”
She was taken aback. “Oh, I will just follow you then, if that’s alright.”
He shrugged and continued.
In silence, they walked. Hermione’s thoughts buzzed back to his words. “She figured it out with him in under a month! With me, she probably already knows.”
That puzzled her. It wasn’t the Horcruxes, those took her, and Harry, and Ron’s nearly a year. What had she figured out in under a month? Plenty of things, really. But nothing of note.
She sighed, turning it over in her head. She was so distracted in her train of thought, she nearly ran into Draco.
“Amortentia,” he muttered to the painting of a twisted hazelnut tree.
The tree twisted even tighter, then relaxed as the door swung open.
Draco allowed Hermione to step in first.
To her immediate right sat an empty bookshelf that currently she could see through. A pine desk sat facing the bookshelf. To her left, another pine desk sat but with a bookcase behind it. That desk had a squashy red chair pushed under it. A purple couch sat in front of the fireplace, currently crackling happily. Some books rested on the mantle.
She surveyed the books quietly as Draco walked to the alcove where heavy curtains sat. He tugged them aside gently. He whistled low. Hermione slowly approached on the stony floors. The window overlooked the Great Lake, she stepped back suddenly.
Draco stared at her confused.
“I have a thing about heights,” she said breathlessly, then something caught her eye. A large blanket chest, already open, sat pushed up against the wall furthest from the fireplace. She cocked her head and walked almost trance-like towards it. The blankets and pillows were deliciously soft, and she already began to imagine herself in the late October nights in the chilly castle. She would be wearing Molly’s wonderfully warm sweater she had knitted for her. Curled up with one of these very blankets and squashy pillows she would be reading from a textbook with the fire purring gently heating the room. She turned around to see Malfoy eyeing her curiously, then looking away he took out his wand.
She flinched away. Then scrambled and collapsed down, yanking her wand from her boot and pointing it at him.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
She gulped lungfuls of air. “What are you doing?”
“Moving the bookshelf.” he scoffed.
“What?” she asked, nearly screaming.
“Moving the bookshelf!” he shouted.
She panted. Her chest felt tight. “Sorry,” she muttered and sat crisscross. She couldn’t stop panting. She couldn’t stop her chest from heaving. She closed her eyes and struggled to smother her sobs. She dropped her wand and clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
Hermione shook her head.
Silence. Then Draco knelt down, his hand hovered a moment, then pressed against her shoulder. “Panic attack?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and saw his storm-cloud eyes gazing into her autumn leaf eyes. She nodded.
He frowned, somehow, even deeper.
“I get them, too,” he muttered.
She pressed her knuckles into her cheekbones. “I… I get them because of the war…”
He nodded mournfully. “Me too. I should’ve warned you.” He moved slowly, hands raised, and sat down. He wasn’t next to her, he was just near enough to her, that if she wanted, she could reach out and brush his knee.
“I also…” she paused, still breathing heavily and tears falling from her eyes. She gathered enough breath and wiped enough tears away to finally continue. “I also… get them from remembering… that day. At your house.”
His eyes bore into hers, then shifted to her left arm. “Fuck Granger, you’re going to make me have a panic attack.”
“I never thanked you. I also… still have the handkerchief. I can’t seem to get the blood out.”
Draco shook his head. “Keep it. Cursed blood never comes out.”
Hermione cocked her head towards him.
“I mean… not that your blood is cursed. Bella must have cursed the scar and the blood…”
She nodded. Then both of them stared at each other. “You know, this is the longest conversation we’ve had, that didn’t end up in a shouting match,” Hermione smirked.
He laughed. “Or you punching me in the face.”
She chuckled. “Did it hurt?”
He wrinkled his nose laughing. “I was just so… flummoxed that you used your hands and not your wand. I’m sure it was painful, but I just don’t remember the pain. I remember being confused.”
“I was so… furious with you.”
“Yeah. I’m furious with myself. Buckbeak was its name?”
Hermione nodded.
“I visited an old magizoologist’s home where he keeps some not fit for the wild. I quickly realized what I did was wrong. I wish I could take it back.” he muttered.
She shrugged. “He’s still alive. Harry and I saved him.”
He blinked up at her. “Was this before or after you punched me in the face?”
“Technically? Before.”
“Technically?” he asked, scoffing. He looked so much like his old self, but Hermione felt as if she knew better now not to snap at him or yell. He wasn’t scoffing to belittle her. Instead, he was scoffing because he didn’t understand.
“Third year, McGonagall gave me a Time-Turner so I could go to all of my classes.”
His jaw dropped. “She never gave me a Time-Turner and I wanted to do the same amount of classes as you.”
“It had to have been cleared by the ministry.” she shrugged.
He squinted. “My dad was in the ministry.”
She laughed nervously. “Well, I don’t know. You probably got to ask McGonagall.”
“No thank you, she terrifies me more than my mother.”
Hermione snorted. “Anyways, yes. Harry and I used the Time-Turner to go back in time to save Buckbeak and Sirius Black.”
“Where was Weasel?”
“Weasley, I won’t stand for name-calling.”
“Fine. Where was Weasley?”
“Sirius was an animagi, and in his excitement as a dog, he nearly chomped off Ron’s foot.”
“Merlin.”
“Yeah.”
He stretched out his legs, they were long and muscular. “So… after Severus found you guys… you went back to the hospital wing. Then on a whim decided to use the Time-Turner to save a hippogriff and Sirius?”
She noted strangely how he used their first names. Then it clicked with her, Severus and he were close up until he was sixteen. Sirius was his cousin. “Not on a whim. Dumbledore.”
“Ah.” he stared at his hands in his lap. They were quiet for a long time. “Sirius was an animagi?”
She nodded.
“Huh.”
Hermione wiped her face once more and took a breath.
“Feel better?” he asked.
She nodded.
He stood and offered her a hand. She took it and he helped her stand.
“Would you like help to move the bookshelf?” she asked.
He shrugged. “If you want.”
“Where are we moving it to?”
Hermione got home late, and tried really hard not to notice that Ron’s bedroom light was still on. She sighed and walked into the little cottage that was built for her and Harry after the war.
Harry and Ginny were sitting at the breakfast table, much like how Hermione and Harry were earlier that morning.
“So?” Ginny asked.
“I got head girl.” Hermione said, exhaling.
“That’s---” Ginny started to cheer.
“Here’s the catch.”
“Oh?”
“Head boy is Draco Malfoy.”
Harry and Ginny’s eyes went wide as saucers.
“Malfoy?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
“As in… Draco Malfoy?”
“The very same.”
The crickets sang outside in the late August air. Hermione scratched her nose staring at Harry and Ginny. Harry had his arm around her on the bench and a plate of food was sitting in front of them. Hermione suspected it was for her.
“How did he get head boy?” Harry asked.
“Come off it, Harry. You know the only real competition I ever had was Draco.” Hermione sighed.
“In classes, yeah. Everywhere else he was a git.”
“Maybe McGonagall thinks that it’ll be better to have a head boy that is older.” Ginny shrugged.
Hermione sat at the bench, suddenly starving. “He also is a little different.”
“Different?” Ginny scrunched up her nose.
She told them about how he pulled his wand out and how she thought he was intending to curse her or hurt her in some way, and her panic attack. Without going into too much detail, and avoiding the mentions of the Malfoy Manor and his own panic attacks he admitted to. She told them how he sat with her until she calmed down. She told them how he made her laugh.
“He made you laugh?” Ginny asked.
Hermione sat, suddenly ravenous, and nodded tugging the plate of food towards her.
“I cannot imagine…” Ginny scoffed.
Harry nodded.
“He didn’t have to stay for my panic attack, that was nice of him.” Hermione shrugged.
It was silent as Hermione chased a potato around her plate.
“Well… fuck me.” Ginny laughed.
Hermione looked up at the two of them. “What?” she asked, shoving the potato in her mouth.
“You like them tall, don’t you?” Ginny teased.
Hermione felt her face color. “What do you mean?”
“Krum, Ron, uhm… Oh! McLaggen…”
“Not all the persons I’ve kissed are tall.” Hermione muttered.
“You kissed McLaggen?” Harry snapped his head to Hermione.
“It was a regrettable… Occurrence. But not…”
“Recently George…”
“Gin---” Hermione sighed.
“Now even more recently! Draco!”
Harry frowned. “He’s not that tall.”
Ginny pat Harry on the arm. “You saw him at Quidditch. He’s massive. Skinny, and tall. Damn handsome as ever.”
“You…” Hermione sighed.
They both looked at her.
“You forgot one…” She swallowed nervously.
“Who? Don’t tell me, Fred, that’s gonna be weird.” Ginny laughed.
Hermione reddened and shook her head. “No… Luna.”
It was silent.
“Hang on.” Harry held out a hand.
“It was after Ron and I broke up for the first time. I was looking for a distraction.” Hermione explained.
“Sweet Merlin.” Ginny breathed.
Hermione ducked her head feeling for what felt like the hundredth time today tears come to her eyes.
“You have a height difference thing!” Ginny laughed.
Hermione snapped her head up. “What?”
“Luna is so short! Was she a good kisser?” Ginny asked.
Hermione blinked back tears. “Uhm… no. She was distracted most of the time.”
Ginny laughed.
“Good thing you were looking for a distraction,” Harry commented.
Hermione scratched a tear away and sniffed.
“What’s wrong, love?” Ginny asked.
“I just… I know it’s… some people have opinions about it. Most opinions are that I… that I shouldn’t… exist.”
“Those opinions are utter shit,” Ginny said firmly and reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“Thank you.”
“So you like just girls?” Harry asked.
“No. I like both. It’s called bisexual.”
Harry nodded taking this information in.
“I only knew about Krum and Ron… I just have barely known about George.” Harry commented.
Hermione nodded appreciatively. “George is a good kisser. Very attentive.” She smiled around her shredded turkey.
Harry shook his head. “What?”
“As a sister to all these boys, I do worry about that. Thank you.” Ginny nodded.
“Ron was a shit kisser.”
“Okay! I think that’s it for the night.” Harry announced.
Ginny giggled all the way back to the burrow, but not before she gave Hermione an extra tight squeeze.
Harry kissed the top of her forehead, and Hermione tried not to snigger when she saw that he stood on his toes, as if to make a point.
Ginny received her Hogwarts letter practically the next day. Ginny and Molly had gone several rounds with her about finishing her education. The last year she was at Hogwarts, Ginny was quite traumatized, and was reluctant to go back.
However when she was offered captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and told that Hermione would’ve been alone for a near nine months, Ginny was quick to write McGonagall a letter telling her that she would be attending the upcoming school year. Hermione felt like she would’ve been fine, at the time, but now that Draco Malfoy was her partner, Hermione was thankful. No matter how much he appeared to have changed, she was apprehensive about him, still.
With their supply lists in tow, Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Arthur apparated to the front steps of the Gringotts Bank.
Immediately, loud alarms and buzzers went off. Goblins swarmed Harry and Hermione. They yelled nonsense at them and poked and prodded at them.
“Bit touchy, eh?” Ginny yelled over the noise.
Once it was clear that Harry and Hermione weren’t going to break in, again, they were allowed to go into their vaults. Only on the condition that everyone went one at a time, wandless, and with four goblin escorts.
Logically, Hermione understood why, but it didn’t make her feel any less like a criminal. She felt flustered and behind schedule by the time Harry had come out of the vaults with a full pocket of money. To ease the tension, Arthur suggested that they go to Weasley Wizard Wheezes to visit George and Angelina to shake off the nerves.
Per the norm, it was wonderfully busy in Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Angelina was minding the register, along with one of the hired hands. George was up on a makeshift soapbox. Bright purple and orange bow tie askew, and a garish red coat.
He was demonstrating his latest invention, Nap Peepers. The user simply slid on the glasses, and it would appear as if they were awake, with fake eyes blinking and occasionally tracking. Meanwhile, the wearer simply closed their eyes and fell asleep. As the audience clapped and cheered, Hermione and Arthur waved. Harry and Ginny went to talk to Angelina about Quidditch.
“I thought that was you. How is the supply shop?” George asked.
“We’ve barely started, there was a snag at Gringotts. Have you thought about putting a book on the glasses to read instead of napping?”
George clapped a hand to his chest. “Do my ears deceive me? Hermione Granger wants to break the rules?”
“Please, you know how History of Magic is very hard to stay focused on.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I wouldn’t actually, Fred and I seldom went. We only showed up to that class if we wanted a good nap.” George winked. He then sighed and paused before continuing with a trademark joke. “Although, I shouldn’t be surprised. Hermione Granger wanting to read a book.”
Hermione grinned.
“I’ll work on a prototype and send you a pair.” George tugged Hermione in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Arthur smiled. “Proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, dad.” George grinned.
“C’mere though, your bow tie---”
“Oh! No!” George tried to get away, but it was too late. A boxing glove burst from George’s bow tie and smacked into Arthur’s nose.
“Shit. Sorry, dad.”
Arthur winced. Blood began to spill from his newly crooked nose. “No, no. My fault. I should’ve remembered that my son is a prankster.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, moving his glasses to the top of his marmalade-colored hair.
“A glove just… from my… never mind. Come with me, dad, I have a first aid kit in the back. Angelina is also a wiz at broken noses.” George motioned for Arthur to follow.
“Be back soon,” Arthur told Hermione.
Hermione began to wade through the crowd. She thought back to when she had last visited the joke store. She found herself wandering to the love potions, she had previously told herself that it had smelled different because of a recipe, now she realized it wasn’t a different recipe. It smelled different because… it smelled different. It was a silly superstition, but it was strong enough to give Ron doubts about their relationship. Enough doubts in the relationship to give enough reason to cheat.
She sighed, shaking her head and lifted one of the bottles shaped like a heart. In it, a pearl pink lemonade liquid lazily drifted from side to side. She uncorked it and sniffed.
“Planning on using that, Granger?” A drawling voice asked.
Hermione jumped and turned around, she dropped the bottle which shattered between hers and Draco’s feet.
He took out his wand and gently flicked it the same time she did. “Repairo.” they muttered at the same time.
It flew into his hand first. He handed it to her, a wry grin on the corners of his pretty mouth. “Sorry.” He muttered abashedly.
“It’s quite alright. I had just noticed that it had smelled different a few months back, and was trying to figure it out.”
He frowned and blinked. “Interesting.”
She took a sniff. Apples, old books, fresh parchment, and something with spice. Clove maybe.
“Different?”
She nodded.
He took it out of her hands. “What did it use to smell like?” he took a sniff.
She opened her mouth and paused before answering. “Like… it used to smell like Ron. But not anymore.”
Draco smirked. “I wouldn’t mention that to him, then.” He cautioned.
“I did, actually.”
He laughed. “How’d he take it?”
Hermione suspected that he was looking for ammunition, so instead, she swallowed and asked. “What do you smell?”
Something passed over his face. “Books… salt, and…” He lifted the vial again and inhaled softly. His cheeks colored, and he handed back the vial, shaking his head. “Something else… I can’t place.”
“Malfoy?” Harry asked.
Draco turned.
“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, extending his hand.
Draco cleared his throat, and shook it. “I… I saw you and Granger, and Weasley come in and I wanted to thank you.”
Harry stared as if Draco had just grown a second head. “Thank me?”
Draco stood straighter but shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes. Both the testimonies that you and Granger supplied made it so that my mother didn’t have to take the stand. Something that she had been very… stressed over. You saved her from a lot of pain, and though I know you didn’t do it intentionally, I am thankful.”
The three of them stared up at Draco, unbelieving the words that came out of his mouth. “Oh,” Hermione said. It was the only thing she could think of to say.
“And for the sandwich.” Draco nodded to Hermione.
“Sandwich?” Ginny frowned.
“Hermione gave him Ron’s sandwich at the Quidditch tryouts,” Harry explained.
“Where is Mr. Weasley?” Draco asked.
“He got his nose broken. Prank gone wrong.” Hermione explained.
Draco nodded, checking the time. “Another time, then.”
“You can stay with us, we’re picking up supplies for school.” Hermione offered.
“I’ve finished, thank you. I have an… an appointment.” He nodded.
“Besides, there have been several people who have looked at you like they’re about to hex you in here,” Ginny commented.
Draco smiled. “That too.” He nodded once and left.
“Unusual.” Ginny hummed.
Harry nodded.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this version of Draco Malfoy.” Ginny laughed.