'Hit the ground running'. Not sure who said it but it's a fantastic analogy for life after something as traumatic and all-encompassing as war has happened. You're so switched on, been that way for so long, that it feels like the default setting. The problem is, before long you realise you don't know where you are. You've been 'running' for so long that night has fallen and you don't recognise a thing. What happens when you finally run out of energy and the only thing around you is the dark? What happens when you realise that the place you've stopped, just happens to be the edge of the abyss?
Hermione was the only one of the 'Golden Trio' to return to Hogwarts the year after the war ended. Neither Harry nor Ron had wanted to return and it made sense for the 'faces of triumph' to be seen in public, getting on with their lives whilst trying to help rebuild the wizarding community. News of Harry and Ron becoming Aurors and helping track down and capture the remaining Azkaban escapees was common. Reporters tried to follow them everywhere and private lives were almost non-existent. Ginny held up better than she did, she supposed. Maybe it was because Ginny loved Harry more, or because she would be Ron's sister regardless of her relationship status with Harry. Either way, by the end of the year, Hermione and Ron had ended amicably and the reports became about which witch would be lucky enough to land Ron Weasley.
She wished him well.
Despite being a prominent fixture at Harry's side during the war, and part of the reason for Voldemort's eventual defeat, the public weren't as interested in a witch that returned to finish out her schooling rather than accept the honorary grades offered. And Hermione was grateful. Especially when a small 'pop' sounded next to her in the library one afternoon, startling her into spilling ink onto her parchment.
Hermione looked up to see the small house-elf wince at the problem he had inadvertently caused.
"So sorry, Miss Granger, so sorry."
"It's okay," she offered, as she cleaned the ink away, "you're not from the castle, are you?"
The house-elf shook his head and bowed before her. "My name is Jinks, Miss Granger. Dobby was Jinks' friend. An honourable friend. It is because of Dobby that Jinks is here."
She frowned and leant forward, speaking softly. "You do know that Dobby died?"
Jinks nodded solemnly. "Yes, Miss Granger. But Dobby left behind a problem that can only be solved by Miss Granger." He looked around to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Dobby told us that the Great Miss Granger had told him a secret. That house-elves could be free! And many of us followed Dobby, helping him when we was free. But when Dobby died, house-elves no longer had anywhere to go. Some house-elves is afraid to be freed for fear they has nowhere to go. Jinks has helped as many as he can but room is running out."
"Room? Room where?"
"An old shack," he exclaimed, pointing off the castle grounds, "It had no master and Dobby claimed it."
"How many of you are there?"
"Forty-three, Miss. But we has news that more is coming soon, so I came for Miss Granger. To help."
Hermione tried to wipe the surprised look from her face as she nodded. She had never imagined that Dobby would continue working on her cause long after she had abandoned it in favour of defeating Voldemort. The thought brought tears to her eyes and Jinks looked askance, horrified. She smiled in reassurance before packing her things away and asking if she could visit their home.
It was three weeks later when she finally had her plan. Though Jinks had surprised her, it was the shack which truly shocked her. 'Shack' was a loose term, and she imagined that Dobby had used the shack as an immediate solution to his problem of space. 'House-elf' was not a term she liked using; it was synonymous with servitude and they were no longer slaves but she didn't know what other term to use. However, forty-three house-elves squeezed into the small place was a bigger issue. It was horribly cramped, despite being immaculately clean, and though they tried their best to keep occupied, she could tell that boredom was becoming a problem.
Hermione had received a tidy sum from the Ministry for her 'services during the war' and although she'd initially put it aside, with intentions of donating it where it was most needed, a plan had formed in her mind and she realised that the person who could use it most, was her.
She quietly purchased one of the old, abandoned pure-blooded mansions. Its owners had disappeared during the war and a bad taste surrounded most of the abandoned properties enabling the price to be within her range. She spent a few days getting the layout of the land, so to speak, before she asked Jinks to meet her. He had been wary of the old place but he trusted Hermione and followed her lead.
"I have a proposition for you, Jinks. Well, I suppose it is for all of you. I've been thinking about what I want to do after the year is out and I have to admit, I was stuck. The Ministry, well, the Ministry has offered my pick of jobs, really. I suppose it is good PR to have Harry, Ron and I working at the Ministry together. But after I met you, I realised that I had never finished what I'd started. For that I am sorry."
Jinks looked confused but Hermione stretched her arms out in the foyer.
"I want a home. I want you to have a home. But more than anything, I want there to be a place for anyone to come if they need sanctuary. Most people couldn't really care less who my parents were. Or where I'd grown up. Or how much money I had. But some did. And I hated feeling like an outsider with nowhere to go. I suppose that's a reason I tried so hard to make sure house-elves understood their rights and values. I'd like to offer that to others as well. With your help."
Jinks looked around the room before squinting at her. "Jinks doesn't understand, Miss."
She knelt down in front of him. "I can't do this on my own. And I can't think of anyone better to help give freedom to others, than those who've obtained it themselves. This place can only hold so many, but I think that with a little magic, we can make a home for anyone who needs it. What do you say?"
Jinks smiled at her.
Within the hour, the remaining house-elves had joined him and they began work turning the mansion into a home.
Thus began the biggest project of her life. Her remaining year at Hogwarts was split between homework, research and the mansion. Every law, new and old, was checked and double checked. Every renovation she made, every contact she procured, was within the scope of the law. Although there had been rumours that Hermione had bought the mansion, it was neither confirmed nor denied so work on the mansion was kept quiet. Not even Harry and Ron knew about her work and she liked it that way. There was already a department within the Ministry that would be doing similar work and she knew it would ruffle feathers when they found out.
But having a place to go that was outside the Ministry was what she was aiming for. Where not only would there be freedom from Ministry control but protection for those who needed it. Hermione didn't want to step on toes but she knew she needed to do this. So, it was with great trepidation that she approached both Neville and Luna just before the end of the year.
"I just want to say one thing first, and that is that I admire and respect both of you. No matter what happens today, I want you to know that it won't change anything between us. I know that you both have several options for employment but I'd like to give you one more option, one I hope you will consider seriously."
She wordlessly led them a short distance from Hogsmead before sending all three of them to her new home. Luna continued to stare around with large eyes whilst Neville eyed her with confusion. Hermione sucked in a deep breath.
"This mansion used to be owned by the Borgin family. As you know, Caractacus Borgin founded Borgin and Burkes with his friend, Caractacus Burke. Both had a desire to accumulate 'unusual' objects and decided to use their combined talents to open their store in 1863. In 1896, however, Borgin unintentionally met with a muggle-born, Mary Waters, and fell in love with her. Despite her blood-status, they had a son together but when Burke found out, he felt betrayed and led a mob that eventually killed his friend and drove Mary and her son from the country. It wouldn't be until 1940, when a Walter Borgin returned to claim his inheritance, that anyone would hear the name again but in an effort to denounce his father and his muggle heritage, he abandoned the mansion. It has sat alone for a century gathering dust. Until I bought it."
Hermione led Neville and Luna down a long staircase and into what appeared to be the dungeon. The large room had a number of non-descript doors and Hermione offered one final glance before opening the one nearest her. Neville gasped and she saw Luna step forward with a smile. What should have been a small room, no bigger than a cell, was an enormous field of bell-shaped, yellow flowers surrounded by large trees.
"Flavis venenum."
Hermione smiled at Neville. "There were some surrounding a small shack that Dobby claimed. I remembered that they were rare-"
"Extremely."
"And I moved them over here so they could flourish. And they have..."
Luna tentatively stepped into the field and looked up into the sky.
"Do you know how to control them? They can be dangerous in large numbers like this..."
Hermione nudged him. "That's why I need you. There are a few things I could use your help with. I know that I could research all of this and trial solutions but I don't really have the 'touch'. I accidentally killed that cactus you gave me two years ago..."
Neville nodded and bent down to inspect the plantation, rubbing it between his fingers to make sure it was real. Hermione strode forward and clasped Luna's elbow, steering her out of the room and across the dungeon. Instead of opening another door, she tapped her wand on it and a viewing panel materialised. Through the window, a dead horse became visible and Luna recoiled in horror. Hermione nodded back toward the window and she knew the moment Luna spotted them. Luna's face lit up and she pressed herself closer to the window.
"You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw them. I must admit that I don't know much about them; frankly, I thought they were a myth. But I knew you'd seen them before and would know what to do. So I brought the whole... thing... back here."
"You found these in the wild?"
"Well, sort of. Jinks found them and knew that they needed some protection if they were going to thrive. As far as I know, the only other Aquavirius' are the ones you saw at the Ministry."
Neville, standing behind her, was the one to ask the question she'd been waiting for.
"Hermione, what is this place?"
"It's a place where flora and fauna can get protection. Where they can live in safety. Where a plant won't be destroyed just because it may pose a threat to the uninformed. Where a species can gain security and not be hidden away, risking extinction, as though it doesn't exist. It's a place where house-elves can come to live in freedom. A sanctuary for magical creatures, if you will. It's my new home - and, hopefully, yours too."
For the last couple of years, Hermione had been working steadily to build her fortress. There had been ruffled feathers - as she suspected there would be. She'd worked hard in establishing and maintaining a relationship with the Ministry and the relevant departments within. Privacy was a hard thing to keep when trying to keep everyone happy, especially in the wake of a war, but she had managed a fragile balance. It was this fragile balance that she had in mind when a certain ex-Death Eater asked for permission to floo into her office one morning.
Harry looked across at the withdrawn and downcast Draco Malfoy, sitting in the center of the room, and couldn't help but think of the proud and sneering boy he'd met back in his first year of Hogwarts. The contrast was so significant that he deliberately sought out the other man's eyes as he responded to the question.
"Yes, I believe he has."
The look of surprise on Draco's face was evident as he met Harry's eyes.
"He had several opportunities to betray not only me but other members of the Order. He didn't. I think the most notable thing should be Severus Snape's belief in him. Through his own memories, I know that he went above and beyond to make sure that Voldemort didn't see where his heart lay."
"You will make these specific memories available?"
Harry nodded. "To a few, yes."
As the session was suspended, people began stirring around him, most heading for the door. Harry, however, was completely still as the man in the center of the room was led away to the holding cells. Draco Malfoy looked over his shoulder, only once, as he reached the door. He paused before sending a short nod Harry's way.
Harry forced himself to sit still as Malfoy's memory was played for the select few in the room. Living on the run, hunting down the horcruxes, was not the best way to live. Facing off against the wizard who had killed your parents, against the one whose very existence had defined yours, was not something he wanted to ever experience again. Nor something he wanted anyone else to experience. But watching select moments from Draco's memories of the previous years, especially after the downfall of the Malfoy name, Harry wasn't sure which one of them had been more traumatised.
Harry's life would never be able to be measured on a standard scale. His trauma could be seen as a series of peaks and troughs, the baseline way below either, but he had periods of reprieve between; enough time for his soul to rest, his mind to justify the actions of everyone, including himself. Being the Malfoy heir would've undoubtedly had its downsides - there had to have been downsides - but life after Hogwarts began must have started a slow climb, resulting in a series of sharp peaks with no real troughs between. No rest.
It was made abundantly clear to everyone just how much of a toll it had taken on Draco Malfoy, when he took a moment to glance at the portrait of himself that hung in the family hallway. The dated picture was just over a year old but as Malfoy made his way into a bathroom to wash off blood splatter, he stopped to look at his own reflection. The difference was remarkable, not so much in healthy growth, but in the obvious neglect and strain upon the young man. Gaunt, pale and, most obviously scared, Harry could see the strength it took for Malfoy to reel in the overwhelming emotions of the horror he'd just witnessed.
It was the first time Harry really understood that everyone walked away from war scarred.
Harry fell silent as he looked at both of them.
"Serves him right!"
Hermione glanced askance at her boyfriend before looking across at her best friend.
"I don't think you really understood what I saw." Harry chastised carefully.
"Bull! So, life wasn't perfect for the Death Eater! He chose that life - he got what was coming to him." Ron crossed his arms angrily, daring anyone to defend the man he saw as an enemy.
She placed a gentle hand on his arm as she searched for the right way to talk to him. "We all lost a lot in the war - no one is saying that anyonehad it easy, but Harry was just trying to sh-"
Ron angrily pulled away from her. "He was just trying to show us how he stuck up for the git and got him a free pass! Death Eaters, Voldemort - they go hand-in-hand with the Malfoy name and not a single one made it to Azkaban! Tell me how that's fair?!"
"Nothing about this was fair! You've made mistakes Ron, don't forget that. Big mistakes. And we've always been there for you. It's called compassion. You can't blame Harry for showing some to somebody else."
Her heart thudded noisily in her chest and she unintentionally held her breath as she awaited the backlash. Her eyes darted over to Harry's but she didn't have time to notice his reaction as she looked back at Ron. His jaw was clenched tightly and he reddened slightly before looking over at Harry.
"Look, I know that you see something redemptive in them, that somehow they were good in the end. But Malfoy not ratting us out at the mansion was not out of bravery; it was cowardice. And Narcissa telling Voldemort you were dead was for her own selfish motives. I think that even at the end, they were Malfoys. Hell, the only reason Lucius walked away was because he knew it was a losing battle. There's nothing good in that entire family tree. I just, I- I don't think we're ever gonna see eye-to-eye on this."
Ron had grown; he was standing his ground on his own opinions but allowing them theirs. You could have knocked her over with a feather, but Hermione would still have been the first to admit that the war had changed them all - and in some good ways.