"I'm sorry… I just can't… I can't leave this room." I whispered these words through the cracked door, the sliver of Minerva McGonagall's face that I could see was making mine heat with shame. I'd asked to come back here, I'd wanted to take my NEWTs, I'd wanted to start living my life again, but now that I was back within the castle, the echoes of the war, the battle I'd thought in was ever-present. The blood still shone on the flagged stone floor in the entrance hall of Hogwarts castle. Lavender Brown's ghost wouldn't leave me alone. And the younger students couldn't stop themselves from staring. I couldn't leave my room.
"May I at least come in?" The Headmistress raised her eyebrows at me, waiting for me to open the door. I stood aside as she strode in, aided by a very ornate walking stick, topped with a very haughty looking owl. She perched at the end of the bed I had been hiding in, her eyes landing on the open half-packed trunk beside it.
"Miss Granger… Hermione, I know that you have been through a particularly difficult time, more so than most of the students that chose to return, and that the process of grief affects us all differently, and usually in many different ways, some permanent changes, some… short term burdens to deal with, but you must not lose sight of why you returned to Hogwarts." I closed the trunk and sat down on top of it, pulling my skirt down as I struggled to concentrate on the meaning of her words.
"Prof– Headmistress, I'm sorry, but I'm not the same Hermione Granger I used to be… I can't calm down, I can't concentrate like I used to, and I'm… I'm too scared to leave my room, it's the staring, and I can't cope." I let out a breath, steadying my hands on my lap deliberately, staring with dismay at the creases now in my skirt.
"There are ways… do you remember in your third year, when you wanted to study all of the subjects, and we were able to provide you with a Time-Turner for the year? If need be we can provide you with an Invisibility Cloak, or we can alter your timetable, or arrange for private tutoring–"
"I can't inconvenience people like this… I know that the Professors are giving up free periods, lunch breaks and evenings to teach us returning students already… I can't expect more of anyone's time."
"Perhaps you could give up one of your NEWTs? A slightly lighter timetable might help reduce the amount of time you are being stared at–"
"You aren't going to let me drop out, are you, Headmistress?" I sighed, a hollow smile testing the muscles in my cheeks.
"No, Miss Granger, I will not. I believe you when you say you don't think you can leave this room, and I know the position you undertook during this war has been a burden to you, and the aftermath continues to prove a burden, but you won't always feel this way, and I will not always be here to provide this opportunity to take your final exams, or to enable your career–"
"But–"
"I know you don't care at the moment, Hermione," she smiled kindly at me, the morning sun making her eyes twinkle, "but one day you will again, and will thank me. Now, here is your timetable, luckily this is a free period, but you start Transfiguration at eleven, and, as I am sure you remember, I do not brook lateness."
I silently watched as she stood, relying only lightly on the stick as she crossed my room. She turned as she opened the door, flicking her wand at the trunk, and I sprang up as the lid opened beneath me.
"I would take this time to unpack, if I were you." She gave me a small smile, and I huffed back at her as she closed the door behind herself.
I dragged my brand new diary from beneath my pillows, running my fingers across the soft cover, which held my initials. It had been a gift from Harry Potter, he'd called it an early birthday present as it was still a couple of weeks until my birthday, but he'd been using all kinds of excuses to help me out financially since I'd left The Burrow.
7th September 1998
Today is my first official day back as a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I arrived last week, early because Ron and I have been arguing, and I knew Ginny was tired of me complaining about one brother when she has lost another.
Ron and Harry are both in London now, training as Aurors for the Ministry of Magic, and in accommodation close by. I miss them of course, but there is relief in not being with them. For one, I don't have to pretend to be OK. Since I've been here I've spent most of my time in this room, avoiding people, and just existing. I don't have to pretend to be strong here. I don't even have to pretend to be the Hermione Granger they have read about in the newspapers. I can be my own Hermione.
I'm not used to writing anymore. I don't have anything else to say.
I'd timed this precisely. I rushed around the corner, relieved to find the corridor empty as I hurried towards my first lesson, Transfiguration. As I entered the classroom, the September sun shining through the many windows, I was surprised to see so few students. Professor McGonagall had her back to the class as she stared at the blackboard, and I took the seat closest to the door.
As I heaved my heavy textbook out of my bag, I counted heads. Luna Lovegood sat on the second row, her blonde hair like strands of gold in the sunlight, her shoulders hunched as she stared out of the window. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan sat in the same row, sombre in the silence of the classroom. Blaise Zabini sat behind Luna, already reading the textbook. A girl with a pixie hair cut sat beside him, and it took a moment to recognise Hannah Abbott, her strawberry blonde hair now fire engine red. I felt a gust of air behind me and flinched, expecting to see Lavender Brown again, but instead Draco Malfoy strode past me, sitting in the sit across the aisle from Zabini, just as McGonagall started the class.
I shouldn't have been surprised to see him; I'd known he would be returning this year. His parents were both serving short terms in the new wizard prison, which was on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. It was manned by wizards and house elves, and so far was proving more successful than Azkaban had ever been. Malfoy had received a pardon, having been underage at the time of receiving the Mark, and having been able to provide some evidence of neglect on the part of his parents, but here he was, unkempt and furious.
"Today's lesson shall consist of a little assessment, as I know some of you have been absent for longer than a couple of months, and I'm certain the quality of the education received last year wasn't at its highest. Let us begin with an exam," McGonagall flicked her wand, and test papers appeared on each of our desks, "textbooks away please."
"Is that–?"
"Yes! Yes it's her!"
"Is she back?"
"But where is Harry Potter?"
"He's off fighting dragon's, stupid!"
"Why would he fight them when he freed that dragon from Gringotts?"
I sighed wearily, hurrying out of the library with a stack of books, leaving the star-struck first years to their debate over animal cruelty. My stomach grumbled as I passed the Great Hall, the smell of gravy tickling my nostrils as I headed up the main staircase. I was tired of the running commentary, and though he was my best friend, I was tired of hearing about Harry Potter. It was all rubbish.
I headed towards what used to be Dumbledore's office. This same corridor now held accommodation for the students that had returned to Hogwarts, except the Slytherins. There was ample room in the dungeons for the returning students to sleep.
"Shit," I snapped as I dropped a couple of books outside my bedroom door. I placed the rest of them on the floor gently and held my hand on the handle until it warmed, clicking open easily. There were a whole host of new security measures in place this year, one of which was tighter security for bedrooms.
"Good job I'm not a Prefect anymore, or I'd have to report you for that." Hannah Abbott remarked drily, nodding at me as she passed me and ignoring my startled expression. I lifted my wand, and directed the offending stack of books ahead of me as I headed into my room, Hannah's door clicking shut before mine. The books set themselves down neatly on my desk as I sat shakily on my bed.
You did it, I thought, you made it through the day.
A/N: Thanks to Qoheleth for pointing out that Prefects cannot dock house points! I'm rusty at this! 3