Hermione stood on the edge of platform nine and three quarters and stared down the line. The station was quiet, empty save for Hermione and a small number of station workers; the Hogwarts Express wouldn't be arriving for a few hours. She'd planned it that way, allowing herself the time to sink gradually into the world of magic before it crashed around her. After months away, and years of disaster, she was more nervous about stepping on the train to Hogwarts than she had been since her first year. She hadn't even seen her friends since the week after the final battle, and then they'd been so busy dealing with the aftermath that time alone had been precious and scarce.

She shook herself and walked away from the line, finding a seat she settled in to wait. The platform hadn't changed much since she'd first stepped through the barrier eight years ago. There were a few minor adjustments, but any scorch marks had been washed away and broken walls mended. It was as though the war had never happened.

It wasn't long before other students started arriving. First years with popping eyes nervously pushing trolleys, some of their luggage was stacked higher than they were tall. Muggle parents wiped sweaty hands and stared around them with eyes as wide as their children's. Only a few wizarding families were there so early, they were more relaxed. Mothers nagged their children and smiled politely at the staring muggles. Families stuck together, particularly the muggle ones, little knots holding tight in a growing flood of otherness. Hermione smiled. That had been her once.

Her smile faltered as she remembered her own parents and the reason she sat alone

"Hermione!"

Her heart leapt a moment before collision. Ron grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her up from her seat.

"Ron!" she protested, "I can't breathe!"

He set her on her feet, they grinned at each other for a moment before the youngest Weasley took his place, engulfing Hermione.

"I can't believe you didn't visit all summer," Ginny complained.

Hermione smiled and squeezed the younger witch. "I was busy," she said.

"I know." Ginny pulled back. "How are you parents going?" She spoke quietly, enclosing them in a bubble of privacy. Still, Hermione glanced around, checking for anyone she couldn't trust who might hear.

Don't be stupid, she scolded herself, the war's over, no one cares about where your parents are. Some habits were hard to break.

"They're okay," she said. "Their memories all came back fine, but they're having some trouble adjusting."

Hermione trailed off. The Weasley's already knew that, she'd been writing letters to them all summer. They'd supported her through the search for her parents, the fight for their memories, and everything that came after. Same as Hermione had done her best to be there for them, if mind if not in body, as they grieved for Fred. What was there to say?

"You're brilliant Hermione," Ron said softly. "The only reason I'm back is because Mum's making me. In your place . . . well, I'd probably do nothing." He smiled.

Hermione hugged her elbows, as if she needed a reminder of how much her parents hated magic now. She knew they were scared of her, of what she could do. The trust that had existed so naturally before had vanished. If it was her parents choice Hermione would never touch magic again, but she couldn't do that, not after she'd fought so hard for this hidden world.

A hush fell over the crowd. Hermione and the two Weasleys turned with everyone else. Harry Potter, the boy who defeated Voldemort twice, had arrived. Eyes followed his every step. Hermione's heart ached for her friend, he shot furtive glances from under his hair, it was longer and wilder than last time she'd seen him, covering his forehead completely and hanging in his eyes. His shoulders were hunched in a defensive position that was too familiar to Hermione.

She called out and waved. Harry's eyes darted over and a smile washed over his face. He hurried to join the small group. Hermione studied his face for signs of stress; another habit she found impossible to break. The shadows under his eyes were lighter than they had been in years. Hermione smiled with relief.

Greeting and hugs flew around the circle. Hermione stuck to Harry, she nudged him in a small pocket of quiet afforded them as the Weasleys began to bicker

"How are you Harry, honestly?"

He smiled at her, the light beaming out of him was brilliant. "Never been better," he said. "What about you, 'Mione? Is everything okay with your parents?"

She shrugged. "As good as you could expect. They still don't want me to be here."

Harry squeezed her shoulder. "You've always done the right thing Hermione. You kept them safe, now it time to think about yourself." He grinned. "It's strange, isn't it, for once we should have a nice quiet year, just school and quidditch." His eyes shone with longing.

Hermione laughed. "Don't say that too loud. You might jinx it."

"Why, Hermione, I didn't think you believed in such things," Ron teased. Ending his argument with Ginny.

Hermione flushed. "I don't," she snapped.

The whistle of the Hogwarts Express blew as it pulled into the station on squealing brakes. Hermione's friends laughed and hurried off, eager to secure a good carriage.

Silence fell around Hermione once more. She took a deep breath, taking in the swirls of bright robes that crowded the platform. She was back where she belonged, where magic was real and there was an entire hidden world worth fighting for. Soon she'd be back at Hogwarts, going through her final year, one last chance to live in the castle and lose herself in study before she had to face the real world.

The level of muttering around her spiked. Hermione glanced around and there he was, not a single shiny blonde hair out of place. He strolled through the crowd as casually as he always had. Shoulder's back, chin up, a frightened hunch had never been his style. He walked as though he owned the school, as though the mutterings and filthy glares weren't directed at him. As though the war had never happened.

Hermione's back stiffened. He even had his sleeves rolled up, she could see the edge of his tattoo peeking through the the folds in his shirt. Thinking of the skull and snake that coiled around his forearm made her sick.

Draco Malfoy met Hermione's stare and smirked. His look was a challenge.

Our secret. The words were a whisper at the edge of Hermione's mind, she couldn't tell whether they were her thoughts or his, that line had been blurred long ago.

I haven't told, they thought. Have you?

No.

Hermione turned away, half ran across the platform. Pushing people out of her way, fighting to find her friends.

So . . . still our secret.