Disclaimer: I do not own anything having to do with Harry Potter, Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. If I did, I would not be writing fan fiction online and would instead be rolling in piles of cash. J.K. Rowling is a goddess and all originality goes to her, I merely twist her storylines and turn her characters.
It was nearly closing time in Diagon Alley, but a lone figure remained, briskly sweeping through the darkened alleyways between the shops as the owners made to close for the night. Caped in exquisite black robes, the cloaked man kept his head lowered. Despite his best efforts to go unnoticed, the few remaining customers still shopping for the day muttered under their breath as he strode by.
He didn't stop to listen. He knew what they were saying about him. What they thought about him and his "kind". What the gossiping witches and suspicious wizards didn't know was that he no longer cared what they said about him. He had few left to impress anymore, and he knew his role in the war left him with a reputation he'd never escape from. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy, after all. He knew he wasn't like his cruel, vicious father.
But they didn't care… they saw only what they wanted to see, believed only the rumors that portrayed him in a negative light. To them, Draco Malfoy was nothing more than an ex-Death Eater, one who could never be trusted in normal society. They watched him with guarded expressions, wary of his movements. He didn't blame them, he didn't trust himself. His entire life he'd been involved in the Dark Arts, and he could kill a man in over a hundred ways (not counting the Killing Curse), each more painful and graphic than the next. He could never change…
Draco:
Only an hour left before Diagon Alley closed, and he still needed to buy a new set of robes. McGonagall had appointed him Head Boy, even despite his involvement with the Death Eaters. He was surprised at her level of confidence in him. He'd deserted the Battle of Hogwarts as soon as his mother showed up with Voldemort and Potter's dead body. Knowing she was safe was his only priority.
After walking away from his classmates to join Voldemort (and be embraced in an unwelcome hug), he and his mother began backing towards the main gates, and the bridge leading away from the castle he'd called home for nearly half of his young life. Even if they didn't make it out with their lives, he knew his mother hated having her son in such a despicable organization. Narcissa was willing to risk capture (and death) if it meant that she and her son no longer had to live under the same roof as Riddle, and she'd been planning the escape since Draco's fifth year once Riddle came back into power.
Draco was all too willing to oblige. Malfoy's serve no one but themselves, and the insolence of a half-blooded dictator was insufferable. He couldn't bear the thought of serving such an idiotic leader any longer. And, despite the misconceptions so many had of him, he didn't hate filthy Mudbloods enough to kill them. He knew they couldn't be held responsible for the misplacement of their magic, and didn't find their murder to solve anything, as more would just keep being born, mutants of nature and freaks in both muggle and magical worlds. They shouldn't die because of their magic.
However, Draco had been raised on the belief of their inferiority, and he couldn't let go of his prejudice so easily. He accepted the presence of Mudbloods, but he knew he was superior in every way to them. After all, the Malfoy line in particular was bred for excellence, and he excelled in everything he did. Malfoys were better than any half-blood or muggleborn, even if those views were unacceptable in the aftermath of the war.
The Order of the Phoenix had begun convicting all war criminals the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Anyone so much as suspected of harboring hateful thoughts towards Mudbloods or half-bloods was put under constant surveillance by the members of the Order. Draco was no fool. The Order only allowed him to walk free because he was a minor, and because he had deserted before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts.
The Order discovered that Narcissa had been under the Imperious for nearly two years, under Lucius's command, and hence let her remain in possession of the Malfoy fortune and ancient home. Draco was not as lucky as his mother, however. The Order allowed him to live in daily life without surveillance given that he attended Hogwarts to complete his schooling. While finishing his seventh year, Draco was expected to visit Madame Pomfrey three times a week (at his own convenience) to undergo "rehabilitation from war trauma".
He knew the real reason they had him going to visit Pomfrey, though. The Order was still wary of him, still feared him. They didn't trust him to remain peaceful, and going to a therapist would hopefully solve that. If nothing else, they could figure out where his beliefs stood. It was a way of keeping him in check, under the power of the Order who were all-present at Hogwarts within the staff and the student body.
Draco didn't understand one thing, however. McGonagall was admitting him as Head Boy. Him, of all people. Not Golden Boy Potter, or some brainiac Ravenclaw. She surprised him in person one day, flooing into the Manor to deliver the news and to share with him her reasons. They made sense, he supposed. It would create house unity, show the students no one was beyond forgiveness, and he did have the second highest marks in his grade. However, he picked up on all the things she wasn't saying.
She specifically avoided mentioning who Head Girl was. He had his suspicions, though. It was between one of the Patil twins (the one in Ravenclaw, Padme or Havarti or something like that, he never cared much for them) or goody-two-shoes mudblood Granger. The only mudblood who disproved all his theories on blood superiority. He despised her first and foremost for being one of Potter's best friends, but an even deeper hate spurred from the inferiority he felt around her, though he would never admit it out loud (even while under the use of Veritaserum). If she was Head Girl, he might not make it through the school year without using an Unforgivable, or worse.
Before that though, he had to focus on the matter at hand. Buying a new set of Head Boy robes from Twilfitt and Tattings (Only the best for a Malfoy). With his pockets weighed down with Galleons, Draco stepped briskly down the cobbled path towards the end of Diagon Alley, where the robe store awaited him. However, once he approached, it was quickly apparent that the storefront was desolate, and a quick look inside the window confirmed Draco's initial conclusion: the store had been shut down.
Ivadoris Tattings had been a supporter of the Death Eater party, and the Order must have arrested her. He'd hoped the rumors weren't true, but it appeared he was too late. He'd have to stop by Madam Malkins quickly before the store closed it's doors. Hurrying, Draco swept along the middle of the road, no time for lurking in the shadows, as he darted towards the second best robe shop in Wizarding England.
The next day...
Hermione:
"Hurry up, don't want to be late for the train!" Molly Weasley shouted from the base of the stairs in the Burrow. Hermione had remained at the Burrow the whole summer, along with Harry who arrived at the beginning of July. The Burrow was her home now, since her parents had passed away. Hermione had sent her memory-charmed parents off to Australia a little over a year ago, but they never made it back to London alive. A small house fire was all it took to wipe out the two dentists, and the died without ever knowing they had a daughter and an entirely different life.
Hermione pushed those thoughts from her head immediately, though. Today was not a day to grieve over her parents (their unofficial funeral had been in mid-June), but rather a day to celebrate her last year at Hogwarts. After that, Hermione wanted to become either a Ministry employee (if the Ministry found its footing again, that is) or to start a career as a MediWitch at St. Mungo's. Since she couldn't decide, Hermione had decided to take both careers' classes, so that by the end of the year she could enter either work field with ease.
Of course, not wanting to slack on courses, she was retaking her general education classes, despite McGonagall's offer to let her out of them (an offer extended only to Hermione and to no other returning seventh years, mind you). In short, Hermione Granger was fully and completely prepared for the perfect school year, without any Dark Wizards or relationship drama to ruin it for her.
Following their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets during the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron had quickly found themselves awkward, and mutually agreed to break off the tiny relationship before it had begun, valuing friendship over romance. To Hermione, kissing Ron was like kissing her brother. Sure, he was a brother she'd had a crush on for five years, but a brother nonetheless. Hermione couldn't see herself growing old with Ron. You see, that was the determining factor for Hermione when viewing a potential suitor, a trick her mom taught her to weed out the bad candidates.
Her late mother had always told her that once you start imagining a life with someone, you're already too far gone. Hermione had thought she could see herself growing old in the Burrow, but it was a forced fantasy, it never felt natural. It seemed she was doomed to live alone, with only Crooksie to keep her company.
*meeeerowww*
Crookshanks rubbed up against Hermione's leg, snapping her focus back to the chaos of the Burrow. Dragging her suitcase behind her, she shuffled out to the balcony by the stairs, leaning over to the railing to watch the jumble of red-haired people rushing around below. Sticking out like a sore thumb was a messy raven-haired boy, standing in the midst of the fray looking overwhelmed.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted from above, drawing the scar-headed boy's attention. He looked up to find Hermione staring at him, gesturing to the space on the landing beside her. Gratefully, he smiled at her, and began making his way through the crowd of Weasleys to go stand by his best friend of seven years.
"Crazy, isn't it?" Harry said as he trekked up the steep and narrow staircase towards Hermione. "That all the Weasleys manage to make it the Platform every year without one of them going missing..."
Hermione laughed gently. "Molly takes care of that. What's really crazy is that they all still come to the Burrow for the last week of summer for a family reunion!" She smiled at the thought, looking down at what was now her only family. They always managed to make her smile with their crazy antics. Even with the loss of Fred in the Battle of Hogwarts, George kept running the joke store with the help of Percy.
Once Voldemort took over the ministry, Percy left, and lived with the Order, taking care of all the secretarial duties like keeping track of all the members, paying bills and member dues, even organizing the odd Order event. Percy now found himself helping with the business aspect of running a store on Diagon Alley, while George continued to invent new products with the help of Lee Jordan.
Charlie, on the other hand, recently discovered a new breed of miniaturised dragon, which held promise of being tamed in the near future. His discovery made the Weasleys rich beyond compare, and even despite the destruction of the economy thanks to the Wizarding War, the Weasley family no longer needed hand-me-down clothes, and had pulled themselves out of poverty.
Bill Weasley's skills had been re-employed by the Auror department at the Ministry after the War, and he was the only (living) Weasley still missing from the family reunion. Dark artefacts had been coming to the Ministry by the hundreds each week by owl, and he was overwhelmed with the work load. He still made time to floo them each night, and last night he wished Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione a great school year before he headed off to bed.
*mmmerrroooooiiw*
The movement of Crookshanks by her leg made her jump out of her reverie, and she saw Harry staring at her with concern in his eyes.
"It's nothing..." She quickly said. Harry looked at her, dubious at the truth to her words.
"It doesn't look like nothing, you looked like you were thinking."
"I was, Harry. You should try it sometime!" Hermione snapped. Almost immediately, she reverted to an apologetic expression. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, honestly. Just so much is happening, and I have so much to do, and..."
Harry cut off the next part of her rambling though, pulling Hermione into a gentle hug. "I understand you know. You're not the only one who lost their parents prematurely. I'm here to talk if you ever just need a friend."
"I know that, truly I do. I'm just, I don't know... I'm not ready to talk quite yet. I hope you'll understand." Hermione spoke softly, afraid to turn her friend down.
"Of course I do. I'm here for you, whenever you need me. And Ron is too, even if he's too busy stuffing his face with Chocolate Frogs right now to notice." Harry's voice carried a smile with it, and Hermione felt the tension leave her shoulders. This was just what she needed. Just like the old days, one more year of magical mischief at Hogwarts. It was the perfect distraction.
"Oi, Ron! Come help me with Hermione's bags!" Harry Potter shouted down to their third best friend, currently squeezing in as many of Molly's homemade Pumpkin Pasties as would fit in a small bag he carried with him for the train ride.
"One sec, Harry! I just have to finish, er... Packing!" Ron yelled back, unaware that Harry and Hermione could see exactly what he was doing.
"Ronald, Hogwarts has food too you know!" Hermione tsked disapprovingly. Ron pivoted slowly, caught in the act. He found his two friends smiling down at him, and he grinned sheepishly.
"You three, hurry up! I won't make Ginny late because you couldn't keep to a schedule. Move it! And Hermione, dear, get the boys to take your bags for you!" Molly shouted from outside, as the rest of the Weasley family had loaded into the Ministry car Arthur brought home for them. Harry grabbed Hermione's suitcase, and Hermione knelt down to pick up Crookshanks. Together they headed down the stairs and out to the car, with Ron shoving one last Cauldron Cake in his mouth and following in their path. It was going to be a great year.