Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.

In his old age, Cyrus Greengrass had developed a particular fondness for ugly yellow couches. For whatever reason, they always seemed to be the most comfortable, at least by his definition of the word. The one he was sitting upon now was particularly firm, and he had no fear of being unable to stand up should the action be necessary.

Across from him sat a blonde woman. If she detested the furniture, she made no comment. In fact, her expression had hardly changed since she entered his office. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, throwing her features into sharp relief. Even then, there was little color to her.

They continued to remain in silence as Cyrus contemplated her words.

"A proposal," he said at last. "And how, may I ask, do you propose for it to occur?"

"Very easily," the woman replied. "My son is besotted with the girl. He even saved Potter for her. Given time, I am sure Draco can convince her to leave him."

Through the open window, he could hear his great-grandchildren's laughter. The girls had taken Jason and Cora outside for the first time in many days. Ever since the Final Battle, the weather had been wet and dull. The children were enjoying the brief dry period by learning how to fly.

"Mr. Greengrass." The woman leaned forward, her pale blue eyes almost gray they were so dull. "I assure you that this will benefit both of us. Both of your granddaughters are wonderful girls. I have no doubt that a good man will fall in love with them. Even if he shouldn't, they will be well taken care of."

Her gaze then fell to the money bag, which still lay on the table in between them. Cyrus' stomach was a hard knot. The money was the exact amount they needed to keep the shop afloat. Hardly anyone came into A Pinch of Gold anymore, as the general populace avoided areas with known pureblood associations.

"If I could just have more time," he began, only to be interrupted by the woman.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Greengrass, that we are running out of time. If we do not move quickly, then Potter will get back together with the Weasley girl. My son will have no hope of a chance then."

He strained to keep his face expressionless as he reached for the money bag. There was more than one reason she was arranging this. Her husband had just been arrested, but if her son were to marry Ginny Weasley, then he could be saved from the Death Eater trials.

"Then we have a deal, Mrs. Malfoy. Consider the betrothal void."

Astoria's mother would be pleased. Silvia had only agreed to the betrothal because it looked like Voldemort would win the war and she wanted to ensure her daughters' safety in the aftermath. Now all Cyrus had to do was break the engagement between Daphne and Theodore Nott. That one would be easier, since the boy's father had been among the Death Eaters killed in the battle.

Once Mrs. Malfoy had been escorted from the manor, Cyrus went to the window and looked out onto the lawn. His great-granddaughter's shout of, "I did it!" brought a smile to his face. Hovering a few inches above the ground, Daphne was standing upon her broom with her arms extended, and Cora had just managed to copy her.

"Cyrus?"

He turned to look at his wife as she entered the room. Her golden brown hair was now almost entirely gray and new lines had formed upon her face, and she did not move with the grace she once possessed as she joined him at the window.

"They're happy," he said softly. "I want them to stay that way."

Loretta wrapped an arm around his own and leaned against his side. "They will," she replied. "We'll make sure of it."

He pulled her closer and hugged her, wishing he could be just as certain as her.

For the first time in several years, Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters was quite busy. Harry had never realized how many people avoided sending their children to Hogwarts because of the looming threat of Voldemort. He couldn't be happy about the new students, though, as he noticed the disturbing lack of younger children.

From beside him, Ron spoke up yet again.

"I'm just saying, you really didn't have to move out –"

"I'm not going to sit there and watch her flaunt her relationship right in front of me and pretend I'm happy," Harry said shortly. He'd been through that once with Ginny and he wasn't doing it again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco and Ginny pass by the window. Both of them were laughing as they strained to carry her trunk onto the train. The joyous expression on her face was like a stab to Harry's heart. If only he'd prioritized Ginny more, then they would still be together.

"I'll kill him," Ron offered.

Harry managed a wan smile. "Thanks, but I prefer seeing you out of prison."

"Hey, we're war heroes now. I'm sure that gives us special dispensation to kill annoying gits."

This time, Harry's lips rose a bit higher. Ever since they'd returned from Australia, Ron had been trying to make light of the situation for Harry's benefit.

"I should've invited her," he sighed. "Then none of this would be happening."

Ron lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It's always been the three of us," he said simply.

The crowd on the platform became louder and as they both peered what was causing the ruckus, Ron grimaced. A cluster had formed around Hermione, who looked to have just passed through the barrier. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were attempting to fight their way to her, but the crowd was too thick.

"I'll be right back," said Ron. "Hermione's not good with crowds."

Harry let him go alone. All three of them would have just caused more chaos. Besides, Ron was much better at handling people than Harry was. When all of the attention was on him, Harry either clammed up or became snarky, neither of which was good for his reputation. For now, Kingsley had ordered Harry to avoid reporters until they had worked on Harry's people skills.

And control of my stupid, blabbing mouth, Harry thought darkly. He'd gotten a lot of questions about Horcruxes after the war. For whatever reason, people had latched onto that word instead of the truth of Snape's loyalty. Then again, the majority of people in the Great Hall that day had lived under Snape's reign, and they weren't about to forgive his actions. After all, he'd been in a position to stop the torture completely, and yet first-years still received the Cruciatus Curse.

Everything had been put into perspective for Harry by a single comment from McGonagall. She had a way of doing that for him, and his admiration for her had only grown in the four months since the battle.

"It's a pity," she had said when Harry told her about Snape's role in the war. "He could have been a good man." Then she stood straight, despite the new streaks of gray in her hair and the haunted look in her eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me Mr. Potter, I have a school to repair."

A knock on the compartment drew him from his brooding.

"Mind if I come in?" Neville asked, grinning.

Harry smiled back at him and gestured to the other seat.

"'Course you can, Nev. You're always welcome."

Shortly afterward, Ron returned with Hermione, and both of them were pleased to see that Neville had joined them. As soon as they all decided to return for their seventh year, they'd let Neville and Luna know their plan. After several fights with his grandmother, who wanted him to join the Aurors, Neville had gotten permission to go back to school. Luna had opted to travel the world with her father instead.

The blast of the train whistle warned them of their imminent departure, and Ron leaned out the window to call out one last farewell to his parents. Then there was a lurch as the train began to leave the station and Hermione pulled Ron back into the compartment.

"Where's Ginny?" Neville asked curiously.

For a moment, there was only a tense silence. Harry kept his gaze on the world passing by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione exchange a glance. They weren't going to answer for him.

"She has a new boyfriend," he said gruffly.

"Oh," was all Neville said initially. Then after a pause, he added, "That's good. I never liked you two together."

Harry only grunted in response. He knew Neville was trying to console him, but it still didn't take away the sting of Ginny's betrayal. You weren't even dating, a voice whispered in his mind. What'd you expect her to do, throw herself into your arms and welcome you home?

He had, in fact, expected exactly that. The two weeks they'd spent together in his sixth year had been heavenly. He still remembered all of their trysts in the broom closet, like when she'd let him touch her bare skin for the first time or the look in her eyes when she'd knelt in front of him. Ginny had made his heart pound like no one else had ever done before.

About an hour into the train ride, the door was opened again and a blonde girl entered the compartment. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at her bemusedly as she turned to Neville. She seemed to be steadfastly ignoring everyone else in the compartment.

"Can we stay in here with you?"

"Er," he said intelligently, glancing at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with wide eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink, as if he were embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess. They're cool."

"Thanks."

She took the seat beside him and two more girls, one of them Hannah Abbott, followed her into the compartment. They all squeezed onto the one bench and Harry noted that Hannah didn't seem particularly upset that she was practically on Neville's lap.

"These are my cousins by marriage," Hannah said, gesturing to the other girls. "Daphne and Astoria Greengrass."

After a nudge from Hannah, the older girl, Daphne, said, "Pleasure to meet you," in a very polite tone. Beside her, Astoria muttered something unintelligible in another language. Harry couldn't be sure if it was a greeting or a curse.

"Hold on," Ron said, his eyes narrowing. "If they're Greengrasses –"

"Yes, they're in Slytherin," Hannah interrupted. "And yes, I trust them."

She maintained eye contact with Ron until he looked away. A muscle ticked in his jaw, though, and Hermione put a hand on his leg and squeezed reassuringly. Ever since the end of the war, she'd been more reticent. Ron had quietly told Harry that she was having a hard time coming to terms with what happened in Malfoy Manor.

"Are you sure?" Harry felt the need to ask Hannah.

"Yes," she ground out.

Daphne's mouth opened, her eyes tight with repressed anger.

"They're good," Neville said quickly, and Daphne's mouth snapped closed. He looked at them all pleadingly. "I promise, they're good."

Harry struggled to put his doubt into words. None of the Slytherins, with the exclusion of Professor Slughorn, had helped in the Final Battle. He didn't believe their excuse that they would be fighting against their own family. Sirius had done so, after all.

"Daphne slid information to Neville," a quiet voice broke the silence. "She risked her own life for your lot. If that doesn't count for something, I don't know what does."

Even Daphne looked at her sister in surprise. Astoria had been turned away from all of them, but now she faced Harry, her dark blue eyes hard and intent despite her flat tone. At a loss for any other response, Harry held his hands up and shrugged. He wasn't about to get in a fight with her, not when Neville's expression was beseeching him to remain civil.

"Well," Hermione murmured. "This year will be interesting."

An inexplicable urge to laugh bubbled up inside Harry, and it was released when Ron let out a soft huff of amusement. Even Neville cracked a smile, and Hermione looked pleased with herself. Hannah, Daphne, and Astoria were all staring at them like they were idiots. Harry didn't mind; as Gryffindors, they had a reputation to maintain.

By the time the train pulled into the Hogsmeade Station, they'd all learned how to converse with each other in reasonably polite tones. Still, Astoria lurched out of the compartment, as if she couldn't escape them fast enough.

"Sorry about that," said Daphne. "Her boyfriend broke up with her and she's…"

She paused, as if she didn't know how to end the sentence nicely, and Harry said, "Yeah, I understand."

Daphne smiled, and Harry, who'd thought she was rather plain when he'd first seen her, realized that it was unfair to compare other women to Ginny. She might not have been arousing like Ginny, but she had a natural beauty that made her captivating. Harry decided he liked Daphne's smile.

"See you around, Potter," she said before Hannah pulled her into the corridor.

"Don't even think about it, Potter," said Neville with a knowing look. "She's way out of your league."

Harry's brows rose. "I'm Harry Potter," he retorted, puffing up his chest in a way that would have made Snape sneer. "No one is out of my league."

"Oh boy," Ron muttered to Hermione, who giggled.

Hermione took ahold of Ron's hand as she stepped off the train. Her chest tightened with fear and with her other hand, she grabbed onto Harry's robe. Still uncomfortable with people touching him, Harry let her cling to the material as they both followed Ron through the crowd to the carriages.

Her gaze was drawn up to the castle atop the hill. Hogwarts beckoned to them with warm lights, but unlike when she was younger, it didn't give Hermione a sense of home. Only the two boys on either side of her could do that anymore. She was so glad they'd agreed to accompany her back to school. Otherwise her only companion would've been Ginny.

"We can do this," Hermione whispered.

"'Course we can," Ron said, sounding confident. "We're war heroes. We can conquer anything."

He slid a sly glance toward Harry.

"Or anyone, as the case may be."

"I was just joking," Harry said a bit defensively.

"Mm-hmm. You do have a tendency to like pretty women with long hair… Now we just have to find out if she plays Quidditch…"

As Harry's face grew red, Hermione turned away to hide her smile from him. He definitely had a type, even though he was likely to deny that fact.

"Oh, look," Ron said brightly. "This carriage is open."

Hermione carefully avoided looking at the thestrels as she climbed into the carriage. As the skeletal horses began trotting forward, she leaned against Ron and let the gentle rocking of the carriage and the clopping of hooves guide her into a brief sleep. He woke her again when they arrived at the base of the granite stairs leading up to the Entrance Hall.

The school had changed in tiny, barely noticeable ways since she'd last been a student. In the Great Hall, the stained glass windows depicted all sorts of creatures, and Hermione allowed herself a small, melancholy smile when she noted a giant which resembled Grawp. She then looked up at the ceiling and drew comfort from the clear, starry sky above them.

Another change was the table set-up. As the students streamed into the hall, several of them sat with their friends from different Houses, and McGonagall declared she would allow it only for this Welcoming Feast. Next year, she would be stricter on the rules.

Then Professor Sprout led the new first-years down the aisle, and Hermione sucked in a breath. Were we really that small? she wondered, her eyes sweeping over the group as Professor Sprout set up the stool. Not only were the first-years much shorter than Hermione ever recalled being in her life, but there were so few of them, too.

She swallowed thickly as she realized just how many families they'd lost in the war. The Muggleborn Registration Commission had taken a greater toll than she'd thought.

"Applegarth, Douglas!" called Sprout.

A boy detached himself from the small cluster and approached the stool slowly. Professor Sprout tried to smile at him encouragingly, but the expression was more of a grimace. With obvious trepidation, the boy sat down and allowed the Hat to be lowered onto his head. Hermione held her breath as she waited for the boy's sorting to be announced.

At last, the slit on the Hat opened up.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The room erupted with voices, but the boy's rose above the rest.

"No!" he cried as Sprout took off the Hat. "Let me try again, please, there has to be a mistake –"

"There is no mistake," she said, her tone kind but her eyes tight. "Go on now, your House is waiting for you."

He turned to the Slytherin table, his eyes wide. Most of the older students stared back at him with sympathy. An ache formed in Hermione's throat as she watched him drag his feet to the table. She couldn't even imagine what he must be feeling right now.

Ron's hand slid into her own and she let his familiar grip calm her down again. She then offered up a prayer to whichever gods might exist that they would make it through this year.

AN: But soft! Have I started another story?

Yes. Yes, I have.