Hogwarts Revisited

Chapter 1: Broken Hearts and Ribs

Hermione Granger was a planner; she liked to plan everything out, each point connecting to the next like one great big constellation. The plan was simple; attend school, get good grades, make friends, graduate school, go to university, briefly experiment with sex drugs and rock 'n' roll, get good grades, graduate university, get good job, meet a man, get married, have a baby, give that baby a cool name that's easy to say, teach that baby everything she knew… and so on… She had secretly made this list at 10 in her room underneath her Flintstone's duvet, her torch perched on her knee but within a year a spanner had been thrown into her meticulous life plan, she was a witch, to be fair she could never have predicted that… never mind… she adjusted the course to accommodate said spanner; attend wizarding school, get good grades, make friends… then another spanner, her friend was Harry Potter and he had a mortal enemy who would soon become her mortal enemy, an addendum had to be made to her plan… defeat dark lord… and then she could graduate and the rest would follow on, surely… or perhaps not.

An almost nineteen year old Hermione Granger sat anxiously at her kitchen table flicking through the pages of her almost nine year old journal looking at her meticulous life plan and sighing, the addendum known as Lord Voldemort had fucked up her life plan, selfish shit that he was. There was a sudden tapping on the window and her mother, only recently returned from Australia and a fantastic childless life she never really had, looked up sadly.

"There's an owl at the window dear." She said softly, still not pleased that her only daughter had shipped her off to a colony and tampered with her brain.

"Thanks ma." Hermione replied standing from her seat at the scrubbed oak table and walking to the sash window; she took the thick envelope from the large golden owl and smiled as it flew off. It was nice having owl post back, it had been too dangerous during the Dark Lord's reign of terror but now he was gone it was good to have them back, messengers in the sky.

"another love letter from your 'boyfriend'?" Her dad asked jovially, as he entered the kitchen patting Hermione's head lovingly, he had been quicker to forgive, perhaps it was his own time fighting in the military which gave him more empathy or perhaps it was just because she was his little princess and could do no wrong. When she'd 'fixed their noggins' as her dad put it and sat them down, she had spared no detail of her life on the lamb, she had shown them her scars both physically and mentally and Mr Granger couldn't have been prouder: His little book bug was a fighter and she'd saved the world. Mrs Granger was another story, she had been terrified from the moment Hermione had started relaying her tale till the end, and while she knew it had been necessary, that knowledge hadn't stopped her from throwing up at the thought of her baby angel being tortured and hunted. If only she'd thrown a brick at that first owl she'd seen and not said "Oh look an owl with a letter tied to its leg is sitting in our living room."

"It's from Hogwarts dad!" Hermione gasped excitedly, Mrs Granger's heart sank instinctively, that death trap of a school was reopening but she remained silent and continued to wash the dishes, knowing there was no stopping her little angel from doing what she wanted to do… her little angel who was no longer little or an angel… her little angel who had a boyfriend and sleepovers and boobs and a potty mouth, her little angel was now a veteran of war who had night terrors and jumped and sometimes held you at wand point if you didn't announce yourself, her little angel who could pop in and out of the room like a ghost.

Hermione held the letter aloft and read aloud, reminding Mrs Granger of the 11-year-old Hermione receiving her first Hogwarts letter, brimming with pride and bushy hair refusing a training bra because it overly sexualised pre-pubescent girls. Mrs Granger smiled a little.

"Dear Hermione Granger, it is with great pride that we can announce the re-opening of Hogwarts, we are offering an open door policy for all students who due to circumstances were not able to finish their schooling and so all former pupils are invited to return and complete their seventh and final year, we know that this may be challenging but we at the school are willing to offer as much support as the seventh year class needs, we have carefully scheduled your classes based on your OWL's and your previous experience though we are willing to make changes. Hogwarts is starting afresh and while many of the school traditions remain in place there will be a lot of changes, enclosed is your book, equipment and uniform list all of which can be purchased in Diagon alley, a train will leave platform 9 and ¾ on the 1st of September, your ticket is enclosed. We hope to see you soon Hermione, and on a personal note I hope to see you sitting your transfiguration NEWTs and passing with flying colours.

Yours faithfully

Minerva McGonagall"

Hermione placed the letter down on the table and looked at her parents happily, her plan could go back into action, in two weeks she'd be back in school, she could graduate in a year, she may be a little late but she was back on schedule.

"We'll have to go to that bank Grimguts and exchange some money!" Her dad exclaimed happily, looking over the list of things she'd need.

"Daddy I've got all the money I need in 'Gringotts', in fact I've got enough money for you and mum to get a nicer house if you wanted or a bigger practice or quit work all together and live on a beach somewhere." Hermione smiled softly at her father who shook his head in wonderment; there was a loud crash from the sink.

"I don't want their blood money." Mrs Granger growled spinning round to look at her smiling daughter, the grin vanishing from the girl's face.

"Mum it's not…" Hermione was interrupted.

"They sent children to fight a war then fobbed them off with gold when it was over Hermione! It is blood money, money for all the blood you shed and I shan't take a penny." Mrs Granger sobbed into the handkerchief she had tucked up the sleeve of her pink cardigan.

"I'll talk to her, you best be off and speak to Ronald, I'm sure he's as excited as you." Her father smiled kindly and indicated Hermione should leave.

Hermione had expected that the next days would be a magical time of packing and buying and planning instead it was essentially one long day of fighting, arguing, throwing and broken hearts.

She'd apparated to the Burrow to find Ron's unopened letter lying next to his breakfast on the table, Ron was shovelling as much food as possible into the hole at the front of his head and decidedly ignoring the message. Molly stood, clearly angry, at her stove making more fuel for the never-ending burner that was Ron's gut.

"Speak some sense into him Hermione!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed before storming into the yard to no doubt kick some gnomes.

"Ignore her and come give us a kiss." Ron stretched out his arms and suddenly reminded Hermione of a needy toddler begging to be picked up, she pushed the thought aside and compromised by giving him a small smile.

"You've got egg all over your face sweetheart… what's your mum talking about?" Hermione perched herself tentatively in the chair beside Ron, a great sense of foreboding hovering over her.

"She thinks I should go back to school, but I said 'what's the point?' Harry and Ginny aren't going…" Hermione was not shocked at all by this, as soon as the war was over Harry had married and impregnated Ginny within the space of a week, finally creating the family unit he had longed for his whole life "I've got money and a career and…" Hermione interrupted him.

"Playing quidditch for a third division team is not a career Ron… sweetheart" She sighed rubbing her temples trying to remain composed in the face of an irrational man child.

"Pish posh lover, I just got signed by the Glasgow Thistles, and because one of the big Scottish teams went into liquidation we've been bumped up to division one. Now I'm thinking, you can come up north with me, we buy a house and live it large. You don't really need to work, we can just get married make tons of babies and you can read or something fun like that and I'll play for the team" He smiled happily at her and made to kiss her, she leaned back away from his eggy face and looked at him incredulously.

"I can just read or something?" her pitch increased dramatically "Ronald at what point in our long and enduring friendship did I give you the impression that I'd be sitting at home popping out babies for you? Mm?" she gave him less than a second to answer before continuing on "At what point in the MANY years you've known me, did you think 'there's a girl I can turn into my mother!'" she heard Molly gasp in horror from behind the back door "Ron… I don't want to read and breed, I want to educate myself and get a job and be part of a relationship where I'm respected and an equal. I can't be your mother, and I won't, she chose to be a housewife and good on her, but that's not my choice Ron… I want to go back to school and get my NEWTs and a good job and be respected…" he stopped her with a raised hand

"I hear you babe, and you and I both know you don't need to get your NEWTs to get a job, I mean you're Hermione Granger, we can move up North and you can get a job at the Scottish Ministry I'm sure they'd be happy to have you in the blink of an eye." He patted her hand as if to indicate the discussion was over and continued to eat.

"I don't want some honorary position in some devolved ministry, I want to get training and work as a healer or a lawyer or a freaking architect, I want to fulfil the fucking potential everyone says I have." She slammed her fists hard onto the bench and cause his bowl of eggs to rock violently.

"You've already done that Hermione, you've proven yourself to everyone! don't you just want to relax?" Ron's tone had finally matched Hermione's in seriousness; he had also dropped his fork a sure sign that he was being riled.

"I'm not even 19 Ron don't you think it's a bit early to be giving up and settling down?" she spat, standing from the rickety chair Molly had refused to replace on sentimental grounds.

"Harry's done it." Ron now red in the face yelled.

"You're not Harry… Merlin, Ron when are you going to get that through your thick skull? Harry has a wife and a kid, not because he couldn't be bothered doing anything else but because that's what he wanted he's got a good job…" he interrupted her again.

"He plays Quidditch too!" Ron yelled, a piece of scrambled egg flying off his cheek.

"Yes, but he's good at it." Hermione roared back before she could stop herself, she heard Molly gasp again; Ron looked like she'd punched him. And then it descended into an all-out screaming match and after an hour of tears and red faced name calling the pair had called it quits on their relationship.

"Go to Glasgow Ron, play quidditch, find a wife who'll spawn you a whole army of fat red babies, do whatever you want but know this… we're done… I'm not waiting for you and I will move on." She said resolutely as she made to walk out of the Burrow for what she feared would be the last time.

"Move on? Hermione nobody else will want you, I'm the best thing you've ever had." He screamed throwing a piece of toast at her retreating form.

"If that's true then the world truly is a cruel place." She uttered before apparating back to her home and a mother who embraced her warmly, happy to be needed and secretly happy that her daughter would no longer be having sleepovers with a ginger headed cretin with the table manners of an ogre.

Hermione sat on the Hogwarts express feeling completely lost, for the first time since her first time she would be heading to school with no real friends, no support circle, just her and the cloud of rage which now hung around her. She and her mother had somewhat reconnected over her break up; Ron had turned up at the family home at 2am the night they'd broken up, shouting up at her window and it had been Mrs Granger who'd screamed him into submission, telling him Hermione was far too good for him and that when he'd sobered up he'd realise that it was he who'd lost the best thing He'd ever had and not the other way around. Hermione almost didn't want to go back now, she wanted to be a little girl again. She wanted to sit at her mother's feet while she knitted and sang old songs about broken hearts and depressed women, she wanted to eat stew and dough balls and play her father at backgammon… Hermione wanted to hide and Mrs Granger although full of resentment for the school knew it was the one place Hermione could heal and get back her spunk and so it had been Mrs Granger who headed the 'back to school' shopping trip, and Mrs Granger who had waved her daughter sternly back onto the crimson train. " You go show them what we Granger women are made of Hermione, and never let them forget that you're the bloody smartest witch of your age or so I've been told a hundred times… or are all those bloody people wrong?" her mother had said as she almost shoved her onto the train and so Hermione sat, gloomily drawing sad faces in the steamed up window of the stationary train, giving any children who dared enter her compartment the evil eye. She heard the door slide open and prepared to glare at the intruder when she stopped at the sight of red hair, an irrational part of her brain screamed "RON!" but stopped when she saw the squared jaw and sturdier frame of George Weasley attached to the flaming hair.

"hi George" she said quietly eyeing the one eared man dragging his trunk behind him.

"Hello Hermione, miss me?" he attempted a grin but managed only a half-smile, half of him lost to the memory of Fred.

"Oh, very much, what are you doing here?" she asked trying not to sound too sympathetic or too delicate, she knew he hated that.

"going back to school, going to get my NEWTs… Fred always said he wanted to come back after the war and get his qualifications so… since he can't here I am." He managed rather well at holding it together; Molly had informed Hermione that George had spent a great deal of time in St Mungo's to help with his depression.

"That's good, you always were smarter than you let on… I'm glad I'll have a bit of competition this year." She smiled kindly as George made to sit down across from her.

"Mum's fell out with Ron, she says he treated you terribly and he deserves to be dumped." George almost grinned at his little brother's woeful life "Says she heard him telling you that he wanted you to just have babies and not work."

"That was the gist of it, so Molly's not mad at me?" Hermione tugged at the black t-shirt she was wearing nervously.

"Not at all, I mean I think she's a little put off that you think her life's so shit but she understands that you're not her." George subconsciously tugged his hair over his missing ear.

The train started to move and Hermione and George fell into a comfortable silence which was broken when the door slid open again, both set their faces into glare mode again, fearful they'd be overrun by a bunch of curious 11-year-olds wanting to know what the war was like, instead a tall blonde figure lurched in looking both sullen and guilty:

"Sorry, I'll find somewhere else." He said but was interrupted by a wave of George's hand

"Don't be daft Malfoy, join us, we're sitting in silence, it's lovely." George said waving Malfoy in.

Draco entered the compartment fully, his eyes down-cast and a pained expression on his pale and gaunt face. His face always looked like that, she remembered the first time he walked through a door looking pained, the pain had been more physical that time but he had still been stoic, she remembered it like some people remember the day Kennedy died. Though she knew people wouldn't ask "where were you the day Malfoy switched sides" she'd never forget… there was too much blood to forget.

It had been over a year ago

Harry and Snape had been out on some mission, some secret thing that had Ginny in a spin, the war had been in full swing. Hermione had taken up the role as unofficial healer in Grimmauld place, she was good at it, even Madeye turned to her on occasion for one of her healing salves or counter curses… there she was at 17 patching up war torn men and women like a pro. Harry and Snape were late… they had promised to return before sunset but it was already dark out. Ginny was sobbing and the rest were looking worried Hermione however maintained an optimism that 'all was well', that Harry and Snape would return soon enough unharmed and perfectly happy, she had almost been right.

The main door flew open and Harry entered, a body propped up on his left shoulder, Snape followed quickly behind, there was a trail of blood and everyone made to move forward and help this third man Harry had dragged in… then they stopped when they saw who it was, a usually sneering face was pained, eye's screwed up hard and plasma drenching his robes, Blonde hair was now pink with even more blood. Grime and tears masked the pointed face. Hermione was the only one who continued forward, everyone else stared.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione asked Harry as she took the weight of Draco from him.

"No…nothing a little pepper up and a nap won't solve… he's… he's in a pretty bad way Hermione, can you help him?" Harry clutched a stitch in his side as Hermione dragged Draco towards the library which had become her makeshift hospital wing. Nobody moved to help, everyone just watched.

"I don't know, I'll have to look him over first, are you all going to gawp? Will one of you not help me?" Hermione had yelled at the gathered onlookers, it was Tonks who broke rank to aid Hermione in her moving of Draco, levitation was too risky when someone was so badly injured, any sort of unnecessary magic always was, 'best know what you're dealing with before you point a wand at it' that's what Hermione always said.

"you can't seriously want to help him? It's Draco Fucking Malfoy." Ron spat angrily at Hermione.

"I may not be trained but for the time being I am a healer and that comes with a certain responsibility…" Harry stepped in between Hermione and the fuming Ron.

"Mate, he needs our help and we're going to give it to him" Ron made to protest "This is not a discussion, we're not in school any more, and he stays."

"But he's a death eater!" a voice came from the crowd of gathered Order members.

"Not any more he's not." Snape replied shortly closing the door behind Hermione and Tonks hoping to shield his godson's already tarnished ears from the calls of outrage following his battered and broken body.

Hermione, with the help of Tonks managed to lift Malfoy onto the sterilised table she used for the more battered wizards, he was soaked in blood and Hermione quickly realised she too was covered in his body fluid. Tonks moved away and silently exited the library, she was never that good with blood and gore, not like Hermione, she couldn't compartmentalise it like Hermione could. Wordlessly Hermione began removing Draco's robes; he struggled a little against her persistent hands.

"let me die." He whispered clutching her hand with shocking strength.

"no." Hermione said sternly and tried to break his grip.

"Let me die." He croaked, more tears escaping his bloodshot and bruised eyes.

"When have I ever done anything that you've told me to?" Hermione retorted and resumed her diligent removal of his blood-soaked robes. He either passed out or gave up fighting her, she never really knew but she soon found the source of the blood, a large mass of torn and burnt flesh on his left forearm was haemorrhaging painfully.

The door to the library swung open and Snape ran in looking both shaken and exhausted, "we just got there in time, Narcissa was dead… Lucius killed her, Draco killed him then took the wand to himself he tried to remove the dark mark, I think he used fiendfyre, a knife… god knows what else… can you save him?" Snape almost choked the last part out in a sob, shocking Hermione to her core.

"I need help professor, I need you to find… there's a little bottle in my room marked salve 14, it's the strongest I've made to date, I was saving it for a rainy day and if this isn't a rainy day I don't know what is." She rolled her sleeves up and Snape caught sight of the word MUDBLOOD carved in her skin, he shook his head in wonder at the skinny girl before him tending her enemy's wounds. Wordlessly he ran from the room and made his way to the girl's sanctum to find the tincture.

Hermione observed a now almost naked Draco, she'd spared him the indignity of removing his boxers, he was almost as thin as her… dark lords seemed to play havoc on one's appetite. She started her ministrations quickly, putting a tourniquet on his bicep to stem the flow of blood and casting a very succinct disinfection charm on his whole body, before manually cleaning out the large wound on his arm and the smaller cuts on the rest of his body. She then cast some of the strongest healing charms she could think of on the open wound, there was a good chance it would never heal given what was formerly on it. The skin seemed to want to stitch despite the darkness that had once resided, she could tell that much. She ran to the bookcase and pulled out a dusty manuscript on fiendfyre, she returned to him and cast another charm, the larger welts and blisters seemed to subside, the open wound still remained and he was still losing plasma at an alarming rate. Quickly she performed a little spell of her own devising, inspired by muggle medicine and great for battlefield surgery, a symbiotic blood transfusion, she pointed the wand directly at her own arm and then to his, she felt a little light headed but knew she could stand to lose a pint if it meant saving him... " now you're a bit mudblood Malfoy." She said whimsically observing his pale almost lifeless face. Snape returned abruptly holding the tiny vial, he handed it to her and watched as she applied it quickly to the gash, it seemed to stem the blood if not heal the actual wound. With a flick of her wand gauze was flying out and wrapping tightly round the fore arm which once was marked by evil and now was bloody with remorse.

"If I give you the recipe will you make more, professor?" she asked not looking at Snape and instead taking note of the less serious injuries spattered across Malfoy's frame.

"of course," Snape replied, with another flick of her wand Snape was holding a complex potion instruction, he looked at it with almost admiration.

"He'll need another application in at least 12 hours, that should be just enough time" she said aloud, inside she told herself that keeping Snape busy and useful was the best thing for him. Snape was gone to his room and she was back to noting the injuries; a quill and parchment appeared floating beside her head and began scribbling as she spoke

"Three… no make that four broken ribs, countless historic fractures." She paused and swallowed, the medi-scan spell flashed up a person's medical history, using the body as a map. Draco glowed, his entire body had been under duress at one point of his life or another… she continued to take note, each light extinguishing as she orated it "one fractured tibia, lacerations to the face and neck, bruising around the eyes, historic fractures to the jaw, orbital bone, skull in several places…" she flicked her wand and hid his past injuries deciding only to focus on his present issues "split lip, grazing to the knees and elbows, a broken big toe, sprained ankle and some superficial burns to the thigh and torso… Jesus, Malfoy you've certainly been through the ringer." She hadn't expected him to reply but he did "am I going to die?" he asked grabbing her, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"No Malfoy, I told you I wouldn't let you." She smiled sadly and extracted herself from his grip. She made to heal him and he lay in silence for the most, sometimes he'd sob and sometimes he'd remember his mother was dead and call out, most of the time he was falling in and out of consciousness.

Draco Malfoy had been bed ridden for a whole month, Hermione had nursed him back to health, her only help had been Snape… they had almost bonded over the boy, taking turns to sit with him through the night while countless fevers ravaged his brain and ravished his pale skin. Eventually he'd been well enough to sit up and soon after that he could walk. He and Hermione never really spoke other than the usual "how are you feeling today?" he didn't pick on her though, he didn't call her mudblood, he didn't even criticise her hair. He just sat and stared at nothing, probably post-traumatic stress she thought. The large wound on his arm would never heal completely he would retain that scar for his life, when she told him this he'd smiled;

"Better a scar than the mark." He'd said " I'd heard father say nothing but fiendfyre could remove the mark and break the spell… he was right." He had eventually thanked her for saving him and then he set about to be useful, while Ron, Harry and Hermione were out hunting Horcruxes he'd remained at Grimmauld place offering very detailed insights into the behaviours of those closest to the Dark lord, their secrets, their weaknesses, their spells of choice, this had proven very useful in the final battles.

On the occasions when Hermione returned to the old house looking weaker, paler and thinner than usual he'd taken it upon himself to cajole her to eat and sleep, teasing her and occasionally joking with her but only when they were alone and never with anyone else. One night when they were both unaccompanied in the library, Draco's favourite spot in the house… and Hermione's, she'd been dozing on a saggy chair and had told him that he had a pint of her blood running through his veins… she had expected him to be annoyed or shocked, instead he smiled "I was wondering why I'd suddenly developed a love of libraries and fat ginger cats…".

He had looked after Crookshanks while she was away and then when the great battle of Hogwarts was fought he'd stood shoulder to shoulder with her, killing the men and women he used to call family… and then it was over and Hermione went to find her parents and he went… well he just went, to sort himself out she supposed, to sort his family home and claim his inheritance. He was one of the few former death eaters whose fortune hadn't been seized by the ministry; the gold that had been seized from other death eaters was promptly doled out as compensation to those who had played predominant roles in the Order and to the reconstruction of Hogwarts.

Occasionally (and she never told anyone this, specifically Ron) she'd write to him, occasionally became once a week, not long letters mind you, just "are you alive?" and he'd write back a short "Yes, are you?" sometimes she'd add "Crookshanks misses you" and he'd write "Tell him I don't miss finding a ginger fur ball sleeping in my underwear drawer!"

And now here they were face to face, for the first time since the battle, on the train going back to school… and it felt uncomfortable and a little bit exciting.