Chapter One
The war was over. The light side had prospered. The dark side engulfed, leaving nothing but cowardly tendrils behind.
There was rejoicing, but it seemed to barely last. They'd lost many people, those in the brink of their lives and those whose lives were just beginning.
It was the last funeral for Hermione Granger, who left the Creevey's to cry over the freshly dug grave belonging to their son. No one told her that it wasn't just going to be the war that left scars, but the grief too. The blood and the killing seemed nothing compared to the distraught sobbing of mothers and fathers.
Hermione pulled her black robes closer to her chin and crunched through the gravel towards the Apparating point. The sun was warm on her head, but she felt cold. Always cold. She glanced up at her destination, where Harry and Ron were waiting for her. They both look tired, glum and aged beyond their years and yet their postures seemed loose and free. Their lives could finally begin.
"Miss Granger!"
"Over here!"
"A word for the Daily Prophet?"
Scowling at the cordoned off reporters, she hurried over to the boys, smiling when they turned their heads to look at her.
"Alright Hermione?" Harry asked with a weary smile.
"Never better," she responded.
With a harsh zap, the Golden Trio Disapparated.
Draco Malfoy sipped on his pumpkin juice, watching as students filtered through the Hogwarts Express, some chatting, some silent and haunted. Whatever type of person they were, none of them spared him even a glance and if they did, they turned away with nothing but a wrinkling of their nose. He didn't care. He had spent his first seven years at Hogwarts without the need to make friends and he wasn't about to start needing to now.
"Maybe we should branch out a bit this year, House alliance and all that." Blaise's voice cut through his thoughts and Draco turned to him, wondering if he had noticed the solemn looks he had been giving to the people passing by.
"If you remember, the big alliance happened while the Slytherins were locked up in the dungeons. Didn't even get a bloody chance did you?" Draco replied, unable to hide the distaste in his voice.
Everyone could talk as much as they wanted about prejudice the Purebloods dished out, but they hid behind theirs with their distrust and scorn towards people they didn't even want to try and understand.
"Nothing stopping us trying, mate." Blaise clapped him on the back and sent him a grim half-smile.
Draco was grateful that Blaise and Theo were joining him on the journey to Hogwarts for his mandatory 'eighth year'. Everyone else who had once followed him blindly once before had scattered and refused to return to the place of their defeat. Blaise and Theo - the only two who were never his followers, only companions - had accepted their Hogwarts letters with ease and almost excitement. They were ready for a fresh start.
Draco, however? He was there on strict notice from the Wizengamot to attend, even though he wanted to be at home in the Manor, house arrest be damned. He was more than happy to spend the next year locked up in the Manor with his mother, who was finally free of the Dark Lord and more importantly, his father. He wanted to drink lychee tea with her, play Wizard's chess with her - hell, he was even prepared to get the gloves out and help her garden. It was her way of coping with her trauma, putting her wand down and getting her hands dirty and covered in soil. She had said to him that it made her feel accomplished, growing new life with her bare hands. He couldn't fault her for that.
But instead, he was here, sitting on the train to a place filled with people who wanted nothing more than to cut his throat and watch him bleed out with unbridled glee.
Draco's eyes rose as yet another person passes by the window to his carriage. They connected with Hermione Granger's. Her body became jilted and slowed almost to a halt, as if she struggled to drag her feet across the floor. She slowly passed him, eyes on him the entire time. Draco held his gaze with her, refusing to break away. As soon as she passed he looked down at his trembling hands, unable to hold back the images fluttering through his head of her writhing on the cold floor of the Manor.
"Didn't realise we'd be graced by the presence of our very own war heroes," Blaise said, slumping back in his seat. "I think I've changed my mind about this whole 'House alliance' bullshit."
With a soft snort, Draco clamped his shaking hands together and leant back too. Everything seemed so trivial now; the Houses, the House cup, exam results, childhood feuds, Quidditch. When you've stared evil in the eyes and watched unthinkable things happen to human beings, magic or not, nothing seemed to matter.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes and waited for the train to arrive at his not-quite prison.
Hermione threw herself down into one of the warm, tattered chairs in the Gryffindor common room, swiping her hair out of her face. She'd finished unpacking and the emotional turmoil at being in a place where she'd seen children die alongside friends - it was too much for her to take in for one night.
"Feels great being back here, doesn't it?" Harry said as he walked in, looking around at all the other students milling about in the common room. They all sent him smiles and a few gave him a thumbs up. Hermione looked around, noticing she was on the receiving end of a couple of gestures as well.
"It's lovely, Harry, it is. But doesn't it all feel a bit…" she waved her hand in the air, "Silly?"
Harry put himself in a seat opposite her, confused. Seeing his expression, she sat up straighter and leant forward to explain quietly.
"We won a war. Our entire world was almost destroyed and now we're back here to win a little gold cup for points we've gotten for good behaviour, to sit at segregated tables and eat our meals, to get detention for roaming the halls past curfew." She shook her head, smiling. "It's not that I don't love it here, it's one of the only places I've ever felt at home. But we're not children anymore. This hardly feels appropriate."
Harry blinked at her as if was taking a bit longer to register her words than it should. Then gave her a fond smile. "You sure are a downer, Hermione."
She laughed. "I don't mean to ruin your fun, Harry! Feels a bit strange, is all."
"Isn't it good though? The mundane. Just what we need, really." Harry replied. Hermione regarded him with surprise. Of course, she hadn't thought of it that way. A chance to be normal.
"You're right," she said, not able to hide the edge of astonishment in her voice. Harry's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Don't sound too shocked," he laughed. His gaze lifted to above her left shoulder and he smiled at Ron, whose travelling eyes finally spotted them in the crowds.
Before he could reach them, Harry turned to Hermione.
"I know it's none of my business, but have either of you talked yet?" Hermione grimaced a little at the question, tucking her hands in her lap and shifting uncomfortably.
"There's not exactly been a suitable time to bring it up," she answered, feeling a slight pang of guilt in her stomach. The 'kiss' in the Chamber of Secrets seemed to have become yet another thing that wasn't up for discussion after the battle at Hogwarts. There'd been hand-holding, comforting hugs and sometimes the occasional peck on the cheek scattered throughout the onslaught of events and press conferences they'd felt obliged to attend over the summer. Nothing seemed to solidify an answer to the questions in Hermione's head.
"Alright guys? Feels bloody weird being back here again," Ron huffed out as he slumped into the raggedy sofa beside Hermione. "I'm gonna enjoy having no homework or evil overlord to defeat for tonight."
"Second that one mate," Harry responded, sitting up to rummage through his pockets. "Hey, either of you see that new class we've got? I asked Ginny about it, apparently she's got it too."
Hermione scowled and pulled out her class schedule from the pile of parchment beside her. Her eyes scanned the classes she had decided to pick for her NEWT's; Arithmancy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Study of Ancient Runes and… Therapeutics?
She rubbed her temple with one hand while letting out a disappointed sigh.
"It's counselling, Harry. Group therapy."
"Sod off," Ron barked, pulling out his schedule. He jabbed his finger at the parchment. "I've got it too!"
"I don't need any help. Definitely not in front of a room full of people, and definitely not in a room full of Slytherins," Harry protested, shoving his schedule back in his pocket roughly. "I'm going to talk to Professor McGonagall."
"I hardly think that will help, Harry. In fact, I'm sure she would've had a hand in this." Hermione tucked her schedule away and set her stern gaze on him. "We need this, whether you think so or not. You will be anything but the exception this time; in fact, I'm certain you're the only one she believes should be there."
Harry waved a hand down his face and sent her a solemn look.
"This isn't going to be good, is it?" He asked, letting out a slight groan. Hermione rested her head against the soft back of her armchair, tilting her head to glance at Ron, who was looking between them both with his miserable, puppy-dog expression.
"No," she whispered, eyes roaming over the face of the boy she had been in love with for as long as she could remember, "it isn't."
Draco placed himself as far back from the front of the class as possible, as was the procedure for every class he had decided to take. At the back, people had to go out of their way to make sure that their poisonous glares reached him, whereas at the front it left him open and undefended. Not that stares and whispers did any damage to him, but he wasn't about to wait and see if anyone left at Hogwarts considered him worth throwing their own life away for and decided to send a particular green Killing curse at his unguarded back.
Therapeutics . He huffed a soft laugh and looked down to scribble on his parchment as students came filing in through the door, chatting in pairs or keeping their heads down. It was a joke, really. Was a walk through the park or an hour of meditating going to take away the trauma of war? The losses? The unforgettable memories of blood and lifeless eyes and screaming?
He was quite happy with his bottle of Firewhiskey stashed underneath his bed back in the Slytherin dungeons, locked safely away in the newly-built temporary Eighth-year sub-dormitory.
As the last two people entered the classroom - Potter and Weasley, as always - the door closed quietly behind them. The moment the latch caught, a globe of sparkling light expanded from the middle of the room all the way to the edges where it morphed with the walls, leaving a faint twinkle on the brown brickwork.
"It's a Binding spell. Anything shared in confidence that leaves this room will have extreme consequences," a voice cut through the quieting chatter.
Draco watched as the huge hall began to transform. In one corner, an oasis began to sprout, with palm trees and a babbling brook and rocks that smoothed out on top to form seats. In another corner, plump pillows in soft pastel colours began to pop out of thin air and place themselves in a comfortable circle on the floor. A flurry of thick, pale blue curtains closed across them. In the third corner, what looked a cushioned bowl appeared, wooden slats forming a solid wall around it. In the last, a simple podium.
The bench he was sitting on seemed to morph into a comfortable armchair and his parchment and quill disappeared from his hands.
"This isn't a lesson. This isn't a place to take notes or strain your brain, this isn't a place where more will be pushed into your cramped headspace. Here, you'll receive assignments but they won't be essays. They'll be tasks to benefit you."
The owner of the voice finally appeared, sitting on what appeared to be a big adult swing at the front of the class, the ropes stretching far into the high ceiling of the enormous classroom. It was a large, friendly-faced black woman, whose calm smile annoyingly seemed to settle Draco's anxious nerves at what was to come.
"I'm Professor Magoro. I am forty-five years old. My parents were South African but I was born in the United Kingdom. I studied here at Hogwarts. I was married to the love of my life, Morgana Spear, who died at the hands of Fenrir Greyback in the Battle of Hogwarts. She was everything to me and died protecting the world, so while I still mourn her, I know that she did it for us to be here today."
The class sat in stunned silence at the confession, unprepared to learn so much about their new Professor in a matter of minutes. Especially the bombshell about her dead wife, which twisted Draco's gut more than he wished to admit.
Magoro looked around at the glum faces, her serene smile still spread across her face. She waved a hand in front of her and stood up. "I'm not here to ruin your day, people. I'm here to make you feel like that weight on your shoulders can be taken off without any guilt!" She started pacing in front of them, nobody even attempting to whisper under their breaths at each other.
Draco had never seen a group of people so silent, especially for something he had - and still - believed was the most ridiculous thing that the Hogwarts board had ever even thought to add to the curriculum.
"Now, I'm not here to cuddle you and tell you everything's gonna be okay. I'm here to take you out of the little hole you've dug yourselves in since You-Know-Who melted away into the dirt like the shit he was." A few chuckles and astonished gasps trickled throughout the crowd. "I'm gonna be making you a little uncomfortable, in order to make you feel comfortable. Sounds crazy, right? But being comfortable in yourself means stretching out, finding things that have made you uneasy in the past and embracing them."
She settled her eyes on both sides of the classroom and sent everyone a sad smile. "Look around at the colour of the sofas you're sitting on."
With a gentle rustle, everyone began to swing their heads back and forth between the two very separate columns of sofas that had once been benches. One strip of green, one strip of red. "I didn't give you guys a seating plan. I didn't give you guys a strict order to sit within your Houses, or forbid you to talk. You sat like this. By yourselves. Huddled together like the other side doesn't exist. Well, not anymore."
She waved her wand and the colours of their seats changed to grey. She gestured at them. "You guys gotta remember, there's not always black and white - or in this case, red and green. A lot of the time, you gotta focus on the grey."
The Gryffindors and Slytherins grumbled amongst each other. Draco turned to Blaise and Theo, who was sitting beside him. They hadn't said a word.
"You two have anything to say about this old dingbat?" he poked. Theo shrugged.
"You're barking up the wrong tree. I've been saying since Fifth Year that we should have been mingling with the other colours. Not my fault you're so settled on being 'green'." He turned back to Magoro and Blaise half-shrugged at Draco in agreement. Draco sighed.
"Now, I've obviously not taught at Hogwarts before. I don't have the low down on the gossip. But I've got a little bit of magic up my sleeve that helped me form these." She waved her wand and a piece of parchment fell into each person's lap. They were blank. "In a minute, a name will appear. That person will be your partner for the rest of the year, no arguments. They've been specifically chosen for you and won't be reassigned, so don't come running to me like your whiney little voices will change my mind." She sat back in her swing. "Once you got your name, take a sofa together and tell each other one secret you wouldn't tell anyone else."
Draco smirked. Whoever he got, he'd lie through his teeth. Easy. Magoro's eyes fell on him as if his thought had smacked her around the head.
"And if there are any lies," she raised her eyes to the glittering walls and columns around them, "the room will know."
Shit.
As the last few seconds ticked by, Draco held the edge of his parchment with nervous fingers. He was fine with some Gryffindors, as much as he protested to Theo and Blaise about his despise for them. Out of everyone - everyone - in the entirety of Hogwarts, the last thing he wanted was Potter, or Weasley, or-
Two red words appeared on his parchment, and he immediately felt his heart jump into his throat at the exact same time his stomach felt as though it had travelled through his bowels and onto the floor.
Hermione Granger.