Hi Everyone, I've decided to begin a new fanfiction! Rest assured, From the Ashes isn't going anywhere, but inspiration struck, in one form or another, so I hope you enjoy this!
If you close your eyes.
Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?
Oh, where do we begin –
The rubble, or our sins?
(Pompeii, Bastille)
Hermione stood at the mouth of the empty compartment, gazing at the seats that were once occupied by her friends. Now, the compartment was empty, and as the train whistled and pulled away from the station, she couldn't stand the thought of spending the long ride alone.
Harry had decided to pursue early auror's training; the Ministry began offering positions to students merely days after the final battle, and he was quick to accept. Ron was currently undecided in his future, and chose instead to spend time with his family, mending the holes left by Fred's death.
She stood, deliberating silently, while first years bustled around her, bumping into each other and flashing new wands, books, and robes, poring over campus maps with anticipation. She remembered the feeling all too well, and seeing the first years only brought into starker contrast how different this year would be.
The witch shook her head, and shut the compartment door with a final click. She parted the sea of students, slowly making her way towards the front of the train. There was a compartment available for the Head Boy and Girl, and although she did not need to report there for another two hours, she found the thought of sitting there alone to be considerable less stressful.
When she pulled open the door, she found the compartment already occupied; in the corner bench, closest to the window, Draco Malfoy was sitting, staring blankly at a book in his lap. He looked up when she entered, pulling a tired smirk across his features.
"Granger," he said, but it was lacking the hatred from years past. He looked worn out, exhausted. Hermione sat timidly on the bench across from him, as close to the door as possible.
"Malfoy," she greeted quietly. The pair sat in silence for some time, each with a book in their lap, but Hermione had read the same paragraph five times so far, and had yet to retain any of it. The tension in the compartment was almost palpable, and the witch shifted uncomfortably.
"Something you'd like to say, Granger?" Her companion finally asked, sounding irritated. "I can see you glancing over here every thirty seconds, you know. Believe it or not, I did make it through the war with an intact sense of sight," he said snarkily. Hermione blushed, looking.
"Incredible. After everything you've seen, you still blush like a schoolgirl," the boy taunted, closing his book.
"Mind your own business, Malfoy," the witch angrily retorted, slamming her own book shut as well. The two glared at each other, unwilling to look away and admit defeat. With a sudden lurch, the compartment door slid open, jerking both sets of eyes, silver and brown, away from each other. Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, shuffling a stack of items she must have confiscated during the short trip already.
"Lovely, you both seem to have found each other. Let's go over some ground rules, alright?" The older woman sat, looking them both in the eyes.
"I know this year will be difficult in many ways for the two of you. But let's try our best to put the past behind us, shall we?" She said. Draco rolled his eyes, turning away, while Hermione nodded gingerly. Neither understood how they would be able to 'put the past behind them,' but neither expressed this.
"You both will be responsible for overseeing prefects this year, as well as an evening patrol schedule. The two of you will share dormitories as well – your rooms are on the second floor, with a joined common room and bath. I know I don't need to tell either of you this, but the dormitories are separate for a reason. Please keep it that way," the older witch continued.
Malfoy snorted derisively, and Hermione blushed again, looking at her hands. There was a loud bang, followed by a commotion out in the halls, and the Headmistress quickly left the compartment, yelling at the guilty second years.
"Detention already, and we haven't even made it to school yet," Hermione muttered.
"What do you know about detention, Granger?" Malfoy asked, somewhat rudely. Hermione shrugged.
"When Harry and Ron are your best friends, you become a bit too familiar with the institution."
"What could Potty and Weasel possibly get themselves into?" Malfoy asked, this time curious.
"Well, there was one time…"
The two began to recount their various adventures at opposite ends of the castle, the time passing quickly, and animosity slowly beginning to fade.
"Look, Malfoy – Draco, I know we've never been friends. But I don't want this year to be one long battle with you. I think we've both done enough fighting. Truce?" Hermione said hesitantly, as they drew close to the castle.
Malfoy sat silently, staring at her outreached hand for a few moments. He considered replying with something that would shut her up at least for the next two weeks, but decided against it. Loathe, as he was to admit it, she was right. He was tired of the fighting. He reached out and gingerly accepted her handshake.
"Truce, Granger," he said at last.
"Hermione," the witch intoned, softly, with a small smile.
"Don't push it," came her companion's reply, as he returned to staring out the window. Hermione simply shrugged. Rome wasn't built in a day, after all, and she would dare say that between the years of tension and the war, rebuilding their relationship made rebuilding Rome seem like a simple feat.