Disclaimer: I did not create these characters or settings. All credit to the lovely J.

Chapter One

Hermione Granger looked in the mirror. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes, and she gave her outfit a cursory look, to ensure that all was tucked in and buttoned properly. After a few deep breaths, she decided to join the remaining Weasleys and Harry Potter at the breakfast table.

It was the morning of October 31st, and they'd soon be headed to King's Cross station. It was indeed odd that school was starting so late, but even with magic, repairing the damage to Hogwarts after the war took quite some time. Hermione had begun to give up the hope that she'd ever be able to finish her magical education, when they all recieved their Hogwart's letter; she, Ron and Harry were being invited back, along with many others, as "Eighth Years."

"Hermione, I thought you were going to miss breakfast! Hurry and tuck in! We haven't got much time left," chimed Mrs. Weasley as Hermione entered the kitchen, filling the seat between Ron and Harry.

"Ready to get back to the library, Hermione?" Ron joked.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied weakly.

She did miss the library, and was certainly ready to get back to it, but for the first time in her life, Hermione wasn't exactly looking forward to the first day of school

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry prodded. "Are you nervous?"

"No, no, of course not. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Ah, I'm sure bookworm here couldn't put down her textbooks, preparing for class." Ron guffawed.

"Yes, yes I was up late reading." Hermione grabbed onto the excuse presented to her, nodding a little to enthusiastically, but given her love of books and schooling, no one seemed to notice.

Truthfully, Hermione had been up late packing and re-packing. Organizing all of her books, notes, and clothes. Yes, Hermione had already made notes for some of her classes. She had cleaned the room she was staying in - the room that used to be Fred and George's, before they'd moved out - three times. All the while, she had nervously pulled on her left sleeve, and occasionally gently stroking her arm. Through the thin fabric of her pajamas, she could even feel the scarred words that now marred what used to be pristine porcelain flesh. She thought that perhaps, after Bellatrix's death, she would be able to truly mend the scar, cause it to fade away, or remove it altogether, but she had none such luck. The magic that her torturer had used was intended to leave a permanent scar, so a permanent scar she would have. Even the healers at St. Mungo's hadn't been able to help - though they were quite preoccupied after the war, nursing more serious injuries than hers.

After the war, they had all felt every emotion possible; elation, exhaustion, joy, sorrow, pain, fear that had not yet lapsed, disbelief, and triumph. The following weeks were a blur of sleep and parties, mourning and mending. Collecting their shattered lives and attempting to make them whole again, but some things could never be replaced.

Lupin and Tonks' funeral had been heartbreaking. What was worse was seeing little Teddy Lupin, who was not yet old enough to walk or talk, and clearly did not quite know what was going on. Since then, his custody had turned to Harry, and though Harry loved his godson dearly, he had decided to part with him while he finished his education, leaving him in the care of Bill and Fleur, who were very much in the family way.

Fred's funeral had been another tragedy. On-lookers could see the resemblance between how the Weasley clan had stood over his body during the Battle of Hogwarts, when the fallen had been brought to the Great Hall, and how they stood then, over the coffin, at his funeral. George had yet to really come back to his old self. Lee Jordan had taken over Fred's position in the business, and they all hoped that not only being around a joke shop, but being around his best friend would start to lift his spirits.

While Hermione had found this all truly devastating, there was one personal tragedy that had taken the cake, and that was the fate of her parents. After the war, Hermione went to Australia to reverse the memory charm, but it hadn't worked. She panicked and tried several more times before bringing in an expert from St. Mungo's. After several days of trying to reverse the spell, as well as dealing with a very perplexed Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who could not understand why this young woman and old man kept visiting their homes and speaking strange Latin phrases to them, the healer had pronounced that they were irretrievable. He could not say whether Hermione's spell had been so perfectly executed that their memories of her had been completely wiped, or that the spell had gone wrong, but either way, she had lost her parents.

It had been a very difficult few months for everyone, and so the Weasley's, Hermione, and Harry had thrown themselves into the War Relief Effort, helping to restore order and calm to the Wizarding World. Harry and Ron had volunteered at the ministry, helping to rebuild the diminished Auror squad. Mr. Weasley, Percy, and George had helped with the election for the new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, as well as rebuilding the departments. Molly and Ginny had volunteered at St. Mungo's, helping to nurse the simpler wounds, as well as acting as Welcome Witches. Hermione had returned to Hogwarts, assisting the professors in rebuilding their beloved school through very complicated spells, and a lot of organization and research. It didn't look good from the outset, but as time progressed, Hogwarts began to look as it should. After that, she had to wait, and hope that the Ministry and the professors could orchestrate the reopening.

Hermione mused over all of the events that had taken place over the last few months, spacing out at the breakfast table.

"Earth to Hermione," Harry said softly to her.

"Wha- oh, Harry, I'm sorry. Were you talking to me? I completely zoned out! I was just thinking about all that's happened, and how school will be an-" Harry cut her off.

"Hermione, it's alright. I just wanted to know if you were okay. You seem rather, nervous. Are you sure you're ready to go back to school?"

"Yes, of course I'm ready. I have to finish my magical education, afterall. It's what, it's what Mum an-and Dad would've wanted. The-they would have wanted me to graduate."

Harry looked at her pensively, before deciding how to respond. Hermione could see him thinking.
"Alright, 'Mione, if you're sure. I just don't want you to get stressed out at school, you've been through too much recently."
"I know Harry. We all have."

They all apparated - side-along or otherwise to King's Cross with five minutes to spare. Quickly stowing their luggage on the train, they came back out to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley.

"Goodbye, Mum!" chorused Ron and Ginny.

"Goodbye Molly, thank you for everything these last few months," said Harry, embracing her like a second mother.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for letting me stay with you." Hermione said quite tentatively.

Ron and Hermione had broken up very quickly after they'd started. The stress of the post-war life they were living was not particularly conducive to romance. This had put a strain on Molly and Hermione's relationship. The tension had only lifted when Hermione had found out about her parents. Even so, Hermione felt slightly nervous around Mrs. Weasley now.

"Oh dear, I've told you to call me Molly," she admonished gently, while pulling Hermione into an embrace.

"Hmm," Hermione mused to herself, as they boarded the train "perhaps she doesn't hold it against me after all..."

"I'll see you all at Christmas!" Mrs. Weasley called as they stuck their heads out of the windows.

"Goodbye!" They all called as they waved at her.

As they settled into their compartment, talk turned to who would be returning with them as Eighth years.
"Well," began Ginny, "we know Neville's out, he was here last year. And even though she's in my year, Luna's coming back to redo 6th, she missed so much of it last year, when she was-"

"Yes, who else?" Harry broke through, looking nervously at Hermione.

Over the past few months, Harry had begun to realize that any mention of Malfoy Manor caused Hermione to become quite upset. Hermione had told him that what she had was often diagnosed in the Muggle world as 'PTSD,' or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She had also said that she would have anxiety or panic attacks. Even growing up in the muggle world, Harry wasn't quite sure what all this meant, but he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"There aren't a lot of us left, to be honest" said Ron quietly, "not a lot in Gryffindor, anyway."

He was right, Lavender had been killed in the Battle, as had both of the Patil twins, though only one was a Gryffindor.

"Seamus graduated last year," said Hermione, "oh we really are running out of people, aren't we?"

"Well, we know that Crabbe and Goyle aren't coming back, as their dead." said Harry, rather tentatively, as though he wasn't trying to sound too pleased.

"Pansy wouldn't dare show her face here again," laughed Ginny, "not after what she tried to pull at the battle."

"I doubt we'll be seeing any Slytherins," said Ron confidently.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," said a new voice, a voice that Hermione instantly recognized. "I," the voice continued, "am returning to Hogwarts."

Hermione stared in horror as she saw Malfoy standing at the door to their compartment. Her breathing became labored, and she clutched her scarred arm before she passed out.

So this is my first fic, as such, I am eager to receive constructive criticism! Please read and review!