"Ass olus ram's noses,"
"Incorrect," the Fat Lady replied coolly.
"Oh, come on! Harry, you have to help me. Please tell me you heard Hermione say the password?"
Harry raised his hands and shook his head. "I was talking to Ginny, mate." Ron gave him a small glare before turning back to the resilient portrait in front of him. "Didn't they tell Prefects before term started?" Harry dodged Ron's hand as he swung around to land a punch on him.
"You're cruising for a bruising, you are," replied Ron, as Harry playfully dodged more of his swings. They calmed down, with Harry rubbing his shoulder in fake pain and Ron strolling back to the Fat Lady, who had seen more idiotic things from the pair in front of her that tonight was rather dull.
"Where is she, though? I haven't seen her since we left the Great Hall," Harry breathed as he looked back towards the door to the Grand Staircase.
"Probably went to the library," Ron replied with his hands on his hips still staring in frustration at the portrait, "she's mental like that."
"Gee, thanks, Ron," came a sarcastic voice from behind them. Hermione walked over to both Harry and Ron, a small first-year boy in tow. "I don't suppose you remember that Professor McGonagall told both of us to lead the first years to the tower," she said, brushing past them both towards the portrait hole.
"Well, it's a brilliant job you did, Hermione. You only seem to have brought one with you!" Ron scoffed. Hermione scowled at him over her shoulder, but he sent her a sweet smirk in return.
"If you hadn't of been dawdling with Harry, you would have realised that every Gryffindor first-year student is already upstairs! John, here, got lost when he went to the bathroom. Honestly! I'm surprised you both are still here, it's been half an hour," she pointed.
"Well we, uh, forgot the password," Harry said sheepishly.
"I don't know how you two cope. Defeated the darkest wizard of all time yet foiled by your old pensioner hearing," she chuckled. "Asphodelus ramoses," she spoke clearly to the Fat Lady.
"Correct, my dear," the Fat Lady responded sweetly, looking lovingly down at Hermione, "and I do sincerely thank you for what you did for the Wizarding world." She gave a graceful bow before swinging her door open to allow the Gryffindor's inside the almost empty common room. Hermione beamed as she led the way.
The little boy ran off to join the others his age who were all heading up the stairs to bed. Hermione heard him loudly exclaim to them that he had just encountered Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger for a whole five minutes! They squealed and asked him to recount everything that had happened.
The Golden Trio slumped simultaneously onto the cosy couch in front of the fire and sighed contentedly. The Common Room went quiet, and after thirty seconds all three of them burst out into fits of giggles. It felt so good to Hermione that all was well with them, even after the war, nothing had changed between them. They had only grown stronger.
She admitted she was worried that they might drift apart, but she supposed that after all, they had been through, that it was a pointless thing to have considered. They loved each other too much. When they finally stopped laughing, Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder and held Ron's hand. She and Ron were doing well. The three of them had spent the summer together, and even though she and Ron were going slowly, Hermione was content when they had finally gotten together.
"Finally can get some shut-eye this year," Ron yawned.
"Don't jinx it," Harry scolded, "I'm absolutely spent," he yawned as well. Hermione pursed her lips with a smile.
"I doubt it," she whispered smiling to herself, almost falling asleep from the warmth and cosiness. "You're always looking for trouble."
"Trouble usually finds me!" The three of them laughed; the sound was musical.
"Mind, I wouldn't put it past Malfoy to be a wanker and ruin it all. I suppose he'll be hell this year since he got away with it all," Ron mused bitterly.
"Oh Ron, please forget about him!" Hermione whined lifting her head off Harry's shoulder. "He's nothing but a pompous wimp, who got caught doing something he was dragged into."
"All I'm saying is an apology would be nice – we did save his life, 'Mione."
"I defended him at his trial," Harry reminded her, "but knowing him, I think he'll take advantage of that fact and be an absolute tosser for it."
"His parents were reprimanded deeply, I doubt he'll be happy at all this year," Hermione contended. "Besides, were he to go on a bloody-purity rant, I'm quite sure he'd get his last comeuppance, and he must know that."
Ron guffawed, choking as he went. "Hermione, you must be joking. Did you not see the article in the Daily Prophet? His mum is living in their bloody Manor with all her riches and servants. Sure, Lucius lost his job but he still has the family business, and I bet you anything that Malfoy isn't going to say a word of 'Thanks' to any of us for what we did for his sodding little arse."
"His parents received the Dementor's Kiss, Ron! At least his mother is allowed to stay in their home, but I doubt that she is doing anything other than sitting in a chair and drooling…"
"Well, yeah. S'pose that is a bit of an inconvenience …" muttered Ron.
"He probably won't want to go home during the holidays or once we leave Hogwarts."
"What – you going to ask him over for Christmas?" Ron peered at Hermione who looked at him primly.
"No, of course not! It's Malfoy," she spurned. "I'm just intimating to you both that we should consider that he didn't realise what he was getting himself into because he was born into it."
"He had several chances to prove himself, Hermione. He did what he had to do to do to avoid getting himself or mummy killed. That includes having mouldy Voldy as a perpetuating house guest," Ron countered, with Harry nodding in agreement.
Hermione frowned a little and watched Ron draw circles on her wrist with his thumb. "To quote Dumbledore, 'It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.' I think that stopped Malfoy in his tracks."
"Reiterating that he is a wimp, as you said."
"…Yes," Hermione sighed. "But I think we should give him a chance–"
"–Hundredth, more like," Harry interjected.
"–He did help us at Malfoy Manor, remember?"
"Do you also remember that he watched you being tortured by his aunt and did nothing about it? I'm telling you, Hermione, that little git has got no appreciation for what we did … saved his bloody arse, didn't we?" Ron ranted. "Twice at the battle as well."
"Not much to do when you have Voldemort living in your house and breathing down your neck other than try and survive."
Ron and Harry did concede to that.
"Well if he's the same as the old Malfoy, then I won't give him the time of day," Hermione finished tersely.
"Ha! Good luck" mumbled Ron with a shake of his head. The trio remained quiet on the couch for a few minutes before Hermione felt Ron's head lolling to the side and heard him fall asleep with a deep snore. Harry chuckled before hoisting himself up and saying goodnight to Hermione before heading up to the dormitory to sleep.
Vainly, Hermione tried stirring Ron awake. Conjuring up a blanket and a pillow using her wand she tucked Ron in, before heading upstairs to get some well-deserved sleep for herself.
She tried, lying in her four-poster bed, but the longer she lay there, the more awake she felt. The war had finished only a few months ago, and now that all the business with Harry and the Horcruxes had finished, she finally found the time to think about everything other than destroying Voldemort.
It was instantaneous, like a switch. Survival Mode had been switched off, and now there was a stillness. Hermione started to tearlessly sob, her body convulsing under the weight of her weeps and emotion. She wordlessly cast a Silencio around her four-poster drapes, completely blocking off her heavy stunted breaths from the girls sleeping around her.
She hadn't expected everyone to come back happy, walking comfortably like how it used to be; everything had changed. There were deaths and life-affecting injuries, and families ripped apart by opposing sides, structures needing rebuilding, restoration of magic, and people needing help.
Harry and Hermione had visited each family in the Great Hall and did what they could to console those who had lost a friend or a family member. They had reached the Weasley's last, watched as Arthur and Molly held each other with tears streaming down their cheeks. Watched Percy, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, Ron and George cling to Fred. No one knew what to do, they just … waited.
Harry and Hermione waited, mourning with them until adults came to help. In those moments, bravery didn't exist; all were children back in school waiting for a parent to tell them all was going to be okay. For a long while, it wouldn't be.
It didn't take long for the likes of the Daily Prophet to come interrogating people, asking for first-hand accounts of the stand-off between He Who Must Not Be Named and the 'heroic' and 'courageous' Harry Potter. Not many people were interested in answering, too physically and emotionally drained to form coherent sentences. The Prophet and other news and gossip journalists were quickly ushered out of the hall from where Harry, Ron and Hermione were – them being the primary focus for headlines – unable to get pictures or statements.
They both had stayed with the Weasley's for a couple of weeks. Charlie, Bill and Fleur also visited the house. There were arguments about how and where Fred would rest, but it was George who quietly offered for Fred's cremation. Ginny suggested for his ashes to be separated and put in multiple places and it was Percy who suggested they wear pendants so Fred could travel the world with them all. Hermione said she knew a spell to make the necklaces impenetrable.
The house was quiet, but no one could sit about doing nothing; they each went from task to task until dinner time, with few interjections in between.
Harry and Hermione returned to Grimmauld Place, which they had found had been ransacked by the Death Eaters. They imagined that it had been Yaxley and his team that had raided the house. They looked into Regulus' bedroom and found it quite badly burnt. Harry supposed that it had been Voldemort's doing. The rest of the house was just as dark as it usually was with twice as much mess.
They slept in the same room, the one they had at the beginning of their expedition with Ron. Ron came around a few days later, and the three of them spent their time together, not bothering to read the Daily Prophet or listen to any news on the radio, for once not hungry for information.
Oddly, it felt much more natural to be the three of them again, alone. Having spent a year living in a tent with minimal contact with others, one might suppose they would need to do something entirely different.
Hermione had started to clear up Grimmauld Place, and with Harry's permission, painted the walls – the muggle way – along with her two best friends. Ginny came along and helped out too, and it then became the four of them instead of the three. A month after the war, the house finally looked welcoming with light walls that made it brighter, also undergoing a proper spring cleaning. Sirius's room remained unchanged, whether they wanted to change it or not (which they didn't) because of the charms Sirius had placed in the room.
Harry had gone to find the Dursley's and tell them they could move back to Little Whinging, back to No. 4 Privet Drive. It turned out that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon quite enjoyed the fact that he came back to see them to tell them the news. His uncle had spluttered, "about ruddy time the boy paid us some respect", Harry quoted to Ron and Hermione later that day. Apparently, Dudley had started working in Woolworths although he was beginning his IT Foundation course in September. Ron had just nodded along to this information, entirely clueless as to what Woolworths or IT was.
It was during these summer months that Hermione took to searching for her parents. She couldn't quite admit to Harry or Ron just yet to what extent she took in protecting her family, and only told the Ministry of how immediate the issue was. Hermione also knew that it was highly improbable, as she was told by the staff at St Mungo's Hospital, that recovering her parent's memories would be very difficult. She remembered how far gone Gilderoy Lockhart was in her fifth year, and he was in professional care for several years. It was a tremendous, never-ending headache.
The three of them had been asked to become Aurors, to which Harry and Ron were thinking to accept but Hermione had persuaded them to get their full qualifications and to take their last year at Hogwarts. The Ministry was perfectly happy with this and extended their proposition as a formal, indefinite invitation to be part of the Auror department.
Now here they were, back in Hogwarts, ready to take on their eighth year, how their seventh year should've gone. The building was still undergoing repairs as were the students and staff. Several parents were apprehensive about letting their children go back to the school, especially after hearing so little in the newspapers from key players in the war. They were hesitant because there were several Death Eaters still at large, many of whom had pledged their allegiance whole-heartedly with Voldemort, so it was tense in the Wizarding Community.
Harry had apologised to Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny and Luna. He hadn't meant to bring their world to ruin or cause any of it. Of course, no one listened to him and told him that Voldemort was more significant than that – a war had been imminent no matter if Harry was involved or not.
Harry was asked to make a speech at the Start-of-Term Feast, which he bravely did. His speech was emotional, inspiring and strong. Before he had even finished the speech, everyone was on their feet, clapping and calling out. One thing was for sure; no one thought Harry was crazy anymore.
Professor McGonagall announced that the school had erected a memorial for everyone lost during the battle by the Great Lake. There was to be a service that weekend outside by the embankment.
It seemed that at that moment everyone was united under one house, one collective. A movement of people that had all suffered grief in some form, whether it was with their friends, family or even themselves, and as Hermione had glanced around the hall, she saw that others, like herself, had started to hold hands with their neighbours.
Hermione sighed and looked up at the canopy of her four-poster. She pulled her wand out of the waistband of her pyjama trousers. With a delicate swirl, she conjured an enchanted ceiling – a sparkling cloud – dotted with stars and galaxies, similar to the ceiling in the Great Hall. The light twinkled and danced mystically down at her, no longer conjuring thoughts of Divination class but of the heavens.
She lay there with a glazed look for a long time, only rolling onto her side to rest her dry eyes. She wondered if the girls in her dorm had silenced their space around their beds as well, wreaked with their own grief.
Somehow, and at a time she knew not, she fell quietly to sleep.