It was seven days after the final battle that she got a letter.

Her first move after she was sure Voldemort had gone was to alert the Relocator the Order of the Phoenix utilised to let him know that her parents could come home. Her parents' house was a little dusty, but otherwise ready for her to move in and wait for their return. She stayed in the house alone for two days while they travelled back to England.

It was surreal, meeting them at the airport. Such a normal activity. She knew that their memories had been returned but she still half expected them to ask who she was, since she had come to expect the absolute worst in the past few years. But seeing them was incredible and therapeutic and she couldn't wait to learn to relax again living in their house.

Hermione had desperately missed watching football games with her father and knitting with her mother while watching bad rom coms. She felt twelve again, living with them without responsibility; except for the fact that she couldn't relax. Her wand was always in her pocket or closeby on the coffee table. It was a result of the last months living on the run in a tent. Most likely, it would not be a dissipating habit anytime soon. She tried not to think about it, and her parents didn't ask about why she was so jumpy every time the microwave beeped or a gust of wind rattled the windows.

They didn't talk about anything that had happened this past year, in fact. It seemed they all wanted to move past it. Or, more probably, they sensed that Hermione didn't want to talk about it. They now knew that Hermione had sent them away with erased memories and they knew it was for a reason. Hermione hoped they would never ask. She was finally starting to enjoy her life again and feel safe, even though she was hyper reactive and woke up with nightmares every night.

She hadn't had any contact with Harry or Ron, and she wasn't sure she wanted to just yet. Ron would be mourning with his family over the loss of his brother and Harry had disappeared immediately. Having no family to turn to, Hermione wondered where he was. She HAD sent an owl to him a few days ago to make sure he was okay, but the only response she wanted from him was one to ensure that he hadn't delved into a spiral of self hatred and depression. Non-magical time was essential for her right now.

So when she received an owl seven days after arriving back at her parents' house, she thought it would be Harry replying.

It was a sleek, tawny owl that knocked sharply at the window while she was reading a book on the sofa. Ducking quickly, she reached for her wand to defend herself against whatever had made the noise before she paused to remind herself that she was at her parents' house and nothing was there to hurt her. Voldemort was gone. Cautiously, she glanced over to the source of the noise to discover the owl, looking impatient outside the window.

She crossed the room and pulled the heat-swollen window open. The owl flew a circle around the room before landing on the back of a chair and making a click for food. The letter was the top priority, so she slid it open and out of the envelope as she made her way upstairs to see if there were any owl treats in her things.

Hermione,

I hope this letter finds you safe and back with your parents. My family has made it to some semblance of safety, should there be repercussions from the end of the war, we remain on high alert and in a constant state of movement. I sincerely hope the part of your life has ended in which you need to worry about such a lifestyle.

Mostly, though, things have settled down and priorities have become clearer without the constant threat of death. After what I've done to protect my family...you're my priority. I miss you and I miss what we had. It's been hell having no one to talk to this last year. I would like to meet up with you. I understand if you refuse, but if you don't, let me know a time and a place and I will be there.

-D

Hermione nearly dropped the letter and the owl treats. Draco.

Although she hadn't seen it herself, she'd assumed that Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius had fled after the battle at Hogwarts; not wishing to die and instead wishing to protect their family. It was wonderful to hear that he was safe.

She gave a handful of treats to the owl as her mind wandered over Draco Malfoy.

They'd build a relationship over being Prefects during fifth and sixth year. Many of their patrol times were together. Hermione, not being one for pettiness, had decided in her practical manner early on that they were going to have to learn to get along. As it turned out, Draco Malfoy was a person to whom it was fairly easy to chat. Their small talk began menially, over homework, but over time it became increasingly deeper, including their personal lives and daily trials. The Malfoy and Granger shed away to Draco and Hermione. But only during Prefect time did they act this way. When they were with their own Houses they took the culture of hatred back on board.

When Harry had begun suspecting Draco of being a Death Eater, Hermione was extremely reluctant to believe it. As it happened, she'd found out in a completely offhanded way: as he'd scratched his arm his robe had been pushed up past the Dark Mark while they were on patrol through the fifth floor corridors. She'd stopped cold as she'd seen the sinister tattoo on his forearm. At first he hadn't noticed that she'd stopped but when he realised what had happened he'd tried to gloss over it.

"Draco," she'd breathed.

"I had no choice," he'd explained quickly. "When the Dark Lord asks you to fulfill a task you don't refuse." His eyes, searching hers, had told her that the end of that sentence was 'unless you want your family killed'.

She'd felt immense sadness then. A grief and empathy she'd never known washed over her and she'd swiftly closed the gap between them to wrap her arms around him. For a second the thought had flitted across her mind that he'd gotten close to her to spy on Harry, but the idea had been quickly dismissed when she'd recognised the fear in his gaze.

Arms wrapped tightly around him and face so close to his body, Hermione had been overwhelmed by being so close to him. The clean, musky boy smell; the warmth of him. The connection that had immediately sent her tingling, even though the hug was not rooted in anything happy, which had made her feel guilty.

Clearly, nothing else needed to be communicated about the situation, and he had just wrapped his arms around her as well in the middle of the corridor, his forehead resting on the top of her head. His breathing had been deliberately slow and her heart thumped, wondering why. And after uncountable moments, he'd pulled away slightly, lifted her chin to his face, and kissed her soundly.

The tingly feeling of touching him had increased exponentially with that kiss and she'd been rocked to her core with want. But it hadn't lasted as long as she wanted and before she knew it, he'd pulled away.

They'd been left standing there, staring at each other; her lips slightly parted and, surely, her face flushed; arms still grasping one another. "I don't want you to live in fear," she'd half croaked, half whispered. She'd hoped that he could hear the sheer caring in her voice.

"I don't want you to live in fear of me," he'd responded. "I've done what I have to."

Shortly after that, Dumbledore had died and utter world-chaos had ensued. And now, this letter.

She wanted to see him, that much was certain. She hoped that his family still wasn't in danger - surely the hunt for ex-Death Eaters wasn't underway yet? Besides, Draco had played such an important part in helping them escape from Malfoy Manor under the thumb of Bellatrix and had showed compassion towards them even in the final battle. Even if he stood trial, as a minor, there would not be a serious punishment for him. Hermione knew that he, and his parents, for that matter, had merely done what they needed to do to keep their family safe. Hermione definitely couldn't fault anyone for that. Plus, the fact that, in his letter, he'd hoped she was reunited with her parents meant that he had somehow been keeping tabs on her, even through the war.

The tawny owl was looking impatient, so she grabbed a pen from her father's desk and composed a note on a piece of lined paper.

D,

I'm so glad to hear that you're safe. I'm back living with my parents and trying to learn how relax again and live a normal life. I'd forgotten how much I love to knit!

Removing the threat of death does tend to make one's priorities clearer...Outside King's Cross Station at 1.00 this Friday.

-H

The letter tied to the owl's leg, she released it out the window and hoped that it arrived in the next two days, or he would miss the Friday deadline.

Every cell of her body felt so alive in anticipation now. But Ron, her brain reminded her. Yes, she'd kissed Ron basically while a war was going on around them. The awkwardness of a budding relationship had surrounded them for a while now, but Hermione hadn't allowed herself to give in to the selfishness of teenage relationships while there was literally a battle for the world occurring. And, while the thought of Ron was exciting to her, she honestly doubted that a relationship with Ron could sustain the intellectual depth that she would require. Ron was expected; Ron was familiar. Not that she was committing her brain to a relationship with Draco - she was curious to rekindle the friendship she'd had with him. It had been heartbreaking to get close to someone just to see them withdraw so quickly into a frightening position that they were taking on far too young. Not unlike what she'd seen happen to Harry.