The next morning, Hermione went downstairs. It was about eight. Around five she had heard Harry slip back into his room. When she got downstairs, he was down there, along with majority of the family. She saw Ron finish buttering a piece of toast and begin to bring it up to his mouth. She promptly came up behind him and snatched it before taking a bite.

Ron glared at her. "Sure, Hermione. You can take my toast. It isn't like you could've asked or anything."

"Would you have given it to me?" He remained silent. "I thought so." Hermione smiled, munching happily on her stolen toast as Ron reached grumpily for another piece. Ginny came skipping out of her room.

"Good morning, everyone," she said, leaning over and giving Harry a kiss on the cheek. "How'd you sleep?" she asked him, as if she didn't already know.

Harry caught Hermione's eye as she gave him a knowing smile. He turned back to Ginny. "Fine, Gin. You?"

"Very well," she said, taking a seat next to him. Hermione couldn't help but admire their relationship. Since the war, they hadn't gotten into a single fight, and they just understood each other. They fit together perfectly and were so in love.

Her and Ron, however, weren't so lucky. They had stayed together for about six months before Hermione told him the truth they both knew. Things just weren't woking out anymore. They separated happily and their friendship was as strong as before, if not stronger, now that the romantic tension was gone. In the months since their break-up, they hadn't had a single argument. At least, not many.

George walked down, hair messy, and gave everyone a bright smile. "Morning!"

Hermione looked down into her eggs. Over a year later, and she still couldn't look George in the eye. She couldn't bear to see the pain that lingered there, even then. She knew that every smile was forced, every cheerful word layered with sadness. And it was her fault.

He sat down. "So, what is on the agenda for today?" he asked. They all shrugged, but were interrupted before they could answer. They looked over to see an owl pecking at the window, straining from the five heavy envelopes attached to its leg.

Ginny ran over and opened the window. The owl flew in, and Hermione detached the letters, gave him a treat, and sent him off. She looked down at the envelopes.

"They're Hogwarts letters!" she exclaimed, her interest suddenly skyrocketing. She handed them out, and then she opened hers.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to repeat your final year at Hogwarts, if you so wish. Please send a reply owl with your answer as to whether or not you will be attending. Term starts on September 1st, and we expect your reply no later than August 28th. Enclosed is a list of supplies needed for this term.

Happy Holidays

Professor Minerva McGonagal

Headmistress

Hermione smiled and looked at the others. Hogwarts had been closed the previous year for repairs, so everyone was backed up on where they should be. Eleven-year-olds across the country had been so disappointed when they recieved a letter informing them that they would be unable to attend until second year. Parents bought the books that their children would have needed, and tutored them in the year they missed at home, or sent them to another school.

But now, Hogwarts was reopened! Ginny could do her seventh year, and they could all redo theirs. She looked over at George, curious. "What's yours about?" He was now twenty-one, well out of Hogwarts.

He looked up at her, and she had to refrain from flinching from the buried depression. "It says that I can repeat my seventh year, which I missed out on due to 'tyrannic, irresponsible professors who shall not be named at this time.'" He grinned. "Three guesses who she's talking about there!"

Hermione laughed. "So, are you going to go? I mean, you really didn't finish your seventh year, but Angelina did, and she already watches the shop when you aren't around. I think she'd be alright keeping track of it while you're at school, if you just asked."

"Yeah," Ron cut in. "I'm actually sure Angelina would do anything for you if you just asked." Most of the room laughed, except for Mrs. Weasley, who hit her son over the back of the head, and George, who dropped his head and blushed as red as his hair.

"Anyway," Hermione said once her giggles had died down, "I don't think she'd mind at all. Besides, I'm sure you'll feel better in the long run if you go."

George sighed, then nodded. "It goes against everything I stand for," he said dramatically, "but I guess I'll do it."

The others laughed again as Mrs. Weasley quickly scribbled out a note to Professor McGonnagal that they'd be returning.

Draco looked at the letter in his hand. Return? They wanted him to return to that school, even after everything he'd done? He thought about it. He thought of the ridicule and hatred he would be greeting if he chose to repeat his seventh year.

He thought of Potter, Granger, and the Weasleys. They'd all have their happy endings, which they would just love to rub in his face. Potter was with the Weaslette, Granger was probably still with the Weasel, and he would be stuck watching them, day after day. Just the thought disgusted him.

Plus the way he would be shunned. The entire school would hate him and everything he'd ever done.

No. He wouldn't go. He simply refused to go to the place where he would be tortured and hated. He crumpled up the letter and threw it towards the wall.

Just to his luck, his mother stepped in right as the parchment fell to the floor. She bent down to pick it up before Draco could stop her.

Narcissa read through the letter. "Draco-"

"I am not going, mother. That is that," he said firmly. His mother looked at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Draco, darling, please! I need to know that you are safe. I need to be sure that, whatever happens to me, you are secure and cannot be harmed, even if it is just for now."

He looked into her large, grey eyes and sighed. "Well..."

"Please," she whispered. She sounded like a small child, alone and frightened. Draco caved.

He put on a big, cheesy smiled and stood up. "I guess I best get packed up then, shouldn't I?" Narcissa grinned and wrapped her arms around her son.

"Thank you," she whispered.