Hermione tracked Ron down at the Burrow less than twenty-four hours after the incident. She prepared herself to feel utter hatred from the entire family, but the only person she encountered was Mr. Weasley. He politely explained that their youngest son wasn't up to seeing her quite yet, and he would contact her when the time was right. Before gently closing the door, Mr. Weasley placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a tight, sad smile. It took her a week before she gave up the idle approach and her attempt at professionalism (she previously vowed not to confront him at the Ministry). When she hurried down two levels to the Auror department, she found his desk empty.
Ron quit the day before, Harry filled her in later. He already took a job with his brother at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the successful joke shop George had been running solo since the war ended. She thought it was so spontaneous, but as she found out, he'd been talking about going into the business for at least six months. Hermione felt betrayed. Not once did such an important notion make its way into their conversations. Was he nervous she wouldn't support him leaving the Ministry of Magic? Just as she thought he would never understand her choice in sexual partners?
Her heart clenched, and she desperately tried to fight the emotions attacking her. Between her complete sadness and the realization of how little trust there had been in her relationship, Hermione endured overwhelming guilt. At first the guilt hit her because she refrained from enlightening Ron about her history with Draco, but then… they had been so right about each other. She never could have gotten behind him throwing all those years of stressful progress as an Auror away. She couldn't manage to see it through his eyes, and he could never understand what drove her to Draco Malfoy.
It took her one month to finally give up. She sent him owl after owl with no reply, but her hopes didn't dampen. She was convinced that if she explained, apologized, and focused on how to strengthen their relationship, every wrong would right itself. Obviously they would work on communication and trust which would slowly reinforce their temporarily shaky bond.
Hermione and Harry apparated into Hogsmeade on the day of their lectures at Hogwarts. They arrived early to enjoy a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks and to then leisurely walk the long trek up to the castle. Hermione sighed contently at the familiar surroundings. The leaves of the Forbidden Forest were brilliant shades of red and orange, and she found herself hoping that Hagrid already began decorating for Halloween.
When the spires popped into the horizon, she turned to Harry, "I'm surprised you never considered teaching here."
"I think about it occasionally," he responded, surprisingly sad to her ears. "Hogwarts was my home. It's the first place I ever experienced lasting happiness. Still, I think about Voldemort coming back here… trying to teach."
"No, Harry, no. It isn't the same. He wanted to corrupt the students here," Hermione countered quickly.
"Part of it was that," he admitted. "But Hogwarts was the first place he was happy too. I saw. Sometimes it's better to leave the past where it is. In case you haven't noticed, I'm damn good at my job." She managed a laugh at his smug tone, but his face turned suddenly serious again. She missed the brief smile immediately.
"I, uh, need to let you know something," Harry began. "Ron started seeing someone. Katie Bell, actually."
"Katie Bell," Hermione formed the words slowly.
"You remember..."
"From Quidditch, yes, of course. Pretty, blonde, older."
"Angelina and her still keep in touch. I guess she wandered into the shop," Harry said. He and Ginny debated on when to break the news. No time seemed appropriate, and Ron legitimately did not seem to care how she found out. The more pain the better, he figured, but Harry could not let that course of action take root. "It's recent, but…"
"But," she repeated, knowing but needing to hear.
"They've been intimate," he finished lamely. He and Hermione always managed to talk openly about the ins and outs of their relationships. Even the sexual aspects. He certainly couldn't turn to his other best friend on these subjects since the woman (the only woman ever, actually) he was sleeping with happened to be Ron's sister. This was a whole new level of awful and awkward that they'd never experienced. "I'm sorry."
Hermione nodded resolutely and continued the short distance to the castle doors. She felt the tears begin to flow, and Harry was by her side in an instant. He pulled her into a hug, thinking of how worried he'd been when he noticed his best friends liked each other. He was terrified what would happen if they broke up. He was furious that Ron ignored Hermione's attempts at reconciliation, and he was disappointed in her for hiding something so important.
"There's one more thing," he said into her hair. He felt her body quake in anticipation for the worst. "I knew about you and Malfoy."
A dozen questions popped into her head. At school she was terrified he would see her on the Marauder's Map, but he never said anything. That Harry and the one before her were very different people. She had no doubt he would have confronted her immediately, and if her excuse wasn't convincing, accusations would abound. She never recorded her feelings anywhere, barely spoke of them. Expect for…
"Ginny!" Hermione shouted in frustration.
"Don't be cross with her," he quickly said. "We don't hide anything from each other. And really, you should have told Ron about it years ago. Not that I think his actions now aren't idiotic."
Hermione tried to muster rage, but it wasn't in her. She made a mistake by hiding her shame when she should have been open in the first place. She only nodded weakly and entered Hogwarts. It was then that she decided if Ron could move on so easily, she would stop pursuing him. The tight knot that had been present in her chest since Malfoy first reappeared began to loosen. Everything was out, no more secrets to hide. Her pain and regret was not trivial, but the constant anxiety that had been just below the surface dissipated.
The rest of the day went along without a hiccup. She managed to push the shambles of her love life aside while she explained to the current students of Hogwarts what she did and how arithmancy enriched her work. Harry's talk with the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a huge hit, of course. He even produced his stag patronus at the request of the new professor, which dazzled the teenagers.
Neville caught up with the two while they were chatting with Dennis Creevey. After being pulled out of Hogwarts during the war, the younger Creevey brother was on his final year. Harry managed to keep in touch since the loss of Collin, a death that still hung on his conscience. Neville buzzed with excitement and pulled his two friends away from the crowd of people.
"Professor Sprout told me, in confidence, that she plans to retire," he said, nearly bouncing.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. Everyone knew Sprout had been close with Neville and his joy came off quite misplaced. He shook his head furiously at their confusion, "She asked me to interview! Me! A herbology professor!"
"Blimey, Neville!" Harry exclaimed with a clap on his friend's back. "I think this calls for a celebration."
"Well, I haven't gotten the job yet, only an interview," he replied sheepishly.
"Nonsense!" Hermione interrupted, placing both her arms around the two men. She could use a distraction. "Let's make a stop at the Hog's Head before heading home."
The month following the "incident" went poorly for Draco Malfoy. His day-to-day life stayed quite normal: he spent most of his day working at Borgin and Burkes and his evenings either alone or with a small group of friends. The problem occurred when he had a moment to think. He would be fetching an item for a customer when the cruel things he said to Daphne popped into his head. They were true—he really did find her sister Astoria much funnier and prettier—but what decent human being could actually say that? His cowardice got the better of him that night, and he turned to drinking in an attempt to find some false courage. Rather than guts, his drunkenness only inflated his ego.
At night before he fell asleep turned out to be the hardest time for him. When there were no distractions the disgusted look on Hermione's face plagued him. Even worse, he began remembering their times together at Hogwarts. The mixture of remorse and arousal drove him insane. In an attempt for solace, he analyzed his decisions then, but that only led to further insomnia.
As a Death Eater, Draco truly found himself stuck between his developing conscience and Voldemort. Throughout his youth his father pounded the ideals of protecting the purity of the wizard race and quietly preached the Dark Lord's praises. Draco wanted to believe he only fixed the vanishing cabinet for his family's protection, but that was a lie too large to hide. He believed blindly and passionately that purebloods were superior and that their lives held a higher value. He even thought that murdering Albus Dumbledore would be a guilt-free task. He sent the cursed charm and the poisoned wine, and he felt ultimate fear and regret when he stood with his wand pointed at the powerful wizard. Though he never said the words, he knew he was responsible for the headmaster's death. That brought an unease that doubled and never left when Harry Potter showed him kindness in the owlery.
Thinking back, Malfoy wasn't surprised that he found a way to relieve the crushing tension. It only happened twice but being with Hermione Granger left a lasting impression. After their two nights of detention, they were never alone again. Her group of friends mended itself, and his responsibilities placed everything else on the back burner.
"Son," Lucius Malfoy called from the back room, breaking Draco's reverie. "There are a few items I need you to bring by Dervish and Banges. They will be assessing them for us."
"Not Wisacre's?" he asked sullenly. A trip down the block would be much quicker than to Hogsmeade.
"Certainly not. Their name is far too accurate," his father said dryly. He handed his son a wooden box. "You will not be needed after you deliver this."
Draco apparrated out, not bothering with the pleasantries of a farewell. He cared for his father, of course, but the bleary-eyed idolization faded years ago. Dervish and Banges conducted their business swiftly, and after discussing the cost and a future meeting date, he was free. The swinging sign of the Hog's Head caught his notice. He entered the bar with the intention of a quick drink before calling on a few friends, but the sight at the back of the room ruined his plan. Hermione, Harry and Neville were sitting at a table together, raucously laughing with the familiar looking bartender. The unease, the anxiety, the dread, the guilt he held bubbled over at the sight. He wanted to turn and leave, but he was a moth to their flame. He reckoned it might be his one chance to redeem himself and only hoped that three wands wouldn't be pointed his way.
Draco managed a nervous smile as he approached. Neville noticed the blond first: his face still brightened by laughter turned to a look of bewilderment. His jaw slackened, and he gently tugged at Hermione's arm. Both her and Harry had their backs to Malfoy, and she glanced over her shoulder curiously at Neville's insistence. Her whole body tensed at the sight of him, and she mutely stared, unable to react. He noted that this tended to be her most common reaction around him.
"A bottle of Odgens, please," Draco said, addressing the bartender. He cleared his throat. "Four glasses."