Back to Hogwarts

Hermione Granger smoothed her Gryffindor robe, stood up and proceeded with dragging her luggage out of the Hogwarts Express. The first day of September was sunny and crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling through the crowns of the tall trees behind the Hogsmeade Station building. The shadows were already lengthening and soon the afternoon would give way to the evening. Crookshanks meowed in his travelling basket, visibly looking forward to being free to roam the grounds of Hogwarts. In no time, a river of chatting, elated students pushed her towards the waiting carriages. Climbing inside one, she took a seat and sighed as she looked out of the window, staring at the crowd but not focusing on any of the faces. Harry and Ron had decided not to finish their education at Hogwarts, so she was the only one who was returning for the seventh year. It felt strange – despite the fact that Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom had joined her on the train, it wasn't the same. Every year, she'd made this journey with Harry and Ron. Now, she felt alone, and it annoyed her greatly. As if she couldn't take care of herself on her own! She shouldn't be thinking about Ron again!

A trio of younger students decided to climb into her carriage, which she was grateful for, as their chatter diverted her thoughts away from the events of the summer. They had the raven crest and blue accents on their robes, which identified them as belonging to Ravenclaw. They hardly looked at Hermione as she placed Crookshanks' basket in her lap to make more room for them – they were so happy to be back and reunited with their friends. Immediately, they started commenting on the wizard cards they'd got with the chocolate frogs they'd bought on the train. Next to a boy holding up a golden card of Godric Gryffindor, which was apparently rare, a seat was still vacant. A moment later, none other than Draco Malfoy peered through the door and, seemingly relieved to have found an empty spot, climbed inside. He no longer wore his Slytherin robes with pride and arrogance. In fact, his face appeared even paler than usual, there were dark shadows under his grey eyes and he looked gaunt. His robes hung from his shoulders loosely. Hermione knew she and Draco were probably never going to be the best of friends, but having read The Daily Prophet over the summer, she had decided that with all the trials, detailed news articles and hateful gossip, the Malfoy family had suffered enough. War changes people – she had seen after the Battle of Hogwarts, by looking at the faces of the three Malfoys, that it had left an everlasting mark on them; especially Draco and his mother. As for Lucius Malfoy, perhaps – but how could he possibly be persuaded to give up his ideas of pureblood supremacy? She had read all the news about his trials – but in the end, he avoided Azkaban because he'd gone over in the final acts of the battle. And, undoubtedly, because his wife, who was never present during the summer trials, had saved Harry's life in the Forbidden Forest.

It was warm in the carriage, but she shivered with past memories. Mudblood. She remembered crying as she was writhing in pain in a room at Malfoy Manor – the pain had nearly been too much to take, death would have been a relief. Mudblood. And Lucius Malfoy had just stood there idly. She rubbed her arm where Bellatrix had harmed her that night; the letters were now faint, but scars were still there, never to disappear. It still hurt sometimes – especially after waking from a vivid nightmare. Draco's appearance had somewhat shocked her. He was so far removed from the way he used to be. Also, there was no Crabbe, no Goyle, no Pansy Parkinson. He appeared to have come alone, just like her. He swept away a strand of light blonde hair that had fallen into his sight. In his lap, he was balancing an owl cage inside which a large, tawny owl with bright yellow eyes and tufty ears was peering at Crookshanks with mistrust. It hooted quietly, but it was enough to draw Draco's attention and he looked into the direction the owl was staring in. First, he noticed the orange cat, and only then he looked up at Hermione. As his grey eyes met hers, he appeared worried and uncomfortable. She could see the muscles on his neck move as he swallowed. She noticed a silver chain, half hidden by the collar of his shirt, from which there hung something golden and ring-shaped.

He nodded to her, averting his gaze straight after this scant greeting.

She thought of greeting him – but in the end, noticing the cautious look in his eyes, not unlike that of a trapped beast, she went for a nod like his own. The Thestral-drawn carriage hit a bump in the road, Crookshanks meowed, Draco's owl hooted indignantly and one of the Ravenclaw boys accidentally nudged Draco in the ribs. "Oh! Sorry!" He exclaimed and quickly pulled his hand away. After a split second, his eyes went as big as saucers. "You're Draco Malfoy," he stated quietly and nudged the other two. "Your father was a Death Eater!" The other boy dropped a stack of wizard cards as he, too, started staring at Draco. Their attention was clearly making Draco even more uncomfortable than he'd been to start with, and he looked down at his black shoes for a few seconds before gathering himself and giving the younger students a hard stare from his tired-looking grey eyes. "Yes, he was a Death Eater." Suddenly, he pulled back the sleeve of his grey Slytherin sweater to reveal a silvery scar on his left forearm. It was faded, but the skull and the snake were still visible, even in the dim light inside the carriage. "I got his Mark too," he went on. The three younger students gasped in unison and as soon as Draco covered the Mark again with his sleeve, they looked back up at his face. "I do not expect you to understand, but my father did what he thought was best. So did many others. We cannot change the past. It's time we took care of the future."

Finishing his speech, he turned away from them and stared out of the small window sullenly. The three Ravenclaws were whispering amongst themselves in hushed voices, stealing quick glances at him. Hermione caught a few words – they were afraid he was going to use one of the Unforgivable Curses on them. She decided she'd heard enough. She cleared her throat and soon the attention of the youngsters was focused on her. "Hey!" exclaimed a brown-skinned girl with a long braid, "You're Hermione Granger! You helped win the war! You're a hero!" Hermione tried her best to smile; so this is how Harry has been feeling all his life. "Yes ... well ..." Remembering why she'd decided to speak in the first place, her voice turned strict. "As you should all know, the Malfoy family provided us with crucial aid during the final acts of the war. Draco and his parents deserve your respect," she finished in a confident voice.

The Ravenclaw boy who'd spotted Draco first opened his mouth, but closed them again without having said anything. He turned back to their wizard card collection and remained silent for the rest of the ride, occasionally eyeing Draco with distrust. Hermione was glad when the carriage finally came to a halt and the door swung open. "You three go first," Hermione instructed the younger students. They all snuck another glance at Draco and climbed out into the autumn evening.

Draco sighed and nodded to Hermione, trying to form a smile. He looked so worn, so worried. "Thank you, Granger … I mean … Hermione," he said before grabbing his owl cage and climbing out. This left Hermione surprised – a few years previously, she'd never even have thought for a single moment that the younger Malfoy could ever find it in himself to thank her for anything, let alone call her anything other than insulting there more to this than just the horrors of the war?It was as if life had been beaten out of him. Hermione knew that his family had lost nearly everything, especially their place amongst those most respected in the wizarding world. His father had been dragged from court to court to testify and gossip had sprouted everywhere. In truth, Draco's world had fallen to pieces. She pitied him. The company of a Mudblood probably couldn't be of much help.

Hermione grabbed Crookshanks' basket and climbed out of the carriage herself, looking at the castle. Much had already been restored since the war and the castle grounds looked as though no evil had ever touched them. The West Tower, which housed the owlery, was largely a wooden construction with a thatched roof and work on the North Tower hadn't started yet, but the rest of Hogwarts looked as it had in Hermione's earlier years. Again, she found herself reminiscing and thinking of Harry and Ron. Her chest constricted as she reminded herself that this time, she was alone.

She walked through the giant front gate, ready to start her final year.

Soon enough, the new term was fully underway and the professors did their best to ensure that the first school year after the war went as well as possible. Of course, this included lots of homework and Hermione, having taken on an ambitious number of subjects as usual, was spending a lot of time in the library. One evening, after a long day of classes and an exhausting research session on potion ingredients, she nearly fell asleep reading a Charms textbook. Ron's freckled face appeared before her and she shot up, startled. As they tended to do since she'd come back to Hogwarts, memories came back to her mind like unbidden guests. Again, she was standing in the kitchen at The Burrow. Again, she saw Ron in front of her, red-faced, wringing his hands and looking at her feet. "Hermione ... I'm sorry ... I was too quick to commit ... I need more time ... space ... I've started seeing Lavender Brown ... we're serious ... so yeah …" Words blended into meaningless clouds in her head as tears, more unbidden guests, came to her eyes. Angry, she wiped them away and tried to concentrate on the Charms textbook again. She failed. All she could see was Ron's face and the embarrassment she'd felt that day was so vivid in her mind. Sighing, she closed the book. Her mind was buzzing too much, she'd have to come back another day – at least she'd managed to do everything that had to be completed by the next day. She got up and gathered her things, stuffing her quill, inkpot and a slightly crumpled sheet of parchment full of Potions notes into her bag.

She and Ron had announced their relationship to friends early in the summer. Molly and Arthur were exalted and had invited everyone to The Burrow for a summer picnic. Afterwards, she and Ron went to France for a short holiday, where Ron proposed to her on the porch of a rented muggle holiday cottage. Despite having been friends for so long, they didn't really know each other. It was the war, the thoughts of death, that had brought them so close. She said yes. Now, sitting in the library at Hogwarts, she felt like she could beat herself up for it, but at the time, she had had no idea Ron would back away. He gave her an antique golden ring with a pale blue stone that had been passed down through several generations of the Weasleys. It was dented and cloudy with debris, but she had loved it all the same. The day he told her he had committed to her too quickly and that he'd started seeing Lavender Brown again,she'd pulled it off her finger and placed it onto the kitchen table with tears in her eyes, not looking at him again before she stormed upstairs to pack. The Weasleys were sad to see her go, but there was no other option. Ron had disappointed her so badly ... she'd have thought he'd broken her heart. Yet somewhere, deep down, she had known all along that him and her wouldn't work out. Despite this, she had pushed on. She'd never been in a relationship before. Well, Viktor Krum had written to her and she had written back, but there had been nothing else ...

Snapping out of her thoughts angrily, she picked up the Charms textbook and her bag, pushing her wand into one of the pockets of her robe. With a sigh, she wiped away a few more tears and made her way out of the library, back towards the Gryffindor common room. Upon entering it, she was relieved to find it full of younger students. It was a welcome distraction – in the absence of the hustle and bustle, she could see her friends everywhere she went. She had been happy to go back to Hogwarts, and, having been initially disappointed that Ron and Harry could not be moved to go back, after the events had unfolded, she was glad it came to be that way. She hoped Hogwarts would help her move on, find new chances, maybe even meet new people. But, as she knew now, it was above all a chest full of memories, some of which were now very painful for her to recall. She was about to head straight for the bedrooms when she noticed an empty corner table. Crookshanks was lounging in one of the worn red armchairs, meowing as she approached. She dropped the bag off her shoulder and stopped to pull out a roll of parchment, the inkpot and her quill. She might as well do some more homework this evening. Somehow, work always managed to ease her mind.

It was a Monday in mid-November and the weather had been dreary and foggy for the last week. As Hermione entered the Great Hall at breakfast-time, the enchanted ceiling was full of heavy clouds. Rain was forecast. She sat between Ginny and Neville, who both greeted her cheerfully, and reached out for the porridge bowl. She joined in on their conversation half-heartedly and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. She had barely finished her meal when it was time for the mail to arrive and several owls flew into the Great Hall through open doors. They wheeled about gracefully, locating correct students and landing gracefully on the four tables. Hermione wasn't expecting any post; Ginny received a copy of The Daily Prophet and Neville a small parcel from his grandmother. Just as she was about to turn her attention back to breakfast, a large, grey owl swooped down in front of her, dropping off a cream-coloured envelope. Unlike most of the other owls, it stuck around and pecked at Neville's breakfast, looking at Hermione with its large, amber-coloured eyes. Owls usually waited for the recipient to open mail only when immediate reply was requested. Hermione was puzzled. She took a look at the envelope, where her name was written in clean, upright handwriting. She turned it around, inspected the seal and gasped. Malfoy Manor.

Fortunately, Ginny had started reading The Daily Prophet immediately and Neville moved seats so that he was now sitting beside Ginny and peering at the front-page article. They weren't paying any attention to Hermione or the large grey owl perched on the edge of their table. She snuck a glance towards the Slytherins, looking for Draco. When she found him in the crowd of faces, he was sitting beside Astoria Greengrass and pouring pumpkin juice into his glass. Hermione frowned. Did he have anything to do with this? There was only one way to find out. She opened the envelope carefully, extracted a folded parchment and quickly began reading. The note was written in the same elegant handwriting as the text on the envelope and it made her gasp.

To Miss Hermione Granger,

I know you have chosen to return to Hogwarts. I am certain you have a lot of work to do. Forgive me if this letter reaches you when you are pressed for time. You will no doubt agree with me that the events of the past year have changed us all. It is my wish to personally make amends for all ill I have caused you. I still remember Hogsmeade weekends from my years at Hogwarts. It would honour me if you agreed to meet with me on your next day out. Please let me know the date. The time and place can be of your choosing.

I look forward to our meeting.

Lucius Malfoy

Hermione stared at the neatly written letter in disbelief. Lucius Malfoy? Draco's father? The former Death Eater? The one who taught Draco that pureblood families were above muggle-born wizards? The one Lucius Malfoy who stood and watched her suffer in unbearable pain? What could he want to do with her?"But why?" she whispered to herself, "He hates me!" Her mind buzzing, she glanced towards the Slytherin table yet again, but Draco was already gone. The grey owl hooted and pecked at her palm, waiting for her answer. "Yes," whispered Hermione, "don't worry. Here, have a treat." She took a cracker and offered it to the grey owl. She glanced around again – nobody at the Gryffindor table was paying any attention to a flushed, confused Hermione. She put the letter on the table with the text down, thinking feverishly. Meeting with Lucius Malfoy could absolutely not be a good idea! None of her previous meetings with him had left her with pleasant memories – on the contrary, she was still occasionally having nightmares of the night at Malfoy Manor. She should say no. The letter was eloquent, but Lucius Malfoy had always been like that. Regal, but disdainful and insulting. She shouldn't even reply. She should throw the parchment away and forget about it!

But he was right – the past year had changed them all. And hadn't she decided in the carriage that the Malfoy family had suffered enough? Did she not, like Dumbledore, choose to keep believing in the good within all people? Still! How could he change? He and his pureblood ideals! He's always hated her! She didn't want to suffer again! Sometimes, she could still see him in her nightmares. She read the letter again. Again, she noticed the polite eloquence; she shouldn't be silly. He'd always been polite in the public eye. But ... there was still this little voice at the back of her mind that told her to be better than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Why was she expecting the worst? Because she had always received the worst from this man! But did he still hate her?

She was curious, that most of all. If she chose a place that was bound to be crowded and a time to boot, what could go wrong? After having been recently forgiven for his crimes, he probably knew better than to try and harm her in Hogsmeade, in broad daylight. And why would he still want to harm her? It made no sense. The war was over. He'd fallen from his pedestal and had lost all the respect he'd ever had. She'd seen a picture of him in the Daily Prophet – he looked just as weary and gaunt as his son and while he still had a distinct air of aristocracy about him, she could see by looking at the moving picture that the arrogance was gone. The dark bags under his eyes were bigger than his son's, his face seemed to have aged suddenly and his black outer robe hung from his shoulders just as loosely as the Slytherin robe from the shoulders of his son.

On the spot, she made up her mind. Quickly pulling her quill and the inkpot out of her bag before she could give herself a chance to ruminate more and possibly revert her decision, she then tore a sheet of parchment into halves and stuffed one into the bag before she laid the other one out on the table. Glancing once again at Ginny and Neville, who were still busy, she started writing quickly. By now, her cheeks were deep red. She paused several times while writing, frowning and then scribbling on.

To Mr. Lucius Malfoy.

I accept your invitation. Our next visit to Hogsmeade is scheduled for this weekend. I suggest we meet at The Three Broomsticks at 12pm on Saturday.

Hermione Granger

She didn't read her words again before rolling the parchment up, reaching for her wand and sealing it with a whispered charm. The grey owl had watched her carefully all this time. Now, it ruffled its feathers and extended a leg for Hermione to bind the parchment to it. Once she was finished, the owl hooted and took off, flying through the open door to the Great Hall. Hermione looked after it, still flushed and confused. She'd just agreed to a meeting with Lucius Malfoy. She could hear blood thumping in her ears. Why was she so nervous? What could go wrong? Memories of past meetings with Lucius Malfoy crossed her mind, all bad. Everything could go wrong.

Why did he want to see her?