A/N: Hello everyone, welcome to this new story? So, it's a rewrite, but also, it's different. Doesn't make sense, but just role with it. It's quarantine and I wanted to start this story and hopefully get some progress into it. You should definitely leave some love and reviews to keep me motivated on writing and posting, it helps! I would love to hear if you guys enjoyed it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I just borrowed them for a little fun.

Mentanoia

The journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life

Chapter One

Hermione laid in the small cot, which was provided by Mrs. Weasley every summer, going over the story Harry had dropped on her and Ron earlier that night. She wondered why Dumbledore would want to hire Slughorn when he had a perfectly, capable potions master back at Hogwarts.

"I'm just happy," she heard Ginny murmur from the bed next to her. Blinking back to reality, Hermione assessed the conversation. She hadn't been completely happy when Ginny informed her of her relationship with Dean Thomas. He was a good enough boy and knew he would treat her friend nicely. Hermione just wasn't buying the idea that Ginny was truly happy, maybe content, but not happy. No, Ginny would be happy with Harry, but both of them seemed to ignore the growing affection they had for one another.

"I'm happy for you," responded Hermione, half-heartedly. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the ginger's eyes when she leaned on the back of her elbows and looked over at her on the cot.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione frowned. A lot was wrong. She had confided Harry and Ginny, spoken to them about her family troubles. They were the only ones who knew the hell she went through at the beginning of every summer. Her parents had not been fond of their daughter being a witch, much less her being sent to a magical school where they would rarely see her.

As time went on and all the accidents, she had put herself through, her parents began to grow some form of prejudice towards the world she lived in. They didn't want her returning to Hogwarts or going to spend the remainder of the summer at Weasleys, but they didn't understand that that was where she felt most at home.

The small two-bedroom home they had owned for most of her childhood had been sold the summer she returned from her first year at Hogwarts. Her parents had found it inconvenient to have all the extra space when she would only be there for a handful of weeks, so they moved her stuff to a small office in the far back corner of their new home. Hermione had cried herself to sleep the first week in the small office, she could almost remember her sobs she had quieted as she lay in the office alone.

Ginny had grown on her during her third year and became almost inseparable when Hermione finally confessed everything. She had told Harry the minute it had happened, knowing he could on some level relate to her situation. Ron wouldn't have cared, she despised him sometimes for that very reason, but she found no use in informing him, so she kept it herself.

"They didn't want me going back to Hogwarts," she murmured, still looking up at the ceiling. She heard Ginny get off her bed and kneel next to her. After taking a small breath, Hermione turned on her side and faced Ginny. "They don't want me back at home, not unless I decide to turn in my wand and leave the wizarding world for the rest of my life."

No tears welled up her eyes, they hadn't for a long time. Instead, she felt the anger spread through her chest as she fisted her hands.

"They can't possibly think you would actually turn in your wand, do they?" Ginny asked, shaking her head in disagreement. When Hermione didn't answer, she shook her head harder. "You know you're always welcome to stay here whenever you want 'Mione. Mum loves having you here, everyone does. With everything going on, wouldn't you think it's for the better either way?"

"Maybe," she murmured, not too keen on the idea of continuing the conversation. It wasn't Ginny, no, merlin, she loved the girl to death, but thinking about her parents made her want to punch a wall.

Crack. They both jumped at the sound of someone apparating. Getting up from the cot and floor, the two girls made their way to a small window on the side of Ginny's room. It was dark outside, but the light coming from the Burrow allowed them to see a few yards out into the fields before them. Squinting, they both made out five figures, quickly approaching towards the Burrow.

"Should we go downstairs?" Ginny asked. A few moments later the door opened and in came Harry and Ron, both of them looking as confused and worried as Hermione felt.

"Mum said to stay upstairs," Ron said, confirming Hermione's suspicion of it being some sort of Order meeting. Together, the four looked out the window. As the figures came closer and closer, they began to make the top of their heads. She noticed Dumbledore first with his long grey hair and beard, then Mr. Weasley with his signature Weasley hair.

She felt Ron and Harry walk away from the window before she saw them. They were dressed in all black, all three of them. As drew closer, Hermione made out a limping Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy next to him, barely walking.

"Help!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed as Lucius Malfoy fell to the ground unconscious. She turned to see Ginny, she looked pale and Hermione worried she too would fall unconscious.

"Come on Gin," she said, grabbing the girl's hand and heading out of the room. Quickly making their way down the stairs she could already hear Harry and Ron's protest.

"Mum! How could you possibly think bringing the ferret and his family here would be a good idea!"

"Shut it now Ronald!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, she wasn't playing games right now. She saw Fleur standing next to Bill, both of them looking worried at the prospect of a well-known Death Eater entering the premise. Hermione couldn't blame, she wasn't completely fond of the idea, but they didn't seem to be in the best shape. "Fleur, dear, do you think you could help me with them? Bill informed me you had taken some healing lessons over the summer."

Fleur turned to Bill, worried that he would object, but he didn't so she nodded. "Yez, Missez Weazley. I will help."

"I can help too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione chirped in. "I know a few spells that might come in handy."

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ron, looking betrayed. The same expression was written across Harry's face, but he knew better than to try and stop her. "You can't possibly be thinking about helping the ferret, after everything they put us through at the end of last year."

"You're right Ronald, but I'm also not going to stand around while someone dies, not if I can help it," she responded, rolling up the sleeves of her pajamas.

"Thank you," responded Mrs. Weasley when Hermione made her way next to her friend's mother. The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Hermione knew she didn't like the people that were about to walk in, not one bit, but she knew she wasn't going to judge them, she had no right. None of the people in the room were saints, so there was no use in pretending to be one. That and also, she had been learning some spells, in case they would ever come handy in the following months. Being friends with Harry Potter, the Chosen One, came with high risks of getting attacked. If the war was really going to happen, perfecting her healing skills would be beneficial.

She saw Lupin barge into the room first, pulling an unconscious Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy helping him. Mr. Weasley and Tonks, almost carrying Narcissa Malfoy in after them. The minute Mrs. Weasley saw the seriousness of the wounds she ordered them to carry both Narcissa and Lucius up to any of the rooms that were empty upstairs.

"Draco, you stay here," she heard Dumbledore say. Bill took over Draco's part of half-carrying Mr. Malfoy up the stairs. Malfoy didn't like the idea of leaving his parents, but he did as he was told and awkwardly stood in the middle of the Weasley's living room.

"Harry," Dumbledore called, waving Harry over to the kitchen where they would have some privacy. He nodded, giving Ron and Hermione one last confused look before turning the corner.

"What are you doing here ferret," snarled Ron from across the room. Hermione watched Draco clench his fists but didn't say anything. "Cat ate your tongue then Malfoy?"

"Ronald!" called Mrs. Weasley, she walked behind the unconscious bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Draco looked after them, worried and Hermione felt a small pang of anger towards him. How dare he be worried over someone who had in some way caused the death of someone close to her, to Harry. "Come help! Hermione, please tend to Draco's wounds, I'll be down in a bit."

Hermione frowned at her request but gave her a reassuring nod that she would help him. Ron glared at his mother for a moment, before following her. Hermione saw Ginny, looking at the scene unfold before her. She turned her back on them as Hermione began to make her way towards Draco, who recoiled when she was close.

"It's not the time for your stupid mudblood prejudice Malfoy," Hermione said, both hands on her hip. She unconsciously dropped them as the image of Mrs. Weasley doing the exact same position earlier that morning flooded into her mind. "You're going to have to let me help you."

Hermione took one step and he once again recoiled. Finally looking at him she saw it, the fear in his eyes. She saw him take in his surroundings, the unfamiliarity in all of this was scaring him. Hermione wanted to laugh, but the seriousness and delicacy of the situation was too big for her to actually act on her impulses.

"Calm down now Malfoy," she said, taking a small step towards him. She could see him holding his wand in his hand, but he wasn't pointing it at her, not yet anyway. So, she took another step towards him. "I'm just going to look at your wounds while Mrs. Weasley and Fleur take a look at your parents, okay?"

That's when she noticed it, the blood on his shoes, the blood on his hands. It wasn't his blood; she could tell by the large amount of it. If it had been his he too would be unconscious. "It's not mine," he muttered, looking down. He slowly took off the blazer he was wearing and began unbuttoning his shirt. Hermione blessed merlin for having grown accustomed to seeing Ron and Harry without a shirt, and most of the Weasleys for that matter.

"Turn around," she said, almost whispering. She contained the gasp that threatened to escape her lips as she saw the wounds across his back. Hermione brushed her fingertips across his skin, and she felt him twitch under her hand. "Sorry."

Without saying another word to each other, Hermione sat him down on the large couch in the living room. She began waving her wand, muttering spells and incantations that would help with the pain he was experiencing.

It looked like someone had whipped him, repeatedly and for a long period of time. How he was still standing and conscious was a mystery to Hermione. It would be a few days, with magic, for him to be fully healed. That was one thing she liked about magic, in some cases magic would speed up the process of healing, it was something her parents couldn't understand.

She didn't want to know why they were here, she really didn't. Hermione was being hypocritical at that moment, but still she knew her feelings were justified, his family had tormented and broken down not only her hope but Harry's hopes over the years. His family had taken Sirius, the only family he had left. The Weasleys were his family yes, but they had not known his parents like Sirius had, and Lupin's relationship had become distant ever since Sirius' death.

"Ms. Granger," she heard behind her. Finishing her spell, Hermione turned around and faced the headmaster. She saw Harry next to him, look down when he caught eye of Malfoy's wounds. "Can I speak to you?"

"Of course, headmaster," she responded. "I'll just finish here, and I'll make my way to the kitchen."

"You don't have to," murmured Malfoy, beginning to pull his bloody button up over his shoulders. Hermione touched his shoulder, stopping him from putting it on.

"Yes, I do, no shut up so I can finish," she muttered. She rolled her eyes, thinking how much he and Harry seemed alike at that moment. He almost sounded selfless, but she knew he just didn't want her touching him or being anywhere near him.

It took her at least another ten minutes before she was done. She stood up and looked down at Malfoy. "I'll help Mrs. Weasley made some pain-relieving potion and I'll bring it to you."

She didn't wait for an answer, but she could have sworn he had murmured a 'thank you' as she walked away. Harry had been watching them from the doorway, making sure Malfoy didn't try anything. He hugged her, kissing his forehead as he did so.

"Be ready 'Mione," he murmured. She looked up confused, but all he did was motion towards Malfoy, who was looking down at his bloodied hand. "We'll be seeing more of the git than we would like to."

Frowning, she shook her head. "Can you loan him some of your clothes? I don't like him, but also, we need to be the better people here, Harry. That and seeing him sitting there in blood from who knows who makes me uncomfortable." He nodded, assuring her that he would be doing as she asked. "And check on Ginny for me, please. She didn't look too well when they came in."

Hermione didn't wait for his answer, watching his expression change at the sound of Ginny's name. He would most definitely check she was okay. She didn't need to ask him twice.

Yawning, Hermione walked into the kitchen where she surprisingly saw Dumbledore making himself a cup of tea. Not knowing what to do to announce her presence, she cleared her throat.

"Ah! Ms. Granger," he said, walking over to the kitchen table, asking her to sit down with him. "I assume your parents have allowed you to return to Hogwarts?"

There was no lying to this man. He knew more than she wished he did. She nodded. "At great cost, but I couldn't leave Harry alone, not right now when things have taken a turn for the worse."

"That and you love being a witch Ms. Granger," he said. She didn't need to say anything to him, he was right, they both knew it. Being a witch was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to her. She would go through all the good and bad things again just to feel the rush she did whenever she picked up her wand and casted a spell, the feeling never faltered to be there when she did it.

"You must be wondering why I have brought the Malfoys here to the Burrow," he continued, when the silence settled and there was no response to his statement. "For one, the Weasleys have been loyal followers of the Order and have been kind to whomever ended up on their doorstep. Another, you are here Ms. Granger."

Hermione's neck snapped up as quickly as a snitch flew around the field. She looked at the old man, confused. Why did it matter if she was here? Why would it matter to the Malfoys? To Dumbledore?

"I need you to stay close to Mr. Malfoy," he finally said. "He is going to need a friend this year at Hogwarts and you shall be there for him. I have asked Harry to include him in the discussions he will have with and yourself. For one reason or another he should be there as well."

"But sir why?" she asked, appalled at the idea of her and Malfoy ever being friends. She wanted to cringe at the thought.

"Ms. Granger…I think it would be for everyone's best interest for you to know the events that occurred this night. Young Mr. Malfoy after weeks of torture and unhappiness sent me an owl, a week ago, asking for help. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he would this, not when he was surrounded by his deranged aunt. But he surprised me when he did. We owled for some time before his aunt discovered the letters he had been sending," Dumbledore said. "We had arranged a meeting, in Diagon Alley, but when he failed to arrive, I made an excuse to visit Malfoy Manor."

"Did Bellatrix do that to him?" Hermione asked, the blood draining from her face. She felt ants crawl throughout her skin as she imagined Bellatrix standing over Malfoy, of the deranged smile she obviously held as she whipped her nephew. The pleasure she must have felt doing it.

Dumbledore nodded. "Draco did something, I don't think anyone thought he could. He killed. Killed his aunt and anyone who had taken witness to the torture of his parents. Mr. Malfoy is a kind soul believe it or not Ms. Granger, beneath the arrogance and mask, he only had the intention of protecting his family. He isn't a saint, but who is."

Hermione looked up at the man. No one was a saint; she knew that much. People pretended to be, to make themselves feel better about themselves, but they really weren't.

"He's going to be alone this year, a Slytherin amongst enemies, enemies that were once his friends. He'll be the betrayer in their eyes, maybe even in his own, but I need you to be there for him. I know that you Ms. Granger are the only one capable of putting aside any difference and helping someone who needs it," he said, a small frown playing at the edge of his lips.

"You say that," Hermione whispered. "But there's more…you want to make sure his intentions are true, that he doesn't turn."

Dumbledore tapped his finger against the wooden table and Hermione let out a small smile but nodded.

"I can do that, headmaster. It won't be easy, but I'll be there for him if he needs it. I won't beg him, though. I won't run after him like a desperate puppy, he'll have to meet me halfway," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Dumbledore agreed. He stood up and began walking away but stopped. "You are everything he was taught to despise Ms. Granger; however, you'll find his prejudice towards muggleborns isn't as deeply rooted as he makes everyone believe it."

And with that, he left, leaving Hermione confused and speechless. She had just agreed to help Draco Malfoy out, to be for the lack of a better word, his friend. She shuddered at the thought of that ever actually happening, but as the seconds ticked away, she thought back at what Dumbledore had said.

"he makes everyone believe"

Had he been implying Malfoy wasn't as prejudice as he made himself to believe. Actually, that was what he was implying, but Hermione wondered why? Was Dumbledore, right? Was he really not as prejudice towards muggleborns as everyone thought?

The biggest shock yet was that he had killed his aunt. Hermione couldn't blame him, if anyone hurt her parents, however much she hated them at the time, she didn't know to what extremities she would go to, to avenge their pain.

She made her way to the living room where she found Harry, leaning against a wall looking at the sofa where Malfoy, in one of Harry's t-shirts and trousers had fallen asleep. Hermione leaned against the same wall, resting her head on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh.

"Are you going to do it?" he whispered, only loud enough for the two to hear.

"Are you?" she asked.

They didn't say anything. They didn't have to. They both knew that if Dumbledore ever asked them to do anything, they would it, even if they didn't want to, because it was Dumbledore and they felt some unjustified loyalty towards him.

He chuckled and shook his head, both of them realizing the year ahead wasn't going to be an easy one, especially not for any of the blonds currently sleeping in the Burrow.