Chapter 1: Lakeside

Author's Note 2: The lovely SunshineKatz has agreed to Beta read this story. Chapters 1-3 are now reposted with minor fixes. Any remaining issues are my own fault. (12/28/2020)

The summer sun was low in the sky, playing across the water and lending a lingering warmth to the September day. The book in her lap was an old favorite novel. It was good to have the extra comfort today of all days. It wasn't as if she'd seen her parents on her birthday since she started Hogwarts, but somehow it was all harder this year. There had been cards from Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Ron at breakfast this morning. And Ginny had greeted her in the dormitory before breakfast with an abnormally large cupcake (courtesy of the house-elves, she was sure). She'd had a few bites before breakfast to appease her friend, and then saved the rest for later.

Still, there was nothing from her parents. She'd hidden them so well, she couldn't find them. And they didn't even know she existed.

She pulled a few blades of grass up, idly braiding them together. Ron and Harry had wanted to meet her in Hogsmeade tonight to celebrate with her, but she'd turned them down. She knew they'd be exhausted from their Auror training, and she wasn't sure she wanted to be out at the Three Broomsticks tonight, or even the Hogshead. She hadn't gone back into the village yet this year and she wasn't sure she was ready to. Staying in had seemed like a good idea—reading under the tree until the light failed, and then maybe a long bath in the Prefects' bathroom tonight if Myrtle wasn't haunting it.

Settling her back more comfortably against the tree she turned the page, letting herself get lost with familiar characters again.

"This isn't the library, Granger."

She squinted at the figure approaching, though the voice was enough to give him away. She blinked, a little surprised to see him there. He'd been keeping his head down and nearly invisible since term started. It was odd to see him out here. It had felt like she'd had the grounds to herself most of this afternoon. "Of course it isn't, Malfoy. If it were, that broomstick would be terribly out of place." She watched as he shifted his grip on the handle, the bristle end resting over his shoulder. "Warming up for Quidditch tryouts this weekend?" she asked, though somehow she doubted it. He hadn't come from the direction of the pitch. She glanced down to make a mental note of the page she was on and close her book. Only barbarians dogeared the corners.

"Not exactly." He paused, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other in a most un-Malfoy-like way.

"Not going out for the team this year?"

"I was just out clearing my head. Flying works better than anything else." He cut off abruptly, as if unhappy to have admitted that much. He was still sure that being at Hogwarts right now had to be better than being at home with his mother—especially with his father serving his sentence at Azkaban—but it wasn't the same. It had already been made clear he wouldn't be welcome on the team, even if he had wanted to be there. The truth was, it wasn't even remotely tempting right now.

There was a wry curl to her mouth as she asked, "It's nice when everyone is inside, isn't it?"

"Nicer," he admitted. He looked her over. It wasn't odd to find Granger alone, or reading, but she did normally do it indoors. He pressed his lips together and gripped his broom a little tighter. Just seeing her at such close range brought it back. The sound of her screams. The crazed look on his aunt's face. His own paralyzing inability to stop what was happening. Malfoys were supposed to take charge. Malfoys got things done. Malfoys met life on their own terms. Feeling paralyzed and helpless was all wrong. It wasn't very Malfoy. He started to worry it might be Draco though and the thought made him shudder. He just didn't know how to break away from it right now. With a start, he realized Granger had been talking and he hadn't heard a word. Manners prevailed. "Pardon?"

"You look peaky. Not that you're ever exactly a bronze god. You always look a bit like an ironed sheet. But you're pale, even for you. Do…do you want to sit?" She found herself rambling nervously and thinking the wizard should sit down before he fell over. Didn't he ever eat? They hadn't been in such close proximity to one another since term started. Her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to reach for her other arm. Was it her imagination or was he looking at it? Not that there was anything to see while wearing long sleeves…

Draco came a little closer, but not close enough to sit on the blanket that was spread out under the tree. He didn't sit.

"I'm not going to bite," she offered. It was always possible she might hex him; she hadn't entirely ruled that out yet. But she didn't think it was likely. She certainly wouldn't bite him; someone who frequently wore such a sour expression certainly wouldn't taste good.

Tentatively, Draco came forward and lowered himself to her blanket, sitting on the farthest edge. "Wouldn't want to ruin my robes in the grass, after all," he drawled.

"Of course not. That would be tragic."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the sunlight on the lake, not sure what to say.

"It's surreal, isn't it?"

He thought about asking what she meant and changed his mind. He knew. "It is." There had never been eighth years at Hogwarts before. And after everything they'd been through, they certainly weren't children anymore. He hardly felt like a student. And the scars. Some parts of the castle still weren't habitable. Other parts had been repaired, but were avoided. He'd detour up two floors and around three extra corridors to avoid going near what had once been the Room of Requirement.

Even the first years seemed subdued. The first year class was abnormally large—it included students who should have started last year whose parents had chosen to keep them home instead.

The figurative ghosts were as bad as the literal ones. The memories were strong. And they hurt. Hogwarts without Ron and Harry didn't feel like Hogwarts, though she tried to bury herself in her lessons, to let the routine of academia soothe her while she tried to process everything. Ginny and Luna had stuck close by her this year. That reminded her…"I really don't need this much sugar. Do you…?"

Granger opened her bag and produced most of a very large cupcake. Draco looked at it, blinking. "That…that looks good."

"Courtesy of Ginny this morning." Her lips curled wryly. "I really didn't have any appetite for it at 7AM."

"Special occasion?"

Pressing her lips together she answered, "It's my birthday."

"And you're out here by yourself?" He looked her over. Surely McGonagall would have given Potter and the Weasel a pass to come see her tonight. Or the Weaslette would have made time for her.

"I wanted some space tonight."

Draco started to try to get to his feet. "I can go."

"Don't. I can't eat this by myself." She cut the cupcake in half with a quick spell. She wasn't sure why she wanted him to stay.

"Are you sure?"

She levitated half of the cupcake over to him and it dropped into his hand. "No plates I'm afraid."

They sat in silence and ate the dessert. It was nearly gone when Hermione said, "Space wasn't really the right word. I was…clearing my head. Easiest way to do it is to go somewhere else for a bit." She nudged her book with her foot.

He nodded, a little envious. It was hard to read anything right now. Thoughts and memories intruded and he'd find himself staring at the same page for ten minutes. What could he have done differently? What should he have done differently? Would life ever feel normal again? "I had hoped coming back would help."

She understood. "The routine, the busyness—better than sitting at home."

There was a flicker in his eyes. "Exactly. Pretend it's all okay long enough—"

"—and eventually we might believe it ourselves?" She chuckled, but it was at herself as much as at him. "I'm not sure it really works. But I'm trying."

The sun was nearly down. It seemed odd to Draco that Granger might be here, feeling the same way he felt. Her side had won. She was a hero. How could she possibly have any regrets? He tried to pretend it wasn't an important question. "Do you ever wish you'd done things differently?"

Hermione let out a breath and pushed her hair out of her face, glancing at Malfoy. "There's a thousand times a thousand choices we make. I could have said no to Hogwarts. I might still have my parents then. I might have been as much an outcast at St. Mary's as I was here—but for different reasons. If I hadn't met Harry and Ron? Merlin, how much would be different? You could make yourself dizzy with what-ifs. I wish the price hadn't been so high." Remus. Tonks. Sirius. Colin. Fred. The names reverberated in her head. Wondering if she'd ever see her parents again. "But…I think if I had to…I'd do it all again." She wasn't imagining it this time. She was sure he was looking at her arm.

Draco wiped his hands in the grass, clearing away the cupcake crumbs. He didn't look at her. "I wish I could say the same."

"'All we have to do is decide what to do with the time we're given.'" Tolkien always sounded profound in difficult times. "You can't change the past. But you can decide where you're going."

Whatever clearheadedness he had from flying was long gone. There was a lot to think about. "And where are you going?"

Too many paths. Healer? Auror? The Ministry? Merlin only knew. She tried to lighten the tone. "Well, most likely I'm going back inside—the sun is gone and it's getting cool out. But after that, who knows? The library. The kitchens. Gryffindor Tower. I could go anywhere."

He stretched, getting himself to his feet. This was as much civil conversation as he could manage with her right now. If he could have a conversation with her, maybe there was hope for him yet. Maybe he could make better choices. After all, after everything he'd put Granger through, if there was anyone who deserved the right to hex him on sight after the war, it was her. And instead, she'd given him half a cupcake. Maybe there were beginnings out there. Maybe someday he could tell her he was sorry—for all of it. But the words stuck in his throat. He wasn't used to apologizing. And how do you start to apologize for a lifetime of bad choices? How do you know which ones really are bad?

Author's Note: I'm expecting this to probably be 4 or 5 chapters; I'm most of the way through the third chapter now. This is a little different from my other stories, with large time gaps in the story between chapters. The format also seems to have resulted in a little more internal monologue than normal. Planning to post chapter 2 later this week or early next week. I hope you enjoy this; please let me know what you think!

Author's Note 3: Hermione and Draco may not be cooperating on the whole idea of sticking to 4 or 5 chapters. It may get longer.