The familial bliss that Hermione found herself feeling was something she never thought she would be able to experience again. Dancing around the kitchen of her family home was her mother, Heather Michelle Granger, preparing a grand old English breakfast. Her mother wasn't the greatest cook, but Hermione was ready to eat a mud pie if her mother served it.

Down a narrow corridor and at the front door was her father, Tom Ian Granger, retrieving the morning paper in naught but his plaid pajama pants – an ugly old thing he had from some Christmas past.

Last, but certainly not least, in the corner of the kitchen was Crookshanks lazily cleaning.

Hermione's smile was wide; never again would she take her parents for granted. She was more than glad that her parents were there with her, memories and all.

She pushed off of the dining chair and sidled up next to her mother. "How can I help, mum?"

Heather smiled over at her daughter. "You could set the table and let your dad know breakfast is ready."

Heather used the greasy spatula to gesture at the clean dishes she wanted Hermione to use. Without missing a beat, Hermione walked over to the dishes her mother gestured at and started laying out the plates

"Jeanie!"

Hermione glanced up to see her father languidly strolling down the corridor; only he and her mother called her by her middle name, Jean, using it both a nickname and a term of endearment (Jeanie). Tom had the morning paper tucked under his left arm, his steaming hot mug of coffee gripped in his left hand, and a small and scrawny owl perched on his right shoulder.

Heather giggled and hurried over to the now-familiar owl. "Hullo, Lord Bubo Bubo." Crookshanks twittered from his lavish cat condo; his eyes were locked on the scrawny little owl.

It took all of the willpower Hermione had to not roll her eyes. Her mother and father had taken a liking to the not-Lord Bubo Bubo: the Malfoy family owl. The last school year was unlike any other. Her best friend, Harry, finally defeated Voldemort and the world of witches and wizards could finally breath a sigh of relief.

But Harry defeating Voldemort wasn't the reason the Malfoy Family owl was eating sunflower seeds in her house… no, the reason for that was Draco Malfoy had saved her life. Draco pushed Hermione out of the way and took the brunt of a curse that his very own aunt conjured. Narcissa Malfoy was quick to intervene to save her son, and Hermione was quicker to hold a limp Draco in her arms, cradling his head with tears streaming down her face.

'Why?' She remembered whispering while she wiped away a droplet of her tear that landed on his forehead. His breathing was laboured and he didn't answer her—and in that moment they lived for what felt like an eternity.

When all was said and done, Hermione sent him an owl to think him for what he did. She knew what the sacrifice meant and given that he had insulted her for the better part of their academic relationship, she wanted to acknowledge that he didn't have to do what he did and that she was 'forever in his debt'.

She sent that owl in the beginning of their summer holidays, yet she didn't receive a response until almost a fortnight later. The day she received an owl from him, she had resigned to not care about a response and was content with the fact that she was able to say her piece. That very night the Malfoy family owl flew gracelessly into her residence with what she never thought she was going to receive: a response.

Don't mention it.

The hastily scribbled note was something both Hermione did and did not anticipate. The reply was definitely something that Draco Malfoy would definitely send to her, but she had been subconsciously hoping for more given the moment they shared together in the Wizarding War.

Those three words were a clear indication that Hermione couldn't force Draco to accept her feelings of gratitude. On that hot August night, Hermione had folded Draco's little note and tucked it away. Less than twenty-four hours later, though, Bubo Bubo – a name Hermione only knew because Draco had yelled it one too many times in the Great Hall – returned with a much longer letter.

My apologies, Granger.

I hoped to have sent you a response sooner and one that lived up to the Malfoy name, but I wasn't able to. However, that said, I also did not want to not send a response either, hence why you are receiving two owls from me.

Now let me address a few points that you brought up in your letter…

Firstly: you needn't mention anything. Despite the mess that is our academic relationship, I couldn't find myself justifying my quite-possibly-insane aunt probably (most definitely) kill you. So I will kill two harpies with one hex by saying you don't need to thank me anymore and you do not owe me anything.

And please do not 'forever be in my debt'—that is a heavy statement that I think you need to mull it over before committing to.

Secondly: you asked me why I did it. I think I covered that in the last point: I just couldn't stand idly by and watch. Please accept that reasoning and let it be. Don't push. You can be quite pushy without even trying.

Thirdly: you mentioned something about looking past our difference and having an amicable final year at Hogwarts. I will not consider us 'friends.' We are classmates and that's it. Like I said, you do not owe me anything and don't feel as if you do. I know your Gryffindor brain needs justification, so consider that act as me apologizing to the collective group of muggle-born for the hell I must've created during our years at Hogwarts. I trust that will suffice.

Knowing how assertive you can be (I've seen you shut both Potter and Weasley up on several occasions), so I will be willing to cross paths with you during your Diagon Alley trip… I will be staying at the Leaky Cauldron a week before we're expected to board the Hogwarts Express. You may call me if you so wish but I don't want you sputtering about how grateful and thankful you are. I may have to curse you myself if you do, and follow through with what Bellatrix wanted to do.

I trust that this response lives up to the Malfoy expectation. With that, I will sign off.

Be well, Granger.

D. Malfoy

Draco didn't know at the time of sending his owl but his response would serve to be the gateway to an unexpected pen pal relationship. Hermione's reply to his second owl acknowledged that he didn't want to be thanked anymore and assured him that she wouldn't.

She asked why he was going to Diagon Alley so early and his reply said something to the effect of his parents needing to travel the Wizarding Council of North America and he would rather not keep the company of 'stupid' house elves. Her inner S.P.E.W mandate was… well… spewing.

The exchange of letters didn't stop there, though, and that brought Hermione to her present day: sitting in the kitchen, unrolling his letter as Bubo Bubo was coddled by her mother. Her father continued to drink his coffee while reading the morning papers. Crookshanks, however, was watching Bubo Bubo like a hawk.

He was probably plotting of how he could pounce and eat the scrawny flying rat. Be it muggle or magic, a cat certainly was a cat.

The picturesque moment had become the norm in the Granger household.

Good to hear that your family is back to normal. Needless to say, the Malfoys have been going through significant changes in terms of our ideologies. On that topic, though, I won't say much more.

Your summer sounds astoundingly boring—you really just stayed at home? You're as boring in your personal life as you are in Hogwarts, Granger, and oddly I am not the least bit surprised.

I spent most of my summer with Blaise in Italy. It was interesting, and a nice change of pace. Speaking of Italy… were you aware that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is the result of a slew of Veela? They (from what I learned) seduced the muggles who were working on the tower which resulted in half-hearted construction. The foundation was never set properly resulting in the tower to partially collapse. It's now being held up by an archaic type of magic…

Since you enjoy learning the unknown, I thought I'd bestow you with a bit of knowledge.

Have you decided when you are going to Diagon Alley?

D. Malfoy

Hermione needed to read the letter three times before she could fully processes the words: Veela?! Leaning Tower of Pisa?! While Hermione knew he made that story up, a part of her needed to fact check his story—what if he was telling the truth? He did go to Italy… and not muggle Italy either! Hermione filed that probably-fake tidbit away in the back of her mind—to fact check, of course.

"You can finish reading the letter afterwards, dear." Heather's coppery voice broke Hermione's concentration. She folded the parchment up and tucked it under her plate as her mother poured her a cup of coffee.

"Let's enjoy a Granger family breakfast, shall we?"

"… oh! Football update!"

Hermione and Heather exchanged amused glances at Tom's outburst. He really loved keeping up with the football clubs.


Hermione's trunk was packed and tucked beside her closet. It was just hours before she was leaving for her magical boarding school and a wave of emotion was beginning to hit her—she was going to miss her parents' way more than she ever did… that was for certain.

After doing a onceover of her room Hermione tucked her wand into a thigh holster, courtesy of Ginny Weasley. It felt surreal knowing that she was going to return to Hogwarts with no immediate threat to humankind—are we capable of even having a normal school year?

"Jeanie?" Tom's voice came from the other side of Hermione's door.

"Come in."

Tom gently pushed the door open. "Ready to call your bus?" He asked as he grabbed her trunk.

Hogwarts was scheduled to start classes in three days and per her promise to Draco Malfoy, she'd be spending the final days of her summer holidays at Diagon Alley. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Hermione felt compelled to spend a few days with him. While he insisted on not being thanked or owed anything, Hermione couldn't help but feel that she needed to do more to show her appreciation.

I haven't the foggiest idea of what I could do but… I suppose I'll figure something out.

Hermione smiled at her father. "Ready, albeit reluctantly."

Tom smiled, a gentle smile that never ceased to warm Hermione to her core. Without a word, Tom took a step forward and pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"Mum and I are proud of you, Jeanie."

It took all of the willpower Hermione had to hold back her tears of happiness and gratitude. She inhaled deeply and took one final look at her childhood bedroom before shutting the door with a click. Crookshanks brushed his body along the back of her legs.

"Ready to go?" Hermione whispered as she knelt forward to pick up Crookshanks.


"Miss 'ermione!" Tom's unique voice bellowed a Hermione pulled her trunk into the Leaky Cauldron. Unable to speak (her stomach was still turning from riding on the Knight Bus), Hermione smiled at Tom. He hurried over to help her with her trunk and, in the process, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You look a little green, Miss 'ermione. Care for an 'erbal brew?"

"Ugh, please…" Hermione moaned. "I'm going to sit for a spell to catch my breath…"

Tom grinned. "Or to settle yer stomach? Worry not, you rest up and I'll get a room ready for you. Yer stayin' until the 'ogwarts Express leaves?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. Tom winked at her and, with a wave of his hand, a teapot began pouring an aromatic brew.

"Come, cat." Tom picked up Crookshank's carrier and used magic to levitate Hermione's trunk.

Hermione smiled in Tom's direction before sliding onto a barstool. A cup of tea gently floated over to her and settled in front of her with a clink. The smell of the tea was calming her stomach so she allowed herself to inhale the steam for a few moments before taking a sip.

There needs to be some kind of traffic law that governs that stupid bus. Hermione thought. She dazed off while drinking her tea, her mind exploring a plethora of thoughts as the tea comforted her soul. She only came back to reality when there was no more tea in the cup. Hermione noticed that Tom was working behind the counter.

I didn't even realize when he came back down.

Feeling a little better, Hermione pushed out of the stool. "How much do I owe you, Tom?"

He waved his hand. "Tea is the 'ouse, Miss 'ermione. You go and settle in, room 402. 'ang left when you get to the fourth floor."

Hermione thanked him but left five sickles on the counter before walking towards the staircase. There was no way Hermione was going to accept anything for free. It went against her moral fibre.

She stifled a yawn while she climbed the steep steps to the fourth floor… for all of the amazing things witches and wizards can do, it's a shame they haven't adopted the concept of an elevator. After what felt like a strenuous workout at the gym, Hermione made it to the fourth floor.

Hang left. Hermione reminded herself of Tom's direction. She turned the corner and was in the process of pulling her wand out of her holster when she walked into somebody.

Blimey I'm tired. I didn't even notice somebody was coming this way. Hermione took a few steps back and began to apologize. Whatever words she was going to say, though, were lost when her eyes landed on who she walked into.

She was rendered speechless.

"Come now, Granger, I didn't think you'd be capable of being at a loss for words." The voice was more melodic and rugged than Hermione recalled.

She didn't expect her heart to pound in her chest at the sound of his voice. She didn't anticipate the butterflies either, yet there she was with her eyes locked on the very person that trigged the unexpected feelings.

"Malfoy…?"

His lips tugged into a small smirk. "In the flesh."