AN: This chapter is more than twice as long as the first chapter, but it was necessary. Also I wrote the second half of this chapter while listening to NF and a little bit of Halsey and now my writing is so depressing. But it's fitting and I don't mind writing like that. Honestly, I'm writing this in the night and I'm in such a mood. But NF does that to you, doesn't it.

I now fully understand why my best friend is obsessed with NF.

I will clarify a few things ahead of time. The mentions are a little vague except for a specific mention to social anxiety. But there are a lot of references to severe depression. Just a warning, in case that makes you uncomfortable. A lot of this story will deal with PTSD and depression, some anxiety and low self-esteem issues, too.

I'm honestly surprised that it only took two days to write this. I'm slightly proud of this compared to the other two chapters. But if I use a word wrong or grammar issues please tell me. And I love reading your reviews!

U_U

~~AlicornEagle11

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I only own my plot and whatever OC's that I might include. If I accidentally forget to add this in a chapter it still applies.

Like every year, it was evening when the Hogwarts Express pulled up at Hogsmeade Station.

The six new friends all headed out of their compartment and disguised themselves amidst the crowd, hoping to be able to get to the Great Hall without being recognized. For Hermione that was a little harder as she'd refused to replace her leather jacket with a robe, but they tried.

And ultimately… failed.

When they'd gotten off the train there was Hagrid calling for the first years, and everyone else took the carriages. The six of them managed to all fit into one, but that short journey was left in silence and anticipation, the bad kind. When it left them in front of the school, they managed to fit in as they entered the castle, but the crowd stopped moving in the passage in front of the Great Hall.

"Eighth year students, please stay out here," called Professor McGonagall.

They silently groaned. This was not what they wanted. And it ruined all of their mediocre efforts. Lovely.

There were only thirty-five of them now. Five of their year had died in the war. They hung around, not a single person talking, too consumed in what being in these halls with these people meant for each of them. For most of them, there was little good.

Harry and Ron came in shortly after them, talking quietly with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. When she caught sight of them, she immediately looked away. Pansy and Daphne saw them, too, and each put an arm around over her shoulders. The boys hovered protectively with nonchalant faces. And then she looked up and locked eyes with Harry.

And he exploded.

"Hermione?"

She said nothing.

"Hermione, where've you been? And what are you doing hanging around with them?"

She said nothing. Harry was growing angrier and Ron redder by the moment. She looked away as they began yelling, rambling about Death Eater scum and stupid Slytherins and not a word from you. Her breathing got heavier, quicker — she couldn't control it — she started seeing bright lights and fallen bodies — blood everywhere — screaming and crying and sounds and suddenly she couldn't help it and she slid to the floor.

She felt arms around her, voices reassuring her, trying to help her stand up, telling her that that was the past, it was over, but it felt like she was underwater and she just wanted to drown. Her nails dug into the skin of her forearm, harder — harder, dammit — scratching down her arm until she finally felt that familiar burn that had become her haven. She breathed a sigh as the sounds became clearer and the pain steadied her and everything focused.

Daphne and Theo were crouched down next to her with concerned faces and Draco and Pansy were in a staring match with Harry and Ron. And McGonagall, stern as ever, stood in between them.

"Enough, all of you. I expected better, from all of you, but especially you, Messrs. Potter and Weasley. In all my years — we have all dealt with great hardships over the past few years. And now we are in a healing period of understanding. No students here are at fault for anything. No student should have gone through as much as they did. And we cannot control what happened in the past, all the factors that affected it, and we may not know what caused everything for everyone. But have compassion for each of your own struggles, and support each other! Don't go and tear each other down! You are now eighth year students, and you should have the maturity to look beyond colors and titles and see what's inside. Which begins the next part of what I had originally planned to say.

"As eighth years, you have suffered more than any of the other years. Things will be harder for you than anyone else. As such, you are not going to be characterized by the color of your ties." She waved her wands and everyone's ties and any House color affiliation on their clothes disappeared. "You will sit at a table for the feast with each other instead of your original House. Your privileges will be more than the rest of the student body. And you will dorm with the other students in your year, in a separate part of the castle. As a symbol of how everything has changed, however, tonight, after the other students have been dismissed to their own House common rooms and dorms, there will be a re-sorting for each of you. None of you are the same people you were, and everyone should stop being characterized by that.

"Now, in the Great Hall, your table is the empty one next to the double doors. You may choose your own seats. But I expect no more conflicts and no more shouting matches, at least for tonight. Do you all understand me?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," they all murmured. She nodded in acceptance before allowing them into the Great Hall.

As McGonagall had told them, there was a table about half the size of the main House tables sitting next to the doors. The Slytherin quintet and Hermione all made their way to the very end of the table, with the boys on the side closer to the wall and the girls closer to the other tables. Hermione found herself comfortably nestled between the two, sitting across from Theo. Blaise sat on his left and Draco on his right, in the very corner.

The other tables were chattering loudly, and while most had noticed them all walk in and sit down, they paid them no heed, other than the occasional glances. The smaller table, however, was silent.

A sudden hush fell over the rest of the hall as the doors opened once more and McGonagall entered, this time leading in the first years. The absolute awe and admiration on their faces of the magnificence and magic of the Great Hall. A small smile lit Hermione's face as she remembered the joy she felt when she herself was a first year. The few months after that would be hard, and then each year following never held as much joy as she had imagined before. But perhaps now… that could change.

She desperately hoped it could change.

Everything began to play out the same way it did seven years ago. The Sorting Hat sang its song of reconciliation, forgiveness, and friendship. She could feel Harry and Ron's glares burning her back, but she steeled herself with a deep breath and focused on the Sorting that was about to begin.

"When I call your name," announced McGonagall, "you will sit on the stool, place the Sorting Hat on your head, and wait to be sorted. Once you are sorted, you will join your House table. Alexander, Jaimie!"

And so it began. There were many more students than in her or Ginny and Luna's year, probably from the baby boom a few years after the First Wizarding War.

"RAVENCLAW!" called the hat for Jaimie Alexander, and everyone clapped, a few cheers coming from the aforementioned House.

"Bailey, Jonathan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The applause was slightly louder with much more cheering from the Hufflepuff table than the Ravenclaw table. They were much more social and weren't afraid to show it.

She began to tune it out, somehow managing to take her cue to clap but otherwise lost in the blankness of her mind. Things had started to become numb to her. After everything, all the pain and the loss, it was as if nothing affected her too much. There was little to be happy about anymore, and if there was, it was minuscule and didn't last long before it was taken over by flashbacks of the torture at Malfoy Manor or the battles here at Hogwarts. The changes and the tattoos helped a little. They centered her. Sometimes she would draw to give her hands something harmless to do. She had missed that, without many chances. It wasn't as easy to draw with ink and parchment as it was with pencil and paper, but she remembered to bring some this time.

Unlike when Professor Dumbledore was Headmaster, Professor McGonagall made no nutty speeches and simply clapped her hands. When she did, food appeared on the platters before them. She carefully served herself, making sure not to take more of the delicious-looking food than she could handle. Over the summer her appetite had significantly decreased.

The six of them chatted quietly as they ate, but not nearly as loudly as the rest of the table. Goyle, Tracey Davis, and Millicent Bulstrode were off at another end of the table, and all of them doubted the ability to have a mildly stimulating conversation with any of them. They talked about a range of topics that if anyone were to overhear it wouldn't prompt an angry response. They discussed their favorite foods, different magical creatures, debated whether eagle or peacock feather quills were better, and Daphne and Theo narrated their dates over the summer: strawberry picking, wine tasting, and a picnic in a muggle park. Apparently, as per pureblood customs, the two were supposed to be courting, but the Greengrasses were a grey family and had several affiliations with big muggle companies and Theo iterated that he didn't give a flying fuck about formality. So they were dating.

Hermione couldn't even finish everything she'd served herself; she ignored the dessert.

After the dessert, McGonagall stood up once more to list the basic rules. She didn't bother paying attention, tuned into these after too many years of playing a character that she never wanted to be in the first place. From Draco's quiet scoff she knew he didn't give much of a damn about it either.

And then she'd dismissed the rest of the students to their dormitories then headed their way.

"If all of you would follow me, I will show you to your eighth-year common room and dormitories, and there we will sort you in private. This way, keep up."

They ended up in a sort of cluster, with Theo and Daphne holding hands amidst it and muttering to each other, and the other four tailed it, walking in comfortable silence. Hermione honestly found it rather surprising that she got along with these Slytherins so well, but perhaps she had never allowed herself to allude to the idea of possibly getting along with them. Or maybe war had connected them all in some odd, unpredictable way. She determined that in the end, she didn't care. She somehow felt closer to them than she ever had to Harry and Ron. That friendship was pushed along more from her fear of failure and insecurities than anything. This — this was a connection, and she let the refreshingness of it wash over her, encompassing her.

She wasn't even paying attention to where she was going. Just following mindlessly. She'd figure out her way eventually. If it took getting lost time and time again, well, she doubted she could give much of a fuck about anything anymore. She'd deal with shit. Let her lows become lower, and her highs become lower, too. Embraced the nightmares and became numb after the flashbacks. She sought out the pain and ignored the blood, because what did it matter anymore?

Eventually, they reached stone with an arch drawn on it with what looked like white chalk.

"There is no password," said McGonagall. Each of you, as well as each of the teachers, are registered to the Arch, so simply touch it and it will become a door. You will be able to bring in other students, but I highly suggest that you don't. They will not be able to get in on their own."

She touched the wall inside the Arch and it glimmered before getting a handle, which the professor pulled open, showing them into a surprisingly neutral common room. It seemed more like a living room. It had the colors of the houses, but they were muted, not even to draw attention to. The theme seemed to be a cozy-nature mix with sage-green walls and matching couches and armchairs of olive green, light brown, or white. Bright chandeliers hung down from the ceiling and the walls had multiple open arched windows. There were bay windows, too, with cushions the exact shade of the wall paint. Several fireplaces sat against the walls with cozy armchairs around it like in the Gryffindor common room. On either end was an archway where she could make out a small staircase.

"Oh, make yourself at home, all of you. Sit down, find a place, and we'll get started in a moment."

The six found themselves a tiny corner with a brown corner couch and a rectangular black and glass coffee table. She found herself sitting between Draco and Blaise. Next to Blaise was Pansy and the two lovebirds sat at the other end of the couch.

"This will be very similar to the first-year sorting ceremony. As all of you have changed, don't expect yourself to remain in the same house. We will start with Hannah Abbott."

She headed up to where McGonagall stood with the hat and sat down in that armchair, letting her place the hat on her head.

"Hufflepuff."

There was no loud proclamation this time, just a small but firm statement in the silence.

The first House change was Millicent, who ironically was the first Slytherin to go, but ended up becoming a Hufflepuff.

They cheered her on.

They were somber when they noticed how Vincent Crabbe's name was skipped over and went on to Tracey Davis. Tracey remained a Slytherin. Justin Finch-Fletchley became a Ravenclaw. Gregory Goyle became a Hufflepuff alongside Millicent, and they cheered him on as well. He had a sort of lost look in his eyes when he sat back down next to Millicent and Tracey.

And then was —

"Hermione Granger."

The silence somehow became quieter. Social anxiety — oh how she hated that little bitch — she'd forgotten it in desperation, but it was always there. She hated this attention, her legs had turned to lead, and she was surprised she was able to stand and walk over to McGonagall, dreading this with all her being.

She closed her eyes, not able to look a single one of them in the eye.

Oh, Miss Granger. It's been a while, hasn't it? Seven years? What a while. And you've changed, haven't you? Remember what I told you last time? I do.

She bristled. Gryffindor or Slytherin, that was the choice. Wasn't it? And now I wonder if you made the right choice.

Hmm, indeed. That didn't work out the greatest for you, did it? But Slytherin would've been a good deal harder.

At least I would've been true to myself.

You've would've been broken, Miss Granger, and none of us could have that.

Maybe I would've preferred to be broken than lost. At least I know what I used to be, what to fix myself back to. Lost, I was no one, nothing, no idea of what to do. I just pretended to be someone I'm not.

Well, now you don't have to. Are you prepared for this?

I don't give a fuck about it.

"Slytherin."

She looked at nothing and walked back to her seat between the two boys as Daphne went next and predictably remained a Slytherin.

She didn't care about the rest of the sorting. It was already predictable. Everyone sitting on the same couch as her would and did stay a Slytherin. Blaise was the last to go before McGonagall spoke up again.

"The staircase on the left leads to the boys' dormitories, and the right leads to the girls'. You will be rooming with those in your house. There are four doors, and each is labeled for a House. While everyone else's classes begin tomorrow, yours will start the day after. Now, tonight has been rather tiring for us all, so why don't you each find some sleep."

That was as good of a dismissal as any, and everyone began standing up and heading to their respective staircases. She trailed behind Daphne and Pansy, Tracey joining them somewhere — somehow. She felt as if she was in a trance. Everything seemed out of focus, or maybe she just wasn't focusing hard enough. But she didn't have the energy to determine or to try.

Sleep sounded like a very good idea.

Tracey held the door open for them. Hermione found her bed. Shamelessly, she stripped off her clothes and flicked her wand to summon her sheer black nightgown. She quickly changed and flicked her wand once more to send her original clothes folded neatly upon her trunk. Then she stumbled into the green, black, and silver bed that was so different from what she was used to, and fell asleep instantaneously after shutting the curtains.

But falling asleep quickly didn't mean that she slept well. A visit from the nightmares to prolong her numbness.

What a way to start off the school year.