The morning cracked in a sudden burst of light through the window, throwing golden streams of light with no avail over Hermione's face. Her scarlet sheets crumpled with her movement as her hand slid underneath her pillow and around her wand. The next moment she was sitting up, panting, brown eyes wide and searching; wand aimed at the door. She blinked several times, before groaning, and slipping back into the headboard of her long lost Gryffindor bed. It was like an old friend to her, warm, inviting, and soft. There was something odd and unnatural to it now. The year spent in a tent on the run had made her body used to hard surfaces and pain. The welcoming warmth of the feathers in her blanket made her slightly suspicious to her whereabouts until her brain caught up with her.
Hogwarts.
Home.
She smiled, a tear slipping down her face; she reached up to wipe it away, turning to look out the window. The sun was still rising, as she hadn't thought to pull the curtains closed the night before, exhaustion running wild through her, it was no wonder she was rising so early now. A clock on her bedside table told her the time was five thirty am, and she snorted at the knowledge. Her wand so safe in her grasp was flicked briefly, the sunlight locked out. Her head hit the pillow one more time, and sleep took her quickly.
A few hours later, she awoke naturally. The rumble in her stomach had become something strong, impossible to ignore any longer. Throwing back the covers, she slid herself out of bed, taking note that it was just after eleven. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun above her head, not wanting to do anything with it until she'd had a deep soak in a bath tub, and then a shower. Then another bath. Most likely she'd have another shower after that. There was too much dirt to scrub off and out of her being, bathing in ponds, rivers and the odd scourigify; did little to help how clean one actually was. Not to mention being unable to properly clean clothes for a year. She shuddered slightly at the thought. She'd have to empty out her bag and see what was intact, what needed to be fixed but most of all, what needed to be thrown away and replaced. There were some clothes she would not want to wear ever again in that bag.
Slipping on a dressing gown after the thought about her clothes, Hermione sauntered down the stairs to the common room that was, blessedly, still in one piece. It looked undisturbed from the days before, as though there hadn't been a war fought just the other side of the wall. Newspapers lay on the tables, with pictures and half played chess sets. Sweets were scattered across the chairs and floor, whilst blankets were draped over the arm rests or the chairs backs. It was though comfort had been sought out by all, at every available opportunity. The common room looked lived in, more so than usual, pillows that usually resided in the dormitories were found nestled into every available nook and cranny, and now she really looked at the layout of the room, the placement of the furniture saddened her. All the chairs had their backs to the portrait hole, a bookcase had switched its position from by a window to right next to the entrance, it was oddly empty, nothing placed upon it, but the tell-tale scratches on one side of it told Hermione all she needed to know. The layout was a defensive one, the high backed chairs allowing for cover, whilst wands could be aimed over the top. The bookcase a quick diversion to bar people from entering as fast as they could, the tables in positions that could be easily flipped to provide another quick bit of defence from either the portrait hole, or to cover the retreat to the dormitories. As she looked towards the stairs she'd just come down, she noticed a broomstick, Hermione sighed. Of course there would be brooms. When worst came to worst, escape from the tower via the windows with a broom would be the only logical action. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed in deeply to steady herself, a mixture of pride and despair welling up in the depths of her being. This was Gryffindor bravery at its finest, but the despair lingered, she doubted any of the other houses had had to do this. Slytherin; least of all.
A footstep on the top of the stairs from the opposite dorm made her jump, and once more, her wand was in her hand; aimed and ready at whomever it was, logic lost. A shock of ebony hair stumbled into view, followed by a lanky body that was mottled in bruises, cuts, and one very obvious scar.
"Hermione," He said, grinning deliriously at her before walking down to meet her.
"Harry," She grinned, putting her wand away. His embrace swallowed her up before she could do anything else, his guttural, joyful laughter bursting from him was infectious, and she was helpless to do anything else but join in. They laughed as they held each other, delight fluttering like butterflies about the room as the released one another.
"I'm starving, was going to get something to eat, you gunna join me?"
"It's the exact same reason I'm up Harry, I think the kitchens should be free so we can make ourselves something, if they're in one piece of course..." she trailed off, lost in thought as Harry led her to the portrait hole. The walk went quietly between them, both thinking about the day before, the state of Hogwarts, and the future that was to come.
"So…you and Ron..." Harry broke the amicable silence, flicking Hermione a sidelong glance as the corners of his mouth flicked upwards. Hermione sighed, she'd been expecting this.
"No actually...I mean; I know everyone was expecting it, but...no."
"No?" Harry exclaimed, clearly surprised, "but you two would be great together!"
"Harry, really, think about it. Ron and I good together? Tell me a common interest we both share, something we can bond over. Does he really intellectually stimulate me? Is he as driven as I am? God knows I love Ron Harry, but...not the way everyone expects me to. He's not quite a brother like you are to me, but he's still dreadfully important. And after everything...after the war...I can't risk losing another friend after we get together and then split over something stupid a few years down the line. Think about how much we'd lose if something went wrong. I'd lose the Weasley family, because we all know they stick together. I'd lose my Wizarding family. I'd make the friendship between you and I awkward if Ron and I were together and broke up...it's too much of a risk, just for people's expectations. Ron is too important to me, and he needs to be with someone who loves him for who he is. Don't get me wrong Harry; I love you both in very different ways, but him and me together? I can't. We can't. I know this bit sounds the worst to say, but it has to be said; I know there was dark magic involved but after he left us...how do I know he won't do it again? I know there was magic, I know, but...it makes you wonder..."
Harry had been watching her closely the entirety of her little tirade, and had nodded along to himself. He had found himself agreeing to most of her points, but his eyes narrowed as she brought up the torment of the locket.
"You can't blame Ron for the locket." Harry said sternly, and Hermione bit back a sigh.
"I know, but…we all wore it Harry. How did he fall when we didn't? Why did it get to him more?"
"He thought you and I were together, and he didn't want that, so it ate him up." Harry stated his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So did you end it between you?"
"No, because there wasn't anything to break off. We haven't even spoken since everything stopped, since we kissed. We weren't together, aren't together, and won't be together. I really prefer us as friends. We'll be better off as friends and nothing else." Hermione smiled thinking about the outcome, although confusion danced at the back of her mind about Ron and his affections. Her own had been clear, Harry was like a brother and was still head over heels about Ginny, and was off limits for those reasons. When death dwelled about every corner it was all too easy to seek some form of love where you wouldn't usually. Ron was available, and Harry wasn't. It was illogical the attraction, but had Ron thought and wanted more when they were on the run? Was Ron just biding his time and waiting to start up the relationship properly when everything was settled now they'd won? Whatever the cause, she was happy how it was in the present moment.
"As long as you're both happy," Harry said gruffly, nodding his assent to their predicament. The silence lingered between them once more, the welcome familiarity between the pair a comforting presence as they walked through a battle ground that never should have been where it was.
"It's going to be weird coming back to Hogwarts without you and Ron," Hermione eventually spoke, tearing her brown eyed gaze away from the gaps in the walls where portraits had been removed.
"I'll be better off in the Ministry," He replied, a firm set expression over his features.
"Why?"
"Think about it, think about the war we've just had, why it was started, and think about the Ministry we had to suffer through it. I can't just sit here and get N.E. while a whole new Ministry is being built right now. I need to do something, I need to be there to make press conferences look bad or great, or to say something here or there. I can't do a year of school then be ignored when I enter an established Ministry a year later. We can't handle another corrupt Ministry. We can't have people running the Wizarding World in Britain who still think Muggleborns are scum and that Dark Wizards don't exist just because some teenage boy says it." Harry's hands had formed fists, and his gaze was blazing, "As much as I hate to say it Hermione, I'm Harry Potter. I'm not going to get out of this war with no press invasion, no curiosity as to what I'm doing. If I'm at school again...what are people going to think? They won't listen to a schoolboy, but a man who works in the Auror department in the Ministry..."
"I understand," she nodded, remembering Scrimgeours' visit to Harry to determine 'whose man' Harry was, the incompetence of Fudge, and the hope Shacklebolt seemed to drip with every word he spoke, she hoped that he would be the next Minister more so than most. "You're better off in the Ministry, making those changes whereas I'm probably better off here."
"Why?" Harry asked her, genuine curiosity sparking in his eyes.
"I'm not…ready for a Ministry job. I know Hogwarts isn't completely free of scrutiny, it'll probably be worse now in all honesty, but it just feels safe here. I can't throw myself into anything challenging for ages. I just need something normal before I feel like I can actually contribute. What is more normal than…school?" She explained, as their footsteps crunched and echoed through the halls, the portraits tittering with excitement as they passed.
"I think you're forgetting something." Harry said with a slight hint of mirth tinting his sidelong gaze he threw at her.
"Oh and N.E.W.T's," she sighed, exasperated, as Harry's laughter bellowed down the corridors. She grinned at him, revelling in the easiness of being with Harry and the ability to laugh once more. Soon his laughter quieted, and his expression took on a sober tone.
"It's going to be hard work from here on out again Hermione," he sighed, and Hermione nodded.
"It will, but we're going to do it for the better. We can't risk the old prejudices lingering, and risking a new war. Not again." Old habits ran strong, and before they knew it, they were standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, and not at the portrait that held a particularly ticklish pear. Thankfully, the powerful smell of bacon and coffee wafted through the doors, and relief was mirrored on both of their faces. They entered, to find an almost familiar sight. The bodies and injured had been completely taken, but instead of the five standard tables, one for each house and the head table for the teachers, just one lone table remained, the teachers table. A few people were sitting, happily eating and talking quietly to one another, Minerva McGonagall sat tellingly in the heads chair, whilst Kingsley Shacklebolt at her right. A pair of blooms of red hair was next to Kingsley, whilst a blonde head was as far away from them as they could possibly be.
"I forgot you said Malfoy was still here under house-arrest." Harry seemed to speak her thoughts aloud, but a ponderous expression was crafting itself over his features.
"He doesn't look...well," Hermione considered, taking in the way he stared at the ceiling with an absent gleam to his eyes, an empty goblet casually hanging in his hand. Harry grunted, as if he'd already spared Malfoy more thought than what was right for him to do that day, and settled himself in next to Ginny, smiling at her brightly. Hermione sat herself opposite Ron, eyeing up a plate of croissants with a famished rumble of her stomach.
"You'll never guess what." Ron greeted Hermione, and she noted the pale tell-tale signs of shock in Ron's skin, the wide dazed glimmer in his eyes, and the way he didn't really know how to compose himself.
"What?" She asked, staring at him suspiciously, her recent conversation with Harry still bright in her mind.
"We're getting a ministry pay out." Ron said, as if he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "Fifty thousand galleons...each. Mum, Dad, Ginny...they're all getting ten thousand. All because we were a member of the Order and spent time planning to defeat Voldemort. I think Percy isn't getting anything because of his abandonment, same with Charlie, he wasn't really ever in the country, but Bill, Fleur..." the unspoken name hung in the air, and Ron swallowed, taking another deep draught of pumpkin juice. "Hermione, I'm rich. My family...we're rich. You're rich! Harry..." He waved his hand away to dismiss Harry's wealth, a wealth he'd barely touched. "I'm going to be ok Hermione. I've got a great job, money for the first time in my life, and no bloody Voldemort to ruin things." He laughed, and reached for another bread roll to stuff with the various fillings decorating the table. Hermione had been loading her plate and listening in shock. She hadn't expected anything from anyone for doing what she'd done. She'd only followed Harry because he was Harry, stupid and noble for expecting to do everything alone. A massive monetary pay out had been something she'd never had expected in her wildest dreams.
"Miss Granger!" A sharp, concerned voice snapped into her ears. She jumped, and turned to face a worried looking McGonagall, "have you heard anything I just said?" Hermione blushed and shook her head no, and earned herself the very rare pleasure of McGonagall's chuckle.
"I was just saying Miss Granger that I have been appointed the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and was offering you the Head Girl position should you still wish to return for the new school year." A kind smile was over Minerva, and Hermione gasped, gaping open mouthed at her mentor.
"Congratulations!" she managed to say first, "are...are you sure?"
"Who better Miss Granger?" Hermione blushed at the almost instantaneous voicing of McGonagall's approval of her, and she smiled happily.
"Then yes, I'd love to be Head Girl." She accepted, to McGonagall's proud nod of her head. "I have to warn you that you will now be expected to help in the rebuilding of Hogwarts, we have unfortunately realised we don't know enough about the school to rebuild it immediately." Minerva sighed, as Shacklebolt flicked McGonagall a sympathetic glance before delving back into the discussion he was having with Harry and Ron. Hermione found herself sitting up straight again, and feeling like she had a deeper purpose once more. A sense of normality at the promise of books, learning and research that wasn't about killing a corrupted man filled her with joy. She made a mental note to write to Flourish and Blotts asking them for all the books they had for sale on the building of magical buildings and Hogwarts as soon as she could.
"Have they elected a new Minister?" Hermione suddenly asked nobody in particular whilst she poured herself a glass of orange juice, the feeling of joy still happy and settled at the base of her spine.
"Yeah, it was unanimous apparently, and really quick, the Ministry must be in a bad shape to get a new Minister this quick. Thicknesse only handed in his resignation yesterday; after everything finished. Said he couldn't be a minister when he wasn't voted in and the whole Death Eater trial…" Ginny seemed to ramble I response, almost more focused on heaping her plate with bacon than anything else. Hermione half smiled at the Weasley trait, impatience blossoming on her insides.
"So…who is it?" Hermione asked Ginny eventually, holding back a snort of laughter as Ginny's brown eyes widened in surprise and realisation.
"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm just so distracted today," Ginny apologised, gesturing her hand in the direction of Kingsley, "It's Shacklebolt, who better than the fair head of the Auror department that actually gets stuff done?" She deadpanned, and Hermione saw the truth in her words as she looked at Shacklebolt who still seemed to be talking to her boys in urgent clipped tones. Ginny caught her eyes again, and smiled, before taking another bite of sausage.
"Oh yeah, and that reminds me, we have a new defence teacher, Dawlish. Apparently he sent an owl to Kingsley last night saying no more field work, put him on a desk. So he was sent to Hogwarts instead." Ginny told Hermione, topping up both their drinks.
"You know, that's not that bad actually, of all the people to have. At least he's been an auror, and under Shacklebolt we should have Ministry permission for practical lessons." Hermione said to Ginny's guffaw of glee. The pair ate in amicable silence; both savouring the time in which they could simply relax and eat. The friends seemed to have an unspoken agreement about all that lingered over their heads, the upcoming funerals, the work that would have to be done to rebuild the school in earnest, and the wounded physical and mental states of them both. Almost as if Ginny had read her mind she broke their quiet conversation break.
"I need to go shopping, I have money now."
"I'll come, I have nothing that isn't beyond repair, covered in stains, or stinking beyond all polite levels of odour." Hermione replied in a business like fashion as Ginny wrinkled her nose.
"There are polite levels of odour?" Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny as the red head dissolved into a cheeky grin. "I'll get Harry and Ron to come too, when was the last time you saw Harry in clothes that actually fit him?" Ginny dropped her fork as her mind wandered to times of the past, and tried in vain to think of times he was in clothes that were actually his size. A blush crept over her cheeks, and she turned her eyes to Hermione with a devilish grin.
"His Quidditch uniform." She said, a hint of triumph and lust burning behind her brown eyed gaze. Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes once more, a smile creeping onto the corners of her mouth.
The men of the table, save the brooding Malfoy, had quieted their conversation and seemed to be waiting for a time to speak to Hermione, only Ginny spoke first.
"Harry," Began Ginny, "Mum wants to know when you'll be back at the Burrow and George wants to know if you can get him a muggle canbon or something like that. Don't tell him how is what Dad wants you to say. Ron, you're supposed to hurry up with your business here, and help Mum with planning Fred's..." she swallowed, and a tear slipped down her cheek from out of no-where, whilst Ron paled a little.
"Canbon?" Harry asked, tipping his head to the side in his befuddlement.
"Yeah, apparently it makes a really loud bang, and a ball will blast out of it or something. I'm not sure." Ginny offered, vividly animating her speech with her hands. Harry's jaw dropped as he realised what she was on about.
"I can't get you one of those! They're a weapon!"
"A weapon?"
"Yeah!"
"What does George want a Muggle weapon for then?" Ginny looked confused as both Harry and Hermione looked alarmed, perhaps George wasn't taking his twins passing in a sane manner.
"You best find out," interceded Ron, a dark look upon his face.
"I'll keep an eye on it," Shacklebolt agreed, a serious tone as he turned to face Hermione, his expression grim. It was only then that she noticed both Harry and Ron's face were almost mirrors of Shacklebolt's. Hermione felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she looked at them.
"I'm afraid there is something I cannot get you out of, no matter how much you may beg and plead. I also think that this may be the only solution to a problem that could get wildly out of hand. I'm to hold a press conference for you three, so that the press can get all their questions out the way. It'll mean you won't have to keep repeating yourselves. I don't think a statement from each of you will suffice. People…people want answers, and it's either you give them or the owls will come. We all know there is nothing you can do to escape an owl." Shacklebolt said his eyes boring into Hermione's as both Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious they'd been desperately arguing about having to do the press conference.
"So what are we supposed to say about the Horcruxes?" How are we supposed to explain why we were on the run?" She shot back, the fear she felt starting to bubble under her skin. Something seemed to have intrigued Malfoy about the situation, as his gaze seemed to burn on the back of her neck; Ron's shoulders slumping in the corner of her vision. Clearly they'd been hoping she'd say something Kinglsey didn't have an answer for.
"You are a muggle-born, and a friend of Harry Potter, would it really have made sense for you to go back to Hogwarts, straight into the hands of the Death Eaters, and I do believe the whole idea of loyalty to friends will buy over more people than you expect."
Hermione swallowed, realising that Shacklebolt had obviously thought the entire thing through, and he was unwilling to bend on the subject. He seemed to have realised he'd won the battle the moment Hermione failed to come up with a reply in time. Shacklebolt rose, as the looks of defeat on their faces came into fruition.
"I shall send you an owl as to when it is, and announce it to the press. I expect you to attend; this is for your own benefit after all, not mine." He finished, and strode on the hall as Ron blustered a sort of response, and Harry groaned, running his hands through his unruly black hair in despair.
"That's going to be a nightmare. Sitting in a room full of people wanting to know about my life with no option but to endure it." Harry groaned, and Ginny laughed at his grief.
"Well, you'll just have to come shopping with Hermione and I to forget about it then won't you." Ginny said briskly, and Harry flicked his emerald gaze over her, realising it was a battle he wouldn't win if he fought.
"Muggle shopping, I'm not dealing with the Wizarding World yet." He sighed, and a drop of dread sunk into Hermione's throat, pooling in her stomach, an acid tang flooding her veins. She'd been kidding herself thinking that everything was easy. She'd been hiding at Hogwarts, with invitations to the Burrow. She was safe from prying eyes, and people wanting to know why she'd gone on the run with Harry. Thoughts of her fourth year burst to life, and she wrung her hands with the memory of hate mail that had sent her to the hospital wing. Suddenly, the idea of a bath seemed all the more pleasant.
"Tomorrow then, we all go shopping, I have stuff I need to do today, like empty out my bag and wash myself." She said, making to leave the table. The boys nodded, and Ron looked confused, a rasher of bacon hanging in suspense between his plate and mouth.
"Why do I have to come?" he asked indignantly, "Harry I get, I mean, when his clothes ever fit, but me?"
"Oh Ron, like all your hand me downs fit you perfectly," Ginny said before Hermione managed to squeeze a word in, "Besides, wouldn't you want some nice, relaxing time with Hermione?" She finished an alluring gleam to her words. Ron flushed red, his cornflower blue eyes looking her over in a way Hermione wasn't quite comfortable. Her face twisted slightly as she looked to Ginny, who didn't seem to realise what she'd said.
"Yes, well, anyway, I'm off to have a bath." Hermione said briskly, stepping over the bench and waving to them all, as McGonagall spoke up for the first time in a while.
"Go to the prefects bathroom on the sixth floor Miss Granger, Hagrid managed to get the Acromantulas out of that one, and compared to the rest of the castle, that one is the cleanest. I think the house-elves plan to scrub it down later however, just to be sure." Hermione smiled at her Headmistress, ignoring the comment about the house-elves and sauntered out the room. Her muscles looking forward to a long soak.