Being back was surreal to say the least. Everything was restored to the point that the buildings appeared just as sturdy as they were when Hermione first step foot onto the grounds. Back when the most important thing in her life was writing a really good essay to prove how engaged she was in the subject, or perfecting the flick of her wrist when first practicing spells as if she had been doing it her whole life.
She knew that these buildings had not long ago been reduced to rubble. She had climbed over the mounds of brick and mortar herself. And so, when she glanced up at the pillars, the gargoyles, and the twisting towers, that stood so proudly in front her now, she felt like they were ridiculing her in a way. Because the stone, and the cement, could easily be replaced, and replicated. Fixed. And made to look like it once was.
But she couldn't.
After the War, Hermione was broken. The fire in her eyes that used to flicker when someone underestimated her abilities, was gone. Yes, they had won. But they had also lost at the same time.
They had lost so many people, and had almost lost themselves in the process.
It seemed so strange to return to Hogwarts. To return to 'normalcy'. Especially given the disconnect between the years.
Those who were involved seemed gaunt, and approached the grounds with caution.
Those who were not old enough to understand what was going on approached Hogwarts with the wonder and amazement that Hermione once had, years back. These young students were full of joy, and when they looked at the Castle grounds, they didn't see the spilled blood and chaos that Hermione still had flashbacks to.
But Hermione knew that she had to push through the mental barriers that she had thrown up once the War ended. She knew that she needed to embrace the here and now, and allow herself to feel once again. It would be tough, but anyone that knew her knew that she would not back down from a challenge. And getting off the Hogwarts Express was the first challenge.
The journey to Hogwarts had been silent. Not tense, but just, silent. Harry and Ron had opted to stare wordlessly, out of the window, absorbing the scenery as it zoomed past them. And Hermione was grateful. They changed into their robes in succession, commenting on the similarities between this new year, and their first year, when they entered Hogwarts without having been sorted.
The rules had been shaken up slightly, so that all students entering the school were no longer to be sorted into the infamous houses. Providing further incentive to divide people was not on the Hogwarts agenda, and if it meant sacrificing their houses, so be it. Hermione, Harry, and Ron, now sported plain black ties, and they reminisced about when they were last in this get up, all those years ago, wondering where Neville's toad had got to.
Hermione was tentative in stepping off the train. Knowing that once she did, she would have to commit to this next year at Hogwarts, and accept all the pain that would inevitably come with it. For it was sure to be tough for her, walking through the halls that were once filled with screams. But she was determined, and with Harry and Ron striding on ahead, she leapt down from the carriage and let her feet carry her into the Great Hall.
Their dinner passed in a similar surreal fashion, with the Sorting Ceremony naturally being skipped entirely, replaced instead by in indoor fireworks show conducted by Headmistress McGonagall. The younger students marvelled, and the older students tried not to flinch at the sounds of the explosions.
Everyone was now seated on smaller, round tables, with each table consisting of students of various years. Of course, many of the older students knew who had previously been in what house, but in a way, with the inclusion of the new batch of witches and wizards who had never known the previous Hogwarts, people seemed more open to the idea of intermingling.
And that was where Hermione found herself. Sat opposite Draco Malfoy. Asking him to pass the salt.
No one around her balked at the fact that she talked to Malfoy, nor did they scowl at him when he hesitated.
Hermione, like many of the older students, recognised that Malfoy was just as much a victim in the War as they were. His connections meant that he was entangled with the wrong crowd, but he was deserving of a chance to start afresh. Even Harry and Ron agreed on that point, despite how intensely they had proclaimed their hatred for him previously.
And so, here they were. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Having dinner together.
A first year named Ella tugged at Hermione's sleeve during McGonagall's concluding speech, clearly nervous about the year ahead of her.
"Excuse me," she said quietly, barely loud enough for Hermione to hear. "I was just wondering if you had any advice, about classes and stuff? I asked that boy over there earlier," nodding at Malfoy, "and he said I should speak to you. I really want to do well and make my parents proud…"
Hermione was stunned. Luckily the young girl continued, and couldn't tell just how much her words had affected Hermione.
"I didn't grow up around magic you see, and I am worried I won't be good enough."
"Well," Hermione started, shakenly, "you have absolutely nothing to worry about."
Taking a second to compose herself, Hermione began to tell the young witch about her own journey with magic. With McGonagall's speech fading into the background, Hermione let herself get wrapped up in all of the Hogwarts memories that brought her joy and made her swell with pride, sparing no detail for the young Muggleborn witch. Of course, aside from the last year. The year that she was trying to forget.
The excitement visible in Ella's eyes only spurred Hermione on to continue telling her story, albeit slightly modified. Naturally she didn't want to encourage participation in any rule-breaking practices, though Hermione didn't shy away from emphasising just how important it was that this young girl didn't ever underestimate just how capable she was, as a Muggleborn.
Wrapping up by emphasising that she would help her out whenever she needed it, Hermione encouraged Ella to get back to her room and rest before her first day. It was then that she was became aware of the pair of eyes that had been watching her as she had essentially spilled her life to a young girl that she had just met.
Malfoy was staring right at her, his expression neutral and blank. At least, that was what it seemed to be on the surface of it.
Hermione knew that he had encouraged Ella to approach her for help. Perhaps, he felt that the two would connect well over the fact that they were both Muggleborn? Perhaps he knew that Hermione would be one of the most willing students when it came to helping a First Year? Perhaps it was a completely arbitrary reason, and Hermione was reading into it too much.
Whatever it was, Hermione could sense something emanating off Malfoy after she had finished speaking to Ella. His stare was bordering on penetrating, but caught suddenly off guard by the departure of the majority of the students from the Great Hall, making their way to their dormitories.
Draco Malfoy had certainly been through his fair share of trauma this past year. Hermione could see it in the way he held himself at the table, the way he looked at the pristine, reconstructed Great Hall, and the way his hands shook when they passed her the salt shaker.
Looking at Malfoy, whose attention was now captured by the swarm of students leaving their tables, Hermione saw so much of herself. Someone who was broken by the War, but who knew that they didn't want to be defined by this moment for the rest of their lives.
Perhaps that was why Malfoy directed the first year to Hermione. Perhaps he was giving Hermione a chance to remember what motivated her to strive to do well in the first place. To remember why she loved magic. To remember that despite the bad, there is so much good that can come from the magical world. And to remember why she never gave up, even when people around her didn't think she would succeed.
Hermione cocked her head inquisitively, drawing Malfoy's attention back to her, once most of the hubbub had died down.
He relaxed his expression, got up, and made his way towards her.
"Granger," he started slowly, "I wondered if perhaps this year, we might start over. As if, we had never met…"
Hermione stood up, and was about to speak when Malfoy started up again.
"I realise that while I have been given a second chance by the Wizengamot, that does not necessarily extend to my peers. I know that forgetting the War and what happened is not something that can easily be done, but-"
"Okay." Hermione interrupted him before he could finish, but she was already settled on her decision as soon as she had taken the salt from Malfoy's trembling hands. No houses, black ties, standing in a Castle that was once dust, everything in front of Hermione now seemed surreal. What was a potential friendship with Malfoy on top of all that?
"Okay?" Both of Malfoy's eyebrows were raised, clearly surprised by how quickly Hermione was willing to accept his proposition.
"Yes Malfoy, okay. Let's start from the beginning. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm a witch. I like reading, I take my tea with milk and two sugars, and I hate flying." It came out in a bit of a rush, but Hermione didn't let her voice waver. After all she'd been through, introducing herself to Malfoy like it was the most normal thing in the world should be a walk in the park.
She was anticipating a snarkier reply, but when Malfoy spoke she instantly regretted holding on to her biased assumptions, because he was just as genuine as she was.
"Hello Hermione. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I'm a wizard. I take my tea black, with two spoons of honey, and my favourite subject is Potions," he said, not letting his eyes leave Hermione's face as he was talking. He kept his voice soft but assured, knowing that he was now speaking for himself and not letting his family name speak for him.
Hermione smiled up at him when he finished, and then extended her hand out towards him. He took it, shook it, and then dropped it, taking a second to look at it almost in amazement of what just happened.
"We'll be alright," Hermione said confidently, making sure to catch Malfoy's eyes as she said it. "We'll get through it."
And on that, she left the Great Hall, and left Draco Malfoy.
He still stood there, long after everyone had left, clutching the hand Hermione shook, praying that she was right.
And when his hands and feet grew numb, he too made his leave.
The doors of Great Hall closed behind him. Sealing the promise that he and Hermione had just made, to lock up the past and look to the future.
It would be hard, but they would get through it.