Hermione would honestly rather confront another troll or get manhandled by Grawp again than have to deal with... ugh... mornings. As it was, the bushy haired witch couldn't remember the last time she had slept for more than three hours. At least, not without the help of a Sleeping Draught, and that only bought her about five. That didn't mean she was too pleased about the incessant tapping on her bedroom window, though.

"Okay," Hermione groaned. "I'm up. Just give me a minute." With an aggravated huff that would actually impress Aberforth, she yanked back her comforter, silently cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to send an owl to her at such an ungodly hour. Groggy and sleep-deprived legs clumsily stumbled across the slightly chilly wooden floor and over to her window. With another small huff, Hermione pushed back a wild mess of frizz and curls out of her face. As soon as her fingers brushed against the cool glass, she flung it open with a roll of her eyes.

The very official looking and equally grumpy owl on the other side of the window was not amused. It flew right past her, heading straight for the small desk on the other side of the room without even so much as a hoot in greeting. Once it landed, it gazed at her expectantly, as thought to say, are you coming to get this or what? I don't have all day. Stupid human. To make its point, it held out its leg impatiently.

Once she realized who it belonged to, all thoughts of sleep quickly faded away as she hastily took the letter and strange looking package. Her eyes eagerly scanned the page as she felt around her desk for the owl treats.

Miss Granger,

We would like to formally invite you to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year to obtain your N.E. and complete your education. Should you choose to accept, there are a few updates you should be aware of.

Given the circumstances pertaining to last school year, all returning students from your year will be referred to as eighth years. You will be housed in a separate dormitory that was built during the reconstruction of the school. It is not house separated, but you will each have your own room for privacy. Permitting of younger students into this dormitory is also highly discouraged.

Mind Healers will also be on staff this year for anyone who wishes to privately seek help. Anyone who reaches out will have their identities and all sessions with their Healer kept entirely confidential.

This year, a school-wide pen pal program is being implemented. Every student has been partnered with someone from a different house to write to anonymously throughout the year. It is important that we all learn to set preconceived notions aside to form genuine friendships going forward. I think you will find this program interesting, to say the least.

With this letter you will find a Twinned Quill. They are designed to transmit anything that you write with it to the quill that it is paired with. It's "twin," as the name suggests, writes down what you have written so the owner of the quill can read the message. They can then write a response, wherein you will receive it in the same fashion.

The positions for Head Boy and Head Girl are open as well. By way of a unanimous vote, you have been chosen for Head Girl. If that is still an aspiration of yours, it is yours for the taking. You have more than earned it.

Your schedule and supply list have also been sent with this letter.

Please send a response by owl as soon as possible to inform me of whether you will be returning this year, and whether you will be accepting the role of Head Girl this year.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione's heart stuttered right before it lurched, beating like a jackhammer in her chest. She had heard the whispers that everyone from her year would be invited to come back. She'd even had this confirmed when she asked Harry to check in with Kingsley about it. Yet, to see the letter with her own two eyes was something else entirely. There was really no other answer she could give; nothing to ponder over in the slightest. If she ever wanted to gain an ounce of peace again, she would need to return. If she ran away from the ghosts of that war now, Voldemort would still win... even in death.

She also made a mental note to stock up on supplies to make her draught while she was in Diagon.

Less than a minute later, Hermione's response letter was penned and the school owl was back in the air. Against all the red's, orange's, and purples of the sunrise, seeing the bird gliding on the August breeze was truly a sight to behold. She gave the airborne bird's form a bitter smile. Deep down, she wondered what it would be like to experience that kind of freedom.

Not the flying part, of course. She hated flying. It was abhorrent, dangerous, and she would have absolutely nothing to do with it. Zipping around on a mere stick of wood like a crazed lunatic was pure insanity!

However, with each passing day, there was a growing restlessness within her. She craved the liberty to find herself again. She desperately wished that she weren't the "Golden Girl," or anyone's bloody princess. She wanted to know what it was like to cry, to scream... to break the mold she created for herself as a scared eleven year old. She closed her eyes, folded her arms around her middle, and basked in the feeling of the fall breeze caressing her face.

Seven years ago, her greatest aspiration was to wear the Head Girl badge. It was a surreal feeling to turn away from her own goal in favor of simply learning how to genuinely smile again. She fervently hoped that the badge would find its way to someone who would fill the post better than she possibly could. For now, all she wished for was to be a ten year old girl again who knew the joy of flinging paint against the canvas with her parents in the backyard. In the deepest, most treasured parts of her memory, she could still see the pride in their smiles when she would show them paintings of numerous characters and scenes inspired by various books she had read. Her fingers involuntarily twitched in response. It had been quite a few years, but the ghost of the brush still lived in her memory.

Like everything else, the light, happy feeling soon took a turn. She wrenched her eyes open with a sigh. Those euphoric, innocent pieces quickly began to take a darker turn after the trio began fighting against Voldemort. What began as an outlet during the summer quickly turned into cause for alarm for Madelynn and Wesley Granger. If they knew the truth of how dangerous her world was at that time, they would have never let go back. In an effort to protect both her parents and Harry, she stopped painting altogether. That would only be the first sacrifice of many she'd have to make for everyone she loved.

She dove deeper and deeper into her books-both as an escape and as a necessity-until they became her entire identity. Both in and out of Hogwarts. She had been completely content with that. It wasn't like she didn't absolutely adore books. She truly did. She could go on and on about a book for hours. That was no secret. What was a secret, though, was her second love: art. It was one that she only shared with her family, and now that they were essentially gone, it was one that only lived inside her memories.

Before her mind could finish processing the magnitude of the moment, her gaze drifted down to the scarlet rectangular box that rested on her desk.

Knock! Knock!

The words, "come in," hadn't fully formed on Hermione's tongue before her door flew open with a loud bang. Her senses immediately jumped to high alert. She spun towards the source of the sound and had her wand pointed at the door just as a certain redhead came into view. As her hands rose into the air, Hermione lowered her wand with an exasperated sigh of relief.

"Ginny, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You nearly got a heart attack? I'm the one who was just at the wrong end of the wand!"

Hermione gently set her wand on her desk, brushing her mane out of her face again as she appraised her friend while her heart rate returned to normal. Over the last year, they had grown much closer than they were before. Now that Harry and Ginny were finally able to date properly, the redhead stayed at Grimmauld as much as she did the Burrow. Add in the fact that Hermione lived with Harry and was in some sort of in-between place with Ginny's brother, the two witches were bound to spend more time together. Over time, a natural friendship formed, which left them becoming nearly inseparable.

Ginny obviously hadn't been out of bed long. Had she stayed the night...? Hermione couldn't recall Harry saying anything about it. Ginny's hair was in a complete disarray and she wore one of Harry's old Quidditch jerseys that swallowed her whole. Her legs were on full display while she clutched what appeared to be a piece of parchment in her hand. Her eyes were wide and bright as she fought to keep a smile off her face.

It suddenly clicked. She had news-and she wanted to know something, too.

Hermione held up her own parchment in answer. "That's your Hogwarts letter, isn't it? I take it Harry and Ron got theirs, too?"

Ginny nodded eagerly. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"It means the castle reconstruction is finally complete and we can finally get our N.E. !"

The smile Ginny fought broke through as she reached for Hermione's shoulders. "No, silly! Quidditch! Quidditch is back on, and just you wait! With Harry going off for Auror training, I'll be the Gryffindor Captain! Can you believe it? This will be the best year yet!"

Hermione planted her best smile on her face for her friend. She deserved all the support Hermione could offer. Ginny deserved the world, really. "That's fantastic, Ginny! Does Ron know? He would be positively thrilled." The witches linked their arms together as they headed towards the stairs. "You better believe it," Ginny gushed. "He didn't know whether to be happy for me, or pissed because he didn't get the spot himself. It's alright, though. It was worth it just to see his ears turn red again. Even heard George call him Ronniekins for the first time since..."

The women nodded at each other in understanding.

"Well?" Ginny asked when they made it to the bottom. "What does yours say?"

Hermione shrugged. "Professor McGonagall wanted to know if I was coming back this year. Say, what do you think of that pen pal program?"

Ginny groaned, causing her best female friend to snort in response. "It sounds like more homework to me. Honestly, what is McGonagall thinking? We are already going to be swamped as it is! How am I supposed to fit writing to some random person between coursework and practice? She's going to make my hand fall off, and I need that hand for much more interesting things than writing a sodding letter."

Hermione cringed. "Ginny, for the thousandth time, can we please not talk about what you and Harry do? That's practically my brother!"

Ginny snorted. "You sound like Ron right now."

Hermione lifted her chin in indignation, causing both the girls to erupt in a fit of laughter as they walked into the kitchen arm-in-arm. When Harry turned from the stove and saw the girls in the midst of their moment, he didn't think there was a more wonderful sight in the world.

The Brightest Witch of their Age decided that Ron might have been on to something when she saw the blissful look on Harry's face. For the millionth time, she wished more than anything that Harry Potter had been born her brother.

Meanwhile, a certain quill was just upstairs, waiting to finally be opened so it could deliver a message.