Hermione would honestly rather confront another troll or get manhandled by Grawp again than have to deal with... ugh... mornings. The lifelong student couldn't remember the last time she slept for more than three hours. At least, not without the help of a Sleeping Draught, and that only bought her about five. Needless to say, she was not too pleased about the incessant tapping on her bedroom window.

"Okay," Hermione groaned. "I'm up. Just give me a minute." With an aggravated huff that would likely impress Aberforth, she yanked back her comforter, silently cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to send her an owl at such an ungodly hour. Groggy and sleep-deprived legs clumsily stumbled across the chilly wooden floor.

A wild mess of frizz and curls bombarded her vision as soon as her fingers touched the cool glass. Hermione pushed it all back instinctively before rolling her eyes and yanking the window open. The creature that awaited her was completely unimpressed. Truthfully, she wasn't too impressed either.

The very official-looking and equally grumpy owl 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 if 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.

All thoughts of sleep quickly vanished when she realized who had sent it. 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 the 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. Its "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 of 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.

.

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. 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.

Nine years ago, her greatest aspiration was to wear the Head Girl badge. It was a surreal feeling to turn away from that in favor of 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 showed them paintings of numerous characters and scenes inspired by various books she read. Her fingers involuntarily twitched in response.

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 became a 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. 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 into her books—both as an escape and as a necessity—until they became her entire identity. Both in andout of Hogwarts. She had been completely content with that. It wasn't like she didn't absolutely adore books. She could go on and on about a book for hours. That was no secret. What wasa secret, though, was her second love: art. Now that her family was 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 bang. Her senses immediately jumped to high alert. She spun towards the source of the sound with her wand drawn just as a certain redhead came into view. As the intruder's hands rose into the air, Hermione lowered it with an exasperated sigh of relief.

"Gin, 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 it on her desk, brushing her mane out of her face again as she appraised her friend. Over the last two years, 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. 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. Her hair was in complete disarray, wearing only Harry's old Quidditch jersey. It swallowed her whole, leaving her legs on full display while she clutched 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. !"

Ginny's repressed smile 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 put on her brightest smile for her friend. "That's fantastic! Does Ron know? He would be positively thrilled."

The witches linked their arms together as they headed toward the stairs. "You better believe it," Ginny gushed. "He didn't know whether to be happy for me or pissed off 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.

Once they reached the bottom, Ginny asked, "Well? 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 damn letter."

Hermione cringed. "Gin, 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.

She decided that Ron might have been on to something when Harry turned from the stove. He was in a complete state of bliss. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. As he bounced around the kitchen, setting plates and filling mugs with pumpkin juice and coffee, he had an extra spring in his step.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she watched Ginny greet Harry good morning as he set the breakfast table. It wasn't that she didn't want those things for herself, she did. It was just that every time she saw them together, she was reminded of how perfect they were for each other. They were so obviously in love, and they deserved every bit of happiness they had. She knew that they both still had nightmares, just as she did, but they didn't let that stop them from being happy.

The man even whistled a bit after he hugged her and kissed Ginny on the cheek. He deserved it more than anyone she knew. She just had no idea how to find a bit of that light for herself. Not for the first 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.