"Hermione, can you look over this for me?"

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework to see Neville grinning at her sheepishly. With a good-natured eye roll, she held out her hand without a second thought. "Of course." That was when she caught the equally sheepish looks of Ginny, Hannah, and even Robert.

Gathered around a long table in the library, surrounded by friends, and immersed in the most calming scent in the world, Hermione felt like her old self again. This is what she was best at. This was her element.

"Go on. Hand them here," she commanded. Instant sounds of shuffling paper followed, leaving the brilliant witch with a stack of parchment in a neat pile next to hers. She snorted at the sense of DeJa'Vu. All that was missing was the boys asking for her notes.

She started with the top paper, scanning for the basics: inconsistencies, spelling errors, a possible wrong answer here and there; that type of thing. She smiled as she reached the bottom. Only minimal errors. "Well done, Neville! You should be proud of yourself."

Poor Neville flushed beet red under her praise. "Th-Thanks, Hermione."

"Oh come off it," she lightly scoffed. "You're quite capable of being brilliant, you know."

Hannah beamed at him. "I told you."

Hermione proceeded to the next one, scanning it just like she had the one before. As she neared the bottom, her quill snapped. "Blasted thing." She glared at her writing utensil as though it could hear her.

Ginny was the first to speak up. "Here," she said, starting to reach for her bag.

"No, no," Hermione sighed, waving it off. "I have a few spares. Thank you, though."

Before anyone could say another word, she reached down into her overstuffed bag. Her fingers grazed against an envelope at the same time she found her quills. "Oh."

She suddenly remembered the owl from the morning before. When had she put this in her bag? Hermione immediately decided to grab them both, opting to slip the letter under her own homework.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"Ginny!" Hannah scolded, though it held no real weight.

"What? I'm only asking what everyone here wants to know but are too bloody polite to say so."

The table unanimously groaned. Hermione patiently said, "It's nothing. More than likely just another update."

The girls shared a knowing look, to which Ginny instantly went contrite. "Right. Sorry."

Robert turned to her with a silent question. Hermione shook her head as her only answer. This was a part of her life she didn't want to openly share. The residents (and part-time residents) of Number Twelve, Grimmauld place were the only ones in Wizarding England who knew.

.

It took approximately thirty minutes to get through proofreading the other's homework. In that time, her letter from the Australian Ministry was burning a hole in the back of her mind. With the last assignment proofread, Hermione hurriedly grabbed yesterday's mail.

"Excuse me for just a moment." Everyone nodded unanimously, except for Robert, who started to get up with her. Hermione held her hand out to stop him. "I'm sorry, but this is something I have to do alone."

Hermione had to work to not feel guilty when his face fell. Internally, she brushed it off as she made her way to the back of the library. She knew just where to go: the historical section was usually unoccupied.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a lone figure in black perusing a few of the books. They stood on the other side of the shelves, in full view of Madam Pince. It was this that made her decide to not to pay them any mind. Her eyes were fully focused on the envelope in front of her.

In the corner, a small table and a couple of lounge chairs sat all but forgotten. It was perfect, really. Near-complete solitude was granted to her here. She took a deep breath. "Just open it, Hermione." With shaking fingers, she ripped the envelope open, bracing herself for whatever she would read.

.

Miss Hermione Jean Granger of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, England,

.

Hermione gulped. Judging by the extremely formal opening, this couldn't be good.

.

Per your request to be notified if there were any changes regarding Madelynn and Wesley Granger, also known as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, we are sorry to inform you that as of August 31, 2000, at 10:48 P.M., they were involved in a head-on vehicular collision.

.

Hermione's heart stalled in her chest. August thirty-first. That was three days ago.

While Hermione had been absorbed in trying to prepare a year's worth of her personal fix, panicking over whether she'd have enough Draught of Peace and Sleeping Draught to get her through the year... Her parents...

Hermione's heart jerked into overdrive. She immediately dove back into the letter. Please let them be alive. Please...

.

They were immediately airlifted to the nearest muggle hospital. We are incredibly sorry to inform you, Miss Granger, but they did not survive. Arrangements have been made

.

The letters slipped through Hermione's fingers.

Her world slowed to a stop.

Dead...

Dead?

DEAD!

.

"No. It can't be. There must be some mistake!" The words sounded barely intelligible to her own ears. She didn't care.

.

Her head hung low in a curtain of barely tamed curls. Her mind felt numb. Her body felt numb. In her panic, her train of thought came out in a hurried whisper. "It has to be another Monica and Wendell Wilkins. A different Madelynn and..." Her eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught. She couldn't think the names. Not now.

Another page on the floor caught her eye. She'd forgotten that there was another letter. Hermione carefully picked it up with trembling fingers, taking care to blink her vision clear. A single moment was all it took for her anger to flare up in full force.

It was a Frequent Portkey User Medical Evaluation. As if she'd need to use another damned portkey after this! She furiously started scanning the page's contents. "Honestly," Hermione bit out, "what kind of bastard sends—"

What she saw toward the bottom of the page made what was left of her world implode on itself. Her hands flew to her mouth to suppress a scream.

She didn't have long to get it together, however, as a patch of white-blonde hair came flying from around the corner. Hermione darted to the floor, gathering up documents she'd rather burn before the ferret could see them.

.

My parents are dead. I'm going to die. My parents are dead. I'm going to die...

.

The words twisted through her mind like a sick, twisted mantra that she couldn't stop.

.

"Granger!" Malfoy's demanding use of her name sounded like white noise against her ears.

Vengeful fury roared inside her. Despite the tears streaming down her cheeks, the distraught witch turned on him. "What, Malfoy? Have you come to taunt your favorite mudblood?"

Malfoy physically stumbled a couple of steps back. "The fuck is your…"

Hermione pulled herself off the floor and held her chin high with defiance. Part of her dared him to insult her. In fact, she would even say that she wanted him to. She needed something, anything to distract her from the anguish that would unequivocally destroy her the second she was alone.

"…problem?"

Hermione observed Malfoy's shock transform into an unsettling calm. Calculating, even. He blinked as his eyes roamed over her. She was aware that he was assessing her. She also knew it when he noticed the letter in her grasp. It would have been lost on a less observant person, but she saw the way they snapped back to her face. Little by little, his features settled into something akin to what Hermione knew well. "I thought we were past this."

Hermione couldn't stand this. Why couldn't he, just once, give her what she wanted? She angrily flew into his personal space and picked the first boundary to cross that she could think of. "When did we really first meet, Malfoy? Tell me!"

Malfoy then managed to do something that took the wind out of her. He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. For the first time since his trial, his molten silver eyes truly came alive as he led her backwards. The warmth of his mouth was perilously close to hers when her back banged into a bookcase. Between fresh grief and Malfoy's unexpected proximity, Hermione's mind stuttered. Was that… mint?

He caged her between his arms. "Listen carefully because I won't say it again. September 19, 1987." The date came out laced with quiet, dark fire that sent a shiver down Hermione's spine. "Your eighth birthday. I was digging up daffodils out of my mother's prized flower garden when you apparated right in front of me. Like the brainy little swot you are, you were carrying a book that just so happened to have a picture of a field that looked like our backyard."

Hermione blinked rapidly as her tears began to slow. Books, sandalwood, mint, and the color gray overtook her senses. She didn't know whether she wanted to hug this man or run to Myrtle's bathroom so she could break down.

Malfoy's irritated voice faded into the background. "You must have asked me a thousand bloody questions before McGonagall brought you home!"

Once again locking eyes with Malfoy, Hermione was unable to control the words that were about to escape her mouth. And she didn't want to. What was the point? "Muggles have a custom of making wishes while blowing out the candles on their birthday cakes. That day, I wished for a friend."

Malfoy froze and finally gave Hermione his signature glare. The sight had her internally tossing handfuls of confetti and cheering. She was so incredibly close. He was bound to snap any moment now.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione glared back up at him defiantly. Yes. This was normal. This she could do. She needed something, anything to ground her and damn it if this wasn't it. "Setting the record straight. And checking for Polyjuice… Professor."

Malfoy's nostrils flared and he leaned back. Hermione's lungs started working properly again. "If somebody started offering classes on the art of deception, maybe you'd finally learn how to stop being such a shit liar."

"How dare—"

"How dare I what? Accuse the world's Golden Princess of being less than perfect at something?"

The Hogwarts Library had likely never seen such an endless exchange of agitated silence before.

"Let me gladly be the first."

.

Hermione's wand seemed to come out of thin air when the tip pressed against Malfoy's throat.

"The better question is, 'how dare you, as a Hogwarts professor, come in here and harass a student?' Furthermore," the brunette witch seethed, "the only lies between us that need to be acknowledged are ones that you told, seeing as they directly affected the course of my life."

The bobbing of his Adam's Apple didn't match the steady calm of his gaze. "You aren't going to hex me, Granger."

Vaguely, in the back of Hermione's chaotic mind, she noticed that there was something different about this; in the way he spoke. Where was the venom? She pressed her wand against his neck a little harder. "And what makes you so sure? I have every justifiable reason to do so."

That was when her best defense went flying from her hand.

"Because," Malfoy said, "without the threat of the Dark Lord as an excuse, attacking a professor will get you expelled. We both know that you would rather die than get kicked out of school."

Hermione fumed, watching him tuck his wand in the pocket of his trousers.

"Is it easier to fight with me, Granger? Is that what you want?"

Hermione tried. She really tried to find words. She's been known to be quite articulate, especially when she was angry. Yet, now she couldn't find any. It might have been because she wasn't truly angry at anyone except herself.

.

The next thing Hermione knew, even gravity was working against her. Her body sagged against the bookcase, and she slid to the floor. No, she hopelessly thought. I want to live.

She felt Malfoy's stare from above her. She didn't care. She just brought her legs to her chest and wordlessly summoned her wand. Hermione tucked her chin into her knees and stared at Malfoy's legs until they disappeared. For a moment, she thought he was going to leave… until she felt a presence at her side.

"What's in the letter, Granger?"

Hermione shoved the letter into the pocket of her robes. It was a cruel twist of fate that brought her to this moment. In a year or less, the Smartest Witch of their Age would be dead. If figured that she would develop a terminal brain tumor. Ironic, isn't it?

For all she knew, she'd never see her N.E.W.T. scores. Internally, she snorted. What did it matter anymore? She'd never use them.

.

Gravity had never felt heavier. Through sheer willpower alone, she managed to turn her head enough to look Draco Malfoy straight in the eye. It was odd, seeing him sitting on an old wooden floor with her. What was stranger was that he mirrored her pose, in a way. The only difference was that his knees were open with his arms causally propped on them.

She noticed that he'd left a comfortable amount of space between them as well. Hermione was grateful for that as her mind skirted to their last conversation in his classroom. If there was ever a time to start fixing things between them, it was now. And there was certainly a lot of work to do before they could honestly say all was right again.

"I won't tell you, but I do want to ask you a serious question."

He arched one perfect eyebrow at her. "Well?"

"Did you mean what you said? About starting over?" The words sounded lifeless, even to her own ears.

"Yes, although I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep throwing our past up in my face." His hand roughly went through his hair when he tilted his head toward the ceiling. "I already know that I could spend a lifetime trying to right my wrongs and it wouldn't enough. Especially..."

.

Hermione watched him carefully. It was in the dying of the words on his tongue that, for a moment, she saw a glimpse of the little boy she once found in a field of flowers. That was what made the final decision for her.

"It's alright," she said softly. "I forgive you."

His gaze snapped back to hers in surprise.

Hermione shrugged. "We're not defined by our scars, remember? Only by the choices we make. And…" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm choosing to apologize for taking my anger out on you. It wasn't right."

The wizard beside her found something interesting on his knees. "I want to… apologize, too. For breaking my promise to you."

"Malfoy…"

"We called each other by our first names before Hogwarts."

Something shattered completely between them then. It was almost like a taboo had been spoken.

Malfoy started picking at his trousers. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll call you a liar."

Hermione snorted. "Don't worry. I'm not exactly looking to get admitted into St. Mungo's. Or worse: featured in the latest school gossip."

He nodded once in response.

"I know I… promised to be your friend—"

"Best friend."

Malfoy cut her a quick glare before he returned to picking at invisible lint. "And that didn't exactly work out."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it didn't. Instead, you pretended not to know me when I found you on the train in first year."

"You went to call me on my shit for it, and I've been a bloody tosser toward you since."

"That correctly sums it up, but what are you getting at?"

"That was my first fuck up," Malfoy muttered. "Between you and me, at least. And that led to everything else that happened."

The gears in Hermione's brain launched into overdrive. "You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

The initial response he gave her was a snort. "Eight months in Azkaban wasn't exactly like going on holiday. There's not much else to do but think."

"You know what I think?"

He shrugged. "What?"

"I think that it may be time for a clean slate." She fully straightened and extended her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"

For once, she didn't mind seeing that smirk of his. Without the malice or contempt behind it, it was kind of nice. Not that she'd ever tell him that. The blonde immediately took her hand in his.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Nice to meet you, Draco."

For as long as Hermione lived, she would never admit to the uncomfortably warm feeling that spread through her from his touch. It was almost enough to make the chaos in her head manageable.

Malfoy reached back with his other hand and ran it through his hair again.

"Umm—"

"Umm—"

"Maybe we're not at first names yet," Hermione conceded.

He shrugged. "Let's face it. To me, you'll always be Granger."

"I think I'd be worried if you didn't call me Granger," Hermione said thoughtfully. "You'll always be Malfoy as far as I'm concerned."

"You know, I think I'm okay with that."

It was Hermione who looked down at their still-joined hands. "Oh!" She immediately dropped his hand. "Sorry."

It was puzzling to note that Malfoy didn't look bothered at all as he studied his knees again. That confusion, however, didn't detract from the letters in her robes. She gave her new friend a bitter smile.

"Hey, Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

His face was scrunched with confusion when he looked back up at her.

Hermione shrugged. "For helping me get out of my own head. I know we don't really know each other anymore, in all honesty, but this is one thing I'm positive you wouldn't understand."

With that, she cast a quick glamour charm and stood. It was time to stop procrastinating.

"I'll see you in class."

.

She completely missed Draco's frozen form when she walked away. Her mind was already racing to create bucket list as she walked back to her friends' table. Hermione forced herself to smile. "Hey, guys!"

The group of four all simultaneously looked up. "What is it?" Hannah asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I need help. From all of you. Before I ask, though, I have to inform you that discretion is of the utmost importance here."

"Finally, I get to be involved in an adventure!" Ginny crowed.

Hermione, Robert, Neville, and Hannah all turned their attention towards her. The other Gryffindors at the table wore matching looks of amusement. The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, seemed puzzled.

"What?" Ginny laughed. "I never get to be involved in anything."

"At least you didn't get put in a full-body bind," Neville mused.

Hannah turned to Neville in wordless shock.

"Sorry, Neville, "Hermione mumbled.

To Hannah's unspoken question, Hermione answered, "Harry, Ron, and I lost Gryffindor a lot of house points first year. Neville tried to stop us from costing our house any more. You see, we were about to sneak past Fluffy, who was locked away on the third floor. "

She almost laughed at their confused expressions. She's been with the boys so long, she forgot what it was like to explain anything that wasn't to them or Dumbledore.

"Hagrid's massive three-headed dog. She guarded the trap door that led to multiple traps under the castle, which protected the Mirror of Erised, where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden. It served as a sort of container for the Elixir of Life, and the only known person to successfully create it was Nicolas Flamel, who was a friend of Dumbledore's. Did you know?"

A long silence stretched between them. "Simply put, that was why Dumbledore forbade us all from going up there that year."

Hermione shook away the wayward train of her thoughts. If she wasn't careful, she would wind up getting off topic completely. "Look, I need all of you to swear not to say a word."

Thankfully, Robert was the first to speak. "I think I can keep my mouth shut." He took a quick glance at the others. "What about you guys?"

Hermione felt a palpable measure of relief when they all nodded. "You see, I want to find a missing person. Someone who is currently believed to be dead."

"Who?" Hannah asked.

.

Hermione gulped. "Lavender Brown. Time is of the essence."