Hermione and Ron met a few times after the get-together, unplanned, at the Potters' house. The first time Ron walked out of the floo, Hermione stiffened like steel. Their hug was awkward, like two frozen wooden figurines put together and Ginny through her intuition treaded the conversation away from personal things. Hermione didn't meet Ron's eyes the whole 40 minutes they were together.
The second time, Hermione prepared herself somewhat, answers ready as Ron joined them and was accepting as well as perplexed when Ron didn't talk to her directly.
The third time, they both attempted conversation, albeit awkward, but managed to get along without large sweat-breaking silence in between. Hermione thought it resembled their childhood days after they fought. Almost resembled.
She received an owl at the end of April. His handwriting was the same as always: boxy, thin words with a slight slant towards the left. The letter arrived in the morning while she was having breakfast at the Great Hall, the grey and brown owl landing with smooth precision in front of her. She postponed reading it until the end of the day when she saw the sweets along with the letter. An apology.
It was almost nine in the night when she opened the letter.
Hermione,
How are you? Harry told me that you are one of the professors organising the graduation ceremony. It must be something right?
Shacklebolt is considering giving more paid leaves for Aurors who do fieldwork. It seems that the younger interns and Aurors have difficulty coping with the stress of work without sufficient breaks. So I'm on paperwork along with Harry for the next few months. The timing is brilliant since I can move into my own place but you know how much I hate paperwork. At least Harry is there with me and I'll be there when the boy is born.
I actually wanted to tell you about the discussion we had at the Burrow. I want you to know that I'm serious. It seems weird since we haven't talked for almost a year and we haven't talked much after the get-together with everybody. However, I want you to know that you still have a place in my heart and I hope we can make our differences into our strengths. I want you to think about it and don't reply immediately.
I'm serious about giving us a second chance. I hope that you do as well. Please consider.
Love,
Ron
...
Hermione sighed after she read the letter: Ron's confession wasn't something she expected. At all. More than anything she thought he would be angry at her, for rejecting his proposal; for ending their relationship; for all the fights; for being too different.
It seemed like a doomed relationship, she thought. Ron always wanted a large family, something he always voiced. He also knew of her desire of a smaller, less hectic family but they always left the conversation in fear of a fight. Still, they fought about other things—trivial things and major ones that left them throwing hexes over each other's shoulders and his silent treatment after a fight along with his refusal to address the problem was something that left Hermione in tears.
She enjoyed the relationship at the beginning. Hermione remembered the small trinket of gifts he brought her after every Auror mission: roses, different sachets of exotic teas, muggles books unknown to him that she already read and the different hairclips.
It was as if they would always end up together. It was predictable, it was cute, it was innocent and childlike but it wasn't raw or mature.
The scars of the war had become one of their differences. She wondered if they didn't have the scars they would have lasted a little longer.
Maybe a little longer but not forever.
Hermione contemplated sending a letter the next day itself but decided against it, after reading the ending of Ron's letter.
There was a bitter taste of ash on her tongue when she woke up. It was dawn; a mixture of dark blue and deep red on the cloudless sky. Hermione looked at the calendar on the bedstand.
May 2.
Sighing, she got up from the bed and got ready. Even after seven years, her body slightly ached on this day and the scars on her body would tingle whenever she touched it. She didn't know whether it was the memory of the war or the magic in her body remembering that particular day but she would wake up with a small ache where Dolohov's curse hit her and a layer of sweat on her body.
Putting a white blouse top with flowing sleeves and brown work pants, she put a neutral-coloured work robe as she went out of her apartment. The ministry was usually sombre during this day, Shacklebolt ensuring that people could visit their loved ones or giving breaks to the ones who needed it. While Ron and Harry took half the day off and send Victoire her birthday wishes, Hermione worked overtime.
She wondered whether the same tactic would work at Hogwarts.
Minerva had given three days of no school on the first anniversary of the war. It was still fresh on everybody's mind; of the broken infrastructure, the dead bodies of their loved ones, and the voice of Voldemort in their mind. Hermione remembered how dull that day was. The skies were filled with pregnant grey clouds and the younger students mourned the death of their family and friends like they did a year ago.
However, years have passed. Now, the sky was a cloudless baby blue and students looked the same as always. People moved on from the awful memories and Hermione allowed a smile to form on her face. Other than the sweating, she didn't feel a numbing void in her heart when she looked at Hogwarts.
During Breakfast, she noticed the slightly shaking of Malfoy's hand as she wiped away the sweat from her hand. Malfoy caught her looking at his hand and she only looked at him, expression neutral.
"Sweaty hands?" he asked softly, eyeing the handkerchief in her hand.
She nodded, "Only on this day. Hand tremors?"
"Only on this day."
She left the campus after her classes at the end of the day. The air was humid with the evening sun and the smell of spring filled her nostrils as she walked through the graveyard. Most of them were filled with fresh flowers but it was empty by now. Placing flowers and wreaths of her own near the headstones, she made silent prayers in her mind to the ones she lost.
Almost at the end of the graveyard, she found the familiar platinum blonde hair. With a silent acknowledgement, she stood beside Malfoy as he placed gladiolus flowers near the headstone while Hermione placed a wreath of lilies on Severus's grave.
"Flower of the gladiators," She observed, looking at the white gladiolus.
Malfoy nodded in agreement, "Strength and honour."
"I didn't know you were the one who placed them all these years," her voice was soft and flat, looking at all the lilies and roses on her former professor's grave, "the only one to place these flowers. Gladiolus—it's fitting actually."
They stood beside each other silently, the sound of rustling leaf and smell of flowers filling the air. Muttering under his breath, Hermione looked on as Malfoy summoned a wreath of white roses and placed them near the gladiolus.
"Mother was always grateful that he looked after me," he spoke softly, "She used to visit his grave every year—" he paused, exhaling softly, "until she couldn't. I remember—even when she was bedridden during her last few months, she didn't forget to pay respect to him."
Narcissa Malfoy's illness was abrupt. Hermione remembered reading about her illness when she was working at the ministry. She remembered the article she read about how the older witch was dealing with declining health for almost a year but still made her presence known at the ministry events and charities, trying to bring the Malfoy name back to its glory. Narcissi passed away after three months of being bedridden. It was an obituary that told the world of her demise, written by Skeeter that Hermione read while she was in Greece. The funeral was private and small, something so different from the usual pureblood ceremony and Hermione suspected that Malfoy played a part in keeping the prying press away from something so personal.
Hermione pressed her shoulder to his for comfort.
"I'm alive because of him." She heard his voice break, "I heard why Voldemort killed him. But he protected me, even before mother made the unbreakable vow, he tried to protect me as much he could."
"He helped us win the war," Hermione whispered softly. They stood next to each other, silently, going through their own memories in their head. Hermione thought of all the people who died, of those who were left scarred by the war and how many of the fighters in the second wizarding war were teenagers and children.
She brushed her hands against his and tenderly grasped his hand in hers. It was a delicate soft touch.
"I'm glad you're alive," Hermione breathed, gentle and wispy. She dared herself to look at him, "I'm not lying."
He looked at her, expression stoic but eyes swimming with emotions, peering into hers, searching for any lies in them. She saw his features soften as a sad smile form and linger on his lips. He tightened his hold on her hand; warm against her sweat covered cold ones. They stood in front of the grave silently, glad that they were alive to see the future.
A week afterwards, Hermione found herself walking to the Potions classroom. She stopped in her track to the classroom when she saw two students sitting in front of Draco, head hung low, as he stood in front of them, hands folded over his chest. He was looking at them sternly when Hermione reached the doorway. Noticing her presence, he acknowledged her with a nod before speaking to the students.
"Can both of you explain to me why your assignments are the same, word-to-word?"
Silence.
"Miss Aby"
Hermione saw the black-haired girl lift her head and look at the Potions professor. She thought the student had sunk even lower into the chair. It's something Hermione herself had seen when she questioned her own students about copied homework and unfinished work; something that might elicit pity from onlookers but not from the intended person.
"Miss Aby"
The third-year fidgeted in her chair and twisted her robe in her hand.
"I found the homework difficult and Marisa only helped." The girl squeaked out.
Draco looked at the blonde sitting next to Aby, "Did you help her Miss Weston? Or did you do all the research, write the essay and showed the finished parchment to Miss Aby?"
Both the girls hung their head in shame, muttering apologies.
Draco sighed before leaning on the desk behind him, placing his hands beside his hip as he looked at his students. The girls lifted their heads slowly and looked at their professor, shoulders clenched when he looked at them with disapproval.
"I'm disappointed in both of you. I've clearly stated that this particular piece will be difficult. But more than that, you're supposed to give your opinion on the topic and show insight." Draco started, his voice stern, "Miss Weston's work is a good example."
The blonde jumped in her seat when he called her name again. She whipped her head up to look at him and Hermione guessed probably wide-eyed.
"I want both of you to repeat the assignment. Miss Weston, as much as you care about your friend, you're preventing her from learning when you let her copy things."
"I wasn't—"
The girl quietened immediately when Draco tilted his head, "I know you didn't mean to but if you want to, you can discuss your ideas with her rather than let her copy. Repeat the assignment and take a different topic."
The blonde muttered an apology and nodded.
"And Miss Aby, you can't be perfect with all the work. Assignments are supposed to be challenging and will be difficult sometimes but you've to learn to deal with that. Perfectionism is not an endearing quality in the long run."
Hermione narrowed her eyes when Draco flickered his eyes to meet hers for a moment.
The black-haired girl nodded in response and apologised.
"I want the assignment by next week."
The two girls muttered some more apologises and scrambled out of the class, squeaking out greetings to Hermione on their way out. Hermione passed by the desks and chairs and went to the front of the class as the sound of the students' footsteps softened. She placed the book she borrowed from him on the desk and narrowed her eyes once again, "I'm not a perfectionist."
Malfoy only raised his eyebrow.
"Your boggart is failure."
She scoffed and looked away, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment and mumbled under her breath.
"I regret telling you that." She muttered, eyes flicking up to meet his for a moment before looking at the ground, cheeks still red.
He only hummed with amusement and she poked his ribs with the edge of the book, eliciting a chuckle from him. He grabbed the book and placed it on the table, grazing the title with his thumb, "So, how was it?"
Hermione's embarrassment was momentarily forgotten as she dived into the content of the book with him, her eyes wide and cheeks flushing with excitement as they discussed. They continue their conversation for almost half an hour until Draco pointed out the state of her hair, laughing when she angrily pulled her hair downwards.
"Excuse me, Professor Granger, may I ask you something?"
"Yes?"
The third-year Hufflepuff was clutching her robes in her hand tightly. Hermione remembered that the girl was usually quiet in class and from the discussions in the staffroom, the 13-year-old enjoyed Herbology and Astronomy more than Transfiguration and Charms.
The girl looked at Hermione nervously, "Can I ask you something related to the war?"
Hermione gave her a reassuring smile, "It's okay, you can ask me."
"It's—umm—how did you and Professor Malfoy become friends?" she asked, "You're a muggle-born and he's you know. And both of you..." she trailed off, expecting the professor to understand.
"Were on the different sides of the war."
The girl nodded nervously. Hermione comforted her, "It's okay to ask these questions. You don't have to be nervous."
Hermione flicked her wand and conjured a chair for the girl.
"We decided to see past those identities," Hermione started, "And we realised we had things in common. We could trust each other like any other friends."
The girl looked at her and after a moment she asked, "Does that mean everybody can do that—I mean see past blood status? Is...is it...easy?"
Hermione thought about it for a moment, contemplating on whether to tell the girl about the dichotomy in the ministry. Finally, she concluded, "It depends on the person. Some people don't do that while others do. But once you see past that, friendships tend to be normal."
"Oh, I see... Professor, how bad is the war?"
Hermione blinked at the girl. The younger witch immediately starting squirming in her seat, "I'm sorry if the question—"
"No, I was just surprised because you changed the topic from friendship to war." Hermione interrupted. After a pause, she continued, "War is worse than what's written in the books."
The girl looked at her wide-eyed, listening as the professor continued, "Everybody's experience's different. A lot of muggle-borns went into hiding." Hermione paused, "Those who were found were not...let go that easily."
"They were tortured?"
"Yes. Often murdered."
The girl glanced at Hermione's left arm. Leaning forward, Hermione placed her hand on the table, pulling the sleeve to reveal the scar. Hermione heard a soft gasp escape her mouth. After a moment she spoke up, "You're very brave Professor—" she smiled at her Transfiguration professor, "Being muggle-born myself, I know that there's still blood prejudice. And you and Professor Malfoy showed me that things can change."
"A lot of purebloods are friends with muggle-borns."
"But many didn't have a history like the both of you," she replied tentatively, "I think that's nice—to see others for who they are rather than a given identity." She paused, "It gives me hope."
Hermione visited Hagrid two weeks before the end-of-term leaving fest. The spring landscape around Hagrid's hut made everything picturesque with the green grassy hills, the flower patch he grew outside the hut, the slightly bigger but humble hut with the white smoke leaving the chimney and Hagrid sitting outside eating rock cakes with Fang.
Hagrid's hut was one of the first things the trio had helped re-build. With a few persistent nudges from the 17-years-olds, Hagrid agreed to widen it a bit and the three poured money to fix the tiny hut so that it was comfortable for him. Hermione collected rugs, cushions and large utensils that suited his style. Fang was taken in by the Weasleys for a week, cared by Charlie who found the quiet dog to be a soothing companion. Molly suggested a flower patch for the half-giant when he came to pick up Fang, handing him different seeds and a basket full of sandwiches which left the half-giant in tears.
"Hermione!"
Hagrid got up from the stone seat while Fang ran towards her, placing his paws on her shoulder and licking her face.
"Fang! Fang! Quie' down boy, give our Hermione some space will ya?" Hagrid chortled as he gently pulled the large dog away from the giggling professor.
After Hermione wiped away the string of saliva from her face she followed Hagrid into the hut. She was served a giant cup of tea and a sandwich that was the size of a cake. Hermione suspected that Hagrid baked the bread.
Hagrid wiped away tears when he learned that Hermione became a godmother and George the godfather.
"George, yeh know he's a brave fella. Harry and Ginny're great people Hermione!" Hagrid exclaimed gruffly as he wiped away the tears and blew into his handkerchief.
Hermione and Hagrid fell into quiet conversation afterwards and she filled him with that many stories of the Weasleys and the Potters while Hagrid told her the things he sees in the Forbidden forest. They exchanged stories about their students, giving each other tips on how to manage the naughtier ones. She went back home with a large sunflower from Hagrid.
Crookshanks lifted his head as she walked in, meowing to greet her. He approached her when he saw the sunflower in her hand and followed her as she placed the flower in a long slender vase and put it on the mantle of the fireplace. Hermione stepped a few steps back to admire the flower before casting a spell to prevent it from witling for a few weeks.
"Pretty right? Hagrid's flowers are always beautiful. I should probably tell that to mom." Hermione said, hands still on her hips.
Crookshanks only stared at the bright flower.
"I've work to do. Do you want to roam around the castle?" Hermione asked and when Crookshanks meowed she opened the doorway, letting her cat out. She had charmed the lower left side of the doorway so Crookshanks could alert her when he returned.
Hermione moved to the study room which was a large, spacious square room. The wooden door opened to reveal a broad desk with a comfortable cushioned chair and next to the door was a long couch with a small, round table next to it. Hermione placed it so that she could read leisurely while her pet lounged on the living room couch. On the round table was a lamp to provide light. The wall, other than the one touching the couch, was covered by bookshelves filled with textbooks, extra reading materials and muggle books that her parents send her throughout the years. The floor was not carpeted and revealed the polished, wooden floor and four glass-covered lights hung from the ceiling filling the room with bright light.
Hermione sat on the chair, happy that she arranged the table the previous night. On the left drawers of the table, she kept all the papers to mark. On the desk, she kept her quill, ink and some textbooks along with the recent papers she got from Minerva.
The graduation ceremony was fast approaching and the three young professors along with Professor Flitwick were in charge organising it under the guidance of Minerva. As she sifted through the papers she was happy that the Prefects conducted their duty with seriousness. Their working was perfect and she went through the things she had to arrange once again, humming happily.
She went through the homework and assignments for the day. She had a good grasp of all the students' ability and skill after teaching them for almost eight months. She hummed in acceptance when the some students' essay writing skills improved; frowned as some filled in their work with scribbles—an obvious last-minute work and sighed as she found copies, marking down their names in a spare parchment.
By the time she finished the seventh years' works, it was night time and she was alerted of Crookshanks's return.
The graduation was to take place at the Great Hall a day after the end-of-term feast. After the seventh years were dismissed after the feast, Minerva told the students about the importance of the graduation ceremony as well as the yearly rituals to the unfamiliar first-years.
"Now, as all of you are aware we'll be having the graduation ceremony tomorrow. It will be the day your seniors will leave the school as adult wizards and witches. It is their special day and I do not want anybody, I mean anybody, to act like bumbling baboons. You've to follow your Prefects' orders strictly. I will not tolerate any mischief throughout the ceremonies. " Minerva paused to look at the students, eyes glinting sharply.
"For the first-years, as per the Hogwarts custom, every graduate seventh years leave the Castle by the enchanted boats through the Black Lake. It is a very important ritual and something very special to the students leaving the school."
She paused once again, her face relaxed and she smiled, her eyes twinkling and her thin lips stretched to a smile, "I also encourage all of you to enjoy tomorrow. Your seniors—role models, siblings, friends—they're starting a new phase in their life. Therefore, let us make it an enjoyable evening for them."
As the students chanted in agreement, she smiled and dismissed them.
The day afterwards went by in a blur. All the younger students wanted to know about the ceremony while the seventh years prodded and poked the Prefects about the itinerary. Classes were filled with ample distraction about the graduation and Hermione sighed as she reduced 3 points from students for disturbing the class unnecessarily.
"How was class today Hermione?"
She turned around to find Hannah approach her in the hallway, a smile plastered on her face and a small paper box in her hand.
"Hectic," Hermione replied, shaking her head, a smile on her face, "It was expected. Every student cared about the graduation ceremony more than anything else. But there were no mishaps in class today."
"The infirmary was quiet today as well. A first-year was there for a while. The poor boy was worried sick cause he thought he won't be able to attend tomorrow." Hannah chimed, chuckling with Hermione seconds later.
"So—what's the box for?" Hermione asked, slightly nudging her friend with her elbow.
A grin formed on Hermione's face when a small pink tint formed on Hannah's face. The nurse giggled nervously before leaning closer to the professor.
"It's cake, for Neville." She shrugged, "I thought I make one since he finally succeeded in 'operation infirmary'."
'Operation infirmary' was name Hannah and Hermione gave to Neville's attempt to call his fiancée 'love'.
"He didn't!" Hermione exclaimed.
"He did! It was in front of the first-year," Hannah said, a small giggle leaving her mouth, "He kind of whispered it in my ear but it was adorable. His face was flushed!"
"How did the first-year react?"
"He was too worried about his injury and whether he could attend tomorrow's ceremony."
"So operation infirmary is a success," Hermione said. After a moment, eyeing the blonde, "Should we make it operation Great Hall next?"
The blonde only guffawed in response.
The Great Hall was cleared from the usual four long tables and desks, resembling the scenario from the Yule Ball—with the tables against the wall and large floor space. The ceiling imitated a pretty dusk sky, a mixture of baby pink and blue and four large, golden chandeliers with three layers hung from the ceiling. The floor was polished cleaned by the elves and they rolled long, velvety carpet from the doorway to the other end of the room. All four house flags were decorated on the wall.
The professors and Prefects arrived first at The Great Hall, running through everything to make sure everything was in order. All the ghosts came later, floating mid-air as fairies flew around and sat on decorations.
Hermione was going over the wall decorations when Hannah approached her.
"You look wonderful," Hermione said as the blonde came in her vision. Hannah was dressed in a maroon sleeveless dress, with lace embroidery on the top and a silver belt of flower patterns. The skirt flowed smoothly to her feet and her usual tight bun was let loose, her shoulder-length framing the boat neck of the dress.
"You too," Hannah replied smiled, "When did you buy this anyway?"
Hermione had dressed in a soft lilac gown with a modest v-line neck and bishop sleeves. It was cinched at the waist and the A-line skirt flowed to her ankle. It was one of the more modest dresses she owned from attending all the ministry events.
"Three years in the ministry gave me an ungodly collection." She replied, chuckling.
Just then Madame Pomfrey approached the two women, dressed in a lovely traditional deep blue dress robe. She winked at Hannah as she whispered to the two, "Hannah, you're fiancé looks really dashing."
Hermione looked over the matron's shoulder to find Neville wearing a large-checkered brown tuxedo and bow. She giggled when she saw Hannah's face turn a deep red, patting her shoulder as the matron walked away.
After checking everything, the two witches went to the raised platform. Neville and Draco soon joined them, Neville grasping Hannah's hand for a moment as he greeted Hermione. Draco wore a white dress shirt and an emerald green tie and satin square pocket with his black tuxedo.
Before they could continue their conversation, the Headmistress arrived at the Great Hall. Minerva McGonagall was dressed in a bright olive green dress with gold patterns that trailed slightly on the floor as she walked. She nodded in approval as she went through everything. Finally, she placed the portraits of the previous headmasters on the wall facing the entryway.
"Oh Severus, stop grumbling," Minerva chastised, as she looked between Dumbledore and Snape side-by-side on the wall, "Try to look welcoming at least."
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes twinkling with same delight like always, "Minerva, you're asking for the impossible."
"Yes," Snape drawled, "If I must argue, this is the most welcoming I look."
The headmistress scoffed in response but smiled fondly at the two former headmasters. She turned on her heel and walked away to talk to the Prefects and in the meantime, the rest of the professors greeted Dumbledore and Snape.
After everything was ensured to be up to the par, the students entered the Great Hall, standing on either side of the carpet in two large columns, according to their class rather than their house. The professors and staff stood behind the headmistress, who waited patiently by the enchanted podium as students filled in.
The graduation ceremony started at once, the headmistress giving the students a small speech before the graduate seventh years walked into the hall, wearing colourful dresses under their satin black robes. The younger students roared out and happily applauded.
Hermione looked on as the professors and graduates made their speeches. This graduation was brighter and livelier than hers—the 8th years' graduation a more sombre affair as everybody recalled the fallen heroes and their memories still fresh from the war.
It was duller as well as if the colours were drained out of the Hall. Only the headmistress made the speech while the professors remained silent and the students never cheered loudly—it seemed sinful to celebrate after a dark time.
Now, everything was normal again. It was colourful, cheerful and loud.
All of Hogwarts moved to the Black Lake and they watched as the graduate seventh years moved away from the Castle by the enchanted boats. Poppy Pomfrey and Flitwick dabbed away tears while Headmistress smiled fondly at her students. Hermione herself couldn't help but smile as the students waved goodbyes, entering a new passage in their life.
Everybody stood at the edge of the Black Lake until the view of the enchanted boat disappeared.
Author's note:
Yes, Narcissa is dead. And Lucius is in Azkaban. But that being said, I'm surprised that he actually didn't go back to prison. He was captured after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and was broken out by Voldemort so shouldn't he go back or something? Seriously, what were the Aurors doing?
The graduation ceremony where the students leave by the enchanted boat is something that Rowling thought of writing but didn't add cause of plot purposes. I found the whole thing to be damn interesting so I added that.
One thing I realised is that I suck at writing summaries. Somebody give me tips.