I own nothing but the plot.
May 2nd, 1999
"Can you believe she still writes this trash?" Hermione fumed, throwing her morning copy of the Prophet onto the desk in front of Draco, startling him awake.
Sitting up, he ran his sleeve over his mouth, wiping away a trickle of saliva from his chin. He'd been working on his potions project well into the night, and fallen asleep over his desk, a quill still crumpled in his fist. Turning his head to look at the irate witch, he decided it was too early to pick a fight with that look, instead opting to pull the paper closer, eyes scanning the headlines until they caught on the headline 'THE ANNIVERSARY: WHERE IS THE GOLDEN TRIO?'. Doing his best not to laugh, his eyes continued to scan the page, taking in the words printed there.
"Forsaken by the Boy Who Lived, mourners will be left with the dowdy 'brains' of the trio at this afternoon's memorial service at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with the Chosen One opting to skip the proceedings, his strong, unwavering ally standing by his side," Draco snorted as he read out loud, skipping down to the end of the article that continued to wax on and off about how dull Hermione was, and how Potter had abandoned them all. "You're worked up over Rita Skeeter?"
"When she's publishing garbage, yes, I am! I never should have let her out of that damn jar," Hermione huffed, placing a napkin on the desk next, a stack of buttered toast resting upon it since she knew Draco had missed breakfast.
"What jar?" Draco quirked a brow, tossing the paper aside to grab the first slice of toast, chewing as he watched her.
"I caught her spying on Harry in the fourth year and caught the stupid bitch in a jar. In her animagus form, obviously," Hermione shrugged, still pissed off at the reporter.
"Is that why she stopped writing? She was quiet for like a year," Draco nearly dropped the toast in his hand, his mouth falling open. "Granger, how long did you keep her in the jar?"
"I let her out after six months! She just kept quiet for a while. So maybe I told her I'd come after her if she wrote her rubbish…" Hermione regretted ever letting her out now that she was going to have to find some way to explain why Harry wasn't going to be at the service later on. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had already asked her to speak at the event. She had no issue with it, and had been working on a speech for a few days now, but she'd have to figure out a way to edit it to explain Harry and Ron. Harry wasn't ready to approach the castle, suffering from nightmares of the battle still, and she knew he still feared that all he would see would be the damage from that day. Ron… she wasn't sure why Ron had pulled out, but she was fairly certain it was because of her. He hadn't taken their breakup well, and even Lavender seemed to be getting sick of his complaining about her and Malfoy. The most blood prejudiced comments she'd heard of in the last few months had come from Ron and not even any of the Slytherin's, a fact that wasn't missed on her.
"Jesus Granger you are fucking terrifying," Draco just stared at the petite but rather lethal witch, "I'm starting to think I got off light that time you slapped me."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione threw a cushion from the couch at him before stalking off to her room, the laughter of the blonde following her all the way up the stairs.
"Stop fidgeting, Granger," Draco leaned down to whisper against the anxious witch's ear. For once she didn't have a retort, only nodding as she clasped her hands together in front of herself, her spine straightening as she stood with him at the front of the congregation from Hogwarts, the students gathered upon the lawns. As Head Boy and Girl, they led the pack, the Prefects lined up neatly a half step behind, the remainder of the students organised into rows, the houses split but still a sense of unity was felt amongst them. Glancing over his shoulder, Draco was reminded of the last time he ever saw them arranged this way, back in fourth year when the Triwizard Tournament was about to begin. His head turned back to the front as Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice drifted over the crowd, the Minister for Magic opening the service for students and mourners alike, members of the Order of the Phoenix, the friends and family of those who were lost, and hundreds of other witches and wizards who were impacted in some way by the War gathered at the school.
Draco tuned out most of what the Minister was saying instead busy searching the crowd seated nearby to try and spot a mousy brown head of hair. Dennis Creevey hadn't returned to school after the incident on the tower, instead having spent most of his time in St Mungo's. He had heard that the boy was going to be released to attend the memorial service though, and he felt a genuine level of concern to the boy, having felt similar himself in the weeks around his trial.
"… recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, Miss Hermione Granger," Kinglsey stepped to the side with a small amount of flourish, gesturing towards the gathered students and drawing everyone's attention to Hermione. There were a few flashes as the photographers from assorted papers snapped their images, reporters poised with Quick-Quotes Quills ready to go.
"Granger," drawn back to reality, Draco nudged at Hermione, whispering out of the corner of his mouth, knowing that every eye in the grounds was upon them, "that's you, move your ass."
Starting, Hermione glanced around with a look of absolute fear on her face, schooling her expression a few seconds later into steely determination. She wasn't one to shy away from things like public speaking or saying her piece, but the presence of reporters, Rita Skeeter's coiffed head visible in the front row and the absence of Harry and Ron was aiding to her nerves. She was grateful for Draco, but understood his hesitation to show any aspect of their building friendship in front of any form of media, and she appreciated his tact.
Picking her way through the crowd, Hermione drew her school robes tighter around herself, taking solace in the Gryffindor patch on her breast, and the Head Girl badge pinned just under it. She heard a few murmurs and whispers as she passed the crowds, smiles and nods from other members of the Order, hushed whispers and points from those who had heard of her but knew her as nothing more than the brains behind the Golden Trio. A silence fell over the crowd once more as she passed the marble wall of those who had been lost before she took the few steps to stand next to Kingsley, the Minister drawing her into a warm hug before ceding the makeshift podium to her.
Straightening up, Hermione drew herself to her full height, using her posture to make herself seem bigger than she was. Drawing her wand from her pocket, she pointed it to her throat and whispered a quiet "sonorus!"
"Thank you, Minister Shakelbolt," Hermione started, turning to smile at Kingsley before returning her attention to the crowd, making sure to look around them constantly, never just settling on one area, every person on the grounds listening to her. "Today we have come together, despite our ages, races, blood status. From Magical Creatures to students, to experienced and accomplished witches and wizards."
Hermione raised one hand, gesturing to the assorted groups gathered, from the students on the grass, the Order in the courtyard, friends, family and even the centaurs by the edge of the forest, mermen floating in the shallows of the lake.
"I could speak more about what the Minister has already touched on, the chance that we have to rebuild our society, or how things have progressed since Lord Voldemort fell in this very courtyard. But instead… instead I would like to offer you all a different perspective, one that seems to have been overlooked from time to time. Today, I wish to speak to you all as a young witch, a young woman, and a student," Hermione took a deep breath, her hand raising again to direct the attention of those listening to the marble wall. "Today I will honour those who fell. We remember them, and the sacrifices that they made. We remember with sadness in our hearts that those we called friends or family have left us. We remember Remus Lupin and Tonks – we all remember how she hated her first name – and we know that their young son, Teddy Lupin was left without his mother and father. We remember Severus Snape and the role that he played; his sacrifice greater than anyone thought in the moment. We mourn the loss of a bright and joyful soul in Fred Weasley, his laughter living on through every joke or prank to be played within these castle walls."
Hermione took a deep breath, noticing the tears flowing from a few of the gathered as they remembered those they lost, the Weasley family huddled together, Ginny with her classmates still, only Ron missing. She spotted Andromeda Tonks, young Teddy held in her arms, the toddler's hair flashing every colour of the rainbow thanks to the gift inherited from his mother.
"But I also want to remind you all of others who were lost. Today is for Colin Creevey, who's love and passion for photography was known by all who ever crossed his path," Hermione sought out Dennis in the crowd, giving the sobbing boy a sad smile. "Today is for Justin Finch Fletchley, a young man who could make anyone smile, his bubbly personality and outgoing nature sorely missed.
"Today is for Ernie McMillan, someone who embodied every trait that Helga Hufflepuff herself had admired, someone who was never afraid to speak his mind but still took his success and failures in good grace," her attention turned to the students, doing her best to lock eyes with every single student in turn, wanting them to know that no matter what, she had not forgotten their housemates, their friends. "Today is for Michael Corner, for Megan Jones, for Sally-Ann Perks and for Zacharias Smith."
"Today… today is for Millicent Bulstrode," Hermione took a deep breath as a few murmurs broke out as the surname was recognised, Draco's eyes widening as she spoke. "A young witch who stood up to her family and all she had been raised to know, in order to do what she thought was right. Today is for Vincent Crabbe, a teenage boy who was fooled into thinking he could control a spell that was far beyond his experience." Hermione turned back to look at the reporters, at the Order and at those who forgot what they all were.
"Today is for the Fallen Fifty, the fifty students who gave their lives to fight for what they thought was right. Today is for us to remember that fifty young lives were snuffed out on these grounds. Fifty teenagers. Fifty children. Fifty lives ended before they could begin. For we will never know if Colin would have been an award winning photographer. We will never see if Ernie would indeed rise to be the next Minister of Magic. We won't see what Millicent would create, her affinity for recipes better even than some of the house elves of Hogwarts. We will never know just how far up the Quidditch Leagues that Vincent would have risen," Hermione finally shifted her gaze to meet Draco's steel grey eyes, his shock evident on his face that she had included not only Slytherins, but knew more about them than what they ever showed.
"Because we were all children when this War broke out, and we were children when we rose to stand against it. But there was bravery, and loyalty, and when the call was put out, we were the children who came to fight for the future that we deserve. As Minister Shacklebolt has already said, repairs are underway to bring our society back together, but you would be doing a disservice to every young person standing here if you ignore what we have to offer. We have already proven that we will not be silenced, and that the loyalty and bravery of every single child here is going to shape the future."
"Today, we honour those who have fallen, and we remember them every single day, we see their names every time we step out of these great doors. Today, we honour those who have returned to this castle, to the place where they saw their friends, housemates and classmates rise and fall, only to see them fail to rise again. We honour Neville Longbottom, who protected every classmate that he could whilst being tortured himself for an entire year. We honour Ginny Weasley, a girl of just sixteen when she came face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange and stood her ground. We honour Theodore Nott who stood up to his parents and brought his house back to stand against what was wrong. We honour Draco Malfoy, who fought against a life he had been sold into. We honour Dennis Creevey, a young boy, barely just a teenager, who returned to the castle that his brother fell at, who returned to the common room that they sat in together, who saw the reminder of everything until he could see no more," Hermione straightened up again, her posture perfect as a steel tone crept into her voice. "I know that many of you have wondered why Harry Potter does not stand here and address you himself, I know that many of you would have seen the article in today's Prophet and wondered if he has abandoned you all. You think of Harry Potter as the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, and forget that he was exactly that – a boy. For Harry, the sorrow and pain of this castle remains too much for him, and he has not been able to return. He may never return, but that is for him to decide when the time is right, because he must recover. We must all recover."
"We were children when our innocence was stolen, when we were subject to torture both physical and psychological, when we were cursed, damaged and broken. When some of us were killed, injured or maimed. We were children when we came to fight. When we came to stand. Soon, we will be the adults who don't back down, and we will shape the future of our world," Hermione took one last deep breath, doing her best to stop a waver from creeping in as she reached the last planned line of her speech, not looking anywhere but at Draco. "We can forgive one another, as we claw to forgive ourselves for what we did, for what we witnessed, for who we had to become. We have come here to honour those who have fallen; but do not dishonour those who remain. Do not forget that we will be the ones to shape this world, for it is not beyond redemption – and we will prove it."
Pointing her wand to her chin once more, Hermione silently cast the counterspell to return her voice to normal volume, her gaze sweeping around the grounds one last time before she turned, walking up the last few steps to pull open the heavy oak front door, slipping into the Entrance Hall without a glance back, ignoring the murmurs that were breaking out all over again as her words sunk in.