School started soon after the new year. It went on in much the same way it had been before, with two notable exceptions: Draco had, at last, resumed healthy sleeping and eating habits; and Harry and Ron began to spend a good deal more time in Hogsmeade and visiting the castle. In a strange twist of circumstances, a good many of those trips were to spend time with Draco, who, as an eighth-year student, had been given special permission to go to Hogsmeade whenever he pleased. The three boys began a weekly tradition of drinks at the Hog's Head, where they talked mostly about Muggle literature (which Draco read voraciously, but Ron lagged seriously behind in) and movies (of which Ron had seen many, but Draco had almost no knowledge). Draco returned from these evenings cheerful and refreshed, and always slept well afterwards.
Hermione beamed as Professor McGonagall handed her the rolled-up parchment. She snatched it from the Headmistress' hand and anxiously fiddled with the cord binding it as she took her seat. The others followed: Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley. She was too excited to think of anyone else. At last, after eight years of working and studying, she had done it: she had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and clutched in her hand was the certificate proving it.
To her left, Draco caught her eye. He waved his paper at her slowly, and for the first time she noticed a mark on it. She glanced down at her own and her suspicion was confirmed. Lightly traced across the page, enchanted to be seen only if you looked just right, was a large number eight. She traced the line with her finger and then looked up. She smiled widely at Draco, who grinned back. They were both immeasurably glad to be Hogwarts' first ever eighth year students.
Life was not perfect after leaving Hogwarts. Draco moved in with the others, permanently. His parents would not allow him to return home. He continued to have nightmares, as did Hermione, and Harry, and Ron. The wizarding world was still broken and divided, and the young friends felt it in every part of their lives. But time marched on. The nightmares became less frequent, the memories less sharp. And, on a lazy day in February, Draco received an owl from his mother, a kind letter, the type meant to repair long-broken bridges. No, life was not perfect. But it was made better by an unlikely friendship kindled by a train ride and a keen eye.
Here ends this story. If you have enjoyed it please let me know in the comments. I love to see what people have thought, and I'm always happy to receive any kind of feedback. Comments come to my email, so even if its been a long time since I posted this, I would love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading my story.