Autumn was taking it's time, and the first of September came with just as much sun and with leaves just as green as every day of August. Still, though, Hermione felt there was something different in the air; a crispness that would soon turn into coldness.
She felt a strange sense of nostalgia as they moved through King's Cross – looking up at the great glass ceiling that domed over them she couldn't help but feel that the same girl who had last done this walk had been much, much younger.
"It feels like years since we've been here," Hermione remarked quietly. "I mean I know it has, technically, been over a year. But still. It feels longer."
"It feels weird is what it feels like," Ron said as they moved through the station, manoeuvring Hermione's trolley round the muggles that littered it. "Feels like the two of us should be getting on the train with you guys – like Mum should be here."
Ginny hummed with agreement. "I know. Feels odd not having her fussing over all the things we might have forgotten, warning us not to get into trouble – stressing about all the ways Harry might get himself killed."
Harry let out a snort of laughter – and however quiet and short lived the moment was, Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sound. She couldn't remember him laughing a lot recently. "Look, nearly there," he said, nodding to the enchanted platform a few metres away.
They took it in turns to walk to platform nine and three quarters – as usual, the sight of two large trunks, an owl and a large ginger cat was attracting some confusion. Ginny and Harry went first, moving through the barrier with as much subtlety as possible, and then Ron and Hermione followed.
She couldn't help a small smile as they stepped out onto the platform and the Hogwarts Express came into view. She felt strangely comforted by the sight of the bright red train – the steam billowing around it, the Hogwarts students filing onto the train with heavy trunks being lugged behind them. It was like every other year that Hermione had attended Hogwarts, and if she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend that the war and the rest of it had never even happened.
"Shit, look who it is," Ron said suddenly nodding to a spot further up the platform where, by the looks of it, Draco Malfoy was saying goodbye to his mother. Hermione couldn't tell if it was the surreal nature of being back in close proximity with Malfoy, or way the steam from the train gathered around his tall, pale figure, casting him in a hazy sort of light – but she had the strangest feeling of looking at a ghost.
"He's actually coming back," Hermione said softly.
Harry nodded. "Told you."
At that moment, Malfoy turned around to board the train, and in doing so, caught Hermione's eye. There was barely a moment's eye contact before they were all averting their gazes, acting as if they'd never caught sight of the strange duo. It was from the corner of her eye she saw Malfoy board the train and catch his mother move swiftly down the platform. The reality of another year in his hostile presence sank in, and Hermione wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.
"C'mon, it's nearly eleven, we need to go," said Ginny, and Hermione nodded, turning to the boys.
"You'll visit, yes? And write?"
"Course we will," said Ron, with a slight roll of his eyes.
"Good. And for Merlin's sake, don't get into trouble – or danger, stay safe, the two of you – "
"Hermione," said Harry, and she sighed.
"She's got a point, to be fair," Ron turned to Harry. "Seven years we've had her looking out for us. Who knows what we'll end up doing now she's going. Kidding," he added – and Hermione was sure panic had flared on her features.
Harry stepped forward and hugged her. "We'll be fine," he said, and she nodded into his shoulder.
He stepped away and over to Ginny, and the two of them moved away for a more private goodbye.
"We will be, you know. Fine," Ron said, moving closer to her.
She smiled and nodded. "I'll miss you," she said quietly, and Ron seemed to brace himself.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked earnestly, for what felt like the hundredth time that week.
She inhaled sharply in a silent we've been through this, and he sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just…I'm gonna miss you too," he said. She smiled, and he stepped forward and kissed her. It was short – a brief press of his lips against hers, but Hermione felt somewhat warmed by it. (Maybe they'd be able to figure this out.) "Don't forget about me, or anything, yeah?" He said, pulling away.
Hermione laughed, shaking her head and pulling him into a hug. "I'll see you soon."
The train whistle blew and she pulled away, glancing over at Ginny.
"We better go," she said, and the two of them boarded the train just as it began to pull away from the station.
They lingered by the door for a moment, gazing out the window as the platform vanished from view – Hermione lost in thoughts about leaving the boys, and Ginny probably the same.
The younger witch sighed. "C'mon, I think Luna's on here somewhere – let's go find her."
Hermione nodded, and they moved to go find their blonde-haired friend.
.
.
Draco had hoped that his mother might linger on the platform until the train had departed – that he could have her in sight until the last possible moment.
He hadn't blamed her, though, when he'd watched her spin round and move quickly down the platform, just moments after their final goodbye. Draco had become used to others staring and whispering as he passed – the journey to his trial had been particularly useful in that respect – but still. Walking down the platform and having every student and every parent turn to watch the two of them pass – it hadn't exactly been pleasant.
Today had been even worse than their brief trip to Diagon Alley. That had at least had the advantage of containing very few people Draco actually knew.
He'd received his list from Hogwarts a few days following his trial, and realised the dreaded trip to Diagon Alley would have to be made. Most of it was textbooks for the subjects he was repeating – books that had once been purchased and then abandoned at Hogwarts after the battle. He'd also been forced to purchase Understanding Muggles in volumes one and two – books that had remained firmly closed and had dumped at the very bottom of his trunk.
They'd visited Diagon Alley early in the morning, just as the shops were opening, in the hopes of escaping the rush of Hogwarts students stocking up for the year ahead. Despite shopkeepers who, quite often, nearly fell of their stools at the sight of two notorious ex-death eaters crossing their threshold, they'd managed to get nearly everything he needed. Potions ingredients, quills, ink, parchment, wizards robes.
The only thing they'd failed to acquire was Draco's new wand, as they hadn't even considered stepping foot into the newly re-opened Ollivander's. No doubt their former hostage would be less than helpful.
Instead they'd travelled to a small wand makers in the north of England, and he'd bought the wand currently tucked safely his robes. It was – fine, he supposed. It worked with him better than his mother's had, and the spells he'd been performing lazily about the house had all worked fine.
But still, he couldn't help but miss his old one. He wondered sometimes, when handling the unfamiliar length of his new wand, what had happened to it. He wondered if Potter had thrown it away – broken in it in two or something like that. Or perhaps it was sitting abandoned in some corner of wherever the nation's hero was living these days.
Still. However testing and, at times, logistically challenging the hunt for all his school things had been, this – this was so much worse. Being surrounded by fellow shoppers who Draco had never seen or would likely see again had been much more tolerable than being surrounded by fellow Hogwarts students – Slytherins he'd once shared a common room with and Gryffindors he'd once made a point to bully.
Draco had sat himself in the first empty compartment he could find and doubted, given his welcome onto the platform had hardly been warm, that anybody else would wish to join him.
He tucked himself into the corner of the seat, watching parents wave to their children as the train gathered speed and they were pulled out of sight.
Left in the quiet of the otherwise empty compartment, Draco couldn't help but turn over in his head the details of his return that had been bugging him since the hearing. It was amazing how, given everything that happened, and the kind of situations he'd managed to endure, simple logistics could fill him with so much anxiety.
He wondered where he'd be sleeping. In the seventh year dorm? Stuck in close proximity with the Slytherins from the year below? When even they'd, to an extent, suffered under him last year? The thought made Draco's stomach turn. And what about his bloody muggle studies lessons? Would he be stuck in a class with fourth years or fifth years?
For all of Draco's time at Hogwarts – from his best days to his worst, from the height of his popularity to the unfavourable reputation he'd gathered during sixth and seventh year – he'd never really had to worry about this sort of thing. No matter what had happened he'd always known there'd be people to sit with him at mealtimes and during lessons; Crabbe and Goyle had always been there – whether he wanted to nap through a particularly boring History of Magic lesson or go torment some Hufflepuff first years.
Where were his friends now? Draco thought. Dead. Or in Azkaban. (Or wishing that he was dead or in Azkaban.)
He thought about the welcome feast and wondered who he'd sit with.
It was about half way through his train journey that Draco was bothered at all, when the door to his compartment was unceremoniously thrown open. And standing there – looking suddenly rather embarrassed – was Hermione Granger. She looked how she always had – although a bit thinner, maybe. (The war had made a lot of people thinner.) Same simple muggle clothing, same bushy hair.
"Oh – sorry, I didn't – "
He sighed, turning his head to continue staring out the window. "What do you want, Granger?"
"Oh, no, I was just – prefect duty – it's fine, I'll go."
He didn't turn his head to watch her leave, but heard the rattle of the compartment door against its frame as she shut it.
Draco sighed. He'd sort of hoped it'd hadn't been true.
The Prophet had been half obsessed with Potter and Wealsey and Granger recently, and he'd flicked through the various nauseating articles: The Golden Trio – what will they do now? And Keeping up with our Wizarding Heroes! And he'd read that Granger had turned down a post at the Ministry with a view to returning to Hogwarts. He'd hoped she might change her mind – figured this year would be unpleasant enough without the presence of the mudblood member of the Harry Potter Fan Club. He'd supposed, when he'd caught her eye on the Platform, that she might just be there saying goodbye to the youngest of the Weasley's ginger brats.
But no – of course she'd fucking returned to Hogwarts. She always was a bloody know-it-all – he supposed she couldn't resist the opportunity to secure those extra house points for Gryffindor. And prefect duty. Typical Granger. The War only just ended and there she was – doing prefect duty.
Draco hoped his contact with her this year would be limited. The fact he'd been sentenced to a year's worth of Muggle Studies lessons gave him the impression that insulting mudbloods would be tolerated even less than it had been during his previous time at school. No, Draco felt it would probably be best if the two of them were kept well, well apart.
.
.
"You bumped into Malfoy?" Ginny said, tugging her robes over her head. Hermione was back in her compartment with Ginny and Luna, and with dusk settling in they'd felt it was time to change into their uniforms. "What in Godric's name did you do that for?"
"I hardly did it on purpose," Hermione replied, folding her muggle clothes into her trunk as the train rattled around them. "I was just doing prefect duty – I didn't realise he was in that compartment till I was standing in the door."
"Just him?" Luna asked, and Hermione nodded.
Ginny hummed. "Not Mr Popular anymore then, is he?"
"Well – most the Slytherin's in our year have gone sort of AWOL, haven't they?" Hermione reasoned. "Goyle's in Azkaban, Crabbe's – "
"Dead, yeah," finished Ginny. "I see what you mean. How did he seem?"
Hermione shrugged, thinking back to her accidental encounter with Malfoy. He'd seemed – tired. She wasn't sure if it was the fact he seemed to have gotten even paler (she supposed house arrest had helped in that sense) or the way the light from the window had caught the shadows under his eyes – or the fact that for once, he seemed to lack the energy to insult her. But he'd definitely seemed tired.
"Bored? He didn't say much. Didn't even get a witty remark about my blood status. But still, he didn't exactly look delighted to see me."
"Can't be easy coming to a place where everyone hates you," Luna said thoughtfully.
Ginny hummed, putting away her clothes and closing her trunk. "Yeah, well, who's fault is that?"
Hermione sat back in her seat, giving Crookshanks one last chance to curl up in her lap before he'd have to go back in his cage. "I don't have time for any of that petty nonsense anymore," Hermione sighed, stroking her cat's ginger fur. "I've got too much work to do, don't I Crooks?"
Hagrid was the first thing they saw when the train eventually pulled into Hogsmede station, smiling and waving at them through his attempt to shepherd the first-years towards the sailboats.
As the carriages they'd all piled into approached the castle, various towers stood tall against the background of the darkening sky – windows gleaming with the light from within – Hermione felt relieved to see the place fully restored. She'd helped out in the first few days following the war – working with everyone else to try and return the castle to its former glory; moving large quantities of rubble, repairing portraits and holes in ceilings. She would've liked to have stayed to help more, but there were Ministry matters to be sorted and her parents to be located. The last time she'd seen Hogwarts it had been on the mend – but not like this. Hogwarts looked now as though the war had never hit it.
The great hall looked has it always had when they moved through the entrance hall towards it – flags for each house hanging from the enchanted ceiling and rippling softly with non-existent wind. Although, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, Luna moving to sit with the Ravenclaws, Hermione thought that there seemed to be less students than normal. Even taking into account the first years lining up to be sorted, the four long tables definitely seemed…emptier. She thought that maybe Ginny was right. Maybe it was too painful for some people to come back.
Hermione watched quietly as the sorting began, watching as the first years filed off to the houses chosen for them. She wondered what kind of year they'd had – how the war had affected people too young to go to Hogwarts. She wondered if any of them were orphans, like Harry – Hogwarts to be their home in place of one destroyed by Voldemort.
She wondered how long it would be before the world stopped feeling like it was still bleeding – like they were all still grieving. She spotted Dennis Creevey somewhere down the table, and thought about the lifeless form of his other brother. She wondered when she'd stop feeling like everyone was just that little bit broken.
Lost in thought, she didn't really register the sorting's ending or the arrival of the feast until Ginny nudged her. "Hermione, food."
She gathered herself. "Oh! Yeah, great, I'm starving."
The feast was delicious, as perfect as it had always been, but as she ate it, making idle chit chat with Ginny and Demelza Robbins, she couldn't help but sneak the occasional look at Dennis Creevey – wondering how he was coping, how he'd had the courage to come back here – or thinking about the house elves in the kitchen, and the fact that Dobby was now missing from their staff.
The desserts were cleared from the tables and McGonagall stood up from her place at the staff table, and as she did so, the hall fell quiet.
"I would like to begin," she said, "By wishing everyone a warm welcome back to Hogwarts." Their new headmistress caught Hermione's eye, and she smiled. "Given the events of last year, I know that, for many of you, the decision to come back to this castle cannot have been an easy one. So I commend all of you, for being brave enough to return, and I would like to ensure you that I will do my very best to make Hogwarts as homely as possible."
"I know that many of us in this room will have been affected by the War," McGonagall continued, "and I know that it is going to take a long time for the wizarding community to heal. As such, there are certain…values that I wish you all to uphold this year, so that we can try to work to mend the rift that has been created through our world. House unity is something I want to impress on every single person in this room," she stated firmly. "One thing we learnt from this War, and something that Professor Dumbledore was always trying to express, is that we are only as strong as we are united and as weak as we are divided. Whilst rivalry between houses on the quidditch pitch and the fight for the House Cup will always be part of Hogwarts, it is my opinion that over the last decade or so, this rivalry has, at times, become unfriendly. Hogwarts may have four houses, but you are still one school, and I urge you all to remember that."
Hermione glanced over at the Slytherin table at this comment, and spotted Malfoy sitting at the end, his head one hand, tracing the grain of the wood with his wand. She wondered if he was listening.
"Another value I wish to impart on you all," McGonagall went on, "is acceptance. Particularly with matters of blood status. Here at Hogwarts we accept witches and wizards of all backgrounds. If someone has magic and a desire to learn, then they are welcome within these halls. Bullying based on matters of blood status will simply not be tolerated in this school. Any reports of this kind of behaviour will be treated very seriously."
The professor then smiled curtly. "Keep these things in mind, and I'm sure we can work towards a better, more unified Hogwarts. I wish you all a good night and a very pleasant first day back at school tomorrow."
The speech was followed by a round of applause, and then the scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet as the students filed out of the great hall.
"I can't wait to see your head girl dorm," said Ginny. "Percy banged on about his for a whole summer after he got made head boy. "I'm going to hang this in my new private dorm," blah, blah, blah…"
"I hope it has a desk," Hermione said thoughtfully, thinking of a quiet place to work, and the two of them moved towards the familiar set staircases that would lead them back to Gryffindor tower.
.
.
McGonagall's speech finished, and whilst the rest of the school began to noisily file out from the great hall, Draco remained in his seat.
He'd been approached by Filch following his departure from the train, who'd insisted on escorting Draco from the train to the carriages that would take him to the castle.
"Ministry orders," had been the squib's unhelpful grumble of a response to Draco asking why this particular measure was necessary (if he did decide to do a runner right now, where was he supposed to go? Hogsmede? Where he'd be instantly recognised?).
Filch had also told him he'd need to wait behind after the feast, as McGonagall wished to speech to him, and as soon as the hall had mostly emptied, he spotted the stern professor making his way over to him.
"Mr Malfoy," she greeted, and he raised an eyebrow in response. "Welcome back. If you'll follow me, I have some things I wish to discuss with you."
He sighed, but eventually stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed McGonagall out of the hall.
He presumed she was leading him to her office as they walked up the main staircase – twisting round the students making their way to bed.
"That's him!" he heard an excited first year whisper as him and McGonagall attempted to move up a particularly jammed staircase. "That's Draco Malfoy!"
Draco scowled, his patience for this kind of thing wearing thin – anger flaring up within him. His fist closed round the wand in his pocket, and he wondered if a tongue-tying hex might teach this kid some tact. Before he could act however, the staircase cleared, and him and the headmistress continued their journey up it.
He was grateful when they finally began to approach McGonagall's office, the flow of students and buzz of excited whispers thinning out.
The Gargoyle guarding her office moved aside at her muttered password, and they made their way up the spiral staircase and into the large office that had been Snape's before hers, and then Dumbledore's before that.
McGonagall made her way to the seat behind the large, ornate desk and Draco slumped into the chair opposite her.
"Now, Mr Malfoy," she began, settling herself in the seat across from him. "Your return to Hogwarts this year is somewhat – unique," she said, and Draco snorted.
"That's one word for it."
"Upon granting you permission to return to Hogwarts this year, I have worked with the Ministry to create certain rules and…guidelines."
"Great," said Draco, wondering what new and inventive methods of mental torture they'd created for him.
"Firstly is the matter of your sleeping arrangements. As you are the only Slytherin of your year to return to Hogwarts, and I do not feel it would be prudent to have you share with the year below you, you will have your own dorm in the Slytherin common room."
"Thank god for that," he muttered – the promise of some solitude was at least good news.
"Next, as you have been told, you will not be allowed to take part in any extra-curricular activities, including Quidditch – although I'm sure with the work you will have to get through you won't have time for any of that. Which brings us to my next point," she said, and Draco knew what was coming. "Your timetable. The conditions of your return state you continue with at least three of your N.E.W.T subjects. Have you thought about how many you would like to continue?"
Draco had had vague, disinterested conversations with his mother about this – sat at dinner whilst she tried to lure him into a discussion about the merits of the different qualifications and the kind of career he might like to pursue after Hogwarts. Draco felt his interest for his studies had diminished in his last two years at school, and wasn't sure how much of a preference he really had. In the end he'd agreed to go with his Mother's choices just to keep her quiet – he felt his enthusiasm for each subject was equally lacking, so it didn't make much difference to him.
"Four," he told McGonagall, who pulled a blank timetable from a drawer in her desk and nodded for him to continue. "Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms."
"Very well. And now I'd like to discuss the matter of your Muggle Studies lessons."
Draco swallowed heavily and didn't say anything.
"Now, timetabling this was slightly tricky, as your Muggle Studies O.W.L is a two year course that we've had to fit into one – "
"Oh, so sorry to have inconvenienced your timetabling – "
" – you dropping one N.E.W.T does make it slightly easier," she looked over his timetable, prodding different boxes with her wand. "You will have lessons with the fourth and fifth years throughout the week, but I won't lie, it isn't going to be easy."
"Prison sentences never are," Draco muttered darkly, and his Professor ignored this.
"In order to keep up with the pace of the work, and to make up for not having learnt the basics in third year, there will be an element of self-directed study in this. This will mean dedicating spare time to revise the content, and reading around your subject. Do you understand?"
Draco shrugged, but felt he'd sooner be found fucking a hippogriff than reading up on Muggles in his spare time.
"There are a few more rules that the Ministry would like me to make you aware off. Firstly, no leaving the grounds – under any circumstances. Being caught out of bounds is a serious offence that would very likely land you in Azkaban. Secondly, your general conduct around this school is something you would do well to pay close attention to. Your record is hardly impeccable, and mal-treatment towards other students – especially if it concerns purity of blood – will not be tolerated. I mean it, Mr Malfoy."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't be a dick to the muggleborns, no jinxing the bloody Hufflepuffs, fine, whatever."
She pursed her lips. Clearly she didn't deem this a subject to which "whatever" was an acceptable response. "This is to be taken seriously, Malfoy. There are a lot of parents who are very sceptical of my decision to allow you to return here. Some of them feel that the student who once comprised the danger of their children by allowing Death Eaters within these walls – " Draco winced, " – should not be allowed to return. I urge you not to make me regret my decision."
"Okay, okay, I get it. Best behaviour."
"Quite," McGonagall replied stiffly. "My advice to you, Malfoy, is to dedicate your focus to your studies. If you concentrate hard on your subjects and put in the effort required, I see no reason why you shouldn't walk out of here with a commendable set of qualifications, just like any other student."
He nodded, taking his timetable from her, and then made his way out of her office.
He found the Slytherin common in a state of loud excitement when he entered it – students of every year sitting about in their pyjamas, some playing wizard's chess or exploding snap, or making lazy conversation in front of the fireplace. The noise faded when Draco was spotted at the entrance, and what felt like the whole common room turned to look at him with a wariness that set his teeth on edge.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he moved quickly through the middle of the common room to the back, where the doors to the various dorms were – ignoring the irritated "hey!" of a second year whose game of Wizard's chess he dislodged on the way. He scanned for the private dorm he'd been promised, and spotted a door he didn't recognise tucked away in the corner. Instead of the name of a year group, his own name had been engraved into the gold plate on the door.
He moved into the small room and shut the door loudly behind him, exhaling heavily and sliding down the wooden surface, sinking onto the floor. He heard silence from the common room, broken by the occasional whisper (no doubt about him, Draco though bitterly), and then eventually the hum of the usual chatter returned.
He had a sudden urge to throw something but nothing was in reach, so he aimed his wand at his new bedside table, fuelling his anger into the spell he cast and watching it explode into a hundred polished-oak splinters.
It appeared, he thought, picking up a shard of the broken wood and examining it, that his days of strutting around the Slytherin common room with enough ease he could've owned the place – kicking second years out of the chairs by the fireplace and napping on the sofas – it appeared that those days were well behind him. If every moment he spent in there was to be characterised by the same stares and glares from the younger years, he imagined he'd be spending quite a lot of time in his room.
Just like his Manor, the Slytherin common room no longer felt like home. It was as though Draco's place in the universe had been swallowed up with the war – in the last few months he'd gone from a house he could no longer stand to live in to a castle where he no longer had a hope of fitting in.
He wondered if, after this year, he'd be able to find a new place to exist – somewhere far away from everyone and anyone who might recognise him.
He lifted himself up from the floor, and as he pulled on his Pyjamas, and climbed into his bed, Madam Bones's voice rang in his ears.
Keep your head down and study hard, and you can leave all of this behind you.
.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Not quite sure how I feel about this chapter – as you can probably tell these first few are just sort setting everything up, so there'll be a bit more dramione action soon. Review's really appreciated! xo