September 1, 1998

The bustle of King's Cross station felt foreign to Hermione as she prepared herself to step through the aged yellow brick pillar that led to platform 93/4. She felt Harry's hand squeeze her shoulder with reassurance as she took a deep breath and proceeded through.

Platform 93/4 came into view, steam from the Hogwarts Express billowing against the sun, young witches and wizards saying their good-byes to their families scattered across the platform. It was emptier than she remembered, and there was a stark contrast between the busyness of the muggle King's cross station and Platform 93/4. As she surveyed the room, her eyes met unfamiliar faces, faces that she thought she should recognize but ones she could not recall. They looked back at her with surprise and interest in their expressions as they pointed and whispered. Anxiety washed over her– she had known that the moment they stepped onto the platform they would be recognized as 2/3 of the Golden Trio but she had hoped the crowd would be too preoccupied with their good-byes to bother them. After years of attention, Harry had learned to let it fade into the background, but Hermione was uncomfortable with the stares and the reactions – especially considering the reason for the stares was a war that she just wanted to forget.

As she considered this, Hermione realized there were fewer younger students on their way to Hogwarts than in her previous years. It made sense to her, the anonymous faces of younger students and so few of them at that. The war had impacted so much of the life she had come to know as a witch. Her last time at Hogwarts had been two years previously, just as the war was becoming almost tangible but their life had not yet been completely interrupted.

"I will say, it feels a bit weird to be back at King's Cross." Harry muttered as he took in the room.

"Probably because the last time we visited Hogwarts we didn't need to bother with the train." Hermione replied back to him, her mind drifting back to the final battle at Hogwarts, when they had apparated into Hogsmeade and taken a secret passage into the castle. It felt like yesterday, and the younger Hermione that had taken the Hogwarts Express felt like a different lifetime.

"If I have to go back to Hogwarts, I'm at least glad you are coming back with me, Hermione." Ginny sighed as she leaned into Harry. Ginny was finishing her last year on Molly's orders. Many of the students that had fought in the final battle at Hogwarts were reluctant to go back to school and job opportunities had been given out in an effort to right the wizarding world after the destruction it had endured the last few years.

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Education is a privilege, Gin. But I am thankful we get to do this together after everything..."

After the war ended, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had stayed with the Order and their peers to assist with the rebuilding of the castle. It took a few weeks of long work days to repair the damage. It had been good for all of them, mourning and recovering from the war with each other, keeping busy and useful. She had felt almost happy; a strange mix of mourning for the loved ones lost, pride that they had completed the task and won the war, and comfort and love in her new relationship with Ron. But once the castle was rebuilt and they had time to slow down, everything caught up to them.

Hermione had been having nightmares the entire year they were on the run searching for Horcruxes, but after they completed rebuilding Hogwarts her nightmares became worse. It was like a chapter had ended and suddenly everything became very real. Without the distraction of repairing the castle, there was a hollow lack of purpose - a dark hole in all of their hearts. They had spent the last 7 years of their life focusing on defeating Voldemort. And now it was all finished. All that was left were the horrors they had experienced along the way that they hadn't had time to process.

The summer months following the war became desolate. Hermione and Harry stayed at the Burrow and mourned Fred with the Weasleys. It felt like a fog had descended on all of them. Ron, Harry, Ginny and George were drinking Firewhiskey every night just to feel something before passing out. They couldn't sleep otherwise, and it made them think they could still have fun, despite everything. It was their way of coping while still feeling young at heart. They wouldn't admit that's what it was, but Hermione could tell. But as they laughed into the night, Hermione felt even more distant. She would try to drink with them but never felt the muscles in her neck and shoulders relax. Her wits about her stayed ever-present and unavoidable, and then she just felt worse in the morning.

At first, it didn't bother her much. And after about a month of it, Harry and Ginny relaxed into their own routine and started drinking butterbeer more than firewhiskey. Only George and Ron still binged their firewhiskey but it was becoming less "fun" and more concerning. Ron was waking up hungover every day and Hermione was expected to take care of him. And anytime she broached the subject, Ron expressed he was only drinking so that George felt less alone. But she knew that was bullshit. She felt herself getting more and more distant from him. And after years of taking care of him, the burden of it got to be too much. It just no longer felt like he was taking care of her back. The next morning after one huge row, and after Ginny and Harry had tried to talk some sense of responsibility into him, Ron and her agreed that they still cared about each other but were going through too much pain individually to support each other in a relationship. They needed a break and it would be for the best in the long-run if they were to ever have a future.

As August crept up on them, Harry, Ron and Hermione knew they would have to start making decisions and carrying on with life. They had all received offers to work in the Auror office. Harry and Ron had also both been recruited to play professional quidditch. As the Golden Trio, all of them had been given access to basically anything they wanted in the Wizarding World. Hermione did consider some of the job offers given, but deep down she knew that completing her final year at Hogwarts was something she had to do for herself. Plus, she felt confused about what kind of career path to pursue as she had so many interests. She was really only just figuring out her truest desires now that the war was over and her goals were not clouded with survival. Harry had agreed to join the Auror's office – his savior complex was too ingrained in him to imagine doing anything else and there were still Death Eaters on the run. Ron had decided that he didn't want the stress and complexity of moral issues and had taken a contract playing as Keeper for the Chudley Cannons. Hermione was still skeptical about how he was going to manage playing professional quidditch with his current drinking habit. Luckily, the season did not start for another 6 months and Ron would help George at the joke shop in the meantime. She thought it probably was best for him to have time to get himself sorted first. And she could focus on her studies without worrying too much about him.

The whistle blew on the Hogwarts Express, snapping Hermione back to the present. Harry and Ginny were saying their good-byes and promising to write weekly. She was actually glad Ron hadn't come to see them off today, she didn't know if she could handle it. She gave Harry a big hug and whispered in his ear, "Hogwarts won't be the same without you. Please keep me updated on how training goes." She felt a teardrop rolling down her face. She hadn't expected to feel so emotional. But it was so strange being here at King's Cross, boarding the Hogwarts Express after everything. The idea of parting with Harry seemed absurd after spending the last year basically tied at the hip supporting each other during the hardest time of their lives.

Ginny dragged Hermione's arm towards the train as she wiped her eyes. Just as she was about to board, her eyes locked with the only familiar face in the crowd, the last one that she would have ever expected to see…Draco Malfoy walking towards her. She froze. She hadn't seen him since his trial.

Why was he here?

Would he really return to Hogwarts after everything, too?

The Wizengamot had deemed him innocent on all charges, partially due to Harry and Hermione defending him at his trial. After they were captured by snatchers and brought to the Manor, Malfoy had saved them by not identifying them, allowing time to escape before Voldemort showed up. She knew most of his actions in the war had been for his family, though it was hard to say how much of his blood purity beliefs had led him to be a Death Eater in the first place.

"Hermione!" She hadn't realized she had stopped and stared at him until Ginny was yanking at her arm. It was very curious that he would choose to come back to Hogwarts. But, thinking about it, he hadn't attended his last year either, he had been at the Manor when they were captured and had likely been doing some of Voldemort's bidding.

Malfoy caught up to them, he had been walking to board the train behind them and not just walking towards her. Hermione noticed that he had huge purple bags under his silver eyes, making them striking against his ghostly skin. He looked like he hadn't slept in years, and she knew that feeling very well herself. He was older now, and his face seemed to have softened. His once-pointy features fit his face better and there was less of a scowl in his expression. It was still there, but not as prominent, almost as though he was too tired to care. He acknowledged them with a nod "Granger. Weasley." He waited for them to clear the doorway. Hermione was too shocked to say anything. This meant her and Malfoy were the only "8th" years to come back to Hogwarts, the only two who missed out on their education because of the war, and the only two who actually cared about finishing it. And they had been on opposite sides of that war.

Hermione and Ginny found a private compartment and sat down. "What do you think he's doing here? I can't believe that ferret had the guts to come back!" Ginny growled.

Hermione stared blankly at her and replied, "He was found innocent by the Wizengamot and also missed out on his 7th year. He has as much right to be here as I do, however unexpected it may be."

"He was a Death Eater! Even if he was found innocent I don't think they should just be letting him come to Hogwarts with children!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Harry and I spoke at his trial if you remember, and I think he should be given a second chance. It doesn't excuse what he has done but I'm sure it has taken a lot for him to decide to come back." Hermione argued.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're always the voice of reason Hermione. But doesn't a part of you feel angry after everything he has done to you? You'll probably end up with loads of classes together since you're the odd ones out, the only returners."

Hermione knew what Ginny meant about anger. Anger had gotten her through the war. Anger was the only practical way to replace fear. She was a muggleborn after all, she knew anger better than anyone. She was the one they were trying to rid the wizarding world of. Anger had kept a fire burning in her for years. But since the war ended, she couldn't remember how it felt before - she had become numb to it all. Maybe that was why her and Ron had fizzled out. They had come together from a place of anger, passion, loyalty, love. So many emotions at once and years of anticipation. But they had both become numb as the pain of the war finally caught up to them, the anger burned out, and with it the love and passion. Without all the emotions tying them together, it was hard to relate. And that was the thing about Ron – he was rarely the voice of reason. Which is why he could never understand her. She had to be the voice of reason in their Golden Trio or no one would be. She could never afford herself to engage in her anger the way that Harry and Ron could. Though, she had let herself get lost in it a few times. Like when she punched Malfoy in third year.

She smiled to herself. "Someone has to be the voice of reason." Hermione replied as she stared out the window at the passing landscape.

Draco was pacing outside the entrance of King's Cross Station. The sun was beating down and he was beginning to sweat through his black overcoat. It was an unusually hot September 1st, with no breeze to combat the blinding sun's rays. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and checked the time: 10:52 am. He refused to go inside until absolutely necessary to catch the Hogwarts Express. He knew that as soon as he crossed the barrier to platform 93/4, he would receive disgusted looks and angry whispers from the wizarding families sending off their children. He was a Death Eater after all – or had been. He wasn't really sure what he was anymore. Even being a Malfoy no longer seemed like a blessing - it rather felt like a curse. It had taken him weeks to finally give in to his desire to return to Hogwarts.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, he spent 6 weeks, 3 days and 8 hours of his life in Azkaban awaiting trial. The first few weeks he kept sane by focusing on his anger, much of it self-inflicted. He knew he deserved to be in Azkaban and this self-hatred fueled him. But as the days wore on it became a burning hatred for his father as well. Anger kept a fire burning in him for weeks before he could feel himself slipping away as the dementors fed on the raw and negative emotion. He realized that the anger he felt for his father made him no better than his father.

His next few weeks were spent thinking – about himself, his life, what it all meant, books he had read, things he wanted to learn more of. He started dreaming of Hogwarts, having the chance to go back and learn again – no longer distracted from the war. He even imagined Granger and how she used to practically jump out of her seat with her hand in the air to answer a question in class. He used to find it inconceivably annoying, but as he sat in a dark cell thinking about education, he realized he was envious of her unparalleled excitement for learning and passion for knowledge. Once he started thinking of her it was hard to stop. She seemed to him everything good, everything that he should have been, and he found solace there. He tried to remember every encounter they had ever had. This entertained him endlessly, knowing in their arguments that she gave as good as she got. He could remember them word for word and it made him smile. He knew he had been an awful git but it had been nice to wind her up. She was sharp and fearless and beautiful. He had never quite realized how much attention he had paid her before – but each memory was vivid with detail and it seemed to him that maybe there was always some kind of interest there. He had just hidden it under prejudice and hate.

He barely slept in Azkaban as it brought back the nightmares; and with those came the gut-wrenching self-hatred. He was haunted by the things he had done, and the things he had let happen. He wanted to be better, so he tried to keep himself awake as much as possible - dreaming of Hogwarts. This went on for about 2 weeks before he started cracking. The lack of sleep was making it harder for him to control his thoughts. Around the beginning of his sixth week, it had sunk in again that he was probably never getting out of there. And that he didn't deserve to have freedom. That was something that had fueled his hatred in the beginning, but the daydreaming had brought him hope. And hope was something he had never been familiar with. Hope was a dangerous thing, he realized. He wallowed back into self-hatred as the trial date was announced, realizing he didn't deserve hope. And knowing that hope had just made the trial so much worse. And he hated himself for thinking of her, knowing he didn't deserve goodness or forgiveness. Not that he thought he had a future with her, it was just that the thought of her was comforting. And a part of him wondered if she would go back to Hogwarts all alone to complete her studies like he dreamed of doing.

The day of the trial he had managed to use Occlumency, even though it took a great deal of his mental effort, to not feel or think about what was happening. It was the only way to shield himself from the trial that would determine his fate. He sat in the cage as it rose up into the Wizengamot, not even looking up or listening to what was happening. At some point he realized that Potter was there speaking on his behalf. Typical, that the savior would try to save him. He didn't pay much attention but could hear bits and pieces of that day at the Manor. That awful day that he had just stood there and done nothing. He could still hear her screams but he quickly shielded them out. He thought of the lake at Hogwarts, the small ripples casting out from a stone thrown in, he counted the ripples and re-established his occlumency walls.

Draco could hear her voice speaking to the Wizengamot. His eyes shot up and met her warm brown ones. Why would she also speak? Wasn't Potter's attempt enough? He stared at her as she nervously picked at her cuticles while defending him to the high council. It didn't make sense to him. For her to defend him on that particular day, when not even a year ago he had stood by and let his Aunt torture her. Suddenly, they were giving his verdict. "We, the Wizengamot, find Draco Lucius Malfoy, innocent on all charges."

He spent the next month and a half at the Manor with his mother, as she had been sentenced to house arrest for two years. His father had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, so it was quiet but comforting at the Manor with just the two of them. His mother was making moves to completely renovate. Which suited him just fine because he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that seemed to leak from the walls of the Manor, engulfing him. It was still better than Azkaban, but it no longer felt like the home he had once known.

He was still dreaming of Hogwarts, but he knew no one would accept him there – it wasn't even an option to consider. He had been a Death Eater after all. He tried to move forward from that dream of his but it was a daily battle. During the final week of August, he received an owl from Headmistress McGonagall asking him if he would like to come back to Hogwarts as he had not completed his education due to the war. They had been exchanging owls back and forth, McGonagall responded that she felt he deserved a second chance, she would set up any returners in their own Wing, outside of their previous house common rooms to encourage house unity. They needed to rebuild Wizarding society and she felt he was a part of that new world. Those Gryffindor's and their damn hope. But he had agreed, knowing that this was what he truly desired and that however uncomfortable Hogwarts might be due to his reputation, it was likely still better than the memories from the Manor haunting him.

He checked the time again: 10:56 am. They would be almost done boarding the train just before heading out of the station. It was time. He quickly sped through King's Cross and onto Platform 93/4. He was a man on a mission, paying little attention to his surroundings and heading straight for the Hogwarts Express. Suddenly, it registered to him that Granger was standing there boarding the train, staring at him. He took her in as he continued walking towards her. Her brown eyes looked like caramel, and they were watery like she had just been crying. Her cheeks were extra pink and flushed, and she had dark circles clouding her eyes. There were faint freckles visible and her hair was as wild as ever. It was only a moment and then he looked up to see the Weasley girl pull her onto the train and he nodded at them and acknowledged them. They moved away without a word and he stood frozen on the train staring at them as they found a compartment. Quite a few minutes went by until the squeak of the trolly brought his mind back and the words "Out of the way, Dear" physically moved him.