TW: Thoughts of suicide, death, physical abuse, mental abuse, post-war trauma, childhood trauma, self-harm, substance abuse, depression, sexual harrasment, swearing.

It felt strange being back in what Hermione last saw as a battlefield. Before the war, it was the only place she could call home, but she could hardly call it that after everything. Even though most parts of Hogwarts had been restored, it has been scarred and did not reflect the same light it once had.

Hermione had arrived a couple of hours ago and settled in her new dorm room. A new dorm section was built next to the quidditch pitch to accommodate eighth-year students. Every house had its own separate building, and students were allowed to choose whether they wanted a single or a shared room and were able to select their roommate.

Even though Hermione was delighted at the idea of having her own room since she loved having her personal space without distractions after Ron had left their tent while the war was going on, it had taken a significant toll on her. She started having major abandonment issues and struggles to sleep by herself, so she ended up rooming with Ginny.

Even though Ginny was a year below her, she was able to skip sixth year due to her outstanding war efforts. Hermione could've also easily lived up to her 'Golden Girl' status and skipped eighth year, but she refused and thought it would be unfair to others. Harry and Ron, however, were determined to skip their eighth years and start to train to become Aurors until Hermione convinced them otherwise by telling them that it would be better for them to take a break and have a stress-free year than immediately start working. They were exhausted from the war, and she believed that overworking themselves would only cause more harm than good.

She was glad that Crookshanks seemed to like the new dorms. The cat had already found her spot on the chair next to the window. Hermione puffed her pillows up, lay on her bed, and looked around the room. It was nice that the room's interior was more modern compared to her old one.

It felt like a fresh start.

Speaking about a fresh start, she looked at the clock; it was already five past four and McGonagall was going to give a welcome speech in ten minutes; she quickly got dressed and yelled at Ginny, who was in the shower, to be quick.

After Ginny was done, they started walking towards the castle, and Hermione felt a bit anxious seeing her comrades' faces. After the war, she hadn't seen anyone besides Harry, the Weasley's, Luna and Neville. So she didn't know what to expect when entering the Great Hall. One part of her wanted everyone to be as cheerful as they were before the war, but the other found comfort in the possibility of seeing many miserable.

There were so many deaths, and most students had lost someone or several people in their lives due to the war. She tried not to overthink, but it was very challenging for her.

As they neared the Great Hall, Neville popped right beside them, "Hey," he said, and Hermione flinched. War PTSD was very prevalent in her life, and she flinched at most things or sudden movements.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Neville felt terrible for what he had done. "It's okay. It's good to see you, Nev," she said and hugged him. Surprisingly, Neville gave the best hugs out of everyone, which she had noticed a couple years back after she had embraced him for gifting her a plant that instantly grew any fruit she wanted with only a tap of her wand on the soil.

He then hugged Ginny and took a seat at the Gryffindor table. When Neville saw Luna, he instinctively raised his hand to wave at her to come to sit with him, but he quickly lowered it since, after the war, their relationship had ended since she had started catching feelings for Blaise Zabini. He didn't really see what she saw in him, but they looked pretty happy, and even though it made him sad, he cared more about her happiness than his own. He had never seen Luna laugh like that and be so energetic when he was with her. Seamus had pushed him to go talk to her and try to 'win her back', but that wasn't the type of guy Neville was. He didn't like to push people and believed in faith and that everything happened for a reason. Seamus mocked him for it, but he didn't really care about others' opinions.

Hermione's theories were half right. While looking at particular groups of people, she felt comfort, and to others, she felt lost. People were laughing and fooling around, making her jealous. It felt as if nothing significant had happened when she watched them. As if the war had never happened. But then she shifted her gaze towards another group of people who looked completely changed. Their lively expressions had gone, and they sat there in misery, waiting for the speech to start so they could go back to their room and even cry perhaps. Hermione felt awful when she felt at peace while watching them. Was she a bad person because she felt comfort in others' misery? Or was it because it made her feel normal? She guessed she would find out as time went by.

She glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw Pansy Parkinson in tears. The girl who had shown no emotion for the last seven years was crying in front of everyone.

Theo Nott had his hand on her shoulder and comforted her. Hermione had read the Daily Prophet daily, but she never came across any news about the death of someone in the Parkinson family tree. Even though she didn't know the actual reason why she was crying, the death of a relative was naturally what popped into her mind first, which was, in all actuality, pretty sad. Even awful. If it were three years ago, she would have assumed that someone had dumped Pansy or she had a bad grade or something. Still, the war had forced Hermione to think of the most horrible and outrageous things that could happen to someone, and, in theory, if the death of a relative was the actual reason for why she cried, then she didn't know if she would even have empathy left in her. But, during the war, listening to Potterwatch and finding out about thousands of deaths a day made death a normal thing for her, which she now truly felt ashamed about.

On the other side of Parkinson sat a figure she thought would have never been able to return to Hogwarts grounds.

Malfoy.

The one who betrayed them and the reason why Dumbledore had died. She remembered reading from the Daily Prophet that he was sentenced to Azkaban, but seeing him here meant he probably paid to bail himself out. The Ministry had claimed that all people who favoured Voldemort would suffer consequences and most likely be sent to Azkaban, but all governments were corrupt, and as long as the money was present, anyone could break the rules. On the other hand, she couldn't deny the fact that the war had caused tremendous damage to most of England and the Ministry was in a lot of debt, and they indeed needed all the money they could get to restore it back to normal, but it still doesn't make it right.

He didn't even try to comfort the girl sitting next to her, staring blankly in front of him. It looked like he was looking at Hermione, but he wasn't even blinking. She did a subtle movement with her fork to see if he would react, but his eyes remained the same.

Draco hated that he had to come back here for his eighth year, but it was either that or staying in Azkaban for a year. The Ministry agreed to his freedom since he committed acts when he was a minor, and he had no choice because he would be killed if he didn't obey. The whole year he needed to prove that he could be a stable citizen and stay out of trouble; if not, he would serve one year.

Ever since he came here today, everyone looked at him with angry and disgusted facades and called him all sorts of names, and at times he wanted to talk back, but Theo held him back. He was glad that Theo had accepted him the way he was, and their friendship stayed the same. However, since Blaise discovered he was a Death Eater, he drifted apart from him and made Theo choose between them, and Theo, without a second thought, chose Draco. He wasn't surprised, though, because he and Theo always had this special bond and were closer to each other growing up and would most of the time hide things from Blaise and exclude him from stuff because Blaise was always so judgmental of them, and they were just sick of his constant criticism.

The problem with Blaise was that he only saw things from his perspective and would judge everyone who didn't think like him; that's probably why that Lovegood freak, and he got along well thought Draco.

Parkison said, "I'm going to the bathroom," she looked at Draco, but he didn't even acknowledge her. He never cared two shits about her. She only balled her eyes out next to him instead of in the bathroom, so he could at least show a slight hint that he cared, but nothing per usual. Finally, she spun on her heel and left.

"When is this fucking thing starting, for fuck's sakes? It's already been twenty minutes," Theo said frustratedly, and Draco shrugged. "You good?" he asked.

Draco turned his head facing him, "I'm extremely happy. Can you tell by my face," he pointed his index finger to his non-smiling serious face. Theo rolled his eyes and huffed, "Yeah. Never seen you happier."

Around five minutes later, Parkinson still hadn't returned, and McGonagall finally got on the stand and started her welcome speech, "Welcome all. I'm delighted to see all of you here today. I'm sure that these past couple of months have been rough for all of you, and you being here shows how strong and determined you all are."

Draco wanted to somewhat off himself than listen to all this crap. He hated these types of speeches; it was a waste of time. He dozed off for a bit when something caught his ear.

"After many discussions with my colleagues and the Ministry, we have decided to put Therapy Sessions in place. Every student will have two sessions per week, which will be thirty minutes long. However, considering that some of you wouldn't be comfortable speaking to someone face to face and would rather keep things to yourselves, you will not be able to see who you're speaking to. Therefore, there will be a magical wall between you. The wall will also muffle your voice to keep your identity hidden," there were many sounds of whispering coming from everywhere around the Great Hall, "Lastly, we also thought that it would be better that you talked to someone in your age range rather than a professional since it might be easier for you to have an understanding of each other. From now on, all the rooms on the sixth floor will be used for these sessions. There will be two entryways to enter the sixth floor to hide your identities. We have already assigned all of your 'Therapy Partners', and I will now send out the details of your sessions. Also, I advise you to not try to share your therapy session schedule with any of your peers since the schedule is only visible to your eyes, and if you try to say it verbally, you will see that you won't be able to. Thank you." She said, and a paper appeared in everyone's hands.

Hermione looked at hers.

Hermione Jean Granger

Sixth Floor

Entryway 2

Room: 6019

Thursday: 14:00-14:30

Saturday: 14:00-14:30

She showed it to Ginny, "I can't see it. Can you see mine?" she asked, but Hermione shook her head. Surprisingly enough, Hermione didn't think that this was a bad idea. She usually hated to open up to people about her struggles and would immediately feel bad after sharing things with anyone, even though she trusted them. It made her feel weak, and she would always wish that she could just speak to someone freely without holding anything back because even though she would talk to Harry or Ginny about how she felt, she always shared eighty per cent and always kept twenty to herself and that resulted in her never feeling completely relieved.

Draco felt the opposite. He fucking hated the idea of having to fucking share and talk with some random person. He hated being vulnerable and was always private when it came to anything personal about him. He would just remain silent for thirty minutes and get the fuck out of there or try to catch up on his sleep since he hardly got any anyway.

Before he could even read his parchment, he peaked at Theo's but felt annoyed when it looked blank. Seeing that from the corner of his eye, Theo peeked at Draco's and huffed.

Draco Lucius Malfoy

Sixth Floor

Entryway 1

Room: 6019

Thursday: 14:00-14:30

Saturday: 14:00-14:30

"Great, what a waste of fucking time. When's yours?" Draco asked.

"It's every," he couldn't say it. He tried again, "Every. At. O'clock from," it didn't work. It was worth a try. Draco took a pen and a piece of paper and tried to write his, but it didn't work, "Do you have a pen?"

Theo looked in his pockets, but he shook his head. Draco looked around but didn't see any ink pots or pens. "Wait! Found one," Theo said, handing him a pen from his back pocket. Draco took it and tried to work, but nothing again.

"Isn't there any pens that fucking work properly?" sighed Draco.

"I don't think the pens are the problem", Theo shrugged.

…

Hermione was in the library all morning trying to acquire new books that would interest her. Ever since the war ended, she thought she could easily go back to reading again, but it wasn't as easy as she had thought. Every time she opened a book, she closed it back down. She just couldn't do it, and she promised herself that when back in Hogwarts, she would force herself.

She came to the library at around nine in the morning and lingered around the stacks of books looking through at least fifty different books, till at about half-past ten when she found a book on alchemy. She had never read on the subject before and was intrigued by its offered content.

She made herself a cup of oat milk vanilla latte, which she had become quite fond of for a solid month and a half and started reading. Then, she headed to her first therapy session as the clock was approaching two in the afternoon.

She felt pretty nervous and was very curious about who would be her 'therapy partner', but she promised herself she would refrain from asking. It would be funny if it was Ginny or something, and what if Ginny confessed that she actually despised her or something? She was overthinking again.

She saw Marcus Flint enter the staircase at the same time as her, and she hoped it wouldn't be him. However, McGonagall had said that more than fifty sessions were happening simultaneously, so the possibility was very low, but not zero.

She walked over to room 6019, took a deep breath and entered.