SEPTEMBER 5th, 1998
Being around Harry Potter always felt comforting, like a warm embrace. Four months had passed since the devastating Battle of Hogwarts, and yet, Harry still wore that cheerful smile, a beacon of hope that never wavered. Despite the losses, despite the trials they had faced, his kindness remained unwavering. Hermione had always admired that about him.
He leaned casually against the door frame of the newly remodeled Burrow, the familiar scent of the Weasley home enveloping them. His eyes were fixed on Hermione as she meticulously packed her trunk, folding memories and necessities into the worn leather.
"You're really going to do this, Mione?" he asked, genuine curiosity etched across his features. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes as she continued her task. "Did Ron send you in here?"
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Of course not. I'm genuinely curious as well. What happened to the Ministry job you've got lined up?"
Hermione reached for one of Ron's sweaters, the fabric soft beneath her touch, and stuffed it into her trunk. She knew that seeing her boyfriend would become a rare occurrence soon, and she'd miss the comforting scent that clung to his clothes. "They're aware I'm taking a year off to just be... normal," she explained, her voice tinged with determination.
Harry raised an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses as he continued to watch her. She crossed her arms, a hint of defiance in her posture as he spoke. "Being a Muggle for a year isn't normal for us."
She sighed, her breath carrying the weight of her decision. "It's one year at a community college. I'd like to have that experience before I start at the Ministry. Besides, my parents need me around more now than ever," she added, her voice softening. "The Mind Healers said having me around can help them fill gaps. They know I'm their daughter, but years of my childhood are still missing from both of their minds."
Harry shook his head, his emerald eyes clouded with a touch of sadness. "I'm going to miss you, Mione. I know it's going to be hard for Ron to do the long-distance thing too."
The room was bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the floorboards, and Hermione stared at the shadows and then looked up at her first friend and rushed towards him, the familiar scent of his cologne filling her senses as she gave him a gentle hug. "You're going to do great in the Auror program," she assured him and reassured herself of her own decision, her words filled with genuine confidence. "They're very lucky to have you."
Ginny appeared at the door, her presence heralded by the creak of the wooden floorboards under her footsteps. "Ready to take me to the station, Harry?" The thought of Hogwarts reopening was both exciting and puzzling to Hermione. Only a few days had passed since the school had reopened, and the new school year was set to start as normal. It was a stark contrast to the state of devastation just four months prior when everything had been in chaos.
Harry nodded, his unruly black hair ruffled by a gentle breeze that blew through the open window. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on the youngest Weasley's head, and then he waved to Hermione as he left her doorway.
Ginny approached Hermione next, enveloping her in a strong hug. Her familiar scent of fresh parchment and broom polish mingled with the faintest trace of lingering magic. She whispered in Hermione's ear, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "See you soon, Hermione. Best of luck in Muggle London." Ginny through the summer had become Hermione's first female friend that she could really get along with and that felt amazing as Hermione genuinely loved and regarded her as a sister now.
Watching Harry and Ginny leave, Hermione smiled to herself, New Beginnings. Finally, a year of peace.
They all thought she was bonkers. A muggle community college? Ron hadn't held back his surprise as she had explained to him what she wanted to do just for the year. She'd seen the disbelief in his eyes, felt it like a shiver running down her spine. It made her more determined.
He'd told her that in Fred's honor, he had decided to help George with the expansion of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. They were going to be franchising and opening up stores globally, capitalizing on their war hero status. Hermione could almost taste the excitement and pressure that came with such an ambitious venture. It was a heady mix of anticipation and anxiety, like the electric buzz in the air before a thunderstorm.
It meant a lot of travel for George and Ron, and Hermione could already imagine the foreign scents and flavors that would fill her senses in the diverse places they'd visit. Ron had offered for her to join them. They'd attend countless meetings, press conferences, and marketing events, each with its unique atmosphere. The sharp aroma of ink on freshly printed brochures, the warmth of handshakes with potential business partners, and the cacophony of voices in crowded conference rooms were all part of their impending reality.
But she needed this break from the wizarding world, a chance to immerse herself in the ordinary. The thought of waking up to the gentle aroma of brewing coffee, the soft rustle of newspapers that didn't move, and the comforting embrace of everyday life beckoned to her. Not devoid of magic, she still had her own magic, but it wouldn't be the centerpiece of her existence.
She could pretend just for the year to be a normal human being, and she relished the idea of it. Hermione looked forward to the sensation of soft, worn pages between her fingertips as she devoured Muggle literature. She could almost hear the hum of distant traffic and the laughter of children playing in the park, sounds that felt like a soothing balm to her ears.
The ministry would wait for her; she knew it in her bones. She'd always have a position there no matter what. This would be refreshing. A new change of scenery awaited, with the promise of adventure and personal growth in every corner.
Sitting on her bed, Hermione reached for the latest copy of the Daily Prophet, the parchment crackling softly under her touch. A deep, weary sigh escaped her lips as her eyes scanned the headline: "From High-Society to Hiding?" The headline seemed to hang heavily in the room, like a dark cloud.
The front page displayed a photograph of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, frozen in time from a court date that had taken place when Lucius was first imprisoned in Azkaban. The image bore the weight of history, the memory of a time filled with conflict and uncertainty. Not having to see the remnants of the war on the daily prophet would be a blessing. Her parents didn't read the Daily Prophet and when she was in Muggle London, neither would she.
The scent of the newspaper's ink wafted up as Hermione continued to read, Rita Skeeter always liked to twist facts and make fiction into headline news but she was actually closer to the truth this time. According to Harry, both mother and son had become witnesses, testifying against other Death Eaters and those who had served the Dark Lord. The Ministry had taken the extraordinary step of placing them in hiding, providing shelter and sanctuary. Who knows where; it was all very secretive. It was a move aimed at safeguarding them from the influential and powerful families who were desperately trying to secure the freedom of their own loved ones, facing the prospect of lifetime imprisonments.
Ron's voice echoed in her mind as she remembered his reaction upon hearing the news about Draco Malfoy. He had spat out the words "bloody cowards" in anger, his frustration palpable. But Harry had interceded, his voice calm but firm. "Actually, Ron," he had explained, "it was mine and Kingsley's idea. Had it not been for Narcissa, I would not have been able to defeat Voldemort. Neither of them deserves to go to Azkaban or meet their end through a Death Eater's kiss."
She didn't quite know what to feel about the upcoming trials and court dates. While a few of them would require her attendance, alongside Harry and Ron, she hoped that the weeklong interrogations and statements they'd provided would suffice, sparing them from the need to be called in for every trial. Hermione had shared her address with the Ministry for the year, just in case they needed to send an owl summoning her for an appearance. She hoped such occurrences would be few and far between.
Courtrooms and trials were something she knew she'd eventually have to become accustomed to when she began working for the Ministry herself. However, for the time being, she was genuinely looking forward to a quiet Muggle life, away from the chaos and turmoil that had marked their lives for so long.
Tossing the Daily Prophet to the side, she shifted her gaze to the window. She saw Ron returning from Diagon Alley, likely having just apparated back, after taking the morning "opening" shift today. George, still reeling from Fred's absence, hadn't been much of a morning person lately. None of them had quite been done mourning the Weasley twin.
Ron's footsteps echoed through the wooden staircase, each heavy step resonating with the weight of the moment. As he trudged up the stairs, the creaking of the old wooden boards beneath his feet filled the air. Finally, he arrived at Hermione's doorway, and his face lit up with a gummy smile that held genuine warmth.
"Ready to go, Mione?" he asked, his voice tinged with both excitement and a subtle hint of sadness. Hermione couldn't help but wonder, would he be okay without her? Years spent with both Ron and Harry had created a sense of responsibility within her. Sometimes, she felt like their mother, the one who meticulously planned, researched, and lectured, ensuring their survival. They were both incredibly smart in their own ways, but still, the thought lingered in her mind.
Closing the distance between them, he enveloped her in a tender embrace, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers. His lips grazed along her neck, planting soft, fleeting kisses, before meeting her own in a gentle, lingering kiss. His voice was a soft murmur against her lips as he spoke, "I am going to miss you so much."
As the embrace lingered, a few unbidden tears welled in her eyes, glistening like dewdrops in the soft, ambient light of the room.
Ron had become a steadfast beacon of stability in her life. Since childhood, he and his family had welcomed her with open arms, and she had truly come to feel like an integral part of the Weasleys. Their relationship had flourished and deepened over this summer. While there was still much left to explore and experience together, the luxury of time was finally on their side.
She whispered softly to him, her words filled with reassurance, "I'm going to write to you, don't worry. And I'll see you at Christmas."
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Helen Granger, Hermione's mother, embodied a unique blend of attributes that set her apart. She was fiercely intelligent, her mind a wellspring of knowledge and wisdom. Her empathetic nature allowed her to connect with others on a deep level, radiating kindness and warmth wherever she went. With her striking beauty, she possessed a grace that seemed to flow effortlessly, captivating those fortunate enough to know her. Yet, she also knew the importance of self-care, and she took meticulous care of herself, ensuring that she looked and felt her best.
A mere week before Hermione's college classes were set to commence, Helen, with her unwavering determination, had insisted that her daughter indulge in a pampering session. She had taken Hermione to get a manicure, a pedicure, and impeccably groomed her brows. But the most touching gesture was that morning, just before Hermione embarked on her academic journey, three weeks behind the rest of her peers due to her last-minute decision regarding her plans for the year. With a tenderness that only a mother could possess, Helen had braided her daughter's long, curly brown hair into a meticulous French braid, just as she used to when Hermione was a child.
As Hermione rode the trolley to her first day of college, her fingers idly traced the intricate design of the French nails, a small but significant reminder of her mother's loving care. She couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves deep within her chest, an inexplicable apprehension that tugged at her. She pondered this unease, wondering why she felt this way. After all, she had been to school before, and surely a Muggle college couldn't be so vastly different from her previous educational experiences, could it? The sights and sounds of the city outside the trolley window provided a comforting backdrop to her contemplation, London was beautiful. Lively and she ached to explore it as an adult, as a muggle.
Her wand was discreetly tucked away in her purse. Dressed in a light blue summer dress and comfortable flats, she couldn't afford to draw attention by openly carrying a wand. It wasn't Halloween, after all. Although she ended up giggling to herself at the thought of being seen walking around with a wand.
English Literature was her first class of the day, and the anticipation tingled in her veins. It was the class she had been eagerly looking forward to. The thought of delving into the world of literary classics, once again, was exhilarating. Of course, she had already devoured all of the classics, more than once, but she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like discussing and learning about them from the perspective of other Muggles.
She moved swiftly down the well-worn halls of the main building, the sound of her footsteps echoing softly against the tiled floors. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere of academic comfort. With every step, the excitement bubbled within her.
Arriving at her destination ten minutes early, she stood by the classroom door, her heart beating just a bit faster. The sounds of hushed conversations from other students in the corridor mixed with the distant hum of activity, creating a symphony of anticipation. The cool air-conditioned breeze brushed against her skin as she waited nervously.
Having diligently studied the syllabus for all her classes, she couldn't help but think about what lay ahead. They would be reading "The Great Gatsby" together, a literary masterpiece she had already devoured with delight. The prospect of exploring it once more in a new context filled her with joy, and she couldn't wait to engage in the discussions and insights that awaited her in the classroom.
"Granger?"
A shiver ran down Hermione's spine as she heard that familiar voice, sending a cold, sinking feeling into the pit of her stomach. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. It couldn't be, she thought. It was impossible. Yet, the voice was unmistakable, a haunting echo from her past.
Her mind raced with disbelief as she turned abruptly on her heel, her eyes locking onto a figure before her. There, standing with an air of quiet confidence, was Draco Malfoy. His silver-grey-blue eyes held a hint of surprise but remained as sharp as ever, framed by a cascade of sleek, platinum blond hair. He exuded an aura of refinement and elegance that had only grown with time.
Malfoy's lips parted, forming words that felt strangely polite on his tongue. Shock and an unspoken history passed between them as he offered a hesitant greeting. "Hi," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "How are you?"
Updated to reflect correct dates~