Hermione would honestly rather confront another troll or get manhandled by Grawp again than have to deal with... ugh... mornings. The lifelong student didn't remember the last time she slept for more than three hours. At least, not without the help of a Sleeping Draught, and that only bought her about five. Needless to say, she was not too pleased about the incessant tapping on her bedroom window.
"Okay," Hermione groaned. "I'm up! Give me a minute." With an aggravated huff that would likely impress Aberforth, she yanked back her comforter, silently cursing whoever thought it was a good idea to send heran owl at such an ungodly hour. Groggy and sleep-deprived legs clumsily stumbled across the chilly wooden floor.
A wild mess of frizzy curls bombarded her vision as soon as her fingers touched the glass. Hermione instinctively pushed it all back before rolling her eyes and yanking the window open. The bird that awaited her was unimpressed.
Truthfully, she wasn't too impressed either.
The very official-looking and equally grumpy owl flew right past her, heading straight for the small desk on the other side of the room without even so much as a hoot in greeting. Once it landed, it gazed at her expectantly, as if to say, are you coming to get this or what? I don't have all day. Stupid human. It held out its leg impatiently.
All thoughts of sleep quickly vanished when she realized who sent it. She hastily took the letter and strange-looking package. Her eyes eagerly scanned the page as she felt around her desk for the owl treats.
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Miss Granger,
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We would like to formally invite you to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year to obtain your N.E. and complete your education. Should you choose to accept, there are a few updates you should be aware of.
Given the circumstances pertaining to the last school year, all returning students from your year will be referred to as eighth years. You will be housed in a separate dormitory that was built during the reconstruction of the school. It is not house separated, but you will each have your own room for privacy. Permitting of younger students into this dormitory is also highly discouraged.
This year, a school-wide pen pal program will be implemented. Every student has been partnered with someone from a different house to write to anonymously throughout the year. It is important that we all learn to set preconceived notions aside to form genuine friendships going forward. I think you will find this program interesting, to say the least.
With this letter, you will find a Twinned Quill. Each quill is designed to transmit anything that you write whilst using it to the one it is paired with. Its "twin," as the name suggests, writes down what you have written so the owner of the quill can read the message. They can then write a response, wherein you will receive it in the same fashion.
The positions of Head Boy and Head Girl are open as well. By way of a unanimous vote, you have been chosen for Head Girl. If that is still an aspiration of yours, it is yours for the taking. You have more than earned it.
Your schedule and supply list have also been sent with this letter.
Please send a response by owl as soon as possible to inform me of whether you will be returning this year, and whether you will be accepting the role of Head Girl.
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Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
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Hermione's heart stuttered right before it lurched, beating like a jackhammer in her chest. She had heard the whispers that everyone from her year would be invited to come back. She'd even had this confirmed when she asked Harry to check in with Kingsley about it. Yet, seeing the letter with her own two eyes was something else entirely.
There really was no other answer she could give. If she ever wanted to gain an ounce of peace again, she needed to confront the ghosts of that war. To do anything otherwise would still allow Voldemort to win... even in death.
She made a mental note to stock up on supplies to make her draught while she was in Diagon.
Less than a minute later, Hermione's response letter was penned, and the school owl was back in the air. Against all the reds, oranges, and purples of the sunrise, seeing the bird gliding on the August breeze was truly a sight to behold. She gave the airborne bird's form a bitter smile. Deep down, she wondered what it would be like to experience that kind of freedom.
Just not the flying part, of course.
.
However, with each passing day, it was becoming more difficult to deny the growing restlessness within her. She craved the liberty to find herself again. She desperately wished that she weren't the "Golden Girl," or anyone's damn princess.
She wanted to know what it was like to freely rage. She wanted to scream. She wanted to finally break the mold she created for herself as a scared little girl entering a foreign world without a single familiar face to turn to.
For now, she'd accept simply relearning the joy of flinging paint against the canvas. In the deepest, most treasured parts of her memory, she still saw the pride in her parents' smiles when her ten-year-old self showed them paintings of numerous book characters and scenes. Her fingers involuntarily twitched in response.
Those euphoric, innocent pieces quickly took a darker turn after the fight against Voldemort escalated. What began as a summer outlet quickly became a cause for alarm for Madelynn and Wesley Granger. If they had known the extent of the danger their daughter faced, they never would have let her go back.
To protect both her parents and Harry, she stopped painting altogether. That would only be the first sacrifice of many made for everyone she loved. Hermione then dove deeper into books—both as an escape and as a necessity—until they became her entire identity. Both in andout of Hogwarts.
It wasn't like she didn't absolutely adore books. She could go on and on about them for hours. That was no secret. What wasa secret, though, was her second love: art. Now that her family was essentially gone, it was one that only lived inside her memories.
Before her mind finished processing the magnitude of the moment, her gaze drifted down to the scarlet rectangular box resting on her desk.
.
Knock! Knock!
The words, "come in," hadn't fully formed on Hermione's tongue before her door flew open with a bang. Her senses immediately jumped to high alert. She spun toward the source of the sound with her wand drawn just as a certain redhead came into view. As the intruder's hands rose into the air, Hermione lowered it with an exasperated sigh of relief.
"Gin, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"You nearly got a heart attack? I'm the one who was just at the wrong end of the wand!"
Hermione gently set it on her desk, brushing her mane out of her face again and appraised her friend. Ginny obviously hadn't been out of bed long. Her hair was in complete disarray, wearing only Harry's old Quidditch jersey. It swallowed her whole, leaving her long toned legs on full display while she clutched a piece of parchment in her hand. Her eyes were wide and bright as she fought to keep a smile off her face.
It suddenly clicked. Ginny had news. And she wanted to know something, too. Hermione held up her own parchment in answer. "That's your Hogwarts letter, isn't it? I take it Harry and Ron got theirs, too?"
Ginny nodded eagerly. "You know what this means, don't you?"
Hermione arranged her features to mimic a (hopefully) believable look of excitement. "It means the castle reconstruction is complete and we can finally get our N.E. !"
The younger witch's eyes positively sparkled. "No, silly! Quidditch! Quidditch is back on, and just you wait! With Harry going off for Auror training, I'll surely be the Gryffindor Captain! Can you believe it? This will be the best year yet!"
"That's fantastic! Does Ron know? He'll be thrilled."
.
The women linked their arms together and headed toward the stairs. "You better believe it," Ginny gushed. "He didn't know whether to be happy for me or pissed off because he didn't get the spot himself. It's alright, though. It was worth it to see his ears turn red again. Even heard George call him Ronniekins for the first time since..."
They shared a nod of silent understanding.
Once they reached the bottom, Ginny asked, "Well? What does yours say?"
"Minerva wanted to know if I was coming back this year. Say, what do you think of that pen pal program?"
Her question was immediately met with a loud groan from the future quidditch captain. "It sounds like more homework to me. Honestly, what is McGonagall thinking? We're already going to be swamped as it is! How am I supposed to fit writing to some random person between coursework and practice? That woman is going to make my hand fall off, and I need that hand for much more interesting things than writing a damn letter."
"Gin, for the thousandth time, can we please not talk about what you and Harry do? He's practically my brother!"
"Now you sound like my brother."
Hermione lifted her chin in indignation, causing both witches to erupt in a fit of laughter as they followed the delightful smell of breakfast cooking, arm-in-arm.
.
She decided that Ron might have been on to something when Harry turned from the stove. He was in a complete state of bliss. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. His hair hadn't been brushed. Suspiciously mouth-shaped purpling was on display on both sides of his neck and peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. As the Boy-Who-Ran-Their-Kitchen bounced around the space, setting plates and filling mugs with pumpkin juice and coffee, he had an extra spring in his step.
The man even whistled a bit after he hugged her and quickly kissed her cheek.
Hermione blinked a few times, startled by the difference, and followed Ginny.
.
With all three of them settled at the table, Ginny holding her boyfriend's hand while sipping on her juice, Harry wolfing down his food like usual, Hermione did her best to focus on the important task of eating her eggs. She felt the shift between them the second Harry opted to barely brush his lips against her face after he hugged her. The gesture had been all wrong. It had been chaste, distracted, almost obligatory rather than the genuine affection that had become their normal over the last two years.
At one point it had been something of a game, to find out how long it would take for her to get him back. Hermione had been ecstatic over it. To see how far he'd come, having a front-row-seat to the growth of a little boy who shied from physical affection to a man who relished in it had been a true honor and a point of pride for her.
Harry would plant a two-to-three second kiss to her cheek. She would do her best to get him to stop long enough for her to plant one on his (sometimes chasing him around the house to do so). Sometimes there would be tickling involved, other times not, but it always ended with a smile before they went on about their morning.
It was a game they hadn't played in quite some time, but the affectionate greeting hadn't. At least not until ten minutes ago. The sudden change was unintentional. She knew this because she knew him.
At the moment, Harry was merely distracted because of the obvious. He'd had sex the night before. He was happy, as he should be. However, that didn't account for the fact that it certainly wasn't the first time he'd released some tension with his girlfriend since the war, but it was the first time he'd treated her any differently afterwards.
Hermione was aware that the knowledge hadn't registered in her best friend's mind. Harry would be absolutely mortified and apologize until he was blue in the face if it had. Still, the shift was there, even if only subconsciously. That meant her time as being someone that Harry needed was running out.
.
She kept her gaze firmly planted on her plate and worked to keep her face free of the storm brewing in her head. It didn't matter. Her best friend deserved a "happily ever after" more than anyone. The best thing she could do was just go back to school and plan for the inevitable once she got there.
"Alright there, Hemione?"
The witch's head shot up.
A pair of startlingly green eyes were boring into hers.
The gorgeous redhead beside him stopped eating.
Hermione hoped that the smile on her face didn't look like a grimace. "Of course. I was just wondering whether I made the right decision, turning down Minerva's offer to make me Head Girl." She then quickly shoved a forkful of egg into her mouth.
Ginny openly gaped at her. "You didn't say anything about that earlier! I was just going on and on about quidditch, and you… Why did you turn it down? Nobody else in that castle is going to take the job seriously."
Harry's mouth flattened into a thin line. "Something's wrong. You've been after that badge since first year."
Hermione shrugged. "Nothing's wrong. I just have other priorities that are more pressing. After all, a badge isn't going to make a bit of difference at the Nook, is it?"
Ginny seemed to accept this answer well enough, nodding and turning back to her breakfast, but Harry's eyes narrowed nearly into slits. He pushed away from the table and stood, pressing a swift kiss to his girlfriend's lips before stalking to her side. "I don't believe you."
Hermione swallowed. "What…?"
The wizard just made a gesture to follow him. Of course, he knew that she would.
.
The pair were halfway up the stairs before he stopped, turned, and gently grabbed Hermione's shoulders. The brunette's breath caught in her chest when he decided to reach into her very soul with nothing more than a single look. "Talk to me, 'Mione."
Suddenly, the teal polish that had been flaking off her toenails for a while was easier to look at than the face she knew better than her own. "I…"
The words lodged in her throat. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Her face was suddenly nestled in the warm crook of Harry's neck. Her senses were wrapped in a scent that her mind equated to comfort and warm hugs. Just like the kind that the rest of her body was currently wrapped in. A dark stubbled cheek rested on top of her head. It was a trademark gesture that, somewhere along the way, her mind associated with their hugs being complete.
Her voice wobbled when her throat finally allowed her to speak. "I really do have other priorities that are more important than being Head Girl, Harry."
"It's more than that. We both know it," he whispered. "Something's wrong and you're not telling me."
Hermione screwed her eyes shut. "I want to find myself again. I don't even know who that is outside of Voldemort and... I'm not ready to be alone. It's all happening too fast and I..."
"Skip Hogwarts. Come kick my arse at Auror training."
"Hogwarts isn't the problem. At least, not the whole of it. It's…" Her entire body shuddered. "I've been thinking I should move into my parent's house."
Harry squeezed her tighter in a way that seemed reflexive. "What?!"
"It's just sitting there, empty, and—"
"Why the fuck would you do that?"
Hermione's fingers dug into the back of Harry's shirt.
"How long have you been thinking about… about leaving me?"
.
She almost laughed out loud in something akin to hysteria over his absurd wording. "You and Ginny are, at some point, going to need… some space. Another woman living in the house won't be appropriate, or welcome, forever."
"No," Harry argued, and it sounded like a growl.
Hermione blinked into his shoulder, uncomprehending.
"You're not just another woman. You're Hermione. And you're not moving out. Fuck that. I—I don't even know properly how to describe who you are to me. The closest word I've got is 'family.'"
"But you'll soon be gaining a real family—"
"Shut it, witch. I'm trying to tell you something."
.
A calloused hand held the back of Hermione's head and her protest was smothered by Harry's shoulder.
"It's why I told Ron once that you were like a sister, you know?" he whispered, "I never had any siblings, so I don't know what that's like. But I do know that sisters are important and you're really, really important to me, 'Mione, and, fuck, I was going to wait until Christmas to tell you this, but now seems about as good time as any."
Harry took a steadying breath in the looming silence. On the exhale, he softly said, "Gringotts sent me the deed to Grimmauld in January. And it turns out that I wasn't the only one who inherited the place."
Hermione's entire being jolted and she drew back in shock. "You can't be serious."
"No, that would be my godfather."
"Harry James!"
"Yes?" The wizard said sweetly and for a split second, Hermione was ready to throttle him. He threw back his head and laughed. "Apparently, the git decided that he wanted to leave behind one last laugh. You know, continuing his legacy of giving the Blacks the bird even after he's dead. So, you can't move out. The house is half yours. Or are you telling me you want to ruin Sirius' fun?"
.
A wide, genuine smile broke across Hermione's face when she shook her head. Harry would get a clue eventually, but for now, respecting his godfather's final wishes would be enough. "I suppose it wouldn't do to give Walburga something to be happy about."
"You won't stay for me, but you'll stay for Sirius. I see how it is," Harry chuckled. He kissed the top of her head for five lingering seconds, and, for a moment, all was right in the world again.
"Oi!" Called Ginny from the bottom of the stairs. "Is everything alright, now? It's nearly time to open the Nook and if we don't get these supplies soon, Mum is going to throw a fit!"
.
The smile on Hermione's face refused to fade when she glanced back at the woman who was the both reason she would be eternally grateful (anything that made Harry smile was worth protecting in her book) and was the reason she would live alone someday with—probably—four cats.
"Never been better, Gin. Let's get going. Although, you should probably get dressed first."