Chapter Text
HERMIONE
“I’d really feel better if you would stay with us,” said Ron.
“Honestly, Ronald,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
“If she needs us, she can send a patronus. McGonagall will let us in,” said Harry, now talking to Ron.
Hermione just sighed and turned away from them, now toward Mrs. Weasley, who pulled her in for a hug.
“You’ll be fine, dear,” she said to Hermione quietly. “I’m glad you’re going back.”
“Me too, Mrs. Weasley,” whispered Hermione.
She turned back to find that Harry had pulled Ginny aside. Ron now took the opportunity to do the same to her.
“Mione,” he said. “Are you absolutely sure? You know Kingsley would let you do whatever you wanted.”
Hermione struggled to maintain her patience. He had been arguing with her about this ever since she told the others she was going back to Hogwarts to complete her final year.
“This is what I want, Ron,” she said.
“But we’ll be apart!” objected Ron.
“Yes, I know that,” said Hermione sighing wearily. “But it’s not forever, Ron. I need this. I’m doing this. I’ll write to you.”
Ron looked huffy, but he finally sighed too and pulled her in for a kiss.
Hermione tried to turn her face at the last minute. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with public displays of affection from him, especially in front of his family. But Ron caught her face and kissed her on the lips anyway. She pulled back and he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Well at least you’ll have weekends free this year, and I’ll be in the castle now and then to help with repairs. Maybe you can scope out some good broom closets for us.”
Hermione felt some displeasure as she thought of this and then stepped back, thinking that there was a less than zero chance of pulling Ron into a broom closet. She had caught far too many people there during her Prefect rounds to find the notion even remotely appealing.
He’s never been terribly creative though, she thought, with a sigh.
“We’ll see Ron. I need to run now. I’ll send a message when I get there.”
Ron let her go reluctantly. She turned to give Harry a peck on the cheek before joining Ginny and finally boarding the train.
Hermione levitated her trunk and then said “Let’s find a compartment,” and Ginny nodded to her.
They headed toward the back of the train, opening doors every so often. Hermione and Ginny greeted a few people they knew. Most of the younger students, however, just gawked at them.
“This must be how Harry feels,” muttered Ginny. Hermione silently agreed.
“Let’s try to find Luna,” said Hermione. “She’s always early.”
Ginny agreed with this, and they kept opening compartments looking for Luna until they got to the very back of the train. They opened the door to a compartment and for a split second Hermione thought they had found Luna due to the flash of blonde hair.
Then the moment passed as she realized who she was staring at.
Draco Malfoy returned to Hogwarts?
A distant part of her brain supposed it made sense. After all, he had been out doing Death Eater things for much of his seventh year. His parents would want him to finish, and he had been cleared of most of his charges, thanks to testimony given by Harry and herself.
Still, she was startled to find herself face-to-face with him. She tensed and felt Ginny tense next to her.
To her surprise Malfoy didn’t say anything. He just raised an eyebrow at them. Only now did Hermione notice there was one other person in the compartment with him, whom she recognized as Theodore Nott.
Nott gave them a sneering smile and then stood and pointedly shut the door in their faces.
Hermione exhaled and tried the next compartment where, to her relief, she found Luna and Neville by themselves.
“Mind if we join?” asked Hermione, and Neville and Luna smiled at them as they came in.
“You’ll never guess who is in the compartment next door,” said Ginny.
Neville raised his eyebrows in question, while Luna hummed to herself, working on a quiz in The Quibbler.
“Malfoy,” said Hermione.
Neville grimaced, and even Luna stopped what she was doing to look up.
“Draco?” she asked. The others looked at her, a little startled.
“Erm, yes,” said Hermione awkwardly.
Luna nodded. “I’ll have to say hi to him then,” and she went back to the quiz she was working on in The Quibbler.
Hermione exchanged baffled looks with the others, but long experience with this type of behavior from Luna convinced them not to ask.
“I can’t believe he got off,” said Neville, with some venom in his voice now. “Him and his Death Eater family.”
Hermione and Ginny nodded in agreement, but Ginny said, “I know, but when Harry and Hermione here vouched for him…”
Hermione looked guilty at this. “I didn’t really vouch for him,” she said. “There’s no question he was a Death Eater.”
“Why did you testify then?” asked Neville, and Hermione could hear a mixture of curiosity and resentment in his voice.
Hermione sighed. “He was brainwashed, Neville. It doesn’t excuse the choices he made, especially in sixth year, but he was clearly conflicted about it by the end. He could have done a lot worse during the actual war.”
Neville gave Hermione a look that told her he disagreed with this, but mercifully he let it drop.
Hermione got quiet as she listened to Neville and Ginny talk about Harry and the rebuilding efforts at Hogwarts.
He certainly could have done a lot worse, thought Hermione, now shivering at the memory of being tortured in Malfoy Manor. Other than the moment when she thought that Harry had died and they had actually lost the entire war, it had been the single worst experience of her life, and that was saying something. Being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange had been terrifying and had left her with nightmares she wasn’t sure she would ever fully recover from.
She lay there, screaming and twitching, barely registering the words Bellatrix was saying.
Something about the Sword, she thought desperately. Something about taking the Sword from her vault.
Hermione insisted she didn’t take it from the vault, and Bellatrix’s curse hit her again. Hermione screamed and screamed as the pain wracked her body. She couldn’t think straight. She didn’t know what to do to make it stop.
Bellatrix lifted the spell for a moment to ask another question about the Sword. Hermione barely heard it as she looked up and saw a flash of silver eyes. They were her enemy’s eyes, but she could see terror in them, and she thought she recognized a look of desperation for her. He wanted her to say something. It was like she could hear his words in her mind, but she knew he wasn’t talking. His lips weren’t moving. But she could hear him anyway, and he wanted her to say anything that would make Bellatrix stop.
She obeyed the plea in those eyes and that voice in her head without even thinking about it.
“It isn’t the real Sword!” Hermione found herself shouting. “It’s a copy! Just a copy!”
During the preparation for Draco Malfoy’s trial over the summer, Hermione had tried to convey to Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other aurors who interviewed her that Malfoy was the reason she had lied about the Sword. It had been a very important lie – a crucial one, in fact. It had helped them win the war. Bellatrix was torturing her, and she couldn’t think clearly. But when she saw Malfoy, she knew he wanted her to lie about the Sword to make the torture stop. She could practically hear his voice in her head telling her to do it. She was certain that he would know she was lying, but he wouldn’t contradict her. It had grounded her. It had helped her focus. And she had been able to tell the lie, and they had gotten away with it. It had bought them the time they needed to figure out how to break into Bellatrix’s vault.
“But how did you know that?” they kept asking her.
“I just did!” said Hermione, her temper building.
“That’s not going to be good enough for the Wizengamot,” said Kingsley. “Did he say anything? Make a gesture? Anything?”
“No,” said Hermione. “I could just tell. It’s like I could hear him even though he wasn’t speaking.”
The others sighed. “That’s not evidence Hermione.”
“Fine,” she huffed.
Hermione had fought with them about it for ages, but finally she agreed to testify to a single thing in Malfoy’s hearing: Draco Malfoy did not identify Harry Potter at Malfoy Manor.
Most in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had wanted her to testify against him, but she had refused. The few who were sympathetic based on his age and the position he had been in tried to find some other piece of concrete evidence she could provide in support, but they hadn’t been able to come up with anything else.
So she stood up during his hearing and read a single sentence under oath and then sat back down again. It had been so short that neither his lawyers nor the members of the Wizengamot had even questioned her about it.
It had bothered Hermione that she couldn’t give testimony about what his presence had done for her. She could tell none of them really believed it. After all, he had stood by and watched her be tortured. He hadn’t defended her. He hadn’t said a single word to her while it was happening.
But he wanted it to stop, she thought. He was in the room, watching it, and he wanted it to stop.
It had been enough to help her find her own mind, and that was why she refused to testify against him, much to the dismay of the DMLE and her boyfriend Ronald Weasley.
At least Harry agreed with me, she thought dully. Harry had also given positive testimony for Draco and Narcissa and had refused to testify against either one of them. She still wasn’t sure what would happen with Lucius – he and the other higher ranked Death Eaters were scheduled to be tried that autumn.
Harry and Hermione’s position on the “Malfoy issue,” as it came to be known, had caused a bit of a rift with Ron. He had been outraged that they wouldn’t testify against Draco. But Hermione had her reasons, and she knew Harry did too. Both of them felt the issue was more nuanced than Ron did.
Ron’s never been one to understand nuance though, she thought. Then she felt a bit guilty for the variety of unflattering thoughts she was having about her boyfriend that day.
Hermione didn’t like Draco Malfoy. She was certain she would never like Draco Malfoy. They had nothing in common and had been enemies for nearly half of her life now. But in that one moment, the look in his eyes and that voice in her head had saved her. It was a critical thing that had helped them win the entire war, and her lackluster testimony on his behalf grated on her.
She consoled herself that he had gotten off with a very light sentence, even without her nebulous testimony about eyes and feelings and voices in her head. He was under probation for a year and was required to complete a certain number of hours of community service related to the rebuilding efforts. His family was also ordered to pay some restitution. It was really better than he could have hoped for.
Hermione sighed. It no longer mattered. It was done and over. And now Malfoy was back at Hogwarts.
At least without Harry and Ron I’ll be able to avoid him, she thought. She had never been the one to seek out conflicts with Malfoy.
Her heart lightened at this thought, and she turned back to her friends, forcing Draco Malfoy out of her mind for the rest of the journey.
******
DRACO
Draco watched through the window as Weasley kissed her. She tried to move to the side, and he caught her lips anyway. It looked awkward, and he saw Granger grimace slightly. Draco snorted.
All the finesse of a blast-ended skrewt, he thought.
Then he watched Weasley whisper something to her. He could see the sides of their faces. Weasley was smiling in anticipation. He saw her spine stiffen, then she wrinkled her nose a little and stepped back firmly.
Draco couldn’t help it. The side of his mouth twitched up.
“What’s this? Draco Malfoy actually smiling?” asked Theo, who just stepped into the compartment.
Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not smiling,” he said.
“Right,” said Theo, now levitating his trunk into the compartment. “Draco Malfoy no longer smiles, ever. And my dad’s not a fucking bastard.”
Draco couldn’t help it. He smirked at that.
“There it is,” said Theo. “Knew you still had it in you somewhere.”
At this Draco rolled his eyes again and looked back out on the platform. He had lost Granger and the others. She must have boarded the train.
“So how many are coming back?” asked Draco.
Theo looked at him sharply. “You mean Slytherins or all?”
Draco gave him a pointed look. “Slytherins. Obviously.”
Theo smirked for a moment but then sighed. “Probably just you and me. I’ve heard that most of the others who managed to stay out of Azkaban finished enough of their classwork to sit for the NEWTs the Ministry offered over the summer. It was just me and Blaise who were out for the whole year. And you might as well have been with all your Death Eater shit. Blaise likes Italy and isn’t coming back.”
“I should have done what you did,” muttered Draco.
“Well yeah, staying with a distant aunt in France would have been preferable to living with the Dark Lord, I’ll grant you that,” said Theo seriously.
Draco felt his mouth twitch again.
“But it wasn’t easy mate,” added Theo. “I had to stay in hiding so Dad wouldn’t find me. It was a smaller place you know – only five bedrooms. It was just me and that old biddy and her husband. I hardly saw anybody else. And I didn’t get laid all year.”
“Tragic,” said Draco, now smiling at his only remaining friend.
Draco had been shocked when Theo reached out to him over the summer. They had been close friends growing up but had drifted apart as Draco got sucked into the Death Eaters. Theo’s father had been high up in the Death Eaters as well, but Draco knew that Theo and his dad had never gotten on. When Draco heard that Theo had fled the country he had been relieved for his old friend, but he was sure he would never hear from him again.
After the results of Draco’s hearing were made public, however, Theo had written to him.
Draco,
I just wanted to congratulate you on not being as big of a fuck up as I originally thought you were. I read in the papers that you and your mum saved Potter somewhat. You know I’ve never been a huge fan of that specky git, but I did prefer him over Lord Snake of the Undead (you know how I feel about groveling – it causes far too many grass stains).
I assume you’re going back to Hogwarts next year, seeing as how last year was a fucking waste of time. I am too. Since everybody else we know is graduated, imprisoned, or dead, I suppose I’m stuck with you.
I’ll see you on the train, you wanker.
Theo
Draco would have rather been crucio’d by Aunt Bella than to admit to anybody how much that letter had meant to him.
During the war his entire focus had narrowed down to one thing: survival. He needed himself, his mum, and his dad to survive. That had been it. After Potter had actually killed the Dark Lord and Draco had been sentenced, he was sure nobody but his parents would want him now. The three Malfoys had done what they always did best – they closed rank around each other.
Discovering that Theo would be going to Hogwarts – and that Theo evidently didn’t despise him – had been the reason Draco decided to follow his parents’ wishes and return as well.
Draco was pulled out of his thoughts by the door of their compartment opening. To his surprise, Granger and She-Weasley were standing there staring at him in shock. He was a little surprised that they didn’t seem angry to see him. They were evidently stunned that he would have the gall to come back.
Bloody Gryffindors, thought Draco. You can read them like an open book.
Draco automatically assumed the stoniest expression he could muster and then raised one eyebrow at them. Their eyes narrowed a bit in response.
He saw Theo stand up, and then Theo walked over to the door and shut it in their faces.
He turned back and gave Draco a very satisfied look, then picked up a book and began to read. Draco glanced at the cover.
1984
“What’s that?” he asked.
Theo looked up at him and shrugged. “I told you I had fuck all to do last year because I was in hiding. So I did a lot of reading.”
Draco furrowed his brow at this a little, but he didn’t say anything else as Theo settled back down with his book. Draco didn’t recognize the title, but he supposed Theo was right. There probably hadn’t been much for him to do over the previous year, though he wasn’t sure why Theo cared to read about the year 1984.
Shrugging to himself, Draco turned to stare back out of the window when he heard faint voices coming from the next compartment. Draco pushed his head against the seat as he strained to hear.
“I can’t believe he got off,” said a bloke’s voice. “Him and his Death Eater family.”
Then a girl said, “I know, but when Harry and Hermione here vouched for him…”
That must be She-Weasley, thought Draco.
“I didn’t really vouch for him,” said Granger’s voice. “There’s no question he was a Death Eater.”
Draco felt a mixture of anger and guilt at this.
“Why did you testify then?” asked the bloke.
He heard Granger’s voice say, “He was brainwashed, Neville. It doesn’t excuse the choices he made, especially in sixth year, but he was clearly conflicted about it by the end. He could have done a lot worse during the actual war.”
Draco felt revulsion — at Granger or at himself, he wasn’t sure.
Brainwashed? She thinks I was brainwashed? And she thinks I could have done worse?
Draco tried to push the flood of images out of his head – all the people he had seen murdered and tortured in his home. He himself had done a fair bit of torturing, though he had been lucky that it had always been other Death Eaters.
At least they deserved it, he thought bitterly.
Still, he was sure Granger wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily if she knew that he had crucio’d other people.
Of course this led him to revisit what he considered to be one of the worst events of the entire war for him – the day Potter, Granger, and Weasley had all been captured and brought to Malfoy Manor.
They had arrived with Snatchers, and his parents and Aunt Bella wanted him to identify them. Draco had hesitated. By the time they were captured, it had become very clear to him that Potter was his only hope for the horror to end. But he couldn’t very well save Potter without getting himself and his whole family killed.
It was an impossible choice for a Slytherin.
So he had waffled. He hadn’t identified Potter right away. Of course he recognized him immediately, even with that stunning hex. He was sure that hex had been Granger’s work. It was rather clever, he had to admit, but it didn’t hide Potter’s features completely. The green eyes that flashed at him beneath that very swollen face were certainly Potter’s. Draco would have recognized them anywhere.
And there was no mistaking Granger or Weasley. Of course it was them.
He hesitated, but then he reluctantly said that Granger was probably Granger. Maybe. And Weasley was likely Weasley. His father started to call the Dark Lord, but then to everyone’s shock Aunt Bella noticed some bloody sword they had with them that made her go ballistic.
She had separated them and tortured Granger. It had been one of the worst things Draco had ever seen.
Of course he hated Granger. He had always hated Granger. She was the muggle-born who beat him in everything except for flying. He, Draco Malfoy, had come to Hogwarts expecting to be the best in nearly everything. Instead, Granger had trounced him, despite her dirty blood and inferior upbringing. It was positively mortifying.
He had to admit he didn’t hate her as much as he hated Potter and Weasley. He tended to target her to get a rise out of the other two. But he still despised her quite enough.
Or at least he thought he did – until he watched his aunt torture her.
At some point her eyes locked on his, and he could see her pleading for his help. She was silently asking him to intervene for her, to find some way to make it all stop. But he wasn’t Potter or Weasley. He would never do something as reckless as helping Harry Potter’s best friend while she was being tortured by the Dark Lord’s most devoted servant.
Instead, he made eye contact with her and tried to send a silent message to her.
Use your fucking huge brain and think Granger! Something! Anything! You have to fucking say something!
Then to his utter shock, she told a lie about the sword. She said it was a copy. Draco could see the lie in her eyes, but evidently the others couldn’t.
He had seen Granger lie before. It was rare, but she was capable. And unlike the dozens of ridiculous lies he had heard Potter and Weasley tell over the years – at least half of which had been told to Snape – Granger’s lies produced results.
He would never forget the sight of Albus Dumbledore carrying Dolores Umbridge out of the Forbidden Forest after Granger had lied to lure her there. That particular lie had even convinced Draco, at least until he and Granger had exchanged glances just as she was leaving the room with Potter and Umbridge. In that moment Draco knew it was a trap, but Granger looked perfectly capable of blasting him against the wall despite the fact that she had no wand, so he didn’t dare alert Umbridge.
Self-preservation and all.
The lie she told to Aunt Bella had been inspired. It had totally derailed her and stopped the torturing long enough for Draco to fetch the goblin who, to his surprise, corroborated Granger’s story.
For a split second Draco thought Granger must have been telling the truth – this sword that they had evidently been carrying around the English countryside wasn’t taken from Aunt Bella’s vault. It truly was a copy. But then he caught her eye again, and to his surprise she gave him the tiniest smirk. She knew he was in on the secret, and she was sharing the briefest moment of triumph with him before it all went to hell again.
Draco had almost no time to process this before Aunt Bella ordered Wormtail to get Potter and Weasley, who then came back into the room fighting. They managed to disarm Aunt Bella who then grabbed Granger and held that knife to her throat. Then somehow their former House Elf appeared and dislodged Mother’s prized chandelier from the ceiling before disapparating with all of them.
Aunt Bella’s rage had been explosive, and Draco had sprinted from the room to get away from her and the Dark Lord who had been called a moment too soon.
In the aftermath of that day, Draco had spent less time wondering how their old House Elf had found Harry Potter and known he was in danger and more time thinking about Granger being tortured. Out of all the ones he witnessed – even the ones he performed himself – her torture had haunted him the most. He dwelled on it. He had nightmares about it. It had taken active occlumency to shut it out. Draco wasn’t sure why exactly, but he thought it had something to do with the fact that it was the closest they had come to the Dark Lord actually winning. Draco was certain that Potter’s entire plan – whatever it was – had almost imploded in the Malfoy drawing room that day.
That and the eye contact. She had pleaded with him for help, and he didn’t give her any. He felt a surge of guilt and self-loathing every time he thought about it.
He tried to shove Granger out of his mind, but it was no good. He had just seen her in person – it was the closest they had been to each other since that day in the drawing room. He finally turned to occlumency to clear his mind of her. He breathed and emptied his head slowly and methodically, feeling a sense of peace fall over him as he did so.
Despite his guilt about that day, he still didn’t like her, and he planned to avoid her this year at Hogwarts. He thought it would be easier than usual since Potter and Weasley wouldn’t be surrounding her all the time. He was sure she would ignore him, and he would ignore her. He couldn’t afford to fall back into thoughts about her torture every time he saw her. He would never make it through the year.
Seeing that Theo was still occupied with his book, Draco settled in for a nap next to the window. He hadn’t been sleeping well for obvious reasons. He closed his eyes and relaxed, and slowly felt sleep start to come over him.
As had happened so often recently, the last thing Draco thought of before he drifted off to sleep was that tiny, utterly baffling smirk.