Chapter Text
Hermione exhaled deeply. She was home.
Looking around, she held her breath while taking it all in - the smell of freshly cut grass in the yards, the rolls of parchment and ink quills weighing down her bag, the excitement spreading in the air around the tiny first-years running towards the gate, the musty breeze emanating from the old stones of the castle. Home. Hogwarts had always felt like home, even when it wasn’t. Even when she had run away from a troll, when she had missed half a year due to being petrified simply for the crime of being Muggle-born, when she had been tortured by faculty members mandated by the Ministry, when she had fought a war on these very grounds….
When she had been bullied, relentlessly, year after year.
She shuddered, repressing the bad memories. She was stronger now. She could face whatever this year would throw at her.
Her anxiety was not entirely unwarranted. After all, she had successfully hidden from the Wizarding world for the past two years. Once the war had ended, she made the decision to run away, moving to Australia with the goal of finding her parents and helping them recover from her own memory spell. It had not been an easy spell to cast when the war started, and then it had not been an easy spell to revert, either - it took her several arduous months to get them back to who they used to be. Several months where she became familiar with the warmer weather, the quick and easy access to the beach, the way her skin looked with a little tan.
The cute Australian boys.
For the first time in her life, she had no Chosen One to protect, no war to be a soldier in, no dark wizard to defeat. Once her parents had fully recovered, she truly embraced what it meant to be 18 - partying almost every night, discovering her sexuality, ending most evenings in the arms of a cute boy or girl, letting go of responsibilities.
It had been fun, for a while. Quickly enough, though, it had not been enough. She turned 19. She accepted that her parents did not really need her in their lives anymore, and would never come back to England, as they truly enjoyed their new life in Australia. She missed her old friends, her books, and news of the Wizarding world.
She missed magic.
It had not been an easy decision to come back to Hogwarts to finish her N.E.W.T.s Most of her friends had already graduated by now, or were deep into their flourishing careers. Harry, for instance, seemed to be thriving within the Auror department, continuing his fight against evil, ever since the end of the war. It was humbling for Hermione to become a student again, now that she was far older than most of the seven-years she’d be sharing classes with. But N.E.W.T.s were a requirement for the graduate studies she wanted to attend, so she hadn’t had any choice.
And, secretly, she was excited to be back at Hogwarts, on her own terms and at her own rhythm.
With another exhale, she entered the old castle, excited but cautious about the year ahead.
“Here you go, Miss Granger”, said the Headmistress with a smile.
As Hermione walked into the room, her face illuminated. McGonagall had brought her into a beautiful chamber hidden behind a tapestry on the third floor. Her first impression of the room was that it felt incredibly cozy, with its fire roaring comfortably into the beautiful stone chimney facing a large desk and a small bookshelf. Hermione’s eyes darted towards a large bed in the corner, located right next to a generous window opening onto the Forbidden Forest. A small door led her to her very own private bathroom.
The Headmistress cleared her throat, looking very smug with herself.
“I’m glad you seem to be liking it. The faculty thought that it might be strange for you to join the Gryffindor dormitory, considering how you are much older than the rest of the students. We also thought that you’d enjoy the peace and quiet of having your own room. You will be given private access to the Prefect bathroom, as well as to the restricted section of the library.” She smiled, looking fondly at her student. “It’s well deserved, Miss Granger. Don’t think that anyone has forgotten your impressive actions during the war. I’m happy to seeing you safe, and home.”
She gently tapped her wand onto the desk, making a plate and a glass instantly appear. Hermione’s stomach grumbled. The plate was filled with delicious looking sandwiches.
“I have to be at the feast, of course, but please don’t feel obliged to join us. You must be tired after such a long trip.”
Hermione thanked the Headmistress profusely while letting her out. Her face had reddened from all the praise she received. She sat on her desk, looking at the room around her. Her heart was full. She picked a sandwich and started devouring it.
She was grateful to have missed the feast, knowing that her entrance would be greeted with a whole lot of noise. One of the Golden trio, a war hero, coming back to Hogwarts! As she navigated the hallways over the next couple of days, she couldn’t help hearing the murmur of students trailing behind her, everywhere she went. She exhaled, frustrated. She had known that it would happen, but she hoped that it would be over really soon. Hopefully the rumor mill would move on quickly enough.
Thankfully, her teachers treated her like any other seven-year, and she quickly got back into the rhythm of classes, homework, and essays to write.
As she climbed down the stairs towards the dungeons to join her first Potions class of the semester, she swiftly mused about who her teacher was going to be. She had heard that Slughorn quickly retired after the war, so she wondered who McGonagall must have picked as his substitute. At meal times, she had never seen anybody sitting on Snape’s old spot at the teachers’ table in the Great Hall.
As she approached the classroom, a soft and arrogant voice broke the silence, freezing her on the spot.
“Come on, get in and start prepping your cauldrons. I sure hope I don’t have to explain to any of you how to do that in your N.E.W.T. year.”
Hermione stood, petrified, incapable of entering the classroom and placing a face on the voice she unfortunately recognized. What was he doing here? Sure, she remembered reading in the Daily Prophet that he had been fully pardoned after the war. Harry had even given a testimony during his trials.
But there was a difference between a pardon and giving him full access to Hogwarts and all of the students! What was McGonagall thinking?
Before she could decide on what to do, he appeared in front of her, standing still on the threshold of the classroom, his long fingers wrapped around the door handle.
How different did he look. She had to admit it; he had grown up, morphing into a fully developed adult. And quite the handsome one… Alright, he was fit, she couldn’t lie about it. His chest had broadened, filling his robes snuggly and sharpening his shoulders. His hair had volume and fell perfectly onto his face, the latter having lost any remaining chubbiness of childhood, replaced with a long nose and sharp cheekbones. He stood on the threshold, looking at her, as frozen as she was.
“Granger?!”
Recovering from her shock, she stood straighter, facing him with warm cheeks and angry eyes.
“Malfoy”, she answered between gritted teeth.
He sneered, taking her in. She was wearing the school uniform and holding a bag filled to the brim with books, unmistakably a student ready to join his class.
“It’s Professor Malfoy now, even to you.”
With a laugh, he stepped away from the threshold, inviting her into his classroom.