Chapter Text
The stonework had been charmed to make it look older. It was the first thing Hermione noticed upon stepping into the entrance courtyard – an odd sort of thing to notice, she thought, slinging her bag over one shoulder and running her hands over the stones. New – of course they were new. Everything here would be new. Except the memories – the memories would be very old and deep. She had not returned to this place since the last days of the War, and the immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. The castle had been closed for repairs since then – this was the first time students and professors were allowed back into its halls. Halls, she remembered, were home to both wonderful and terrible memories.
She felt her heart skip a beat, then speed up.
Hermione’s fingers came to a halt at a break in the stones. Closing her eyes, she willed her heart to slow, her breathing to steady out, but in the darkness behind her eyes she saw things. Flashes of green and red light. Blood. She heard a piercing scream, and then another. The world, the courtyard outside her eyes, it was all spinning and she was being lifted off the ground. Higher and higher until –
“Granger.”
The voice broke through, somewhere around her. She felt herself slowly come back to earth, though an old courtyard surrounded her. The memories, fresh. Too real.
“Come on, Granger. I know you can hear me,” someone spoke again, and Hermione broke through the veil surrounding her. She opened her eyes – to her shock, she wasn’t soaring above the school, but standing, firmly, on new stones, still facing the courtyard wall. Her hand, still firmly placed on the stones.
One more breath, she thought. Breathe. Slow down.
When she had her composure gathered well enough, she turned to face Draco Malfoy – only the last person she had expected to see within these walls. Thoughts shot through Hermione’s mind – he was healthier looking than last she saw him. Still pale, yes, but not the pale sheen of death on his skin. She might have sworn a slight smile danced on his lips, but it was gone before she pinned it down. Still recovering, she knew this conversation couldn’t last long.
“Malfoy. Good to see you,” she said, the lie sounding ridiculous to her. “I’m off, have a meeting with McGonnagal.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. She did have a meeting with the new Headmistress – one she had been looking forward to until now. However, she couldn’t say she was happy to see Draco Malfoy – whom she had last seen retreating from the Battle, close behind his mother. True, she had caught glimpses of him in the Daily Prophet – stories about pardoned children, about Death Eaters sent to Azkaban – but she had paid little attention to those stories. Draco Malfoy, as far as Hermione was concerned, had likely left her life for good – and she was fine with that.
Clearly, though, that wasn’t the case. Here he was, standing in front of her – standing between her and the staircase, blocking her path into the castle.
Draco let out a laugh – harsh, but not malicious. “You’re glad to see me? Well, I’d love to say the feeling’s mutual, but – you know, old habits die hard.” He shrugged, gesturing nonetheless toward her bag, which had fallen to the floor. “As it so happens, I also have a meeting with the new Headmistress. Care for some company?”
“You?” Hermione had found herself again. “Why would McGonagall schedule a meeting for both of us at the same time?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Draco asked, and seemed pleased when Hermione returned only a blank stare, laced with annoyance at the edges. “Well, well, the know-it-all fails to live up to the name.”
Without warning, he grabbed her bag off the floor and turned from her, climbing the stairs into the castle. Incensed, and more than a little annoyed at the less-than-ideal start to the day, Hermione raced after him, snatching the bag from his casual grip.
“All right, Malfoy, out with it. I’m in no mood for games today.”
Draco stopped mid-step, and turned to look at her. She looked back, letting her glare soften as she noticed a change in his face – what was it? Soft? Concerned? She couldn’t read it. Regardless, he seemed to read something in her face, too – had he seen her panic attack moments ago? How long had he been standing there?
The panic attacks were coming more frequently. Harry had suggested she see a psychologist, while Ron had balked at the concept of a “Muggle mind-doctor,” as he put it. Hermione brushed them both off – all she needed was stability, an outlet for her mind. Ever since the end of the War, she, Harry, and Ron had been required at countless meetings, events, conferences – even balls and celebrations. The Golden Trio was in high demand in all circles. Their advice had even been consulted as the Ministry was being reconstructed – she had almost enjoyed those meetings. However, for over a year, her entire life was a constant reminder that she was a war hero; that her entire life had been war – and peace was something difficult to accept. Her panic attacks gradually increased over the year, and now the simplest memory could trigger them.
“No, you’re not,” he responded, almost quietly, breaking Hermione from her thoughts. He turned from her and continued up the grand staircase. “I’ve been hired as an associate Potions professor, Granger. Word has it, we’re to be colleagues this year.”
Hermione was stunned. She had considered it a great gift with the new Headmistress had contacted her with the job offer. Apparently, with the War over and Voldemort gone, more wizarding families felt comfortable sending their children to Hogwarts. The school’s enrollment numbers nearly doubled over the year – and the school was in desperate need of associate professors to support the workload of head professors. McGonagall’s letter offering Hermione employment as an associate Charms professor had barely arrived when she responded with a letter of acceptance. It would be a return to normalcy. A chance to forget.
Now one of her greatest adversaries was standing a step above her, and she had a feeling her sense of peace and normalcy was about to come crumbling down.
“Come off it, Granger,” she heard Draco’s voice just ahead of her. She was almost pleased to hear the old Malfoy in his tone. She looked up, and then continued walking with him toward the Headmistress’ office. “I’m sure we’ll hardly see each other – and I’m sure we’ll keep it that way.”
Hermione said nothing as they approached the office. She couldn’t allow Malfoy – or anyone else – to disrupt the potential healing of this space. True, she was back at Hogwarts – and her attack in the courtyard seemed to suggest that this wouldn’t exactly be the escape from the War’s aftermath she had intended. Still, it held so many possibilities – work, a good day’s work, being one of them. Not an endless stream of meetings or balls or invitations. And the opportunity to immerse herself in academics – something that was a true joy in her life. Yes, she thought, the excitement growing as Draco spoke the password to McGonagall’s office, this new life was exactly what she needed.
“Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy – how good to see you both!” The exclaim greeted them as the door to the office opened wide. Hermione was shocked – McGonagall sounded genuinely happy to see both of them – her and Malfoy.
The new Headmistress rose from behind a great mahogany desk, surrounded by neatly stacked books and papers – Dumbledore’s office, this wasn’t. But it still smelled of Hogwarts – of parchment and ink, of crackling wood, and of something deeper that Hermione couldn’t place. As she looked around the room, she noticed the portraits gracing the walls – Dumbledore and Severus Snape among them. Her heart skipped a beat, and Hermione had to close her eyes, stopping her stomach from plummeting. When she opened them, she noticed Draco glancing curiously at her before greeting McGonagall, as though nothing had happened.
“Headmistress,” he said, shaking McGonagall’s outstretched hand, “A pleasure to see you again. The castle’s repairs are coming along well.”
Hermione was shocked at his pleasantries – but had to remind herself that this wasn’t the same Draco Malfoy that had carelessly tossed out mudblood at any given chance, or despised professors behind their backs. He had grown up. She had, too – they all had. Times had changed.
“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. And thank you for agreeing to return to Hogwarts,” McGonagall responded, her voice clipped with business at the edges. Hermione smiled. Times might have changed, but Minerva McGonagall remained the same.
She turned to face Hermione. “And Miss Granger,” she said, “I can’t thank you enough. I understand you’ve been quite busy lately, and have likely had more than your fair share of offers to choose from. Hogwarts is honored to have you return.”
Hermione hardly knew how to respond. “Thank you, Headmistress,” she finally said, “But the honor is all mine. I could hardly stand another month of invitations and balls.”
“Yes, sounds positively dreadful,” Draco joked beside her – another surprise. She didn’t think she had ever heard Malfoy joke.
McGonagall smiled at them both. “Well, I am grateful to you both,” she said, returned to her desk, where she gestured toward two stacks of parchment paper, held together in folders. “These are your manuals. They have all the information you will need to begin the school year – rosters, schedules, school policies, maps of the new wings.”
With a flick of her wrist, she levitated the stacks toward Hermione and Draco. Hermione felt a rush of excitement shoot through her – this was it. She was a Hogwarts professor. This was something she had often dreamed of – writing her own courses, having her own office in the Hogwarts halls, doing research, learning constantly. As the parchment fell into her arms, she breathed in the heady scent of ink – she could hardly wait to get started on the reading. Beside her, to her shock, Draco also looked a bit enthused, even flipping his long fingers through the stack.
“The students will arrive tomorrow,” McGonagall’s voice broke through her thoughts. “So you won’t have very long to settle in – my apologies. Everything is a bit rushed this year.” Walking over them, she placed a small bag on her and Draco’s stacks. “Your apartment and office keys. Due to the renovations, all professor and staff apartments will be in the same wing. Offices will be grouped together in a separate wing.”
Hermione glanced down at the small, leather bag. Apartment 411A, Office 17. She smiled. It was all becoming real. She smiled, that was, until her stomached plummeted as she glanced at Draco’s bag: Apartment 411B, Office 18.
So much for Malfoy’s prediction of distance. They were to be neighbors. Fantastic.