Chapter Text
Hermione Granger stormed into the room she shared with Ginny at the Burrow. She had to change for dinner as she had spent the afternoon in the garden trying her hand at Quidditch and her clothes were covered in mud. She sighed.
She could have cleaned up every stain with her wand, but such simple things felt good. She liked to do things the Muggle way, she felt more meticulous, and liked the feeling of accomplishment. So she undressed, stuffed her muddy clothes into a plastic bag and took the first dress she could find, a long red dress with flowers.
Ginny entered as she slipped the second strap over her shoulder.
"Oh, you look lovely Mione!" the redhead exclaimed with a look of wonder.
"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "My parents bought it for me..."
Hermione's throat knotted at the mention of her parents. It was still a sensitive subject, even if their memory loss was long gone now. Ginny understood, did not insist. She knew that since the end of the war, Hermione was having a hard time rebuilding herself, talking like she used to. She was more melancholic, lonely, silent, now.
Ginny put her broom on the corner of her dresser and set about untying her muddy boots. Hermione grabbed a straw hat, as the sun was still beating down on this late August day, and walked out of her friend's room to let her change.
After Voldemort's death, Hermione, Ron and Harry had given themselves some time to get back into their routine. They spent a year recovering from the most difficult deaths in the aftermath of the war: Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Snape, Lavender..., all the while getting cheered. Hermione felt as if every wizard and witch in the magical world had wanted to thank her in person. They were considered 'the heroes of the war', and had to suffer the consequences: interviews, meetings with the bereaved, conferences with the Ministry, rebuilding of iconic places...
In the end, their year was far from restful. That summer, the three of them had agreed to take a break at the Burrow with the Weasley family. Their house had been rebuilt during the year, and although the wizarding community had offered them more luxurious accommodation, the Weasleys had refused. So they had rebuilt the Burrow in the same way, and removed the damage caused by the fire. However, they had extended the main room and added two guest rooms on the top floor.
As Hermione walked down the stairs, she bumped into Ron slightly, whom she had not seen. She mumbled an apology, but Ron knew what Hermione was like too: lost in thought all the time. He just stroked the back of her hand to reassure her, and continued on his way to his own room.
It had to be said that Hermione was a strange one at the moment. On top of the weight of the war that she felt was permanently on her shoulders, her feelings were completely turned upside down. She had been in love with Ron for so long, and yet today she felt nothing but deep affection for him. Luckily, when she told him about it, a few nights after the Battle of Hogwarts, sitting on a bench, he told her that it was the same for him. It was as if the war had wiped out their childish love with a sharp blow. Hermione had been reassured, she didn't want to give him false hope and have him wait for her to get better before embarking on a romance. She knew that she didn't have feelings for him anymore, in fact she didn't have feelings at all.
As for Harry, she had been so afraid of losing him that she liked having him around. Despite everything, Voldemort had strengthened their bond, they were still as close as ever. Even after the war, and especially after the year-long hideout in the tent without Ron. They had grown closer, unambiguously, and he was more like a brother to her than just a friend.
She decided to stop dwelling on the thoughts that were swirling around in her head and went into the small kitchen, where the Weasley family were already preparing dinner. She offered to help Molly, but she reassured her by showing her all the chopsticks at work: washing dishes, preparing the leg of lamb, pumpkin juice in the glasses.
Harry, George and Percy were in charge of setting the table in the garden, on a large table that could accommodate a whole family of Botrucs. In fact, they were simply flying the plates and cutlery a few feet off the ground, which then landed with a loud crash on the table.
Hermione joined her friends, who were discussing an important Quidditch match that was to take place in a few weeks.
She sat down on a chair at the large outside table and her gaze fell on George, and his arm. It was fully cast. The redhead, who had removed the sling from around his neck that was supposed to support his injury, was struggling to set the plates down.
"George, do you want some help?" asked Hermione seeing his pain.
"Oh no, Mione, thanks I'll try to manage." he replied with a small smile.
Hermione smiled back at him. He had injured his arm very badly during the War, when a Death Eater had tried to cast a fatal spell on his twin brother. He had seen the scene from a few feet away, and had literally thrown himself in front of Fred to protect him from the spell within seconds of impact.
It didn't hit George - thankfully, what would the Weasley family be without one of their twins - but it did damage his arm badly. Shredded. But they had been so happy to be alive that they didn't care. Now, a year after the war, George's arm was barely back to normal. Magic had been able to partially repair it, but he had to let it rest for another month to regain its use. And as usual, Fred and George took it with a sense of humour... they were not the kind of people to feel sorry for themselves.
Finally, after setting the table, everyone sat down to enjoy the huge leg of lamb that was sitting on the table. Arthur and Fred came out of the house a little later, laughing, to sit down in turn, with Molly looking on reproachfully.
Fred sat down opposite Hermione who was eating without appetite. The latter winked at her, as he often did, and she smiled a little.
"Do you kids like it?" asked Molly in a cheerful voice.
"Yes!" they all answered in chorus, and Hermione wondered what would happen if they said no.
The sun was gradually setting during the silent meal. Yet it was still pleasantly warm, Hermione could almost feel her shoulders still warming under the few remaining rays of sunlight. Her straw hat filtered the light, which cast a natural halo over her face and warmed her cheeks.
Arthur started a topic of conversation that animated the whole table, and Hermione dropped her attention a little and got lost in her thoughts. She hadn't finished her food, something she probably hadn't done in two years. She thought of her parents, of her house outside London, of her purple room... With her eyes fixed on the worn plate and the scattered pieces of meat, she could have cried if she had the strength. But she had used up all her tears in the last two years.
Hermione didn't even notice that the subject had changed for a long time, until she thought she heard the word "Hogwarts". She turned her head sharply towards Harry, who had just said it.
"It's going to feel weird going back there, especially without Dumbledore."
"I'm going to feel especially weird without Voldemort. No Death Eater threats during the year..." exclaimed Ron.
The glare Molly gave him cut him off dead in his tracks.
"What about us!" continued George, who was awkwardly helping himself to the salad without seeing the annoyed look on his mother's face. "We haven't been to Hogwarts for three years!"
"I think it's a very good idea of McGonagall's to organise an eighth year."
All eyes at the table turned to Hermione as she said this, and all agreed. Fred, in front of her, gave her a small smile that reassured her in spite of herself. She then returned to contemplating her plate, while the others chuckled and wondered what was going to happen to them in a few days with big smiles.
They were actually talking about McGonagall, who had sent a letter earlier in the summer to all the former Hogwarts students. Hermione had read the lines of this famous letter so much that she could have quoted them by heart:
"To: Hermione Granger,
On holiday with the Weasleys at the Burrow
In Ginevra Weasley's room,
Loutry St. Chaspoule,
Devon,
EnglandDear students,
As the Headmistress of Hogwarts appointed by the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, I am sending you all a letter regarding several pieces of information which I ask you to read as seriously as possible.
As you know, the War has caused a great deal of damage to our beloved castle. In order to restore it to its former glory and beauty, many students have been helping us to rebuild it, slowly but surely, throughout the year. First of all, we would like to thank you very much, it is because of you that Hogwarts will remain in wizarding tradition for as long as possible, and that future generations will be able to benefit from the teachings that you have experienced.
However, in your seventh year at Hogwarts, many of you have missed out on the usual learning opportunities at the school, and others have been subjected to the real torture of the Carrows. On behalf of the wizarding community, please accept my sincere apologies. If I could have made a difference to this hellish year, I would have, believe me. But unfortunately I could not, and I bitterly regret it today. So I thank each and every one of you for fighting, for bringing down Lord Voldemort and for defending your beloved school.
You are the pride of the Wizarding World.It is with this in mind that I invite you to participate in another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Indeed, as agreed with all the teachers at Hogwarts, we have decided to invite all former students who would have liked to attend Year 8. You will of course be reintroduced to the same House you were in during your years at school, and will take the same subjects. You will also be able to officially take your NEWTs, which will allow you to enter more ambitious careers.
Of course, this is an optional offer, and each student can decline for various reasons. But, if you wish to have this second chance, please send me an owl as soon as possible. A list of school supplies will then be sent to you, as well as the latest information about your return to school.
I hope you have a great summer and I look forward to seeing your familiar faces in the halls of Hogwarts.
With kindest regards,
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Needless to say, the vast majority of former pupils had turned up. An opportunity like this, unhoped-for, had delighted all the wizards, especially Mrs. Weasley who had sent a private owl to personally thank McGonagall, and beg her to accept the Weasley twins. The latter had finished their schooling, but had not passed their ASPIC after their rather chaotic end of year... McGonagall had agreed, but the Weasley twins did not. "What about our shop?" Fred had bitterly retorted.
This debate had animated Hermione's entire summer. Mrs. Weasley had literally begged her sons every day to return to Hogwarts, and the twins had refused outright for fear of losing their shop. The arguments, innuendos and sulking had made the Golden Trio very tired. They understood that the twins wanted their shop, but they could please their mother for a year!
One evening, however, while everyone was relaxing in the living room, Fred and George came down the stairs from their room and stood in front of their mother, who was knitting. She looked up at them, and Fred simply said:
"All right. We'll go back to Hogwarts. We'll find someone to run the shop for us. But only for a year. We'll take the exams, and that's it, okay?"
Mrs. Weasley had been so happy this week that she had given everyone presents, cooked delicious meals, and smiled all the time. The whole Weasley family was relieved to see that the twins were taking schooling at least a little seriously. They had refused to explain this choice, however, as it was the only way they could get into that eighth year. After a while, Harry and Ron had given up trying to figure out why. Hermione, on the other hand, secretly thought that George had pushed Fred to accept to please their mother. It was always George who made this kind of decision, but no one really noticed.
A few days later, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Fred, George and Ginny had each sent a letter to McGonagall confirming their attendance at Hogwarts. McGonagall's response was swift and she sent everyone a copy of the requested school supplies, and the usual homecoming information: train time, prefect list and Gryffindor House information.
Mrs. Weasley had decided that they would go to Diagon Alley the next day to get the missing school supplies: Fred had lost his wand in the fight and had never had a chance to buy another one since, and Harry was still hoping to repair his old one. Hermione's heart ached every time she saw the two pieces of wand she had broken unintentionally... She hoped that Ollivander would be able to fix his wand, which he loved very much. They also had to buy several textbooks, and McGonagall had added a few more titles to Hermione's list that she personally recommended. This little attention had touched Hermione, it had reminded her of when her mother used to mark extra books on her list with a pencil when she went to the Muggle library on the bus alone...
This distant memory was, again, interrupted by Ron's laughter, and she forced herself to listen to the conversation.
After chewing on some of the dessert Molly had prepared, Hermione and the others got up and went to bed. The next day they had to leave quite early for the Crossroads, as the house mother was afraid it would be crowded in the afternoon. They said goodnight to each other, and Hermione went to wash up before going to sleep.
*************************************
Hermione closed her little toiletry bag and walked out of the bathroom after brushing her teeth to her room. She was still over the moon and wistful, wearing unseasonably warm pyjamas. She turned and saw Fred, at the end of the corridor, sitting against the wall. He, too, seemed to be deep in thought as his eyebrows were furrowed.
"Fred?" she asked in a soft voice.
He turned his head towards her, pushing the sad look off his face.
She cautiously approached him and waited for him to say something.
"How do you recognize us?" he replied, calmly.
"Excuse me?"
Hermione let herself slide against the wall next to him.
"You've always managed to recognize George and me. You've never been wrong. How do you do it?"
Fred's smile made the brunette blush.
"It's easy." She was always so proud to show off her skills, even for something so trivial. "George has slightly darker hair than you, and he has a small mole under his ear."
To prove it, she brought her hand to the spot on Fred's neck where the mole did not appear. But when her hand reached the spot, he flinched and she quickly withdrew her fingers apologetically. He said nothing in response, but continued to smile at her mischievously.
"Why did McGonagall add books, to your list?"
Hermione widened her eyes:
"How do you know that?"
She hadn't told anyone, not even Ginny, because she'd seen it as a sort of secret between her and the headmistress, a special little touch.
"I'm observant, that's all. Especially towards people I'm interested in."
"I... To tell you the truth, I don't really know," Hermione replied with a slight stammer, her hands clutching her powder pink kit. "I suppose she knows that reading makes me feel better, and she suggests ones I might like."
"Are there any books you don't like?" Fred looked surprised.
"Of course! Thrillers, I don't like that. And science fiction, but that's Muggle books. You don't know it." she replied with a small laugh.
"Thrillers..." muttered Fred thoughtfully. He was now looking at the wall in front of them.
There was a small silence, but it wasn't awkward. Hermione had noticed that Fred was more 'floating' since the War. He used to talk incessantly, trying to make as many people laugh as possible in as little time as possible. Now he took his time, asked questions, and sometimes kept quiet and silent. Some people might have thought it strange, but Hermione liked these little pauses, it was nice.
"Hermione?"
Ginny's voice echoed down the hallway, a few minutes later. Hermione stood up, wished Fred a good night, who replied with a small nod, and walked into the room. Ginny was waiting for her behind the door in her dressing gown:
"What were you doing?"
"I was talking to Fred."
"Ohh." she replied with a small knowing smile.
"Don't get any ideas. I feel nothing for your brother, Ginevra. We're going to sleep now."
The redhead laughed mockingly, but went to lie down in her bed anyway.
Still, Hermione had to admit that she had just lied to her best friend.