Chapter Text
Three letters sat on Hermione’s desk, taunting and daring her to reach out and decide how the rest of her life would go.
Ms. Granger,
I am reaching out to personally invite you to come back to Hogwarts next year. Due to your bravery, you didn’t get the opportunity to finish your schooling, and I would like you to have that chance should that be something you desire. Even those who attended school last year will be invited to return should they wish to graduate the proper way.
I know you have other offers awaiting you, so know that whatever you choose, you have my support.
But on a selfish note, I would like to see you back at Hogwarts.
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
The second read:
Miss Granger
While you did not finish your schooling, the ministry is willing to overlook the technicalities considering your contributions to ending the war. We are writing to extend an offer to start Auror training whenever you are ready. You have proven yourself capable and you would be an asset to the department. Please let us know when you would be available to begin that work.
Kingsley Shacklebolt
While they presented two opposing options, Hermione knew instantly what her choice would be. Hogwarts was the closest thing she had to home these days. She’d always loved spending holidays with the Weasleys, but the thought of the Burrow being her permanent home for the foreseeable future was daunting. Every time she ate one of Molly’s meals, her heart ached and wished to be reunited with her own mother and father.
Going back to Hogwarts would give her the space and clarity to process everything that happened.
It also gave her the chance to scour the library and find a way to reverse the memory charm she placed on her parents. She hadn’t made it back to Australia yet because she didn’t even know what she needed to do when she found them. The guilt gnawed at her day after day, leaving her feeling more like a husk the more time that went on.
Going back to Hogwarts was the only option.
The only problem was that Ron didn’t quite see things her way.
The trio had received their offers at the same time, and the letters from Kingsley were a dream come true for the boys. Ron and Harry were out of their seats instantly high fiving each other and talking about having neighboring cubicles and going on missions together. They grinned at Hermione and said it’d be just like old times.
But Hermione was ready for old time to be just that. Old times.
The war had just ended. They’d spent the better part of the last year on the run and sleeping in a tent. Hermione now bore a jagged scar on her arm that would never fade as a souvenir of what those “old times” brought her.
While the work they did was undoubtedly necessary, she had no desire to act like that phase of her life was the happiest she’d ever been.
Three days after their offers arrived, Hermione quietly announced she’d be going back to Hogwarts and that she didn’t want to be an auror.
Ron stared at her as if she started spouting gobbledegook. “Blimey, Mione. After all we’ve been through, you’re really going to leave us now?”
Hermione arched an eyebrow and swallowed back the acid retort that came to mind immediately. “I’m hardly abandoning you. I want to go back to school. Take my N.E.W.T.s. If I want any other career at the ministry, I’ll need the test scores.”
Ron’s look of befuddlement grew. “I’m sure any department would take you. Just write Kingsley back. He’ll get you wherever you want to be.”
“Where I want to be is Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “I don’t want handouts.”
Ron’s face turned a shade of red that rivalled his hair. “You think this offer was a handout? That we don’t deserve it? Hermione, we helping defeat Voldemort for crying out loud!”
Harry cleared his throat to diffuse the tension between the two. “We both know that’s not what Hermione meant. She’s always valued exams and books more than we have.” He smiled at her, and she knew he was on her side. “It’s just a year, Ron. She’ll go back to Hogwarts, and by the time she graduates I’m sure there will be a private office in the ministry with her name on it.”
That had been nearly a month ago, and Ron still pouted anytime she mentioned Hogwarts. Hermione couldn’t help it, though. She was excited to go back. She desperately needed to regain a sense of normalcy and routine.
Those letters didn’t bother her. Her mind was made up on the matter.
It was the third letter on her desk that had consumed all her intrusive thoughts since the day it arrived.
Miss Granger
Over the next several weeks, the Wizamagot will be prosecuting a number of death eaters for their crimes against wizardkind. Due to your involvement in the war efforts, you are invited to testify at any of the following trials. While a testimony is not required, the word of a witness often makes the difference in just how severe of a punishment is given. Should you choose to testify, please notify us with at least a week’s notice, so we can be prepared accordingly for your arrival at the ministry.
And thus began the list of names that seemed to never end. Name after name of death eaters who would’ve killed her had they had the opportunity. Some of them, like Antonin Dolohov, had certainly tried their best. She still had the scar on her abdomen from his curse in the Department of Mysteries.
It was the very last name on the list that her eyes kept returning to, though.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy who called her a mudblood and looked down on her every chance he got. Draco Malfoy who became a death eater at the age of sixteen. Draco Malfoy who was tasked with murdering Dumbledore. Draco Malfoy who lived with Voldemort in his home for the last year.
But this was the same Draco Malfoy who she’d known since her very first day of Hogwarts who’d seemed almost decent until he learned her parents were muggles. The same Draco Malfoy who once gave her his Arithmancy notes after she was sick and missed a class--though he swore he’d hex her if she ever told anyone. The same Draco Malfoy who refused to identify her or Harry in a room full of death eaters because he didn’t actually want Voldemort to come after them.
That Draco Malfoy was going on trial before the Wizengamot.
Harry and Ron hadn’t seemed to think twice about it. When their letters arrived about testifying, they promptly crumpled them up and threw them in the waste bin.
“I know it’d be Kingsley and not Fudge this time, but I haven’t exactly had great experiences in front of the Wizengamot,” Harry had said.
Ron had shrugged. “What’s there to say really? They’re all evil and deserve to rot in Azkaban. I honestly don’t really know which of them did what, so I’d be a lousy witness.”
Hermione kept her letter, though. And every night, she looked at the last name on the list and felt a weight on her conscience.
Downstairs, the door swung open and then slammed shut loudly as Harry, Ron, and Ginny came back inside from the makeshift game of quidditch they’d played. Hermione didn’t understand how one could play quidditch with only three people, but then again, she didn’t understand a normal game of quidditch either.
The sounds of their laughter drifted up to her room. They were all in a good mood. She clutched the letter from the ministry tightly in her hands as she trepidly made her way down the stairs. Now was as good a time as ever to tell them what she decided.
They were all in the kitchen. Ginny peeled an orange, Harry guzzled a gallon of water, and Ron was animatedly defending his position that Harry had not won this round because he had cheated.
Hermione entered the kitchen, and Ron’s eyes brightened. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and said, “‘Mione, you agree that Harry’s a big fat cheater, right?”
He turned to the pantry to find his own snack, and Ginny shook her head rapidly with wide eyes.
“Not sure I can give an opinion since I wasn’t there to watch,” Hermione tried to keep her voice light, but she already knew how this conversation was going to go. No one would be smiling by the end of it. “Listen, there’s actually something I wanted to talk to all of you about.”
“It wouldn’t possibly be that you changed your mind about going back to Hogwarts?” Ron’s back was to Hermione, but she could hear the smile in his voice. He and Harry started auror training in a week, and he hadn’t given up hope that Hermione would be joining them.
She took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to testify at Malfoy’s trial.”
Harry choked, spewing water all over the kitchen. Ginny dropped her orange as the blood drained from her face. Ron spun around with wide eyes. His lips remained slightly turned up like he was waiting for her to announce this was a joke.
“Blimey, none of us like the git, but to help throw him in Azkaban–”
“I’m testifying in his defense.”
If Hermione’s original statement shocked everybody, this one sucked all of the air out of the room.
Ron’s jaw clamped shut as anger mounted in him. Ginny’s eyes were wide, but she looked to Harry for his reaction. He merely furrowed his brow and tilted his head.
Harry was the first one to break the silence. He asked one word. “Why?”
Hermione’s voice was soft, an attempt to delay the explosion she knew was coming. “He was just a kid.”
“We were all just kids!” Ron’s face turned splotchy as he shouted. “But you don’t see us walking around with any dark marks on our arms.”
“We were kids who were allowed to be kids. Voldemort moved into Malfoy’s home in case you forgot. It’s a lot harder to fight against evil when the evil is always there threatening to kill you.”
“Then he should’ve let Voldemort kill him,” Ron snarled. “Better to die for your principles then to shun them like a coward.”
Hermione frowned. She knew Ron wouldn’t take this well, but that didn’t make the conversation easier. She considered this her practice for the Wizengamot. She expected many of the members to make the same arguments. Even if they did it with a more level head.
“Maybe he was willing to die. But do you think he was willing to let his mum die? Could you readily deny Voldemort to his face if you knew you’d watch your mum die if you did?”
Ron sputtered indignantly. “That’s… that’s… My mum was in the Order. She would’ve gladly died to fight Voldemort.”
Hermione sighed. “It’s one thing to say you’re willing to die, and another thing to actually do it. We’re often a lot braver in theory than in practice.”
“I was willing to die,” Harry said quietly. Ginny rested a hand on his arm in support. “But… even I can admit that I probably would’ve given up a lot to save any one of you. If offered the chance to save Lupin. To save Sirius… It’s a lot harder to be brave when someone else pays the cost.”
Ron reared back as if he’d been slapped. “So what? You think she’s right? This is Malfoy we’re talking about. He’s hardly a saint.”
“What do you think the proper punishment for him is?” Hermione raised an eyebrow but kept her voice level. “You were surprised when you thought I was testifying against him, yet you don’t want me to defend him either. So what does he deserve? A life sentence? A year? Five? Ten?”
“I…” Ron shook his head in disgust. “I don’t see why we have to get involved. It’s not our place to decide those things.”
“And I won’t be deciding his fate. I’m just making sure the Wizengamot hears another side to the story. Everyone deserves a fair chance.”
Ron clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists. “Death eaters killed my brother. Or did you forget about that?”
Ginny gasped sharply, and it was Hermione’s time to physically recoil.
Her voice came out quiet as she asserted, “Malfoy didn’t kill Fred…”
“He might as well have!” Ron roared. “He threw his lot in with their kind, and they’re the reason I have one less brother." He scoffed. "And you think they need a savior..."
“I don’t think they all need a savior.” A hint of exasperation crept into Hermione’s voice. “I just think–”
“Are either of you going to comment?” Ron turned his rage on Harry and Ginny.
This was going all wrong. Hermione knew Ron wouldn’t take the news well, but she hadn’t expected him to throw Fred in her face.
Fred’s death was a looming stormcloud over the Weasley family. Always present, always affecting the mood, but hardly ever outright acknowledged. George hadn’t been back around the Burrow since the last battle. He came over just once, and broke down almost immediately from all the memories. He stayed away at his flat, and Mrs. Weasley frequently visited him to make sure he continued to function.
Hermione felt Fred’s loss deeply, but she knew whatever she felt couldn’t compare to the bonecrushing grief of losing a brother.
Her defending of Malfoy had nothing to do with Fred, yet grief wasn’t logical. In Ron’s mind, the two were intrinsically linked.
In the end, it was Ginny who tightened her jaw and ended the conversation.
“I think it’s a noble thing that Hermione wants to do.” She met her eyes and nodded. “Malfoy was just a boy. And it can’t have been easy having Lucius Malfoy as a father.”
Ron slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to draw blood. Hermione flinched as the crack of his fist against wood threw her right back into the war. She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the sudden visions of curses flying and debris falling.
When she opened her eyes, Harry and Ron were both gone. Only Ginny lingered in the kitchen.
The redheaded girl gave a small smile. “Harry will talk some sense into Ron.”
Hermione numbly sat in a chair across from her. “I just wish he would’ve listened to me.”
“Malfoy’s always been a sore subject for Ron.” Ginny shrugged and passed Hermione an apple. “I can’t pretend I know exactly what’s going through your head. But I know he spared you at the Manor. So this is you trying to repay that debt.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Yes. Exactly!”
Ginny nodded. “I’m not saying I want to befriend the git–”
“I don’t want to be his friend.”
Ginny grinned. “You really are a Gryffindor. All pure and noble intentions.” Her grin lingered as she shook her head and repeated, “Harry will talk sense into Ron. I think you’re doing a good thing.”
That’s all Hermione needed. To hear one person say that she wasn’t mental. That PTSD hadn’t wrecked her brain to the point of madness.
She just wanted to give a young boy another chance at life. That was hardly a crime.
Ron would come around. He had to.