or worse, expelled.

Draco doesn't tend to like asking for help. Especially not now. The Malfoy name no longer holds the weight it used to. It's only a reminder of the guilt that Draco now carries due to his actions during the war. He hides away from society, only appearing when necessary. And this is necessary. It's a Dark Arts relic that he's been trying to destroy. Part of his father's collection. He's slowly dismantling it, locking it behind glass and ensuring that no one gets their hands on the artefacts. This one, however, refuses to be locked up. Keeps disappearing and reappearing around the manor. Draco can never hold it to one position. Danger aside, it's just bloody annoying at this stage.

There's only one person he can ask.

She'd decided to take the summer after she'd returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year to decide her next steps. She'd applied for internships at the Ministry, and part of her was greatly tempted by it. But there was a part of her that also wanted the peace that came with staying at Hogwarts, where she could read and write and teach, and nobody would call on her to do any more impossible things.

Speaking of which. She raised an eyebrow over the top of her book when none other than Draco Malfoy dropped into the chair opposite her. It was one of her favorite cafes for lunch and a leisurely afternoon of reading. It wouldn't have been hard to locate her there, but that was certainly not who she'd expected to be looking.

"My help? Are you sure you haven't got your wands crossed, Malfoy?" She marked her place and set the book aside, curious in spite of herself. "What is it?" she asked, not unkindly. She was trying to be… civil to him, at least. Holding grudges was only going to build on the animosity that people like Voldemort thrived on.

The abandoned classroom nestled in the west wing of the castle had been long abandoned, before the war. As luck would have it, the entire wing was destitute and dilapidated, with parts of walls either missing or often crumbling down. It had been madness, all of it, most of all coming back here of all places. Draco was sure that he’d never see the castle again, never be welcomed back. Not that he had been now. It was ordered, a type of rehabilitation of sorts. But it was mostly cruelty, perhaps well deserved, but cruelty nonetheless.

With his new wand between long fingers, he conjured two small chess pieces, two knights who had been battling over the scratched-out surface of the wooden table. It was night, but the moon was bright enough that there was no need for light, and at least he found some comfort hiding away, like the coward he was, rather than being in the Slytherin common room or walking around corridors where he could be reminded of the damage that he took part in creating.

The tiny swords clashed and he watched with mild interest, content to spend a few more hours there before returning to his four-poster bed. But what little piece he had found would come crashing down as the door behind him creaked one, whatever hope he had that it was just the wind pushing them open had vanished as soon as he saw her standing there.

Probably one of the few people he had made sure to avoid at all costs. “ Granger. ” Greetings and a question. What was she doing there? Did she know he was there? Did she come to take her revenge? He’d deserve it. “ Why are you here? ”

"Perhaps if you didn't look quite so pathetic, I wouldn't feel the need." It came out sharper than she'd intended, her own discomfort making her lash out, and she winced. She hadn't come here to antagonize him. She drew a slow breath and tried again. "I'm sorry. That was-- out of order. I'm not used to being nice to you, and I feel awkward about being nice to you, and… I think it's all going to take some practice."

She shrugged, leaning against the wall a few feet away. She didn't want to crowd him, but she didn't want to end the conversation there either. It had barely been a conversation so far. "You might be later." She was less concerned with whether he ate now than the fact that he had it if he needed it. She wasn't positive, but she thought he might be avoiding the Great Hall, and that strategy had a shelf life. Hermione had spent enough days hungry while searching for Horcruxes that she would never wish it on anyone.

"You've had plenty of opportunities to hurt me in the past. You've never taken one of them," she said simply. Draco's words could be hurtful, and he could certainly be a bully, but he'd never physically harmed her. She couldn't say the same after that time she'd punched him in third year. She was pretty sure she could do it again if it came to that, but that wasn't the current mood in the room. Her gaze shifted past him to the little fighting figures, her curiosity piqued. "What are those?"

Theo hadn’t even considered failing to return to Hogwarts to take her NEWTs now that the war was finally over. She had always planned to aim for top grades, but since the war, doing so had become more urgent. Her father had trodden the family name quite thoroughly into the mud, and Theo knew that her surname would no longer open doors for her. If anything, it would now close them. So if she planned to make anything of herself – and she did – she would need to have top qualifications.

The Wizarding world might have been turned upside down, but Theo wasn’t going to let that stop her from achieving her ambitions.

She hadn’t been surprised to see that Hermione Granger had returned, rather than taking advantage of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s offer of Auror training for everyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Granger had never seemed like the Auror type anyway, and just like Theo, she was a known swot. Theo would have been shocked if Granger had passed up the opportunity to complete her NEWT-level studies.

What had surprised her was the fact that she and Granger were the only two female students in their year who had chosen to take advantage of the offer to repeat their last year of schooling. Theo had known that Pansy wouldn't, of course -- she was currently laying low in Paris, waiting for people's censure to die down, and Theo missed her terribly -- and Daphne Greengrass had gotten married, but she had hoped that Millie Bulstrode or Tracey Davis might have joined her at school.

"Sirius Black was innocent. But of course we didn't know that at the time," she conceded, compelled as ever to defend Harry's wrongly accused godfather. The truth had come out after Voldemort had fallen, Sirius's name finally cleared long after it made any difference except in theory. She was glad for it, of course; she only wished it had happened sooner. "I see his point, but I'm afraid I have to disagree. There's nothing normal about this." Her smile was small and wry as they made their way down to the front doors. Theo was surprisingly pleasant company--they rarely spoke and spent most of their time studying, which was basically the ideal companion for Hermione--but she missed the tower and the other Gryffindors constantly, even the ones she used to find annoying. That was to say nothing of the ones who'd been lost forever.

"I do think it's all going… rather better than expected though," she continued after a somewhat awkward pause. Or maybe it was just Hermione who felt awkward. It was difficult to address the changes with Theo without sounding accusatory, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn't hold her responsible for what her father had done, but at the same time, she could see why some people would. They'd all lost people in the Battle of Hogwarts, but Hermione had been very lucky not to lose any of her most important people. Not everyone could say the same. "I thought the antagonism would be worse," she admitted. "But it all seems rather subdued." She wanted to interpret that as a good sign. In a lot of ways, it was. She just hoped it meant people were healing and forgiving rather than stewing and resenting. It was difficult to read it all past the surface-level.

✦love without reason✦

Since being introduced into the Wizarding World, Harry had gotten used to all the attention that was thrust upon him -- it was different from the house he grew up in where he was forced to hide and not actually be a part of the dynamic around him. He's dealt with people staring at him and talking to him since he was eleven. Being the boy who lived and all. The chosen one, as people called it. Now, the boy who saved the Wizarding World. He thought maybe the attention would die down now that Voldemort was gone, and the whole fate of their world wasn't resting on his shoulders. There were times when he enjoyed the attention, but the fact that people thought that they got to know every piece of information about his life -- that was the thing that sucked the most. He'd learned to ignore most of it, until people came and approached him to ask him for a picture or an autograph.

He hadn't even noticed someone staring at them until Hermione pointed it out.

That was the aprt he felt the worst about -- was that now Ron and Hermione had that attention on them. Their names were going to be written beside his in history books as the two who helped him the most through his years. He wasn't sure how Ron felt about the sudden attention, but he hadn't even been aware that it was effecting Hermione. He glanced over her shoulder, seeing the person staring at her, anxious and wanting to approach and he lets out a laugh.

"I mean, it's kind of your life now -- being friends with me. Without you, I'd be the boy-who-died-in-his-first-year." He offered a comforting smile before reaching over to give her shoulder a squeeze. "Let me take care of the check and we can get out of here."

And unlike Ron, Hermione preferred it that way. She'd seen early on how fickle popularity was, and she simply didn't have time for such nonsense. The things she valued--intelligence, friendship, bravery--had nothing whatsoever to do with what other people thought of her. She'd known there would be a ripple effect after the Battle of Hogwarts, and that Harry would be at its very center, as always. People were desperate for details on what had happened that day. She'd simply underestimated how much it would affect her day to day life. Their pictures had been in the Daily Prophet, and now people were coming up to her on the street as though they knew her. It was exhausting.

"Honestly, Harry. That was decided in our first year, and don't think I didn't know exactly what I was getting into." She offered a small smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "Please? Before he works up the nerve to come over… oh." Too late. Her face fell slightly before she managed to muster another smile and sign his parchment. It wasn't so bad, except it caught the attention of others, who were starting to look over with interest. She started gathering up her bag. "Quick, before this becomes a whole scene…"

The abandoned classroom nestled in the west wing of the castle had been long abandoned, before the war. As luck would have it, the entire wing was destitute and dilapidated, with parts of walls either missing or often crumbling down. It had been madness, all of it, most of all coming back here of all places. Draco was sure that he’d never see the castle again, never be welcomed back. Not that he had been now. It was ordered, a type of rehabilitation of sorts. But it was mostly cruelty, perhaps well deserved, but cruelty nonetheless.

With his new wand between long fingers, he conjured two small chess pieces, two knights who had been battling over the scratched-out surface of the wooden table. It was night, but the moon was bright enough that there was no need for light, and at least he found some comfort hiding away, like the coward he was, rather than being in the Slytherin common room or walking around corridors where he could be reminded of the damage that he took part in creating.

The tiny swords clashed and he watched with mild interest, content to spend a few more hours there before returning to his four-poster bed. But what little piece he had found would come crashing down as the door behind him creaked one, whatever hope he had that it was just the wind pushing them open had vanished as soon as he saw her standing there.

Probably one of the few people he had made sure to avoid at all costs. “ Granger. ” Greetings and a question. What was she doing there? Did she know he was there? Did she come to take her revenge? He’d deserve it. “ Why are you here? ”

Outside of them, she'd never particularly excelled at making friends. The novelty of her helping to destroy Voldemort seemed to have worn off, though some people still regarded her with an odd sort of reverence she found tiresome. Gone was the girl who'd raised her hand at every question and drew attention to herself in class. She kept her head down and worked diligently, wanting to absorb as much knowledge as she could from this place before she had to leave it forever.

She wasn't the only one who seemed to have changed. It hadn't escaped her notice that Draco was struggling. She used to be so intimidated by him. Now, she could see nothing but cracks in his demeanor. He hadn't exactly been welcomed back to the castle with open arms. Perhaps it was foolish to think she could empathize with him, but Hermione had seen the divisions in the school and the Wizarding World as a whole long before Voldemort returned to reinforce them. If they had any chance of avoiding history repeating itself, they had to make changes.

They'd discovered the classroom in their fourth year when Harry was training for the Triwizard Tournament, and she'd used it on occasion since, mostly to practice spells where she wouldn't be bothered. Once she'd realized Draco was using it, she'd left it alone, until now. "Malfoy." She nodded a greeting, letting the door fall silently shut behind her as she moved further into the room. "I… noticed you weren't at dinner again. It's not much, but I thought you might want something." She set the wrapped bundle of chicken and rolls beside him.

Theo hadn’t even considered failing to return to Hogwarts to take her NEWTs now that the war was finally over. She had always planned to aim for top grades, but since the war, doing so had become more urgent. Her father had trodden the family name quite thoroughly into the mud, and Theo knew that her surname would no longer open doors for her. If anything, it would now close them. So if she planned to make anything of herself – and she did – she would need to have top qualifications.

The Wizarding world might have been turned upside down, but Theo wasn’t going to let that stop her from achieving her ambitions.

She hadn’t been surprised to see that Hermione Granger had returned, rather than taking advantage of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s offer of Auror training for everyone who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Granger had never seemed like the Auror type anyway, and just like Theo, she was a known swot. Theo would have been shocked if Granger had passed up the opportunity to complete her NEWT-level studies.

What had surprised her was the fact that she and Granger were the only two female students in their year who had chosen to take advantage of the offer to repeat their last year of schooling. Theo had known that Pansy wouldn't, of course -- she was currently laying low in Paris, waiting for people's censure to die down, and Theo missed her terribly -- and Daphne Greengrass had gotten married, but she had hoped that Millie Bulstrode or Tracey Davis might have joined her at school.

That wasn't to say that nothing had changed. Though most of the damage to the building itself had been repaired, the evidence of the battle was all over the castle in smaller ways: a missing portrait or suit of armor, a gleaming new bridge where the old one had collapsed, the weary smiles of people still mourning losses or trying to move on.

It was utterly strange not to be staying in Gryffindor Tower anymore, but Hermione had been quick to agree to different living arrangements. She wasn't altogether sure she wanted to return there without the girls from her dormitory, without Harry or Ron. Better just to accept that things had changed and make the best of it. Though they'd never been friends, she'd always admired Theo's cleverness--and competed against it, of course.

She didn't think any of the old rivalries still stood. There was no point in trying to out-do each other now, and Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and focusing on her work. She wanted to absorb as much as she could before she had to leave, and she spent most of her evenings buried in books or working on her translation of Dumbledore's stories. As for Slytherin versus Gryffindor… well, she felt privately that Slytherin had suffered enough. Holding on to old grudges was just going to lead to the same sort of discord that Voldemort had preyed upon in the first place.

It was a surprisingly nice day, probably one of the last they would have before the weather turned bitterly cold, and a Hogsmeade weekend besides. She was pulling on a cloak and debating whether or not to leave the scarf, finally deciding it was too warm. "Are you… erm-- would you like to go down to the village?" Though they spent much of their free time in the same room, they weren't friends, or at least not that sort of friends. But Hermione thought perhaps they could be, in time.

What is he whispering to her? In my mind he’s telling her about ALL his piercings…