Chapter Text
Hermione Granger smiled as she entered the Great Hall for breakfast on the first day of classes for what had been dubbed her “eighth year.” The smile came from a place of true happiness—this moment finally symbolized what she and her two best friends had been fighting for the previous year. Harry had ended Voldemort’s reign, with her and Ron standing by his side the entire time. Cooperatively, she and Harry had fought for the freedom of Death Eaters’ children, ensuring that only true justice was being served by the Wizengamot. They had even fought for the freedom of Draco Malfoy—even though he had been a Death Eater—because he had chosen their side in the end. The wizarding world had listened to The Chosen One and The Golden Girl, and together they fought to model the world they wanted the wizarding one to become.
All the war survivors had spent the summer rebuilding Hogwarts, seeing mind healers, and processing the grief brought on by the devastation of the war. They had all reached a point where life had to be lived. Harry and Ron, still compelled to fight the good fight, had entered Auror training with the Ministry. Hermione, however, felt she had served her time and wanted to get her academic path back on track—leading to this very moment of entering the Great Hall to begin her final year of study. Smoothing her Gryffindor uniform robes and flipping her curls over her shoulder, she let hope fill her heart for the year to come.
As she entered the Great Hall, flanked by Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, the entire hall turned to stare. Not only were they war heroes, but they had grown into their womanhood as part of their healing journey, and their beauty was transcendent. Ginny glowed with fire, Luna radiated with ethereal light, and Hermione embraced the golden luminosity that shone from within her.
During one of their healing group sessions with other students, the trio had formed a fast friendship with Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass. One could not be friends with that trio without developing a love for fashion and beauty. Pansy’s strong personality led the group to fully espouse the idea that brains and beauty went hand in hand. The six of them were determined to rewrite the roles of women in the patriarchal society they lived in.
Hermione grabbed her two friends’ hands and tugged them along to sit at the Slytherin table. The Great Hall went deathly quiet, as if no one could believe what they were seeing. This was largely due to the fact that Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria were seated there with Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Draco Malfoy. The other students had created a wide berth around the group—no one wanted to be seen associating with them. Because of the war trials, the wizarding world knew what had happened at Malfoy Manor. Hermione held her head high, bracing herself for the judgment that was inevitably cast their way.
The world didn’t understand the depth of gratitude she felt toward the Malfoys for the protection they had offered in her darkest moment. Not only had Draco refused to identify them—when he clearly knew exactly who they were—but Lucius had saved Hermione’s mind. He had used his formidable talent in mind magic to protect her from the relentless torment of Bellatrix’s Cruciatus Curse. He couldn’t block the pain, but he had slithered into her mind undetected and erected shields to keep it from cracking. When Hermione spoke at his trial, the world was stunned that the staunchest pureblood had fought to protect the mind of a Muggleborn. The Wizengamot came to its own conclusions—that the Malfoys were proof that true change was possible—and sentenced Lucius to only five years of house arrest.
It was obvious that most students were avoiding Draco—everyone, that is, except the group at the Slytherin table. Hermione seethed. This was exactly what she had fought against. The world knew the truth, but still insisted on painting them as villains. In a bold move, she nudged Draco to slide over so she could sit between him and Pansy. Following her lead, Ginny took the spot next to Blaise, and Luna seated herself beside Theodore. Shocked expressions followed them, but Hermione stared back with defiance in her eyes.
Just then, Neville sauntered into the Hall, his eyes lighting up when he spotted the ragtag group. He whistled as he walked over, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Clearly, he had come straight from the greenhouses. With a swing of his long legs, he slid onto the bench beside Pansy.
Hermione suppressed a smirk as she saw a rosy blush creep up Pansy’s cheeks. She knew her friend wasn’t immune to the transformation Neville had undergone since earning the moniker "Snake Slayer." He was confident now, his body filled out with muscle, his skin tanned from long hours rebuilding Hogwarts under the sun, and his brown hair charmingly tousled from labor. He flashed Pansy an easy grin, clearly unfazed about sitting next to her.
The Great Hall erupted into whispers and gasps. No one could believe what they were seeing from their war heroes. Glancing toward the head table, Hermione caught the Headmistress’s eye and was met with a small smile and a nod of approval. Her attention was yanked back to the table when Theodore, his smooth drawl laced with amusement, declared, “Ahhh, we have lions officially joining the snake pit, it seems.” His sea-green eyes twinkled with mischief, and his chocolate-brown curls shook with laughter.
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Draco’s heart thudded in his chest the moment he felt the shift in the Great Hall. When the Gryffindor Princess entered, she commanded the room with a grace and poise that rivaled any pureblood. Then she moved—regal and fluid—straight in their direction, a defiant smile gracing her upturned face.
She looked at Pansy with a depth of friendship that dripped with genuineness, and when her whiskey-golden eyes turned to meet his silver ones, all he saw reflected back was sincere kindness. Kindness he didn’t deserve—not as the fallen Slytherin Prince.
Then she had playfully nudged him aside to sit next to him. He had wanted to react, to protect her from the weight of his tarnished reputation. But she simply stared back at her “court” in the Hall with an expression that dared anyone to challenge her choice. She wore an air of authority that demanded consequences for any who tried to defy her.
His heart stuttered. How did she do it? How did she so effortlessly defy societal expectations and walk a path entirely her own?
His musings were slammed back to reality when he realized Theo was the first to speak to the lions who had joined them. He scowled at his best mate for stealing Hermione’s attention so quickly. A flicker of irritation flashed through him when Theo threw a knowing smirk his way. Of course he knew. Theo had teased him for years about the not-so-secret crush Draco had harbored on the Gryffindor Princess ever since she broke his nose in third year.
It had been humiliating—and oddly thrilling. She had haunted his thoughts from that moment on.
But now she was here. Sitting beside him. Extending an olive branch to their entire House. And this was his chance—his moment to prove that he wasn’t the same boy who had once tossed slurs like hexes. He wasn’t going to waste it.
He cleared his throat and forced his voice into something that sounded casual. “Granger, what N.E.W.T.s did you decide to take?”
Gracefully sipping her Earl Grey, she hummed in thought—a sound that lit a slow-burning fire somewhere deep inside him.
“I’ve decided to focus on Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Defense, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes,” she said. “I want to apply to Cambridge this year and enter their Healer and Research Mastery program. So I need to focus on classes that will prepare me for it. What about you?”
He almost smiled—almost—when he realized they would have the exact same schedule. His chest tightened at the thought.
“I’m taking the same classes,” he replied, careful to keep his breathing even. “With the Muggle Studies course they’ve mandated added in. I’m considering applying to either Cambridge or Oxford, depending on where I land with my mastery. I’m still undecided between Potions or Magical Law and Estate Management.”
Her whiskey-golden eyes locked onto his, full of curiosity—as if she were trying to solve him like one of her precious Arithmancy equations. She was listening intently, as if what he said mattered. That realization nearly unmoored him.
She nodded in understanding, then nudged his shoulder playfully and quipped, “Then I guess I should claim you early—see if you want to ditch your old Potions partner and be mine?”
Draco’s brain short-circuited at the word claim. For a moment, it echoed louder than anything else she'd said. But then the rest caught up to him—she wanted to be his partner. His.
A slow, genuine smile broke across his face before he could stop it. “I’d be honored to be your Potions partner.”
He didn’t notice the exchanged looks among the other Slytherins. He barely registered them until Theo’s familiar, dramatic voice cut through.
“Hey! What about me? You can’t just ditch me for someone better!”
Without missing a beat, Luna reached over and patted Theo’s hand. “It’s okay, Theodore. I’ll take you instead.”
Theo’s eyes went wide as his jaw dropped and a deep crimson flush crept up to his ears. Draco turned toward him, smug satisfaction curling at his lips.
“Hmmm… looks like you’ve met your match.”
The group burst into laughter as Theo recovered, his signature cocky grin sliding back into place.
Draco was the only one who knew of his best mate’s secret longing for the whimsical blonde. When Luna had been held captive in his family’s dungeons, Theo had spent countless hours bringing her small comforts—blankets, warm drinks, quiet words. Things Draco knew his friend had risked to offer.
He was quietly relieved to see that Luna didn’t seem to hold any grudges about her imprisonment. In fact, she seemed as serene and unbothered as ever. And maybe—just maybe—Theo would find a little happiness this year too.
A chorus of screeches above signaled the arrival of the morning post. Owls swooped through the Great Hall like a chaotic flock, delivering parcels and letters to eager hands. A medium-sized package dropped neatly into Draco’s lap, the elegant handwriting on the label unmistakably his mother’s. He opened it to find an assortment of his favorite sweets, but this time the quantity was… generous.
He frowned slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. More than she usually sent. Did she know? Could she sense that—for the first time in years—his world might be expanding?
Just as he reached for a chocolate-dipped biscuit, movement at the edge of his vision drew his attention. Hermione had stilled, the color draining from her face as she stared at the crest on a letter in her hand. He couldn’t make out the emblem before she quickly stuffed it into her bag, unopened. The reaction was immediate, visceral.
Their eyes met, and he raised a single brow in silent question. “Everything alright there, Princess?” he asked, tone light but probing.
She flinched at the nickname.
Curious, he thought, filing the reaction away for later.
“I’m fine,” she replied a beat too quickly. “I just remembered—I need to grab a few books from the library before class. Grab us a bench in Potions?”
Before he could say another word, she slung her bag over her shoulder and slipped away from the table, curls bouncing as she moved with purposeful haste.
Draco watched her go, that same sense of curiosity sharpening to something more intent. Whatever had been in that letter had rattled her. And while part of him knew better than to pry, the rest of him—especially the part that still felt the lingering heat of her shoulder against his—couldn’t help but want to understand her better.
To know her story.
To be part of it.