Author's Note: Hello. This is my first piece of fan fiction, but I don't want you to go easy on me. My justification for writing this is that it's a writing exercise (even if that's far from my only reason for writing this). Please be honest and let me know what you do and don't like about my writing. Thank you!

Chapter 1

"Are you sure you'll be okay here? Without, you know, us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry stared at her, the scar on his forehead crinkled with worry.

"I'll be fine," she said, waving away his concerns with her hand.

Harry didn't look convinced. Her best friend may have been the savior of the wizarding world, but she hadn't thought about that as they had joked and laughed together the past few days. She hadn't let herself. If she thought about Harry defeating Voldemort, she'd remember his last stand and all the friends she had lost to his destruction. Instead, while they lounged about Hogwart's grounds in the last of the summer sunshine or meandered through Hogsmeade, she reminisced with Harry about the happy memories: quidditch games and the Yule ball, sneaking around in his invisibility cloak and the twins' indoor fireworks display. Both of them skillfully danced around the painful reminders of those who were only memories now. Harry had seemed relieved not to talk about anything more, but now he was veering into more emotional territory and appeared just as uncomfortable as she was.

"But so much happened here," Harry continued. "You don't have to come back. You know the ministry would give you any job you wanted."

"I don't want to be handed a job I'm not prepared for," said Hermione.

"Like you'd ever be caught unprepared."

Hermione glared at her friend, but they both knew it was only for show.

"Watch that wall," Hermione said, trying to distract him.

They had spent the better part of the hour patching a gaping hole in their beloved Hogwarts near Ravenclaw tower, directing stones back in place and casting protective charms over the masonry. Hermione had been helping with the rebuilding of the castle for months now, offering her services to an overwhelmed McGonagall almost immediately after the battle ended. Her seventh year had been taken from her, and she wanted it back.

"'Mione," Harry said, "I know it's been difficult, what with your parents and everything."

Hermione tensed, and the strengthening spell she'd been casting faltered.

"It's fine."

Harry sighed. "No, it's not, but if this is really what you want, I'll leave you alone. I only want to make sure you're not coming back here to avoid them."

"You know how important education is to me," she said.

Nodding, Harry turned back to the nearly repair wall. "Alright then."

Hermione let some of the tension in her shoulders relax.

"But don't think you can get rid of me this easily," he added with a grin. "I'm going to visit whenever I can."

"Harry, I know you'll be busy-"

Harry shook his head. "You're the closest thing to family I've got, Hermione."

Looking down, Hermione tried to hide the tears burning on her eyes. She'd spent nearly a year on the run with him, six years by his side at school before that. Harry was always there, and she had almost lost him only months before.

"You too," she said.

When Harry swept her into a hug, the tears spilled over.

"They'll come around," he whispered.

Hermione wanted to believe him, but couldn't. Instead, she pulled away, nodding and wiping at her cheeks.

"Just don't get yourself killed out there," she said. "It'd be a shame to defeat the Dark Lord himself only to be caught off guard by a half-wit Slytherin on the run."

Harry laughed. "I hope I can handle a few runaway Death Eaters after that."

Hermione smiled, but she couldn't suppress the twinge of fear in her stomach. Harry had long wanted to be an auror and had been training for such work practically since he'd picked up a wand. That didn't mean Hermione was any less worried.

The groan of a heavy door opening drew their attention down the hallway. The new headmistress's dark robes swirled around her ankles as she made her way towards them.

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I would have thought you'd have left by now. Wouldn't want to keep the minister waiting."

"Hermione roped me into this," he said, waving at the wall. "But you're right. Bye 'Mione."

After another hug to his friend and a goodbye to his old professor, Harry darted away leaving Hermione to face the weary face of the headmistress.

"Now Miss Granger," said McGonagall, "I would like to speak with you about the position of Head Girl."

Taken off guard for a moment, Hermione stiffened and tried to school her expression. She had suspected she'd be selected, but couldn't help the swell of pride and relief sweeping through her veins.

"I know you will have a busy year ahead of you," McGonagall continued, "getting back on track for your NEWTs, but I think it no secret that I need all the help I can muster getting this school put back together in more than one way."

"Yes, of course, Professor-I mean Headmistress," Hermione stammered, turning red. "Sorry."

McGonagall smiled for a moment before delving back in. "You will be in charge of all the prefects, of course, organizing student events and outings with their help. Besides the usual duties as Head Girl, I will ask for your continued help in repairing the castle and with the coordination of extra prefect patrols. Being short staffed, I will need you to fill in for some of the duties usually fulfilled by the faculty."

Hermione nodded, trying not to let the image of her old muggle studies professor fill her mind. The war had taken several teachers, and with so much work being done to rebuild the ministry and economy, there were few qualified adults left to take up posts at the school.

"Your most important duty, however," McGonagall said, "Is fostering a sense of unity and forgiveness amongst the students."

"Headmistress?" Hermione asked, unsure of what she meant.

The older woman fixed her sharp eyes on Hermione's. "I think it no secret that much of Voldemort's success lied in taking advantage of fractures in our society that existed long before his reign of terror. I aim to heal those divides early, before they can take hold in another generation."

"Blood status."

"That is part of it, yes. Which is why I chose you, the brightest muggle-born witch of your generation, as Head Girl."

Hermione's head swam with the responsibility. If she hadn't been able to convince others of her worth before, how would she now? And if McGonagall's choice of Head Girl was so strategically chosen…

"Who is Head Boy?" she blurted.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "The other side of the divide, Miss Granger."

Hermione's mind flitted through the possibilities, but kept returning to one face. She'd heard he would be returning. She had thought she would simply ignore him.

"Headmistress, you can't be serious," Hermione said. "He can't be Head Boy! He shouldn't even be back here!"

Anger flushed through her body, and she felt her grip tighten on her wand instinctively. Yes, he had lied to Bellatrix about their identities, and yes, his mother had saved Harry's life-it was all that stood between him and a sentence to Azkaban-but he was a Death Eater, had plotted to kill Dumbledore. And the six years of cruel insults hadn't left her memory either, nor her arm where his aunt had burned a permanent reminder.

"I believe you'll find Mr. Malfoy's disposition has much improved," said McGonagall. "He too had his childhood taken away from him by a madman. I would hope you could sympathize."

"But Headmistress-"

McGonagall held up a hand. "I know it won't be easy, but I have invited Mr. Malfoy back for the express purpose of healing the divide between us. Others will not take the news well, and I expect you to lead by example."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Forgiveness is one thing, but working with him nearly every day-"

"-will show that you have truly forgiven," said McGonagall.

Hermione glared at a scuff on her shoe.

"Even if you can't offer him forgiveness," the headmistress continued more softly, "I hope that you can find a way to be amicable. We'll never move our society forward if we can't find a way to work with those who have wronged us and are most in need of help."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione warred internally between her desire to please McGonagall and her need to watch that ferret pay for what he'd done.

"Alright," she whispered. "But I won't put up with insults or laziness. He can't ignore or abuse his duties like he did as prefect."

"I have been assured by Mr. Malfoy that he will put forth every effort to contribute positively to the school," McGonagall said. "One word from me, and he will be put back under house arrest with no access to magic for a year or more."

At the mention of his home, memories of the Malfoy mansion flashed through her mind: the cool of polished floors under her skin, the chandelier she was sure had trembled from the echo of her screams alone. Hermione rubbed her arm, and although she hadn't worn anything but long-sleeves since the incident, she felt as if McGonagall could see through the thin fabric with that laser gaze of hers.

"Now that we have that out of the way," McGonagall finally said, "I have a curriculum meeting with Hagrid that I do not want to miss, or the poor third years may find themselves at the wrong end of a griffin."

With her robes swishing, the headmistress strode away, and Hermione leaned her forehead against the cold stone of the castle wall.

"Are you going to finish it?" asked a quiet voice.

Hermione glanced behind her to find a portrait of a lady wearing a turban pointing at the newly repaired wall.

"There's another crack, just there," the woman said. "I don't want a draft coming in during winter."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Hermione muttered. "I'll fix it all."