Yeah, me again. I've lost control of my muse if you want the truth, and I can't control it. Don't think I'll be merrily jumping ship to ditch my stories, and I only mention it because I'm worried that's how posting another WIP will be taken. This story has been meticulously planned since the beginning of June. You will notice in the coming chapters that I have created original characters. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible. There were some I had to take some creative freedom. I have the first three chapters written, and a detailed outline to light the way. This shouldn't be over 60k.

Dedicated fully (hopefully she likes it, or this will be awkward) to TheMourningMadam. She's the only reason I continued to plan this, and create a full cast. Plus...I write a lot of Muggle AU's and I adore them, but I felt I was missing out on some magic.

Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

Chapter One

Hermione sat in the floor of the living room in the Burrow, the sunlight flickering through the windows as the sun rose above the horizon. She'd lost count of the hours she'd sat here, her ink pen scratching across the loose leaf paper. She recalled that it was shortly after midnight that Ron had called to her from the stairs, telling her not to stay up too late and he would be ready for when she wanted to crawl into bed.

Except she had stayed up for the entire night, and she couldn't decide if it was because the thought of cuddling up to him caused her own guilt to eat at her, or if it was because she needed to plan. No matter, she knew exactly what her boyfriend would think when he trudged down the stairs, but he wouldn't say a word to her. Not yet, and not until he was sure of what would follow. He'd kiss her before flooing to the Ministry, disappearing amongst the green smoke.

It would only be a few more days before he left for auror training, and she wouldn't see him for six weeks. A few days after that Hermione would find herself on the grounds of Hogwarts, in a set of cabins along the Great Lake. It didn't matter how many plans she made, or if she had several dozen lists. Nothing didtracted her from her shot nerves. Of course, this had all been her ruddy idea, and her Muggle heritage shining though.

Oh, and her incessant need to help everyone. Molly Weasley had rubbed her shoulder, voicing that it was because she couldn't help herself quite yet. This would be a welcome distraction. Shrugging her off with a weak agreement, Hermione made a quiet exit.

She was sure that everyone who lived in, or visited the Burrow knew her relationship with the youngest Weasley son was on a downhill slope. It was going to crash and burn, that much she was sure of, but she felt as if they owed it to themselves to at least try. Her eleven year old self would have thrown a fit if she knew present Hermione planned to call it quits so soon.

Shuffling her papers, she leaned against the edge of the sofa, clasping her hands in her lap. The final battle felt like it was a lifetime away, but she reminded herself once more that it had been nine days. It meant that it had been half a week since the new Minister of Magic delivered the devastating news that her parents would never remember her.

Ron, bless him, seemed to understand that Hermione didn't want comfort. She didn't yearn for nights stolen in front of a fire, or to cuddle her sorrows away. She wanted action, purpose, and so she'd gotten here.

Thinking of her parents reinforced the fact that for all intents and purposes, she was an orphan. Her parents were happy and alive in Australia. They didn't remember their daughter, or the last seventeen - eighteen years of their lives. Shethought of the others like her who were plunged into a world without their family to guide them.

Her stomach had turned on itself, and she had an idea. As a Muggle child, she'd attended a summer camp every year that she'd been able to, and had even visited those camps on her summers away from Hogwarts. It had ended around fifth year where she'd begun to stay with Ron and Harry, seamlessly taken in by the Weasley clan.

It was the answer for herself, to bring a bit of the home she missed back to her. And maybe, just maybe it was the best solution for the orphans who had been sleeping in a room at the Ministry. Determined to make a difference, she'd made an appointment with Shacklebolt. What good was this bloody Order of Merlin if she couldn't carry on the fight?

It hadn't taken much beyond telling the Minister of Magic that she would be doing this, that she would fund it herself by gathering donations herself. Donations she hadn't quite had yet, but it had worked out in the end. And that those children deserved a summer away from the memories of the war. And sitting inside the atrium as people stormed their way into work wasn't helping them, now was it?

Completely unaware of who all had contributed to Hermione Granger's charity fund, she'd spoken with Headmistress McGonagall to have cabins built on the Great Lake. Pleased with the help from Wizards in Great Britain, and that she hadn't taken away from the labor to rebuild Hogwarts, the pieces came together. Thank Merlin.

The only obstacle wasn't an obstacle. Considering she'd testified in his trial in front of the Wizengamot, Hermione was almost certain that Draco Malfoy wasn't going to murder children. At least ninety percent sure; though he might strangle her because they were bound to quarrel. McGonagall had chosen Hannah Abbott and Michael Corner be the other two 'counselors'.

It had broken her heart to hear how many of the lower years lost their parents. Whether it be a result of their parents being slain in the second Wizarding War, or if they were imprisoned in Azkaban. The children of Death Eaters were treated worse than dirt. She knew because she had seen them as she made her way into the Ministry.

Regarded as the lowest of the low, and it was only by her excellent self control that she hadn't blown up in the Minister's office.

"You didn't come to bed last night," Ron yawned, stomping down the stairs while stretching his arms over his head. "Did you sleep at all?" At her nod, he mumbled, "Figures."

Hermione brought her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry."

The couch dipped below his weight. "It's your choice." He told her, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. "Though you should get some sleep. There won't be much time for sleep with all the activities you've planned for the Wizarding youth." He laughed, pulling her papers from the table. "Smores?" He arched an eyebrow.

"You're missing out, Weasley." Hermione nudged his kneecap with her elbow, snatching her lists back. "I was going to ask if you and Harry would sign some of the chocolate frog cards. I'm sure there will be several children who adore the pair of you."

Ron's smile was more relaxed than she felt. "I am rather dashing. I'm sure Harry would love to. Do you already have some?"

Digging around in her beaded bag, she pulled a stack of Ron's, wrapped in a rubber band, and handed him a quill. "Haven't you learned that I'm always prepared?" Hermione tied her hair up as she spent one of the last mornings with him. All while she criticized his atrocious penmanship.

On the first day of June, Hermione watched as everyone ate their breakfast in silence. She'd torn a biscuit apart on her plate, but hadn't taken a bite of Molly's cooking. Ron squeezed her thigh under the table, shooting her a small smile.

"Well," Arthur cleared his throat. "Big day, isn't it?"

Hermione grimaced. "I suppose so." Stabbing her fork into her food, she didn't offer anything else. It was hard enough to have slept beside Ron the night before, knowing that it was only drawing out the inevitable. "How do the two of you feel to be leaving for auror training?"

Harry shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Isn't this child's play compared to facing off against Voldemort?"

Ginny scowled at the name as her mother did. "Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Maybe not use his name around here?"

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I think I should feel nervous, but I'm just ready to move onto the next step of whatever my life is."

Molly cleared her throat. "For the record, I still believe the two off you should finish your final year of Hogwarts like you were meant to."

Ron sniggered. "Our last year was basically a full practical exam. What else could we learn at that dusty old castle?" He ducked when Molly tossed a biscuit at his head. "Mum, we don't need to go back. Hermione is just going because she loves school."

Hermione didn't comment on that. She didn't feel like explaining again why it was so important to earn her NEWTs the old fashioned way, or why she needed to see her name at the top of the Hogwarts roster. Or whatever was left of it. Besides her two best friends, she didn't know of many from their year who were returning. Neville had written to her earlier this week to tell her that he would see her at the beginning of the term, but he was unable to help with Hogwarts, the summer camp edition.

Padma volunteered to help with the Ravenclaws, alongside Corner even though she wouldn't have an official title. It was assumed by Hermione that the girl's reasons were as selfish as Hermione's. Parvati hadn't survived the final battle, and a shiver ran down Hermione's back as she remembered Parvati, and Lavender jumping from a balcony as they were chased by Fenrir Greyback.

"Well, some of us still have to go back in September." Ginny grumbled, pushing her plate away from her. "I'm not hungry anymore." Her chair scratched against the wooden floor as she stormed from the room without another word.

Harry bit his lip. "She tried to convince me to drop out of the auror program last night." He clarified, pulling at his collar. "I'll go talk to her."

It left Hermione and Ron sitting with his parents. George was sealed away in his bedroom upstairs, and the two oldest Weasleys were out of the country. "I'm glad you're not like that," her boyfriend nudged her.

"Ron," Hermione was exasperated. "Can you blame Ginny? Harry died in the final battle, and now the two of you are off to continue merrily risking your lives."

"Chasing evil Wizards is what we're good at," he began, and the table shook as Molly slammed her cup down. "Mum, please,"

"I will never stop worrying about you," Molly told him with a weak smile. "Or Harry, or you, for that matter." She pointed towards Hermione. "This is our last breakfast for a while, and-"

Errol swooped into the kitchen, dropping a letter in front of Hermione. She smiled sheepishly to her 'adoptive' parents. "I think this is my cue."

"Who is that from?" Ron flipped the letter over, unable to recognize the handwriting. "Is this Padma's handwriting?"

Hermione snorted, taking it from his grasp. "No, that's just what nice penmanship looks like, Ronald. It's from Malfoy, which means I need tofetch him."

His eyes narrowed. "I understand why the Ministry wants someone to chaperone him, but I don't understand why that someone has to be you. Why wouldn't they have an auror go with him? You're hardly,"

Hermione arched one eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence. "Perhaps it's because no one else has ever punched Draco Malfoy in the face."

"I can go with you, make sure he doesn't pull any tricks."

She shook her head. "It's not necessary. Not to mention you're more likely to start a fight with him than to prevent one. Tell Harry bye for me? And Ginny, of course." She stood from her chair, hurrying round the table to squeeze both Molly and Arthur. "I'll see you at the end of the summer."

"And you will not make me wait a moment longer," Molly warned.

With a smile, Hermione pulled her wand from the pocket of her jumper, adjusted the crossbody strap of her beaded bag, and apparated from the Burrow with a loud crack.

The letter was only a formality. She'd spoken with Malfoy via floo a week earlier - she'd actually demanded a face to face meeting, but naturally he argued with her. He told her that he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and if he was forced to have Granger as his babysitter, then he would meet her in the lobby. What she knew of the surviving Malfoy was everything.

She prided herself on possessing all of the facts, and that was exactly what she had done. In her luggage that she'd already had sent ahead to her living quarters, there were several biographies tucked away. Taking careful care with the former Death Eaters, was it a surprise that his was the longest?

Hermione didn't think he had any secrets left to hide any longer. Malfoy Manor had been gutted by the Ministry. Curse Breakers had visited the dreary home, and torn through it. If there was anything left, she wasn't sure he would have wanted it.

Ron had told her that she shouldn't see herself in every victim of the war, and especially not Draco Malfoy. His only redeeming moment had been when he couldn't kill Headmaster Dumbledore, he said.

False - Draco had switched sides before the battle, and not after as Rita Skeeter claimed. Hermione had been there in the room of hidden things. She'd felt her heart break when one of his friends was engulfed in the fiendfyre, and she had been the one to throw her hand out and tug Malfoy away from the flames.

It wasn't as if she'd had the chance to ask him nonchalantly, "Was it watching your mother be brutally mauled that made you switch sides? At what point did you decide that Lord Voldemort wasn't worth following?" Drawing her own conclusions, and piecing together the information she'd found at the Ministry, Hermione could put the puzzle together.

The Malfoy's had been brutally punished as the three of them escaped the Manor, and as Dobby was slain in the process.

Upon their arrival to the looming structure that stretched into the eerie sky, Lucius Malfoy looked like a follower that the Dark Lord had scraped from the bottom of the barrel. He was frail, his eyes sunken into his skin. He looked nothing like the proud man who had insulted her in her second year. His wife, Narcissa, remained to be seen.

The Dark Lord hasn't punished Bellatrix at all. Hermione didn't even consider the punishment as Lucius Malfoy's, or his wife's.

Really, she thought the price of their escape had fallen on Draco's shoulders. To have lost her parents was one thing. She couldn't imagine watching her own mother ripped apart by a feral werewolf while her father allowed it. Kingsley had allowed her to see the report, but after skimming just enough to pick the truths from the Daily Prophet, she'd closed the manilla colored file. It wasn't her place to read his brutal testimony.

Hermione leaned against the counter, counting the sets of keys in her head. It was a quiet Monday morning, and she absently twisted the bracelet adorning her wrist. It was a present from Ron, one that she dutifully wore around him because she hadn't had the heart to tell him she was allergic to it. She slipped it off, glamouring the slightly green skin below it, and dropped it into her bag.

"Granger," Malfoy spoke gruffly from behind her. "Did you just roll out of bed?"

She blinked, "No?"

He chuckled under his breath, raising a dragon hide bag, and slinging it over his shoulder. The edge of his Dark Mark peeked out from under his sleeve, and as her eyes fell to it, his eyes narrowed on her while he ripped the sleeve down. "So you made the conscious decision to walk around with your hair looking like a bird's nest?"

She glared at him, turning on her heel to walk out of the establishment with him right behind her. "Do you have everything you need? Or will we need to make a stop by..Malfoy Manor?" She grimaced at her fumble.

Malfoy scowled. "No," his tone clipped. "I don't need to stop anywhere else. Are we apparating?"

She shook her head, stepping over a puddle in the middle of Diagon Alley. "If it's all the same to you, I loathe traveling by Apparition, and I had planned for us to take the Hogwarts Express."

He looked bored, and he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "That's satisfactory. Apparition is uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"I know, it's awful, and -"

"Granger," he snapped. "My attempts at awkward small talk are just my trying to be civil. You would be wise not to tempt fate."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she remembered exactly why she had struck him in third year.

Crossing into the platform of nine and three quarters should have felt like coming home. Yet it didn't. The scarlett Hogwarts Express reminded her of what had been her happiest place, and nostalgia bubbled up. Hot tears welled up, but she squashed the urge to cry. She wouldn't let herself be so emotional in front of the Slytherin at her side.

Hermione watched in silence as Malfoy moved his wand, his incantation of "Wingardium Leviosa." perfectly clear. He levitated his trunk behind him, the edge coming a little too close to her temple as it cut a corner. Judging from the barely there laugh she heard, he'd done it on purpose.

The pair of them sat across from each other in one of the compartments, in what would have stayed silence if she hadn't broken it. "Can I set a ground rule with you?" She asked quietly, pulling papers from her bag, and a refilling quill.

He snorted loudly. "Only one?" His admonished tone didn't set so well with her, and a flash of turning him into a ferret once more flashed through her brain. "Obviously, Granger. I assumed part of making this journey alone was for you to scold me like a child."

She shook her head. "That's not what this is, Malfoy. I knew you wouldn't feel comfortable around me, and I thought having Michael, or Hannah here might make that worse for you."

He stared at her, clasping his hands under the table, and leaned toward her as if he were trying to gauge how genuine she was. "Oh? So you were only thinking of me then?"

She swallowed, "I wanted to judge how well I could trust you for myself before we disembarked."

"And if I fail?" He drawled, satisfied he'd wrung the truth from her. Malfoy slung his arm over the top of the seat as he leaned back. "What would happen to me then?"

"If I believed you to be a danger to myself, or anyone this summer, you would return to whatever you were doing before I met you in the Leaky this morning."

"Ah, so groveling. Please, Granger," he motioned to her. "Set your rules; I have nothing better to do."

"Don't call me Mudblood." Hermione tried to sound calm, but the awkwardness of everything set her on edge. "Not me, not Dennis Creevey. Don't belittle anyone because of their -"

His eyes flashed, and his teeth were bared for a brief moment. "I will not call you, or anyone that slur again, Granger." Malfoy promised. "I can't tell you I've overcome my prejudices, I suppose, but you don't have to remind me."

"Even after Voldemort, you haven't," she couldn't help herself from asking, from trying to pick him apart so she could understand.

"Next thing, Granger." He sighed, massaging his temples. "I'd really rather not listen to you for the rest of the train ride."

She shrugged. "It's pretty simple, Malfoy. You were a prefect; you understand how to wrangle kids. Catch them if they're out of bed, keep the peace, and really that's about it. Just..show a little tact."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm aware that these are orphans, and considering I'm now one myself I'm not going to be a prick to the little shites."

"You could start with not calling them 'little shites'."

He waved her off. "Will there be a house competition for the summer holiday?" He asked her, and at her falter, the edges of his lips quirked up into a smirk. "You hadn't considered it? We should. Perhaps it won't be received well at first, but it gives a semblance of structure."

She nodded rather dumbly.

"What? You just said yourself that I was a prefect."

"I hadn't expected you to have good ideas," Hermione defended. "I'll let you head that then, since it was your idea."

"Sounds like a horrible idea, but fine. To my understanding, I have some children to watch,"

"To mentor, to be a role model for," she chimed, but he immediately cut her off.

"Which we will get to how I'm the world's worst role model, but first, tell me about these children I'm to take care of this summer. It wouldn't do for me to hop off this train and not know any of their names." At her surprise, he rumbled, "Honestly, Granger, what's wrong with you? I do have manners; I just didn't use them with you."

"Charming."

"I am," he insisted, holding a hand out. "Come now, I know you must have photographs. You wouldn't do anything by halves."

Hermione slapped the files into his hand, twisting in her seat to place her back against the wall and swing her legs into the seat. Transfiguring a chair into a blanket, she curled up under it. "You're good friends with Theodore Nott, so I assume this one will be familiar to you." She reached across the table to flip open the first file. Her heart ached as the way his brows furrowed together. "Henry Nott: the eleven year old cousin of Theodore. His parents were captured following the final battle, and killed in a face off against aurors."

He nodded, his fingers tightening around the little boy's picture. Hermione knew it well, had seen it in her dreams occasionally even though it was ridiculous to be attached to so many strangers. It was a nice photograph though, where he could be seen rolling down a hill. "I attended the funeral for his parents. Awful thing to have left behind someone so young. You don't need to discuss Henry with me."

"Could I ask why he isn't with Theo?" Hermione asked carefully.

The anger she expected didn't surface. "He left Great Britain without telling anyone where he was going. He has nothing here, Granger, or so he thinks. Henry was devastated. Next we have one Adelaide Murton?"

She sucked in a harsh breath. "All of the stories are awful, Malfoy, but hers is particularly violent. Her mother was all she had, and she was raped in their home, and then murdered by a Death Eater when she wouldn't allow them to stay in her home. I don't know why they left Adelaide when they must have known she was in the home."

"I'll tell you why: Voldemort didn't want Pureblood lives lost. He would have considered her to be a tool for the future. The mother was expendable. I think I saw her crying in a stairwell after Christmas last year. She seemed like a sweet girl."

"I'm sure she is."

Her file thudded against the table. "Go to sleep, you're about to fall asleep while talking. It's unprofessional."

"Malfoy,"

"I know how to read, Granger. I will read through these myself. Rest assured if I were going to use a killing curse, it would not be on you. Now shut up."

She rolled onto her side with a huff. It wasn't her fault it was impossible to sleep with Ron's snores on the nights she did finally make it into bed.

Maybe you needed a little sunshine for your winter - unless you're in the southern hemisphere, in which case I am right on time I think. Feedback makes my entire world go round.