AN: Y'all should be very proud of me, it turns out it doesn't take four years to write a story, I'm just a compulsive editor. So here we are, entering the sequel of possibly the favorite story I've ever written. I am excited for you to read it and I'm excited to for myself to finish writing it, lol. I'm planning on thirteen or fourteen chapters, again, all of which are all titled with song titles. In case you have Spotify, I have a playlist for You're My King, and I'm Your Lionheart and for this lovely story. They are public, and if you search for "alternative u." it should pop up. Anyway, let's begin!

*.*.*.*.*

One - Sign of the Times

just stop your crying
have the time of your life
breaking through the atmosphere
and things are pretty good from here
remember everything will be alright
we can meet again somewhere
somewhere far away from here

It rained.

It rained.

And it rained.

The rain drenched her body, including the three layers of clothes she was wearing, and soaked her hair and shoes thoroughly. It washed away the dirt and blood that had clung to her like a new layer of skin.

They say rain is supposed to be a sign of renewal, of beginnings, of change. But it could also mean the skies were weeping for the dead and the misfortunes of those who tried so hard to be good.

It felt like all those things to Hermione as she stood in the courtyard. The war was over, meaning change was afoot and new things were to begin soon. The war was over, but not without its sacrifices and misdeeds. But still … the war was over.

Suddenly, a hand appeared on her shoulder. She glanced to her left and saw the outline of Harry's face. He looked tired, concerned, curious, and sad all at once. He gestured for her to follow him (and Ron) and she did just that all the way to the bridge. It was a miracle the thing was still standing after the beating it took, what with the spells, the cement soldiers, and Seamus' booms.

"So … what now?" Ron broke the silence first and Hermione couldn't help but smile at his attempt to pull her and Harry out of their thoughts.

"Well, I can think of one thing," Harry mumbled and took his broken wand out of his pocket. With the Elder Wand in hand, he muttered Reparo and the broken pieces mended together, sparks shooting out of it.

"So, how is the Elder Wand your's exactly?" Ron asked, sounding dazed and confused.

Harry grinned at Hermione and she knew why — he wanted to show her that he's proud of Draco for doing the right thing — and then said, "When I revealed myself to be alive, Malfoy threw me his wand. He willingly gave me control of his wand."

"But he was using his mother's wand, not his own."

"Doesn't matter — he disarmed Dumbledore on the night he died, not Snape," Harry explained. "That's why the wand didn't respond to Tom the right way. He thought Snape was the master of the Elder Wand, but it was really Draco."

"And now you are the wand's master," Hermione added absentmindedly. The rain let up a little, but the sky was still dark. More rain was on the way.

"Well … what're you gonna do with it?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned a little before taking the wand in two hands and snapping it in half.

Ron's squeak showed his disapproval. Hermione merely snorted.

"It's caused enough trouble," he commented and threw each piece off either sides of the bridge. "And quite frankly … I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."

*.*.*.*

The injured were transported to St. Mungo's, and the House Elves made food for the survivors to eat. McGonagall, now the Headmistress of Hogwarts, sat with the remaining professors at one of the tables in the Great Hall, undoubtably discussing the events that had just transpired and what it meant for the rest of the Wizarding World. Their conversation soon shifted to what steps to take next regarding schooling, end-of-the-year testing, and the students' wellbeing.

"Are we going to finish the school year?"

"Have the students even learned enough to take the NEWTs or the OWLs?"

"Should we send the students home?"

"Should we just start over in September?"

"Everyone!" McGonagall said in a firm voice, commanding their attention. "There's a lot of questions, but we need to first and foremost fix the castle. Some of the structural damage makes places in the castle unstable."

"Well, how do we fix it?" Slughorn asked. "And while we fix it, do the students stay?"

"You've read Hogwarts, a History enough times Miss Granger — what do you think about restoring the castle?" McGonagall asked Hermione.

She looked at the older woman, slightly surprised to hear her asking for an opinion. "I don't know. I mean … the outside of Hogwarts can be rebuilt easily, it's just blocks of cement going back into place. The real magic is inside the walls … and will therefore be much more difficult." She gestured to the air above them. "The Great Hall no longer has an enchanted ceiling — it's just beams and rafters. The stairwells no longer move, the spells have been broken. The paintings and photographs are ruined, and the subjects are no longer in the correct frames. The Room of Requirement … was burned to the ground with Fiendfyre. It's a mess."

"Do you think there's a chance of getting it back?"

"You're asking me?"

"Well — yeah," Slughorn nodded.

Hermione shrugged, "I dunno. Maybe."

"If anyone can do it, it's you 'Mione." Harry said encouragingly. She almost wished he hadn't put so much faith in her. The Room was so intricate with the amount of magic put into its creation — it's unlikely she could recreate it. It would be a long process to decide if it was capable of being rebuilt.

Neville inserted his opinion as well. "Depending on the stability of the dormitories, the students should either be sent home or exams should be cancelled." McGonagall nodded slowly in agreement.

They decided it's probably best to put the building back together, with a few witches and wizards each taking a section of the castle. They spread out, covering from the greenhouses, where Severus Snape's body still lay in death, all the way to the Ravenclaw Tower, where Amycus and Alecto attacked Harry and Luna.

Broken chunks of cement and broken glass from window panes flew back into place on the walls. Portrait frames returned to the walls and stairwells regained their banisters. Watching the castle that she loves so much get put back together gave Hermione goosebumps.

McGonagall gathered the students who hadn't fled the castle and announced the Hogwarts Express would be arriving on Tuesday to take them home. NEWTs and OWLs and all final tests were cancelled, and anyone above 17 was allowed to stay and help with fixing the castle.

Slytherins crawled out of their common room, and many realized their parents had either died or been captured and sent to Azkaban, like Draco. While some may have seen this as an opportunity to gloat and say "I told you so," Neville and Luna approached them with kindness and empathy and surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson was the first to shake their hands. Pansy, who had Death Eaters for parents, smiled at their benevolence. She had said and done things that hurt a lot of students in the school, but if the two of the most picked-on students can put aside past events, she can too.

McGonagall once again gathered those still around and announced that, with the school officially closing Tuesday morning, they would begin repairs then. Witches and wizards would pair or trio up and then be assigned places in the castle to fix. McGonagall would oversee a lot of it, while doing her own work, all while finding new professors for the coming year.

She pulled Hermione aside after allowing people to leave. Some lingered to see if they could catch what the two women were going to talk about.

"How are you, Hermione?" McGonagall asked with concern in her voice.

She smiled at her professor's worried face, "I'm okay, thank you. I want to contribute to the Hogwarts reconstruction, but there are so many things I have to do first."

"Like visiting Mr. Malfoy, perhaps?" McGonagall remarked.

"Perhaps."

*.*.*.*

Azkaban was worse than she imagined. All the images from the Prophet melded into one big mental picture, and it fell short of just how horrible the triangular prison was. Hermione stood outside the gates for longer than she cared to mention before plucking up the courage and going inside.

"Kingsley," she blurted the man's name as soon as she recognized him and before realizing it was rude. He, however, didn't seem to mind the interruption to his conversation and approached her.

"Hermione, are you here to …" he trailed off, not quite sure if she wanted others to know why she was there.

She smiled, grateful for his tact. "If you'll let me."

"Anything for part of the Golden Trio." He turned towards the lift and motioned for her to follow.

"I hear you're going to be the Minister of Magic, congratulations."

"It's not official yet —"

"You're doing a wonderful job in this aftermath, if anyone deserves the job, it's you, Kingsley."

He smiled at her and nodded. "It was never a goal of mine, but I feel like I could do the job justice."

"You would," Hermione smiled.

The lift dinged, and Kingsley led her to a small room with a table and three chairs. He told her to wait for a moment and left her alone. Unable to sit still, she paced the length of the room, removed her jacket, and fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt sleeve.

Just when she was starting to wonder if something was wrong, Kingsley returned with Draco in tow, still bound by the magical handcuffs. He hadn't been put into an Azkaban uniform yet. They didn't say anything until Kingsley removed the cuffs and stepped out of the room.

"How much time do you think we have?" Draco murmured, stepping close to her. He used his forefinger to gently push some hair that had fallen out of her face.

She slowly inhaled to calm herself, "I don't know." He hesitantly placed a hand on her lower back and they fell together, hugging each other tight.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," she mumbled into his chest. "McGonagall asked me to help with the rebuilding, and we got the castle itself put back together. Now, we need to work on the inside."

He was reluctant to let go of her, and she didn't make any move to leave the constraints of his arms. "It's good you're doing that though."

She pulled back a little to look at his face — it was pale and still dirty from the Battle but he was smiling down at her. "Are you with your mother … in the cell?"

"No, they separated all of us. I think the guards are afraid that some of them will try to murder other members. But, I think they should be more afraid of them killing themselves."

"They're that desperate to be free?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"No, they're that desperate to be with the Dark Lord," he said in a mocking tone.

"Oh …"

"Love, don't worry about me."

"I'm not worried about you, D. I'm just scared."

"Scared of?"

"You leaving … or being taken away from me."

"I'm not leaving you, 'Mione — I know that for me, it's you and only you from here on out. I can only promise to be careful and not push you away — again. Life without you in it is doable, and but if I have a choice, I want to do it with you by my side. I'm not running away from the amount of work that will make it happen."

She shuddered at the sincerity of his words and he wrapped her in his arms once more. Even through the dirt and grime, she could still smell him — apples, parchment, and aftershave. It gave her a sense of calm, a sense of clarity. "I don't want you to … run away, and I can only hope I can do the same for you."

"Relationships grow and change as the people in it grow and change. But we'll do it together, okay?"

She nodded and smiled. "It sounds silly, but I have to ask, are we together again?"

He chuckled and nodded affirmatively. "Forever and ever."

It was cheesy, but that's what they needed. The reassurance that they would be there for each other during this tough time of transition. It's inevitable, their relationship will come out and people will react with varying feelings of displeasure and acceptance, but as long as they accept each other, everything would be fine.

All would be well.