Author's Note: This will be a mostly-canon-compliant post-war eighth-year fic that will eventually become a Dramione story. A fair warning: the romance build-up will be slow. The story starts on the evening before Draco and Hermione return to Hogwarts so not a lot of time has passed since the last chapter of Deathly Hallows, and as such it will take time for views to change and for feelings to develop. Redemption is a long road trip with many bumps in the road, and matters of the heart take time.

As of 2018 this story is being beta'd by the wonderful tectonictigress. The earlier chapters will be polished in terms of grammar and sentence structure, but I won't do any major rewriting.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling. I merely used her characters and world for my own little plot, which I hope you'll like.

With all that being said I won't keep you any longer. Happy reading, and please consider leaving me a review to share your thoughts on the story. I would really appreciate hearing from you throughout the chapters! Your feedback really is the fuel to my motivation.

A prologue of sorts

Monday, 31 August 1998

Hermione stood against the kitchen counter, sipping her tea as she watched her parents sitting at the breakfast table where they always liked to drink their last tea before bed. The round table was covered in folders and other paperwork, and her mother was feverishly trying to bring order to the chaos.

"Martha cleared our schedules tomorrow morning, but we have to be back by noon. Mrs Barnet experiences pain when eating which could indicate that her denture doesn't fit well anymore, so she will be coming by tomorrow. I will be taking care of the bi-annual check-ups and I moved two urgent root-canals to your schedule tomorrow. I have also taken the liberty of instructing Martha to reschedule your three o'clock and your four o'clock to next Tuesday."

Her father took the folders his wife offered him from across the table and neatly stacked them before carefully placing them in his open briefcase. "Wonderful," he said. "Thank you, darling." He then peered at Hermione over the rim of his reading glasses. "You hear that, dear? We can see you off after all."

She smiled at him in response. "I'm glad."

Once the breakfast table was visible again her mother seemed to relax at last. She sat back and smiled at the neat stacks in front of her. "Finally," she sighed. "I thought we'd never see the end of that pile."

Hermione walked over to the table, a little serving tray in her hands with three steaming mugs of tea. She put them down on the table and sat down, handing both her parents a mug before reaching for her own.

"Are you all packed?" her mother asked after a moment of silence in which the three of them enjoyed their hot beverage.

"All packed," Hermione confirmed. "I couldn't find Crookshanks, though."

Her father chuckled and pointed through the glass sliding doors to the backyard. She followed his hand to where he pointed and discovered her ginger-coloured half-Kneazle on the patio, jumping in and out of a pile of leaves. "He's been doing that for at least an hour and he still doesn't seem tired."

"Silly thing." Her mother smiled. Then her facial expression changed, and she looked at her daughter with a concerned frown on her brows. "Listen, darling, are you going to be okay this coming semester?"

Hermione silently considered the question for a while as she stared at her mug of tea. Would she be okay? She thought so. Then again, she was so used to putting up a brave face for her parents by now; she couldn't really be sure until she set foot in Hogwarts again.

"I am, Mum," she answered instead. "I am really looking forward to going back and having some normality again."

"Normality…" her mother muttered, shaking her head.

Hermione reached out to take her mother's hand. "Normal for me, Mum."

Her mother looked up and couldn't fight back a smile. "I know, dear. And I really am proud of you. Head Girl, such an achievement! I just... I wish you wouldn't leave so soon. We've only just been reunited and you've barely told us about what happened—what you've been through…"

Her father had quietly listened to them as he drank his tea. He chuckled again and put down his mug. "Jeanine, dear, we know Hermione is going to be okay. I think you're asking yourself whether you're going to be okay."

"Mum… Dad… I really am sorry," Hermione said quietly.

"No, sweetheart," her father said immediately. "You don't have to be sorry. We will probably never understand what happened last year—and I don't say this to pressure you into talking about it—but you did it for our safety. We understand that, at least." He smiled at her in a slightly mischievous way. "And besides, we finally got to experience Australia, and from what I can remember we had quite a good time. I felt more relaxed last year than I had in a very long time."

This last statement seemed to only upset her mother even more. "Our daughter shouldn't have had to protect us! It should be the other way around. She could have died and we would have never known!"

"I wasn't afraid of dying," Hermione said without a moment's pause. "I was afraid that they would use you to get to me. I couldn't risk that; I couldn't let you get hurt on my behalf."

"Jeanine," her father said softly but urgently, silencing her mother—who had opened her mouth again—before she had the chance to speak up. "She will tell us when she's ready."

The kitchen went quiet again. Hermione stared into her mug of tea, trying to breathe normally to calm down. As much as she wanted to tell her parents everything about the War and the horrible things she had been through, she couldn't. It was too soon and they would likely not allow her to go back to Hogwarts. She had to go back to complete her education. It wouldn't be right to quit now, even though Harry and Ron wouldn't be joining her. Going back without her two very best friends would be incredibly strange. She couldn't imagine not being around them every day; especially after the intensity with which they had relied on each other last year during the search for Horcruxes.

The sound of the glass sliding doors closing brought her back to reality. Her mother had gotten Crookshanks from the patio and was now gently patting the leaves from his fur. Hermione looked up to see that her father had left the kitchen. She rose from her chair and collected the empty mugs from the breakfast table.

"Just put them in the sink, dear," her mother said softly. "Your father already turned on the dishwasher."

Hermione obliged, and when she turned back her mother was standing behind her, smiling sadly. She was only slightly taller than Hermione, with the same colour hair, though her mother's curls were less bushy, less messy, and the hair near her temples was starting to turn grey. They embraced each other and stood there like that for a little while. When they let go, her mother's eyes were wet.

"Just know that I'm really proud of you," she said softly. "We both are."

"I know," Hermione murmured in return.

Her mother smiled fondly and reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her daughter's ear. "Now, let's head to bed. We don't want to be late tomorrow and have you miss the train."

Hermione shook her head. "I have duties to attend to," she smiled, feeling warm and proud for a moment as she remembered the little badge that had been enclosed with her letters from Hogwarts.

She followed her mother upstairs, said goodnight to her parents and entered her bedroom to get ready for bed. Before she got under the covers she opened her trunk and took out her favourite book. She then snuggled up in bed, comforting herself with the words that described the magical place she would finally see again tomorrow, until she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer.

"Young Master Malfoy, Mistress has asked for you to come inside, sir," the little house-elf squeaked nervously.

Not acknowledging the house-elf or the message, Draco remained seated on the stone porch and stared out over the grounds that belonged to his family. His father's albino peafowl had found a spot near the pond and had settled down for the night. The dark water was nearly motionless and reflected the crescent moon. It was a quiet and beautiful night, but Draco felt restless, nervous even.

His mother had decided that he would return to Hogwarts tomorrow to finish his education. It was a decision he didn't quite like, though he knew it was necessary; he would need his N.E.W.T.s if he wanted to be able to achieve something in life. It had taken a few months to sink in, but Draco had reluctantly come to terms with the fact that his last name no longer demanded respect. The Malfoys' social standing and their influence was gone. The decision his family had made decades ago had been a wrong one and they would forever carry the consequences of that mistake.

Going back to Hogwarts after everything that had happened last year seemed idiotic. How was one supposed to go back to normal, everyday education after a war? And worse, how was one supposed to go back to education after having played a key role in that war? Draco didn't really care about what his fellow students thought of him and he cared even less about the opinion of most of the teaching staff, but he knew that they would not quietly accept him being there. He wasn't going to get away with his usual behaviour anymore – the only thing that had helped him get through the years before. Headmistress McGonagall had made sure of that.

She hadn't been fond of the idea of him returning to Hogwarts; she had initially rejected him, and with him many other Slytherins she felt had gone wrong during the War. Draco suspected that Dumbledore, even in death, had found a way to persuade her to always seek out the good in people, because eventually the letters had come after all. McGonagall had made it very clear that she still distrusted him despite allowing him back, and she had announced that he was going to be supervised – in a very original way.

Draco sighed unhappily and reached into his pocket, taking out a badge that he wasn't supposed to have. He stared at it with disdain and thought about what McGonagall had written in the letter that had accompanied it.

You are aware of the duties that come with the title, Mr Malfoy. These duties will ensure that I am able to monitor your every move. I will instruct the Head Girl to supervise you and to report your behaviour to me. Because she will be unable to do so when you are residing in your current dormitories in the Slytherin dungeons, I have arranged a separate common room with private sleeping chambers in one of the towers.

You will not be allowed to leave this tower after a set curfew. This decision is also made to keep you away from the temptation and peer pressure you may receive from your fellow Housemates. More information on this matter shall be given upon arrival at school. Enclosed you will find a list of your main duties, which will start upon your arrival on Platform 9¾.

What had the world come to? He was appointed Head Boy, a position that should be a great honour, but instead McGonagall had chosen to punish him with it. He was never supposed to be Head Boy, just like he was never really supposed to be a prefect, which he suspected had been entirely because of Snape's favouritism. Draco was intelligent and his grades were certainly above average, but deep down he knew he wasn't fit for a position which gave him the power to control others.

He didn't have to guess who the Head Girl was going to be. Chances were she was going to return. Being the studious person he knew she was, she would want to finish her education. Despite these realistic expectations, Draco sincerely hoped she would decide against returning and that he would be partnered with someone else, preferably some Ravenclaw girl.

"Draco..."

He turned around and looked up at his mother who was standing in the doorway with her robes wrapped around her to stay warm against the chilly wind. "It's late, my dear," she said quietly. "Please come inside."

He got to his feet and followed his mother inside, quietly obliging. Bidding her goodnight, he immediately left and made his way through the Manor to his bedroom. He pinned the badge on his school robes before stuffing them into his trunk, undressed and then got into bed. Though dreading what the morning would bring, he was able to clear his head quickly, falling asleep shortly after.