Post-war, Hermione has moved on with her life but spends most of her time alone. That is until she finds her previous schoolmate (and personal bully), Malfoy, near death in the shadows of a back alley close to her bookshop. She decides to bring him...
Hermione couldn't quite fathom why, but she found herself giving her outfit a once-over in the mirror. She wore faded jeans paired with a button-up red and gold flannel, a casual yet comfortable choice. Her unruly, curly waves cascaded over her shoulders in a tangle of chestnut locks, framing her sun-kissed complexion. Her brown eyes, alive with determination, met her reflection with a spark of vitality.
Not that she cared a whit about Draco Malfoy's opinion of her appearance, but she understood that feeling confident in herself could only serve to smooth over their next encounter. "Shite," she whispered under her breath, summoning the last shreds of her courage before stepping out of her bedroom.
She wasn't entirely certain of the significance of her dream, but she quickly decided to attribute it to the resurgence of her childhood bully. Hermione had spent several years in therapy, working through the scars left behind by her time in the Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange and the torture sessions she had inflicted upon Hermione no longer held her in a suffocating chokehold of fear. She had grown resilient over the years, her resolve steelier than ever before.
Far from being intimidated by Draco, she found herself unexpectedly drawn to the idea of helping him. Against her better judgment, she felt a pang of empathy for him, recognizing that while he may not be the epitome of virtue, he, too, had likely faced his own share of trials and tribulations.
It dawned on her that perhaps nobody had ever given him a fair chance, and she couldn't help but see a reflection of her past struggles when viewing Draco. Just as her own demons and destructive habits had once sabotaged her engagement to Ron and nearly destroyed her life, she sensed a similar brokenness within Draco.
No, instead of recoiling from the darkness within him, Hermione felt a stirring sense of kinship, a calling to extend a hand of compassion and understanding where others had possibly failed to do so. In this way, she felt so grateful to Harry, Ginny, and her family.
She believed in second chances, in redemption, and she was determined to be the one to offer Draco that opportunity. If not her, then who else would? In her dream, she saw not just a warning but also a glimmer of hope, a chance to rewrite the narrative of their shared history and forge a path toward healing and reconciliation. And so, Hermione resolved to approach her encounter with Draco with caution, but also with an open heart, ready to extend the hand of friendship and support to someone from her past in need of redemption.
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Hermione felt a rush of relief wash over her as she stepped into the hallway and heard the sound of water running in the guest shower. Hastening into the kitchen, she busied herself with the task of preparing breakfast, the rhythmic clatter of utensils a welcome distraction from the questions swirling in her mind.
Just as she put the finishing touches on the meal, Draco ambled into the kitchen. He still wore the same black slacks from the night before, but his bare torso drew her gaze involuntarily. She had so many questions about why he was dressed as a Muggle and what had brought him to London in the first place, but she decided to set them aside for the time being. There would be plenty of opportunity to interrogate him later; for now, she didn't want to press too hard too soon.
