Chapter Text
It was a cold, wet Monday morning in January the first time the huge eagle owl swooped into the great hall under the enchanted grey sky, and landed on the Gryffindor table in front of Hermione. It shook the water off its wings, seeming irritated, and soaking Ron and Neville in the process. Unaware that what she was about to do would later be considered a momentous turning point in her life, Hermione took the bundle of letters it was offering and gave it the last sausage, spearing it from the serving plate a moment before Ron managed to acquire it for himself. Ignoring his grumbles, she handed out letters to him, Harry, Neville, Ginny and Luna before opening her own. It was addressed in a neat, precise cursive to Miss Hermione Granger, Eighth Year, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts’ School.
Dear Miss Granger,
I write to convey my most humble apologies for any and all damage, physical, mental or emotional that you have suffered at my hands or at the hands of any member of my family. This is not enough, I know. I realise even as I write that nothing can make amends for the years of unpleasantness that I alone subjected you to, never mind touch on what you suffered during the war; nevertheless, I feel I must try.
You may consider that this apology is late. It is, I agree, however I was only released from Azkaban at the beginning of December and have spent the last few weeks recovering from that ordeal. I thus have written at my first available opportunity, and trust that you will not hold against me that I was almost too weak to hold a quill when first freed. On that note, I would also like to convey my thanks for your testimony at my trial last summer. I barely recognised the boy you described, but I’m sure that the picture you painted helped to influence my relatively short sentence, so again, my most effusive thanks.
I hope your last year at Hogwarts is going well and wish you all the best with your studies.
Once more, I am so sorry for everything. I was an absolute prick, and you didn’t deserve that.
Yours sincerely,
Draco L. Malfoy.
Hermione looked up from her letter to find the others reading their own with various expressions. Ron pulled out his wand and set his on fire, storming out of the hall as it turned to ash. Luna smiled happily, re-folded the note, and tucked it under her acorn headband with a pleased sounding hum while extinguishing Ron's almost automatically. Ginny snorted, dropped the note on the table, and followed her brother out. Harry and Neville, seated beside each other, exchanged letters, read each others, then exchanged glances, exchanged letters back, and then both folded and pocketed the parchments. Hermione picked up Ginny’s abandoned letter, on the grounds that private letters - especially those on sensitive subjects - should not be left lying around for anyone to read, and headed to the library.
She had a free period first thing, and after seating herself at her favourite table, tucked into a corner where the books referenced subjects rarely studied at Hogwarts, with the morning sun on her back, and providing herself with parchment and her preferred quill, she re-read Malfoy’s letter and thought for a long time before beginning to write.
Dear Mr Malfoy,
Thank you for your letter, and for those you sent to my friends. I am not sure many of them will reply to you, but wanted to make sure that you knew that the letters were all read, even if responded to in some very different ways.
For your own actions towards me during our younger years, I forgave you a long time ago. I find I no longer have the inclination to hold grudges for childish stupidity. Please don’t worry yourself any more about that, it’s past and done. We’ve all had much worse to worry about, after all, than some childish hexes and name-calling.
For the actions of your family, you bear no blame. My father always told me that one should never apologise for the actions of others, unless one was directly responsible for them. You were not responsible for your father, or your aunt, therefore no apology is due. In fact, I offer you my sincere thanks for your efforts to help us remain anonymous during that particular ordeal. You probably saved our lives.
For my own part, I am due no thanks for anything. I merely told the truth in court and if I had any influence on anything, I am grateful. I hope your stay in Azkaban was not too unpleasant. I understand the dementors have been removed, so that should hopefully had make things easier to deal with.
I am enjoying being at Hogwarts without the looming threat of war, yes, however I find myself lacking much challenge in the classroom. Forgive my saying this, but perhaps our rivalry was a positive thing after all! (Though I doubt Professor Snape would agree). Are you continuing with your own studies at home? That would be a good use of your house arrest time, I imagine. What NEWTS are you working towards if you are?
Yours sincerely,
Hermione J. Granger.
P.S. I am becoming aware this year of my own tendency to judge people I don’t really know based on my preconceived ideas. Perhaps we could wipe the slate clean and start over?
Hermione sent the letter before lunch, before she could change her mind. When she reached the Great Hall, Ron was already in full flow, ranting through a mouthful of cheese sandwich.
“...fucking cheek to apologise? Like an apology makes any difference for the shit he did. The whole fucking war was his fault!”
“The war was Voldemort’s fault, Ron,” Hermione sighed, taking a seat beside Neville. “I thought it was very nice of him to write and apologise to all of us. I told him that when I replied.” Ron choked on his pumpkin juice, spraying it across the table.
“Grim,” Ginny muttered, waving her wand at it.
“You replied?” Ron managed, in between coughs.
Hermione nodded calmly. “Of course I did. It’s only polite, after all.”
“He doesn’t deserve polite,” Ron muttered. “He’s a fucking piece of death eater scum.”
Hermione sighed. “Everyone deserves to be treated with politeness, Ron, otherwise what did we fight a war for?”
“Erm… because a deranged psychopath wanted us all dead?” Neville asked. Harry and Ginny both laughed at this, and Luna hummed agreement.
Ron waved it aside. “If you’ve gone and forgiven Malfoy, Hermione, you’re mental. Absolutely bonkers. And nothing you can say will change my mind.” Hermione decided she didn’t really care.
~
The eagle owl returned the following morning, with another letter addressed to Hermione.
Ron snorted. “Are you pen-pals now?” he demanded. “What does the prat want this time?”
“I won’t know until I’ve opened it, but I imagine he’s answered the questions I asked him,” Hermione said, slightly sharper than usual. “Not that it’s any of your business what my mail says, Ron!”
“It’s everyone’s business if you’ve got a Death Eater as a pen pal! He’s probably put a curse on the bloody letter!”
“If he was going to curse a letter, don’t you think it would have been the first one? What would the point be in apologising to us all if he really still wanted to kill us?”
“You never know. You can’t trust him,” Ron muttered, unable to answer these questions.
Hermione rose to her feet. “I have Runes,” she snapped, stuffing the letter into her bag.
Ron snorted again. “You’ll regret it, Hermione. You can’t trust them!” Hermione did not dignify this with a reply.
~
Hermione sank into her seat in the Ancient Runes classroom and pulled out her work, trying very hard to calm her mind. She focused on checking her homework over, feeling her anger slowly diminish as Ron and all his anger were pushed out of her brain by complex runic systems. She was so engrossed that she jumped when a voice spoke from the seat beside her.
“That was Draco’s owl, wasn’t it?”
“Merlin, Theo!” Hermione’s hand went to her chest and she scowled at the slender, dark haired Slytherin beside her. “What have I told you about making some bloody noise when you move?” she demanded.
He gave a quick, thoroughly unrepentant grin. “Sorry. But it was, wasn’t it?”
She sighed. “Yes. But I’m not in the mood for another lecture.”
He hummed sympathetically, busy pulling out his own work. “I saw Weasley having a canary about something,” he said eventually. “Figures, really. Just… are you going to write back to him?”
“I don’t know yet. I haven’t read the letter,” Hermione said, sighing. “There might be no need for a reply. Honestly, what is it with the vested interest in my correspondence today?”
“On my part? Sheer nosiness.” Theo admitted shamelessly. “But if you do write back… tell him I said hi? And also please inform him that he’s a pain in the arse and an ignorant twat, and to stop being such a fucking prat because I’m being forced to seriously consider promoting Blaise to my best mate.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Why not tell him yourself?”
“He won’t let my owl in,” Theo admitted, his smile wavering slightly. “He’s just out of Azkaban last month and well… I don’t think he’s very great, to be honest. So if he’s actually talking to someone - even if it’s you - I thought it would be worth letting him know that there’s other people who don’t hate him either.”
“How do you know I don’t hate him?”
“The owl came yesterday. You all got letters. I’m going to assume those were apologies, because I know Draco and I know how he thinks. The owl came back today. Only you got a letter. Which means only you sent anything back - or at least, anything that needed a response. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Hermione sighed again. “You’re not wrong. Which you know, because you’re too bloody smart for your own good. Though honestly, do you have nothing to do at breakfast but watch other people?” Theo shrugged.
“Not much else to do. Slytherins are thin on the ground this year, and other than you no one else speaks to me. Except Blaise, but he doesn’t do breakfast. You have to get up too early for that. So I watch people.”
Any response Hermione could have made to this was silenced by the entry of Professor Babbling, and the beginning of the class. Hermione paid attention.
After runes, she made her way back to the library and sat down at her usual table. She piled up her potions notes on one side, and then, her curiosity overcoming her, opened her mail.
Dear Granger,
I hope I can drop some formalities now that the serious business of apologising is done. Thank you for writing back to me. I appreciate your attempts to make me feel better but rest assured, I will continue to feel guilt about what my family did to you until the day I die.
You are correct that the dementors have been removed from Azkaban, however it is still without question one of the worst experiences of my entire life. And as you may be aware, I have had some fairly horrific experiences. The only thing it had going for it was that it afforded quantities of thinking time, which I spent discovering that everything that I have ever known or believed was, in fact, a lie. It was quite the awakening. I do realise that you probably won’t believe any of this, but for some reason I feel like I want to tell you anyway. It feels important that you know that I feel differently now about just about everything.
I will be completing my NEWTs at home, yes. Professor McGonagall has been kind enough to agree to send me each week’s work via owl, so I will be working on the same assessments as you are at Hogwarts. I am continuing with the subjects I was studying last year - Charms, Transfiguration, Astronomy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, and I am completing a crash course in Muggle Studies. Herbology has had to be dropped, as it does not lend itself to distance learning, but I may sit the exam anyway. Perhaps we could discuss our assignments sometime?
I will admit to wishing I was back at Hogwarts. My father is in Azkaban, my mother with cousins in France, and only the house elves and I are occupying the Manor. It’s more than a little depressing and, indeed, I am often tempted to just stay in bed. There seems little reason for doing anything more.
However, I have now got up two days in a row to write a letter. Small wins.
Regards,
Malfoy
P.S. I would like that, I think. If you feel that a clean slate is something you can give me, of all people, I will gratefully accept.
Hermione pulled a sheet of parchment towards her and began to write at once.
Dear Malfoy,
I’m so sorry to hear about Azkaban. As you had such a bad time, I’m doubly glad for any influence I had on the length of your sentence. I have found over the past months that talking to people about things is difficult, but that writing them down is often easier. If it would help you to write about what you went through at any point, please know that I will read it if that would help you feel like there is someone listening.
However, I’m pleased to hear that you’ve reconsidered your former position and opinions. It makes me feel much better about this correspondence, to know that you no longer hold the same beliefs that you used to. Do you mind me asking - what changed your mind?
Alone in a large house with just the house elves does not seem like it would be terribly fun, even without the horrors that took place there over the last few years. If I may venture to suggest some advice, given to my mother by a doctor she saw a few years back? It is this - get up every day. Get dressed, every day (probably your pure-blood sensibilities would be shocked by the idea of spending the day in your pyjamas, but just in case.) Go outside and walk around, even if it’s raining. And stick to a routine. Keep telling yourself that it’s only 5 more months - you’ve done the hardest bit in Azkaban, and you’re over half way there.
My friends think I’m insane for writing to you like this. Well, mostly Ron, really. He told me I was mental for writing to a Death Eater, and expects you to embed a curse in every letter to finish me off. I would very much appreciate it if you could refrain, purely so that he is not right. He’s intolerable when he’s right about anything. It’s one of the reasons our relationship broke up before Christmas.
Of the others, Luna, Harry, and Neville all looked pleased with your letters. Ginny less so, but then she is also a Weasley I suppose. And the Weasley-Malfoy antagonism is legendary. My apologies - I shouldn’t be bombarding you with information about my friends and their idiocy. It will hardly be interesting for you, and if nothing else, we should strive for interest in conversation, no?
Please excuse my language here - your owl was recognised and I have been asked to pass on a message. Theodore Nott would like me to tell you that he says hi. He also wants you to know that you are “a pain in the arse and an ignorant twat” and would like you to “stop being such a fucking prat, as he’s being forced to consider promoting Blaise to his best mate”. So that’s that. Message passed on. If it’s not overstepping the mark, I think he’s worried about you and would like you to get in touch. I hope this helps to clear up what I said about finding my preconceived ideas of people were wrong.
Looking forward to hearing from you. What do you think of the current runes assignment?
Regards,
Hermione.
The following morning, the eagle owl swooped down on the table and Hermione removed an envelope from it’s leg and, as with the previous days, gave it a sausage. Ron snorted. This time, however, rather than leaving, it relocated to the Slytherin table where it landed in front of Theo. She watched him take the other envelope, looking slightly surprised, and then giggled as the owl pecked at him repeatedly until he gave it another sausage. He looked up and met her eyes, making a rueful face. Ron snorted again. Hermione swung round to face him.
“Are you getting a cold, Ron? You should go to the infirmary.”
“No, I’m just disgusted by you - not only are you continuing this ridiculous correspondence with Malfoy, but you also now seem to have something going on with Nott?”
Hermione sighed. “I’ve been working with Theo since September, Ron. We’re in all the same classes. We sit together all the time. You know that. You’ve seen us together!”
“It doesn’t mean you start flirting with each other across the Hall! Fucking snake bastard. Working with him in class is one thing but if he starts making a move on you then…”
“I wasn’t flirting!” Hermione interrupted furiously, trying to keep her voice low. “And even if I was, what exactly has it got to do with you?”
“You can’t flirt with fucking Slytherins! You can’t write to them, you can’t smile at them, you can’t be fucking friends with them! What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with us?”As he raised his voice, the noise level dropped and people around the hall began to watch them. Ginny and Neville were looking back and forth between them, anxiously. Harry was staring at the table. Across the room, Theo was holding a slice of toast in mid air, his blue eyes trained on Ron.
Hermione bit her lip. “There is nothing wrong with me, or you, and for the last time, I am not flirting! I can have friends in other houses, Ron! You have friends in other houses!” she indicated Luna, who beamed cheerfully and smoothed down her Ravenclaw tie.
“That’s not the same. They’re Slytherins.”
Hermione fought the urge to make an extremely frustrated noise and slam something on the table. Possibly Ron’s head. “They are just people! And smart people, too! Do you want to discuss the similarities and differences between ancient Norse runes and modern Celtic? No, you’d tell me to stop being such a swot and have some fun! Theo actually talks to me about things we’re both interested in, rather than telling me to play Exploding Snap instead!” Behind Ron, she saw Theo approaching slowly, his eyes dancing with mischief, and closed her own briefly in dread at what he was about to do. She felt that whatever it was, it was unlikely to improve the situation. “So for the last time, Ron, I will speak - or write - to whomever I want! I do not need your permission!”
Theo had reached the table and bowed very properly to Luna and Ginny in greeting, before turning to Hermione. “Good morning Hermione. My apologies for interrupting such a fascinating conversation. Weasley, you are very red. Are you sure you’re quite well? Hermione, if you still want to look over that paper before Arithmancy, we should go. May I accompany you?” He held out his arm, his face perfectly straight but his eyes brimming with suppressed mirth. Hermione, with a single glance at Ron (who looked almost apoplectic) took his arm and allowed him to walk her out of the hall. She waited until they were well clear before she pulled away and aimed a slap at him which he dodged easily despite giving in to his suppressed laughter.
“You arse, you did that deliberately! Do you not think he’s hard enough to deal with without you winding him up?”
Theo gave up all attempts at solemnity and his mirth infected her, so for a few minutes they giggled madly together in the corridor. “I’m sorry,” he managed eventually. “But it’s just so easy and he’s so much fun to annoy. Did you see his face when I asked him if he was ill?” He was overtaken by another fit of laughter, then pulled himself together with what seemed to be a great effort. “Anyway - I thought I’d let you see this. I’m presuming you passed on my message?”
“Word for word,” Hermione confirmed, taking the parchment he held out. It was a very brief. In the handwriting she’d come to recognise, it said,
Nott,
Fuck you in particular. Also Zabini.
Malfoy.
“Well, it’s something,” she said doubtfully, handing it back.
Theo beamed at it almost fondly. “It’s Draco. I’m sending a letter with yours today,” he told her as they started walking again. “Even if all he sends back is abuse, I want him to know that there’s someone out here not wishing him dead. We are free after lunch, aren’t we? I’ll join you in the library for a spot of Malfoy morale boosting.”
“I didn’t say I was writing today,” Hermione objected. He snorted. Hermione was getting very tired of men snorting at her today, and glared at him. He was unaffected.
“Of course you are. You’ve made him a project.”
“No, I haven’t. Really. I just… I feel bad for him. He tried to reach out and apologise and most of my friends just don’t want to know. I feel like when he’s made the effort, that’s a bit rubbish.” Theo hummed in agreement. “I guess if having someone to talk to about stuff helps him over the next five months while he’s stuck in his house, I don’t mind taking the time to write a few letters.”
“As I said. Malfoy morale boosting is go.”