Meet Me In The Broom Cupboard

Chapter Thirteen: Eighth Year, August

A cool breeze blew through the airy Astronomy Tower and ruffled the fur of Hermione's blanket. She drew it tighter around her shoulders and brightened the light at the tip of her wand as she continued to read. It had been a no brainer when McGonagall asked if she wanted to come back to Hogwarts and finish her studies, but without Ron and Harry it didn't feel the same. She knew this would be the case, they always wanted to finish as soon as possible where she relished in studying, but living at Hogwarts without them was tougher than she imagined.

Not to mention the fact that Draco hadn't spoken to her since the war ended. As she had left him to go back into the Great Hall she knew he wouldn't follow, he would be taken into custody at the Ministry to await his trial, but she at least expected a proper goodbye.

When Harry asked if she would speak at his trial she accepted, knowing they would both essentially sing his praises and demand he'd be cleared of all charges after helping them at the Battle of Hogwarts.

She didn't expect Draco to avoid her gaze like she didn't exist. She didn't expect him to ignore the letters she sent to him when she found out he had been cleared and was back at Malfoy Manor with his mother, who had also been cleared after Harry explained that he would not have defeated Voldemort without her help.

'Miss Granger.' A gentle voice said behind her, pulling her from her thoughts.

'Headmaster.' She said in greeting, turning to see McGonagall with a sad smile on her face.

'I thought I'd be alone if I came up here.' Her old Professor confessed, joining Hermione at the railings. Hermione stood, placing her book back in her school bag and offered McGonagall a blanket, which was politely declined.

'I like the view up here.' Hermione said.

'So do I, dear. Are you ready for the students to arrive tomorrow?'

'I should be. Though I am eager to see if you've picked a Head Boy to help me, I don't know if I can do it alone.'

The Headmaster smiled again, a glint in her eye that Hermione could not decipher. 'I have sent the letter, but have not received a reply as of yet.'

'Are you going to tell me who you picked, or is it going to be a surprise.' Hermione asked, knowing the answer.

'I will let you know if or when they accept.'

'I should probably go to bed, I've stayed out past curfew long enough.' Hermione said, picking up her bag from the floor.

'Perks of being Head Girl, Miss Granger.' McGonagall said, patting Hermione on the shoulder as she headed for the stairs.

Hermione made her way to her quarters, thankful for her last night of quiet before all of the students arrived tomorrow. After accepting her place back at Hogwarts she'd spent the last month helping all of the teachers rebuild the school. She'd needed a place to live after overstaying her welcome at the Burrow.

Though there was no awkwardness between her and Ron, and Mrs Weasley loved having her around, it was too much to handle as they dealt with the loss of Fred and everyone else who had died in the war. She needed to keep busy and there was no better way than to rebuild a half destroyed castle.

When she arrived back in her quarters she didn't go to bed straight away, instead making a cup of tea and curling up on the sofa and trying to figure out who the Head Boy could be.

It was late now, gone midnight, but an owl flew up to her window and tapped on the glass. She got up from her warm spot on the sofa and opened the window for him to fly in. The owl stayed outside, sticking out its leg so that Hermione could remove the letter, and taking off after a swift pet on the head. There was no name on the front so she tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment.

Granger,

Please accept this as an apology for my silence these past few months.

We'll talk soon.

Trust me,
Malfoy

She let out a huge sigh, throwing the letter down on the coffee table and storming to bed. She would have been less angry if he never wrote her back. It had been a month since her last letter and she'd only written it as a last chance for him to respond to her, so she had given up waiting for a reply after a few days.

Still angry, and fully clothed, she fell asleep and dreamed of the broom cupboard.