Chapter Text
Hermione wasn’t sure what she was expecting after the end of the war. She’d tried to imagine the future in the months she’d spent on the run with Harry and Ron, and mainly, she thought about how nice it would be to not be terrified. Hermione thought about other things, too – whether she’d be able to restore her parents’ memories, which takeaway she would order the first time she could have it again. But she’d never allowed herself to consider the possibilities of what life would be like if they hadn’t won. Maybe she had understood that if Harry couldn’t defeat Voldemort, she’d simply be dead. And so she’d only entertained dreams about what her life would look like after they were victorious.
Now she looked out the window of the Hogwarts Express, barely taking in the countryside she’d passed so many times before. When she was a completely different person.
This was an outcome she thought of often when she checked the protective wards around their campground or parsed through the book their late Headmaster willed to her. She always thought there would be a good chance she’d return to Hogwarts for her final year – she was unsure what to call it – seventh year? Eighth? It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been there last school year. There wasn’t much learning going on during that time – not the kind she was interested in, and certainly not the kind that qualified students for exams and jobs. Not that any of that seemed particularly relevant during a war.
But this return to Hogwarts to finish out her schooling was under circumstances she hadn’t considered in any of her possible scenarios. She’d expected Harry and Ron to be with her like they’d always been. She never expected to take her final first ride on the train without them sitting next to her in their compartment, but they’d been interested in a future that all of them were already far too well prepared for. The program Kingsley had offered for them to enroll in acknowledged that their understanding of defending against the dark arts went far beyond what most regular Hogwarts graduates had when applying to become an Auror. They had begun their training to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement the week before she left for school.
Hermione knew that she could’ve joined them. It wasn’t a secret that she, too, was overqualified in that area of specialty. Yet none of them were surprised that she’d decided to return to school. She always liked doing things by the book, and it only made sense to her that she see her education through as she always thought she would – before the war. When Kingsley told the three of them about the program at the beginning of July, Hermione wasn’t shocked that Ron and Harry readily accepted, just like they knew she’d more than likely turn it down. She was excited for them and they supported her choice to return to school.
And yet none of them could’ve possibly expected the news that had come two days prior – a Ministry decree that would impact all three of them immediately, despite the fact that the boys were already starting their careers and Hermione was still a year from doing the same. They were all of age, after all.
It was another bludger Hermione never considered, yet couldn’t be completely surprised by. Kingsley himself gave them the news a couple of hours before the rest of the world heard. A perk of being so well-connected to the rebuilding Ministry, made up and run largely by members of the Order.
The kitchen of the Burrow sat in anxious silence as Mr. Weasley asked them to come sit down, flanked by acting Minister Shacklebolt. And he had certainly ensured they were in fact sitting down as he explained to them that, as was to be expected, the Ministry had come up with an idea after thinking for months about how best to address the issues in a post-war wizarding world. Most notably, of the losses to the wizarding population and the lack of civility between people who’d fought, or even associated, with the other side. Both of the two forces had lost hundreds – and the survivors struggled to see their peers as individuals. The majority of surviving free witches and wizards were sticking with those they’d fought beside. Even though the worst of Voldemort’s living followers had been tried and punished for their war crimes, it was impossible to ignore one’s past association with such a cause. Hermione was inclined to try to forgive those who hadn’t been sent to Azkaban, but she herself had run into Theodore Nott when she picked up her books last week, and promptly bolted. To her knowledge, he never took the mark – she didn’t even remember seeing him at the final battle. And yet being a Slytherin from her year seemed a good enough reason to associate him with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange. Even if Hermione knew, logically, he was probably nothing at all like Voldemort’s deranged and faithful servant.
So no, Hermione was not surprised that the Ministry was undertaking some sort of initiative to mitigate the post-war issues. But honestly, she expected something more along the lines of an annual gala. A few large donations from “reformed” Death Eaters to worthy causes. Not anything like what the Ministry had actually come up with.
And so yes, Hermione sat staring out the window of the train without taking in any of the passing scenery. She glanced around her compartment at Ginny, Luna and Neville, wondering if they’d been thinking the same thing she was. How the fuck could all of them possibly be expected to be married at this time next year?