Disclaimer: all characters and the wider wizarding world belong to J. K. Rowling.

The summer after the Battle of Hogwarts had been one of extremes.

The devastating toll on wizarding Britain was difficult to avoid with the funerals of so many on both sides following the victory in quick succession. Hermione had worn her black dress and sensible black shoes more times than she'd care to remember. She thought nothing could be more heartbreaking than Fred's funeral a week after the battle, but she was mistaken. The following day she attended the joint funerals of Remus and Tonks. Little Teddy Lupin cried throughout the service, wrapped up in his grandmother's arms. They were laid to rest next to Ted Tonks. The earth still hadn't settled. Andromeda had sat stoically, stroking her grandson's hair as he wailed. Ron had held Hermione's hand and stroked her hair as she cried herself to sleep on the Weasley's sofa that night, Ginny and Harry curled up on the oversized armchair. Mrs Weasley didn't even have the heart to tell them to go to their rooms, impropriety be damned.

On the flip side, the charity work, the rebuilding, the press appearances, the presentation of the Order of Merlin and the balls and parties allowed everyone to fully celebrate for the first time in years. The Obliviators had their hands full (even if no formal charges were brought despite the clouds over Bristol remaining bright green for nearly two days) and the healers at St Mungo's took out several full-page ads warning of the dangers of apparating after too many firewhiskeys.

The Auror department, with help from senior Order members, had rounded up most of the remaining Death Eaters. A small number remained at large, including Dolohov, the Lestrange brothers and Theodore Nott Sr. who had fled the country. Posters with their faces detailing their many crimes were quickly covered with bunting and fliers for charity events. Wizarding Britain wanted to move on.

Hermione, with the help of the Australian Ministry for Magic, quickly located Wendell and Monica Wilkins and restored her parents' memories. The reunion had been difficult; Jean and Richard Granger were furious their daughter had gone off to war and sent them on their merry way, but after several hours of shouting, crying and many cups of tea, they'd understood. Harry and Ron waited nervously on the porch of the Wilkins residence in Melbourne, re-casting a silencing spell every hour or so until Hermione had re-emerged in the early hours of the morning and said they could head home. Her parents had understood, and they had forgiven, but they'd also built a life here in Australia and whilst she was secretly hurt, she thought it would be better. After all, they could never truly integrate with her world and she was never going back to living like a muggle so perhaps the distance would make the transition less awkward. She arranged to have their home masked with every protection known to wizarding kind and promised to visit as often as she could get a portkey.

Hermione and Ron had spent the summer at the Burrow. Their relationship had blossomed and they snuck off to be alone as frequently as the many Weasley family members would allow, exploring young love and experiencing many firsts (for Hermione, at least).

But despite the summer reprieve, Hermione still had difficulty with the fact that Ron had abandoned her and Harry during the last year and Ron had difficulty understanding half of what Hermione said. They had struggled on for a couple of months, but they had fought more than they'd enjoyed one another's company and in the end they had agreed they made much better friends than partners and broken it off amicably. Ron struggled with the change at first, and Hermione had packed up to leave but after stern words from Mrs Weasley everyone had agreed it was better they stick together.

Harry and Ginny had picked up exactly where they left off. Mrs Weasley encouraged them wherever possible but had to be calmed down by her husband when Harry had asked for Ginny's name to be added to both the Potter vault at Gringotts and the deed for Grimmauld Place.

Senior Order members had visited the Burrow several times over the summer. McGonagall had shared her and the new Minister's idea to re-do the last year of Hogwarts in its entirety, inviting all the muggleborns who should have been in attendance last year and just having a bumper first year. It was the only way to be sure everyone had a fair chance to get their qualifications. The howlers from parents whose children had attended last year only stopped when Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville gave an exclusive interview to Witch Weekly on how they were all going to be attending next year, completing their 7th and final year in its entirety, as well as Ginny, who would be repeating her 6th year. There would be no shortcuts for the Golden Trio and the other young war heroes.

Hermione had been offered the position of Head Girl. Her prefect position was to be offered to Harry in her stead, in a break from the norm, a clear nod from McGonagall for everything he had done. The Head Boy position would be taken by Michael Corner of Ravenclaw who had also confirmed his attendance. Ron grumbled that it should have been either Harry or him, a little too loudly to be polite in McGonagall's presence, but one stern look from Molly Weasley and he quickly let it be, claiming he was just happy it wasn't a Slytherin, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

So it was, on a sunny morning in August a quartet of letters arrived with the Weasley's copy of the Daily Prophet. Hermione was laying the table for breakfast while Molly busied herself in the kitchen – always the first to rise in the Weasley household, she had quickly tried to make herself as useful as possible. The Order of Merlin may have come with a nice reward for both her and the Weasleys but she was never one to take their hospitality for granted. She thanked the owl at the window with a couple of owl treats as she untied the bundle of post.

Mrs Weasley emerged from the kitchen "Breakfast is nearly ready, everyone up!"

Hermione skipped over to where Mrs Weasley stood at the foot of the stairs and added her voice to the wake-up call "Our Hogwarts letters have arrived!"

Their calls were answered by thunderous shouts and slamming doors. Satisfied that they were at least up, both women smiled at each other as Herimione passed Molly the rolled-up paper and returned to setting the table. Molly took the paper and untied the string, allowing it to spring flat on the table and gasped. The colour drained from her face and she looked over at Hermione with sad eyes.

Hermione crossed the room and looked down.

"MALFOY TRIAL STARTS TOMORROW – Date finally set for trial of Voldemort's second in command and family"

Just beneath the headline, smirking at her from the black and white picture were the faces of the Malfoys and, in an inset to the right, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was laughing maniacally but her eyes never even blinked. Hermione was sure those eyes would follow her anywhere she was in the room.

Hermione was vaguely aware of someone pushing her down into a chair as her breathing became erratic.

"What happened?" Ron demanded as he came bounding down the stairs. Mrs Weasley indicated the paper which still lay on the table. He took one look before marching over to Hermione and kneeling by her chair, pulling her into his arms as he stroked her hair.

"It's ok, it's over. She's gone, she can't hurt you anymore," he whispered. He continued to murmur reassuring words while she concentrated on steadying her breathing. When she could once again breathe normally, she lifted her hands to wipe her face and caught a glimpse of her forearm, making her pause again.

The healers had done everything they could think of. "If you'd sought help sooner we might have been able to counteract the curse in the blade," one particularly stern Mediwitch had told her. She had laughed at that; as if she could have walked into St Mungo's last year. They'd made some suggestions of experimental treatments she could try, or a glamour she could cast daily, but she'd just got up and walked out. At least by this time next year the scar would not be angry and red. She would just have to make sure to wear long sleeves at Hogwarts until then.

Harry, Ginny, George and Arthur had joined them in the kitchen by the time she had calmed down. They'd seen the paper and looked at her with understanding eyes.

"I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to get all flustered like that and ruin breakfast for everyone."

"Nonsense!" Molly countered, as she came sweeping from the kitchen with platters filled high with eggs, bacon, sausages, beans and toast. "I usually have to cast warming charms because the boys didn't get up early enough, there's no harm done."

The platters settled on the table and everyone settled down and tucked in.

"Can you pass the sausages, Gin?"

"Ron – must you check every single piece of toast before selecting one?"

"But I like to make sure I get the least burnt bit!"

"I'm sure I didn't hear you complaining about my cooking, Ronald!"

"What?? No, mum, 'course not!"

The clamour was quickly replaced by the contented silence of people eating. Hermione was glad of the normality. She had been doing so well, but she was sure the nightmare would return tonight. She could always take some Dreamless Sleep, but she was adamant that she wanted to be completely off the draught by the time she went back to Hogwarts and she wasn't about to let something as silly as a picture in the paper set her back.

Once the breakfast dishes had been cleared away, Harry looked pensive. His eyebrows knit together and Ginny had to call him three times to get him to come outside with her. Hermione might not have been on top form but something was bothering him. She kicked Ron under the table.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What's up with Harry?" she enquired. Maybe they'd discussed something in their room late last night and she hadn't been brought up to speed yet.

"Dunno. You're usually better at that sort of stuff, aren't you?" Ron grumbled as he rubbed his shin.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him outside after Ginny and Harry. They were half-way to the makeshift Quidditch pitch by the time they caught up with them. She shared a couple of looks with Ginny that immediately told her the red-head was in cahoots with whatever was eating him up and that she would have to get it direct from him so they just settled in to a comfortable walking pace beside them. When they reached the pitch, Ginny dragged Ron away to get some brooms from the shed while Hermione and Harry sat on a tree stump.

Ever since the trials had begun several weeks ago he'd known this was coming. It had kept him up for several nights, his conscience warring with the memory of his teenage spat – he was falling asleep over his breakfast before Ginny finally cornered him and demanded that he tell her. She'd listened to his reasoning – Narcissa was the reason he was alive, and Draco had lied about who they were at the Manor – and she'd agreed with every word, and promised to support him when it came to dealing with Ron and Hermione.

"Ok, spill. What's on your mind?"

Harry looked up then. He looked directly into Hermione's eyes and tried to read her. He knew this would be hardest on her but it was the right thing to do. He'd been thinking about how to approach her about it – he knew it would appeal to her sense of right and wrong, and ordinarily Ron would have been the harder one to get on-side, but with her history with the Malfoys and their extended family he had deliberately put off this conversation for weeks. The episode this morning couldn't have come at a worse time. It was now or never.

"Hermione…I've been thinking." He hesitated, then dragged his hand through his messy hair as if the right words might fall from the tangle of black.

"Go on Harry. This morning was….a blip. I've been so much better lately so whatever it is you can tell me."

"I…Ithinkweshouldgiveevidence," he blurted.

Hermione looked at him and blinked. He clearly needed to be more explicit. Taking a deep breath he tried again.

"I think we should give evidence. For the Malfoys."

Now she understood why he'd been so hesitant. Well, that was a relief, this she could do.

"I couldn't agree more, Harry. Lucius might be a nasty piece of work but Narcissa lied to Voldemort for you – I mean, can you imagine how hard it must have been to keep him out of her mind at that point – and Draco was lowering his wand in the Astronomy tower – you said so yourself – and who threatens a 16 year old boy with the murder of his entire family if he doesn't kill one of the most powerful wizards in history? Not to mention that he refused to identify us at the Manor and-"

"Woah Hermione, take a breath!" Harry interjected. They smiled at each other as she did as instructed.

"So you're ok with this? I mean, the Wizengamot might have a lot more friendly faces on it than it did before the war but it's still going to be hard work, they'll want all the details, memory evidence too." Harry looked at his friend as she turned to watch the returning Weasleys with their hands full of brooms.

"I know Harry. I didn't say it would be easy but it's the right thing to do."

"What's the right thing to do?"

Hermione turned to Harry and smiled. A silent understanding passed between them – this wasn't going to be easy. Hermione tipped her head slightly in Ginny's direction and Harry nodded. At least they were all on the same page.

"Hermione and I are going to give evidence at the Malfoy trial tomorrow."

The silence was deafening. Hermione stood slowly as she stared at Ron's face, the red spreading up his neck and face. He was struggling to control himself. The broom fell from his hands as he started making fists, his knuckles white with the strain of it.

"Ron, I-"

"You've got to be joking, right?"

He sounded surprisingly calm. This wasn't a good sign. Explosive Ron they could handle. He was trying to hold back – and that just meant they were delaying the inevitable.

"Hermione, just this morning you were having a panic attack at the sight of her picture and you want to give evidence at a full Wizengamot hearing, where they'll want you to give memory evidence, make you relive the whole thing. Are you mad? You can't do this, it shouldn't be allowed, they don't know what this will cost, they won't be the ones to put you back together, I won't let you-"

"You won't let me?" Hermione knew this wasn't helping matters, her voice had lost all of the conciliatory tone she had started with but as he'd continued to talk she just saw red.

"Who do you think you are? You won't let me give evidence in a trial for people who, however unpleasant they may have been, saved our lives – Harry's on more than one occasion – and ultimately led to Voldemort's downfall? I have news for you, Ronald Weasley, I don't need your permission to do anything and tomorrow morning I will be in the Ministry giving evidence in the hope that they won't sentence the entire family to life in Azkaban!"

"Why? Let them rot there, 'Mione. After what they did – Malfoy deserves everything he gets, the little ferret was always a git. Or would you rather focus on what they didn't do – they just watched while you were tortured on their drawing room floor!"

"Ron, don't you think you're being a little insensitive?" Ginny tried in vain to stop him from going too far. She knew the Weasley temper was just heating up. She dropped her broom and started pulling on his arm and looked pleadingly at her boyfriend. Harry quickly picked up on the signals and, putting an arm around Hermione he tried to turn her around to the house. It was no good, he would never get her out of earshot in time.

"I'll bet Narcissa had the elves put down a big rug, so she never has to tell her pure-blood friends she has mudblood stains on the floor!"

Harry would tell Ginny later (prompting a giggling fit that she had some difficulty controlling) that Hermione's punches had – amazingly – improved since third year.

Before he knew what was happening, Ron was sprawled on the floor nursing a broken nose. The blood spattered on Hermione's knuckles filled in the blank for him. The rage he'd been channelling just moments before seeped from him as he lay there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, staring into the furious, sparkling eyes of his best friend. He felt sick, and the colour drained from his face as she turned around and walked back to the house without saying a word.

"Bloody hell."

"Yeah," muttered Harry. "That about covers it."

By the time Ginny, Harry and Ron made their way back to the house, after a quick spell to fix a broken nose and clear away the blood, Mrs Weasley was stood in the kitchen, hands on hips waiting for them. Ron at least had the sense to look bashful as Ginny and Harry exchanged looks.

"Will someone please explain to me why Hermione just thanked me for my hospitality and started packing her things?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. Sometimes Hermione could be just as dramatic as her idiotic brother.

"You stay here and make sure he tells at least some version of the truth!" Ginny was already half way up the stairs by the time she finished.

Ron paled under his mother's gaze. He swallowed hard and stared at the floor, the walls, the ceilings.

"I might have been a bit, well….I was a bit cross, but really, she's overreacting…and I had every right to be cross, really, I mean, I don't know what Harry was thinking bringing up that trial, especially after this morning."

Molly's gaze fell on Harry, who blushed. He would remember to thank Ron later for deflecting some of the blame.

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked from Ron's pleading face to Mrs Weasley's kind but firm stare.

"Hermione and I are going to the trial tomorrow, to give evidence. We think it's the right thing to do," he started. When Mrs Weasley didn't say anything he continued, "I know the Malfoys have been horrible – believe me, I know – but Narcissa lied to save me and Draco is the same age as us, we were just children. I doubt I can say anything to save Lucius – Merlin knows, I can't think of a single reason to – but it would be wrong if we didn't speak up.

"Hermione agrees with me but Ron, um, I mean, we had a slight disagreement about it," he added, looking over at Ron.

Molly observed the two boys – no, men – standing in front of her. Despite both being taller than she was by now, they avoided her gaze as they looked mostly at the floor but occasionally met each other's eyes.

It was difficult for her to bite her tongue when it came to the Malfoys. Narcissa had always been cruel to her and her family, and Lucius' campaign against her husband had been the cause of many a sleepless night of worry. She wasn't at all surprised when their son had turned on hers, and his friends. But Harry had said Hermione agreed with him – it was the right thing to do. The war could so easily have broken these young people, but despite all that they'd been through here they were talking about the right thing to do. She couldn't help it, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Right. Well. I shan't be overjoyed if you succeed in gaining them any clemency but I'm so very proud of you for thinking it."

Ron slowly raised his head, a confused look scrunching up his face. He was sure he must have misheard.

"Mum, did you hear right? He said the Malfoys. You know, the ones who've had it in for our family for forever. You can't be serious!"

Molly took her son's face in her hands – she used to do it when he was a child, to make sure he was really paying attention.

"Ronald, I would walk over hot coals for my children. That woman lied to Voldemort's face. Even I have to admit that took guts, and should be taken into account. I'm not going to suggest we have them over for Christmas but what we need now is to move on. Too many years of war, too much loss, too much pain. We need peace, forgiveness."

She wiped the tears from her eyes using the bottom of her apron and returned her hands to her hips so as to make clear she meant business.

"So, Ron, Harry, both of you go and get your best shirts, I'll need to iron them if we're to appear at the Wizengamot tomorrow!"