Between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger and Severus Snape as romantic.
The once grand halls of Hogwarts still whispered with the echoes of battle, the laughter of children mingled with the silent screams of the paintings. It was here, between the restored walls of the greatest wizarding school, that Draco Malfoy returned, head bowed, not in defeat but heavy with the burden of his family name. He felt every stare, heard the murmurs that followed him like a shadow, clung to his heels with every step he took.
Hermione Granger, on the other hand, was greeted with smiles and nods, the heroine who, alongside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, had saved them all. But her brown eyes held a depth of sorrow that had not been there before. The war had taken its toll on everyone, but some scars were not visible and some victories came at a great cost.
Draco’s return to Hogwarts had been a decision laden with trepidation. His mother's soft voice echoed in his mind, "You need to finish your education, Draco. It's the first step to rebuilding." But could one really rebuild what had been so thoroughly shattered? He walked the halls with his usual aloofness, the mask that had always shielded him, but now it seemed unnervingly transparent.
Professor McGonagall had initiated the War Reconciliation Committee to heal the rifts that still plagued the wizarding society. Hermione, with her insatiable drive for justice and equality, had been the first to volunteer, and Draco had been... persuaded. McGonagall had made it all but compulsory for him, a part of his path to redemption.
It was during one of their meetings that Draco found himself, for the first time, truly acknowledging Hermione Granger. Not as the mudblood his father had disdainfully referred to her as, not as the insufferable know-it-all he had teased, but as someone who held as much pain as he did, yet could still look toward the future with determination. When they were assigned paired work on the reconciliation protocol, their interactions were stiff, formal, but simmering beneath the surface was a begrudging respect.
Severus Snape watched the proceedings from the back of the room, hidden in the shadows. He was presumed dead by most, saved by his own cunning and a hefty dose of phoenix tears. Dumbledore's last request had anchored him to life, a life now bound to watch over the boy he had sworn to protect—no, not a boy anymore, Snape corrected himself—a young man carrying the weight of a world that had been both cruel and merciful to him.
It was during a cool October evening in the library that the tension between Draco and Hermione shifted. A soft "I'm sorry," slipped from Draco's lips, unbidden, raw, as his finger traced the spine of an old grimoire. Hermione had looked up, her expression unreadable for a long heart-stopping moment, before nodding almost imperceptibly, "We've all lost something, Malfoy."
Their project led them into the depths of the Restricted Section, where dusty tomes held forgotten secrets. It was there that they found the memoir, bound in serpent leather. A Death Eater's confessions that were never meant for the eyes of the world. A window into the life of a man who had worn a mask much like Draco's own, whose pain echoed through his scrawled words, words that spoke of darkness, but also of redemption.
Draco's and Hermione's gazes met as they leafed through the brittle pages, and something unspoken passed between them. Perhaps it was the realization that understanding could be found in the most unlikely of places, or that the line between good and evil was more blurred than either had cared to admit. But that evening, as they walked back to their respective common rooms, there was a palpable change—a silent agreement that though the war had ended, their battles had not, and perhaps, they did not have to face them alone.
The moonlight cast a silver glow on the castle turrets as Snape retreated into the darkness, a silent guardian to the fragile hope that flickered in the night.