Draco stares at her face in slight disbelief, before his gaze drops to her outstretched hand. Welcome to Hogwarts again, she has said, as though it's that simple. Extend a hand to your once enemy, forgive his transgressions, and all is right in the world. Most of Draco's life has never been this easy, but then again, Hogwarts itself has welcomed him home.

He looks into her eyes again, and takes her hand. A truce. "Thank you," he says, sincerity rolling of his tongue like they belong, awkward as it may seem. To be allowed to return, to right his wrong in the way he knows — through actions, not words. It starts here, shaking Granger's hand and looking at her in the eye.

"I heard that you're Hogwarts' Potions Master," he says.

The brightest witch of her age, they've all said. Beyond the cracked mirrors of his fallible past, there's nothing in Draco's memories that would make him doubt her capabilities. Anger and envy once occupied his thoughts whenever he looked her way, the very existence of a witch that could've — and did — dismantle long held notions of blood purity and supremacy, the very core his family's beliefs. And yet, when he looks at her now, he sees more or less someone who is just like him — born of magic, capable of great feats, with human emotions. Someone on equal footing, just making their mark on the world one step at a time.

Someone who has seen the best and worst of what their world has to offer, but has come out strong, standing in front of him with a hand outstretched despite what his presence could possibly entail for her, if the tone of her voice as she speaks is anything to go by.

"Congratulations, as late as it is," he says, to start.