Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Believe me if I owned them I wouldn't be doing this.

The worst phrase Hermione Granger thought she had ever heard in her short 18 year old lifespan was "You don't know what you've got until it's gone."

She thought it was an incredibly stupid thing to say. What if the person already knew what they had and it was taken away from them any way? Does that make that person's pain any less valid? Does it somehow make everything better when someone tells you that stupid overused, clichéd phrase?

No

Of course not.

Pain is pain. There was no way to measure it against another person's. And the fact that someone would trivialize and reduce it into a meaningless nine-word sentence made her blood practically boil. What did other people know about her pain? Did other people grow up thinking that their parents were loving and honest people only to find out they were merely pawns in an overall hideously overused plot?

No she would say that the average human being did not experience that particular event in their lifetime.

Did other people unknowingly start fighting in a war when they were merely a child?

Nope-she couldn't think of a single normal person that did that either.

….

You don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Godric, what an absolutely deplorable thing to say to someone who had lost something important to him or her.

In this particular instance, Hermione Granger had felt like she had lost everything.

The war had been hell-like all wars are. But her side had emerged victorious and the light had defeated the dark. Voldemort was dead and most death eaters had been sentenced to Azkaban or stripped of their magic and banned from the Magical world. Her best friends had survived and she even saw a glimmering shimmer of a romance with the boy that she had harbored a secret crush on for years. For the first time in years, during those first few days after the battle of Hogwarts-Hermione felt something she hadn't in a very long time. Hope.

Hope for a brighter future for her friends-especially Harry. She could think of no better person who deserved a happy life than her best friend.

Hope for Ron to admit that he had felt the same for her, which she had for him for all these years.

Hope for muggle born acceptance in the magical community to be unilateral. Rather than just a "radical idea"

And hope for her. That she could finally be at peace and accepted and loved in a world that she had loved with all of her being.

But much like the despicable aforementioned phrase. Hermione had learned that hope was now her least favorite word. It was an awful emotion that she never wished to feel again. Her hope had shattered her in these past 3 months of summer. Nothing would ever be the same again.

…

At least for her they wouldn't for Hermione.

Nothing would be good again.

Everything was lost.

…

Hermione flicked the ashes of her cigarette to the cement as she sat on a lone bench in the middle of muggle London. All the while pondering these dark thoughts that seeped into her mind.

Hope and lies. Hope and lies.

She lifted her petite hand to her mouth and took a long and deep drag of the lit poison that rested between her fingers. Letting the hot smoke fill her lungs, reveling in the burning in her chest. She looked back at the past years of her life. All her sacrifices for the greater good seemed, well, wasted. Her childhood had been sacrificed to war and suffering-and there was no getting it back. Here she was, an 18-year-old young woman and she honestly couldn't think of a single time in the past 5 years where she wasn't overtly concerned with her safety.

Merlin- this fucking sucks.

She took another drag of her cigarette. She knew it was a poisonous awful disgusting habit. And if Hermione of a year ago could see what she was presently doing, she most likely would have thrown a hissy fit and launched into a long and tedious lecture about lung health.

Predictable that's what she was. Horribly and horrifically predictable, sure she knew herself better than anyone but honestly thoughts like these were just annoying.

"Miss?" A sharp voice behind her snapped her out of her depressing inner monologue. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find a middle-aged woman glaring at her. "You know there is no smoking here?" The woman asked, raising an overgrown eyebrow and pursing her wrinkled thin lips.

Hermione merely shrugged and took another drag of her cigarette to let the woman know she didn't care.

"It's a horrible disgusting habit you know!" The woman's exclaimed shrilly. Hermione winced, knowing that a few months ago she would have said the exact same thing.

"Yes, I know." Hermione agreed quietly. She took another drag and exhaled slowly. "But I don't honestly care." She turned around to let the woman know she was done with the conversation. She heard a loud scoff and then mumbling about "lack of respect" and "rotten kids these days"

Again. Hermione found that she didn't care.

She didn't care about much these days.

And she felt freer than she had in years.

Flicking the last of her now smoldering cigarette to the ground. She stood up, smirked, and turned right. Towards King's Cross

.

The train should be boarding any minute now.

Now to see if anyone dared to mess with Hermione Granger, or more accurately due to recent revelations-Hermione Riddle.

A/N: I know this plot is horrifically overused but trust me this will be worth it!. Please review I want to know if this sucks! This story will be 50 chapters long and updates are weekly!

Love ya!

-S