Prologue:

I have this faint sense of nostalgia.

-*-

Hermione Granger had always been known as a girl who possessed both sense and sensibility. She was bursting full of pride, loyalty, knowledge, and compassion. She was the essence of Gryffindor and to her two best friends, she meant the world as they were to her.

After decades of strife and lingering dissonance and hatred, Voldemort was finally defeated. He would not be back to terrorize the Wizarding world in a third war and Harry Potter and the Order could finally rest in peace. After the final battle, it seemed that nothing could go wrong and everything was finally beginning to calm down and go the way it was supposed to be.

They could finally live the lives they were always meant to live. They were free. They were no longer bound by duty, name, or the weight of a lightning bolt scar.

Yet, one year to the anniversary of Lord Voldemort's timely death, Hermione Granger disappeared.

-*-

"How many times do I have to tell you that the packets of brown sugar go next to the packets of white sugar?"

Viola Reine stared pointedly at the now blushing waitress as she reorganized the shelf, turning her back to the girl, "Honestly," she muttered to herself, "You'd think I was asking her to perform magic or something."

Satisfied with the state of the cabinet, she turned back around to address the girl, her brow furrowing in irritation when she realized that the newly hired waitress had scurried into the front of the café, pretending to clean tables, clearly wishing to avoid the now cranky brunette.

Viola let out a sigh as she wiped her hands against her white apron. It was a quiet afternoon which was rare for the café. She leaned against the counter, closing her brown eyes for a moment, enjoying the relative peace that had settled around her. She'd been working at Crystal Café for nearly two years now and though she loved her job more than anything else she had in her modest life, she couldn't help but crave something more. Something challenging, exciting, and different.

She knew she was being a fool. She wasn't born into a life of privileges and options. Her parents had died when she was seventeen in a car accident. With no other living relation, she was left to fend for herself. The little money they had left her was enough for her to live on for a few years but she needed a job. Left with no other decision, Viola dropped out of school and bought a bus ticket to Edinburgh. She had always wanted to visit Scotland and she could no longer deal with the memories and her past in London. She needed to be in a new atmosphere and surrounding.

Viola opened her eyes and let out a sigh. She really needed to stop thinking about the past and what could have been. She should be content with her life. She was luckier than most and her life could easily be described as comfortable yet she couldn't push down the yearning in her stomach. She bit her lower lip in frustration, mostly directed at herself. She refused to do this again.

Her hand drifted to her back pocket as she took out a worn photograph. It was relatively small, fitting in the palm of her hand. Every time she looked at it, it seemed to take her breath away. She had found it in her jean pocket a few weeks after she moved and immediately was taken aback by the shocking platinum blonde hair and the piercing silver eyes the sitter possessed. What was most captivating about the photograph, however, was the genuine smile upon his charming, aristocratic face that photographs rarely seemed to capture. He was beautiful, whoever he was, and evidently rich, based upon the luxurious black robes he wore. He seemed to be from an entirely different world altogether. She couldn't remember how she got this photograph or who it was in the picture. Every time her mind seemed to drift to him, she would feel a migraine start to form and immediately shift her thoughts. By now, Viola had simply accepted that whoever this mystery man was, he would have to, for the time being, remain enshrouded in darkness.

Viola gently caressed the photograph, a small smile gracing her feminine features before she placed a gentle kiss to the corner of the photograph.

No matter what she did, she couldn't get rid of the feeling that at one point in her life, she loved him. She smiled sadly to herself.

Maybe he was thinking of her too.

-*-