Title: A Work in Progress

Author: cherryarachnid

Feedback: Constructive, please.

Distribution: Contact me first, but I'll probably be okay with it.

Rating: T – may change later, but we'll see.

Spoilers: Um, Yes.

Disclaimer: The main characters do not belong to me, obviously.

Author's Note: My memory is always a tad cluttery. My apologies if I've stepped on any continuity or story lines. If I have, let me know and I'll see what I can do. This story ignores the Epilogue from Deathly Hollows.

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The bell dinged cheerily as Hermione walked through the door of her favorite diner. She had only found the little place a few months ago, but the food was great, the staff was friendly and no one minded if she tucked herself into a sunny corner booth, ordering only a cup of tea or coffee, then losing herself in a book until the dinner crowd started to arrive. Sometimes she stayed until she noticed the staff stacking chairs on the table at the end of the evening. Still, no one complained or made her feel like she was overstaying her welcome.

Reading in the diner was one of the few pleasures she had these days. Her tiny London apartment was too empty, too quiet, even with the traffic outside. She had tried visiting the city libraries, but the smell of dusty books brought back too many memories of another library from another life – a life that no longer existed for her. Now all of her books were purchased new.

Someone in the kitchen dropped a tray of dishes and the clatter had Hermione jumping from the booth, patting at her hips for her wand. She caught herself before too many eyes turned her way and mentally berated herself. She hadn't carried her wand in several years, but she still felt it was with her, just like she still carried the fear and grief from the war. She understood that waiting for and expecting the next disaster to come was a part of the PTSD she suffered from, but understanding and healing were not even close to the same thing.

She adjusted her jumper and sat back down in the booth and waited for Sheryl to take her order. When the leggy red-head walked up to her with a bright smile, Hermione tried to return it. "Hey Minny, what are you having today?" The waitress looked the girl over, "You should try some of the gnocchi. It's fabulous, and you're looking a bit pale today. You eating somewhere else or is the only thing you're devouring these days giant books?"

"I'll just have a coffee…" she felt her nerves still vibrating and saw the frown on Sheryl's face, "no, wait. Make that a cup of tea and a slice of apple pie." Sheryl repeated the items and walked back to the kitchen to put in the order, sending a worried glance at the thin girl huddled in the booth. She had been waiting on her nearly daily for weeks and she always seemed to be on the edge of either a breakdown or break-through. Today was a down sort of day. She sighed and walked through the flapping doors.

"Our girl's back. Tea and pie. Cut her a big piece."

The cook nodded his blonde head, "so, she's eating today." He reached for the pies while Sheryl turned to leave the kitchen to pour some tea.

The doors flapped closed, then opened again as she poked her head back through, "I made her feel guilty. She looks rough today. Whatever she's been going through, she's drowning in it." She disappeared, leaving the doors swinging.

He sighed and added a scoop of ice cream to the plate and placed it at the window for Sheryl to pick up before ringing the bell.