Growing up, she'd wanted to be a doctor; she'd worshipped the people in the white coats who saved lives every day, and she wished she could be like that. She wanted to help people, and she wanted to do something worthwhile.
But then the intimidating, strangely-dressed woman had turned up at her house and told her she was a witch, and then she wasn't so sure. She'd thought about it a lot in her third year. What did she want to do? She couldn't imagine going back to the Muggle world, as much as she loved her parents.
It was strange to think that she'd grown up there, it had been home, but now it was just a different world, and the one tie between her world and the Muggle world was her parents. She felt sad that her parents would never fully understand her abilities; maybe that was why she tried so hard, to prove to them that she could achieve just as much, more, in this world that was so different to theirs.
She had heard about the World Wars, the soldiers who fought, the lost generation, but it had never been something she thought about, because the wars were over, and she knew she would never fight in a war like that - it wasn't even a possibility, to anyone who knew her.
Even when she had entered the wizarding world, she had not, never, imagined that in a few years, it would be a war zone, that there would be people - people her age - dying, people fighting. She had never imagined that she might be one of them.
She had thought that her biggest achievement was being top of the class, being intelligent and knowing a lot, but now, she looked back and realised that she classed her biggest achievement as being brave, for fighting in a war and winninga war. She was proud of herself for not running away, for not being killed, for standing by her best friends in the war and for being courageous and noble, just like the Sorting Hat said.
She was, she knew, extremely lucky to be alive and happy.
Growing up, she'd wanted to be a doctor; she'd worshipped the people in the white coats who saved lives every day, and she wished she could be that.
Now she knew that there were people out there who worshipped her, Muggle-born Hermione Granger, and who wished they could be like her; she helped people and magical creatures and she did something worthwhile, she had fought in a war and survived; she was happiest when sat around a warm fire with her children on her lap, reading to them, and when she'd look up and catch his eye.
Growing up, she had wanted to prove herself, and now that she was grown-up, she rather thought that she had.
