Disclaimer: I own nothing other than the plot, such as it is. These are merely the ramblings of someone who is surprisingly agreeing with Stephen King that the great JKR should not kill off our most beloved hero, Harry. So until that book lands in my mailbox, I shall entertain myself with these stories.
It is surprising to find a young, not even twenty year old, fresh out of school, hero of the world, and incredibly popular person sitting at home on a Saturday night.
However, the truth of those statements was exactly why she was at home, in her pajamas sitting in the dark of her room with only the light from the television illuminating her face, faded shirt, and overstuffed chair. Furthermore, as the light flickered, a strobe light effect occurred as she rubbed her right temple with the fingers of her right hand. The other one, still bandaged, laid gently on a pillow across her lap. This young woman had spent the day popping, literally due to the ease of Apparition, from party to party. Some were celebrating the end of the war, others were celebrating graduation from Hogwarts, and some were attempting to do both while mourning loved ones lost. The business of the day took its toll and so she was in a state that managed to combine contentment and discomfort.
Finally, a sigh, disrupted the film. "This will never do," the young girl breathed out as she ran her good hand through her hair. "I will never settle down at this rate."
She pulled herself out of the chair, crossed the room, picked up her wand, and tapped a drawer in a desk. The drawer popped open revealing a simple book with a plain, worn leather cover. She rummaged around in the same area for a pen before a triumphant, "Finally!" was muttered as she pulled out a pen.
Settling back into the chair she began to chew on the top of her pen until inspiration struck and she began to write. Following the date, some brave soul, for brave you would have to be to read Hermione Granger's journal without her permission, you could read this:
More parties today. By noon I had attended five with more following the lunch hour. It is truly amazing how many different ways people find to celebrate. One party was themed like a tropical island; another was simply an excuse to become utterly inebriated. The worst was the one where all people could do was condole with me about Ron.
There are moments, when surrounded by classmates or my muggle family that I can forget what happened just two weeks ago. The different life my family leads and the different experience my peers had of the 'war' makes me believe the battle was merely a scene from something I saw at the cinema. It is when I see the empty seats at the Burrow or the sling on my arm or the haunting expression in Harry's eyes that I am so forcefully reminded of all the ways a person can grieve.
Her writing was interrupted when a pop echoed from her hallway. In any other circumstances, her wand would have been immediately pointed at the person. Instead she merely said, "Hi, Harry," as she closed the book.
The young man, who had just entered, watched the book float back to its drawer and seal shut with a flick of the girl's wand.
Harry shook his head, "Hermione, what could you possibly have to write in there that I wouldn't already know about?"
"Harry," she said as if to a child, "there are some things that you will never know about me. "Besides, a girl has to have some secrets, even from her best friend."
"As long as I know more of your secrets than anyone else, I'm fine with that," Harry said as he flopped on the chair next to Hermione's. "Why did you leave the Burrow so early? Mrs. Weasley was worried about you."
Hermione sighed, likely for the hundredth tiem that day and the millionth since the battle, "I know she is worried Harry. It was just such a long day." She unconsciously started to rub her temple again.
Now, Harry may not be the most brilliant in his interactions with the opposite sex, but courtesy of all his training and seven years of friendship wth the girl before him, he quickly noticed more than fatigue.
"Really?" he asked to keep her talking and staring blankly at the screen. She had paused the film when he came.
"Yeah, it was just such a day. It is so strange to celebrate graduations. You know? There was so much death and destruction; somehow it feels like I should be doing something different from celebrating and drinking butter beers and ale. Then I think that it is the last thing they would want. I know Ron of all people would want something different for me than moping around; he was the one to love attention and parties. Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione finally looked over and saw Harry was no long in the chair.
During her short monologue Harry had managed to fluff a few pillows on the sofa, conjure up a glass, silently 'accio' two bottles of potions, and cast a cooling and dampening charm on a cloth. All those stays in the hospital wing paid off, he was proficient at basic medicinal tasks.
"Hermione, come here," Harry commanded.
She began to form an objection and realized that Harry was part of an exceptionally short list of people who could offer a command and she would follow it. As much as she would hate to admit it, he seemed to be right at this particular moment.
He sat at one end of the sofa and pulled her down next to him, gently so as to avoid her still sore arm. Silently he handed her the potions. She recognized them as the ones she was prescribed for the residual pain from the final battle. After finishing her doses, she quickly drank down the glass of water as the potions hard a particularly nasty aftertaste. He then guided her head to the pillow he had placed in his lap. He placed the cloth on her forehead.
As he drew a few stray locks of her hair away from the damp cloth, he seemed to become lost in his thoughts. For some time the two sat in silence. Harry continued to play with her hair and smooth the tension from Hermione's temples.
"I didn't expect this," Hermione finally broke the silence. Her voice was so soft, Harry nearly missed her words. "This is not what I thought life would be. When I first got on that train, when I was such a snot to Ron and you, when you two saved me from the troll…this is not what I expected. You know what I wrote in my journal the day before I left for Hogwarts? I read it all the time…I had it all planned out. I would graduate first in my class. I would work my way up through the Ministry. I would become the Minister of Magic."
She stopped there. Harry didn't know what to say so he merely continued his ministrations.
"It is all so different. Sure, I graduated, but I really don't care too much for that. I've got awards, tokens of admiration, and medals. I could have any job at the Ministry, likely even the Minister's and it would be mine tomorrow. Couldn't care less. When everything turns out differently from how you had it planned, what do you do?"
For a few minutes Harry stayed silent. Eventually he drew Hermione into a sitting position and wrapped her in his arms. Holding her tight he simply said, "I don't know."
"When I got on that train, I thought it would be my salvation. I was free from the Dursleys and suddenly had the chance to live," here a coarse chuckle interrupted. Hermione reached up with her good hand to place it on Harry's cheek. He continued, "Hermione, I don't know what you do when all your hopes are wrecked and your plans go awry. The only thing I can think of is that we have to make different plans now, find different hopes."
The two friends continued in silence for an indeterminate time. Both were ruminating on how much life they had lived and how different the future was from their childhood dreams. Both were searching for something different and they were both unsure as to what that different was.
AN: Hmmm...much as I hate AN, here one is. This is, well what it is, not sure if it is going anywhere or such. Must get back to Firsts and An Abundance. A month of migraines and lesser headaches have made things difficult...oddly unsure if I want to continue this or not...