Chapter One : A Bit of Light Reading (Hermione Granger)

The wind brought a sudden and strong rustle through the arms of the tree overhead and sent the leaves aflutter, but the sun didn't relent its glow. Beneath the Elm, it was still warm with the afternoon's promise of sunshine and blue skies. The grass was soft and lightly shaded here and there as the branches swayed back and forth. Birds were chattering and cars were humming off in the distance but she didn't hear them.

Knees bent and flat backed she sat, still if only for her breathing and the rhythm of the air around her, focused on the pages in front of her. "The Sorrowful Plane: Effects of Grief and Turmoil on The Soul and Magic" was filled with depressing anecdotes when it wasn't busy being incredibly long-winded and cold. It was a ponderous tome for many; light reading for Hermione Granger these days.

She sighed as she flipped another page, the book resting on her lap.

"…and thus it is fair to say that while the effects of melancholy built up in an individual can (and have) produce devastating effects not only to one's body and mind but to their magic and, by extension, those near enough to be effected by their magic. From here it is only fair to further conclude that if an entire population of magical beings were living under an environment of extreme terror or sorrow the negative power yielded from their magic would be unbelievable. As you will find from the studies following, we propose the idea that the very land that this "taint" has been unleashed upon could become severely altered, and thus, all living things yielded from such soil and ground and air could be compromised in their making."

Hermione was used to reading such studies; you don't become head of a magical creature's rights advocacy group without facing your fair share of harsh realities. You eventually become a little hard to it, if only as a way to cope with the never-ending sadness of it all.

That's why she tried to take pleasure in her day where she could; reading underneath the Elm tree on a beautiful fall morning, for example. Here, in the small field behind her garden, she felt as much at peace as she could: at one with the land around her.

I guess I should be glad it doesn't have a taint then. What feeling would she harness from this tree then? Could the light be enough to drive out that chill? Better not to look there.

This mother-of-two had enough grief of her own to deal with today without taking on her usual load. In fact, she realized as she stuck a flattened rosebud she used as a bookmark into the binding and closed the tome, she had taken the day off work for this exact reason. She had no intention of picking this book up at all when she went to soak up the day's fortune underneath her tree, but she seemed to have misplaced her current novel, "Love in the time of Dragonpox", and thought that she might as well catch up on her work before her she had to finish prepping for her approaching seminar at the Ministry.

At least today she didn't have to deal with Persephone, the child-woman the ministry had assigned to replace her last secretary and whose constant obliviousness was more a hindrance to Hermione than a help. As if Seph's ineptitude at administrative tasks wasn't enough, she also seemed to lack the empathy Hermione felt like was needed to take on such a project. It wasn't her own fault, Hermione supposed; though Seph had a muggle father, she had grown up her whole life in a wizarding only village and never had the drive to travel outside of her hometown. She just wasn't worldly and that added to her adolescent demeanor. Hermione tried her hardest to be patient, however. After all, Hermione did bare some of the responsibility; Seph was nearing her one year anniversary with the department and Mrs. Granger hadn't been able to teach her much of anything.

Perhaps I didn't really try, she thought. This is why I wouldn't have made a good teacher. Too much distraction from actual progress. She felt a sudden gratitude for all of the mentors that had impacted her life and nurtured her. She was feeling nostalgic today, after all, but that fear of the future was never far either.

She heard a creaking sound and looked up. From her spot beneath the tree she could see straight to her garden that flourished behind the house. Though the wooden fence was high and the planks attached in a staggered way so that very little space could be made out between them, she could still see the vines that intertwined along the brick walls of her home and encroached on the space where the back wall met the gutter. From here she could almost make out that the back door had been left ajar.

A second later, the garden gate opened and a small figure emerged. Hugo, like his sister Rose, had favored Ron and Hermione equally. Fair skin, freckles, but with light brown hair; curly, like his mother's. Hugo was also small for his age. Though Molly had told her that most of her boys hadn't started growing taller until their teens, Hermione had a feeling that Hugo was always going to remain small. His very nature was small; his pale eyelashes were like wisps out-shown by the warm eyes underneath, his figure was slim and his feet narrow. He was her little one and always would be, in her mind.

She smiled as he drew near and he smiled back.

"Up at last, sleepy head?" Hermione joked. "I thought you might be up early today, eager to get the day started."

"Well, there's no one to play with, is there?" Hugo said, shrugging his shoulders but seemingly unperturbed all the same. He sat down next to his mother and rested his head on her shoulder.

"Rose will be back for the Holidays. And I'm sure she will have loads of stories and other things to share with you."

"That's forever away. And she will have new friends to share with then, won't she?"

"That's true, but you will have new friends and adventures too now that she is at school" - Hermione considered for a moment - "we could go see your cousin Lily today, if you would like." Hermione hadn't intended on visiting Molly today but Hugo and Lily had never really been as close as Rose and Albus had become and that would have to change soon as they would both be spending more time with their grandmother now that all the adults were back at work.

"I guess so. She always tells me which games to play though. And she always wins."

Hermione had to laugh at that. Lily did have a fire in her, like her mother. "You'll win one day if you keep trying."

"I don't like losing though. And she always picks something sporty so I don't stand a chance." He sounded exasperated. "Do they teach remedial Quidditch at Hogwarts? I probably need that."

Hermione smiled and ruffled Hugo's hair as she said, "Don't worry. They'll teach you everything you need to know. And if you need any extra help, your uncle can give you a pointer or two. You know, Harry wasn't much taller than you when he became the youngest seeker for Gryffindor in a century."

"Really?" Hugo said excitedly. "Then maybe I do stand a chance." He went back to resting his head on his mother's shoulder. "I can't wait to go to Hogwarts like Rose."

Start of term was yesterday, and the whole family had gone onto the platform to see off Rose and Albus for their first year. She hadn't paid much attention to Ginny's farewells; James was already a student at Hogwarts and so Hermione figured that saying goodbye to Albus had come easier to Ginny as she had the comfort of knowing that he was well looked after. Not as much the case with Rose.

Hermione had been frantic that morning trying to get everything in order. Of course, now, it was easy to look back and see that nothing had been out of order to begin with. Being who she was, and her children being who they were, they had more than enough time to prepare for Rose's first day over the summer. Though Rose wasn't quite as bookish as Hugo, she was always organized and reliable. She was packed two weeks before the start of term. She was unpacked and repacked, of course, three more times. The final version seemed to be approved of around four in the morning on September 1st.

Though Rose had inherited some of her mother's anxiety, she almost seemed to thrive in it where Hermione had sometimes drowned. It excited Rose, as if each time she crossed off something on her list she was a step closer to achieving her dreams. Hermione hoped that she kept that pride and sense of accomplishment throughout her schooling. It would be hard to not see her every day, feeling some small security in the fact that her own validation of her daughter would be enough to hold her confidence. Now, she was on her own.

And me? I still have Hugo, for now. Though Hugo was missing his sister now, he was too abuzz with the thrill of seeing the platform, the train, and all of the hubbub with it to be too concerned with his sister's farewell that day. That was for the best, Hermione supposed. If anyone else had been emotional, she might not have been able to keep her composure. She didn't want to make Rose feel anything other than joy at the idea of boarding that train. She didn't want her to know how much she would miss her. So when the time came for Rose to take her leave and join her cousins, Hermione had simply hugged her daughter, fixed her jumper, and tried to commit to memory the exact shade of auburn those long waves had. She's beautiful, and growing far too fast.

Hugo was snoring softly. Hermione ran fingers through his copper locks and rested her head on his as she mused.

Hermione let the tome she had been reading slide from her lap and onto the ground and glanced overhead past the branches and leaves and locked onto the open blue sky. Let Rose find a mentor at Hogwarts. Let her be bright...and far wiser than I.