Hello, readers! This story takes place after the 7th Harry Potter book EXCLUDING the epilogue. Hope you all enjoy!
-Kmeerkat
"Give it a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry, but tentatively outstretched her arm towards the owl perched on Harry's arm.
It gave a small "hoot," and took a few small jumps onto Hermione's arm.
"What's his name then, anyway?" Hermione asked, warming up to the speckled owl staring up at her with curious round eyes.
"Iggy," Harry responded, and the owl cocked its head in his direction.
Hermione let out a defeated sigh.
"I just feel…stupid," she admitted. "I know you're concerned for my mental health Harry, and I'm grateful for that, but I really don't think writing to an anonymous stranger via owl is going to help me cope with my…'depression'…in any way."
"Hermione, this is a program that actually works," Harry explained. "You're not alone. So many people have been left scared by the war. Sometimes it just helps to talk. Especially to someone who might know exactly what you're going through. You haven't opened up to any of us, not me…not even Ginny. We just don't know how else to help you."
Hermione sat with a glum expression on her face. He was right, of course. She felt beyond help. It had almost been two years since the Final Battle. Which meant it had been almost exactly one year since Ron died on the most tragic day of their lives - their wedding day.
It had gotten to the point where she had quit her new job at the magical law enforcement offices only a few months earlier. Hermione had shut herself off from the world. From all of her friends and family. Nowadays she sat consumed in her books, letting the stories take her a way to a world that was far different than her own.
Hermione sighed again as her gaze fell on the ugly scar on her wrist. The word "mudblood" glared angrily up at her. She flinched instinctively and flipped her wrist.
The movement did not go unnoticed by Harry.
"You know we're trying as hard as we can to change all of this," Harry began. "Fighting against Voldemort was one thing. Fighting against years of prejudice, discrimination, and hate against muggleborns…that's another. "
"I know," Hermione responded coldly and in a manner that signaled she didn't wish to continue down that path of conversation.
Harry flinched at her tone. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone comforting and sincere. "You know I love you. We all do. And we're just trying to help."
Hermione smiled slightly and looked up at her friend. "Thanks, Harry."
He smiled back at her. "So you'll take the owl and give it a shot then? I've heard fantastic things about the Hearts on the Line correspondence system, really," Harry gushed.
"Yes, I suppose I'll give it a shot, just to make you happy," Hermione responded with a playful eye-roll as her tiny owl bounced up her arm to sit on her shoulder. "How exactly does this work though?"
"It's not complicated in the slightest," Harry explained. "You know sort of how a pen pal works, in the muggle world?"
Hermione nodded her head yes.
"Well, it's like that, only you'll both remain completely anonymous," said Harry. "You can write about whatever you like, whatever's on your mind, and attach your letter to Iggy here."
Iggy gave a small hoot at hearing his name.
"Only your owl knows the identity and location of the two 'Hearts on the Line,' or the two people corresponding to each other. He'll fly out your first letter to whomever the agency has randomly selected to pair you with," Harry explained further. "Then your owl will stay with that person while he or she writes their letter back to you. Simple, right? And it just continues on like that, with Iggy delivering your letters."
"Do you have to be anonymous?" Hermione asked.
"No, I suppose you don't, but most people opt for that," said Harry. "If you want to introduce yourself in your letters with your real name, I suppose you can. The agency just likes to set it up that way because, usually, people are more comfortable confiding in someone they know won't judge them based upon who they think they're talking to."
"That…makes sense," Hermione said softly. She was actually warming up to the idea. She smiled and threw her arms around Harry in a hug, causing Iggy to flutter away towards the mantle of her fireplace.
"You're welcome?" Harry laughed with uncertainty as he pulled back to look his friend in the eyes.
Hermione laughed at him, thinking he must surely have thought she finally lost it. It was probably the first time she had shown any type of positive emotion in months. It was definitely the first time she'd hugged him in a while. "Thank you, Harry. I'll try this correspondence deal. What have I got to lose?"
After walking Harry to the door of her flat and seeing him out, Hermione softly closed the door behind her and went in search of her new owl.
"Hello there, little guy," she cooed at Iggy, who was perched on the windowsill in her living room. She tentatively reached out to stroke the feathers atop his head. "We'll have to get you a nice little perch to sit on while you're staying here. And plenty of food."
As if understanding her, Iggy hooted in agreement and fluttered his wings.
Hermione turned and walked down the hall to her study, stopping warily in front of the door. It had been a while since she'd used this room. She hadn't needed it since she quit her job. She steadied herself and then slowly opened the creaking door.
The small study was cluttered with papers and books, very unlike her usual neat and tidy self. She had never bothered to clean it after the day Ron had died or any day since. She supposed now that was why she had ended up locking it and never using it again after she quit her job. It got so cluttered that she eventually abandoned the whole room all together.
Hermione navigated her way towards her desk, pulled out the chair and sat down. She centered a piece of parchment on the table and grabbed a quill from the drawer. As she was millimeters away from touching pen to paper, a small, silver-framed picture on the desktop caught her eye.
It was a moving photo of her and Ron. An engagement photo. The Hermione in the photo was doubled over laughing as Ron tickled her sides from behind. Photo-Hermione smiled as she playfully nudged away Ron, who was attempting to kiss her in apologies for tickling her. Finally photo-Hermione gave in and allowed the kiss, before they each turned and smiled for the flash of the camera.
Hermione swallowed the lump forming in her throat and closed her eyes for a brief moment. Maybe this was the real reason why she had stopped coming into this room.
"I'm sorry, love," she whispered, opening her eyes and gently turning down the picture.
She breathed out a heavy sigh, pushed the oncoming rush of memories and regrets out of her head, and picked up the quill again.
It took her a few moments, uncertain of what to say, or where to begin. There was so much to say, so much she wasn't sure if she even wanted to say, and so much that could easily be left unsaid.
Could she really pour her heart out to a stranger? She wasn't sure. But she knew that she didn't have to today. Maybe one day, perhaps. But not quite today.
And so she finally allowed her quill to touch the parchment, and with it her thoughts quickly came tumbling out with surprising ease.
"Hello, Stranger…"