Summary: Excerpts from Hermione's diary during many years. One-shot.
Disclaimer: I don't own any JK Rowling characters, I just like borrowing them… Does there exist some Draco Malfoy costumes anywhere? I'm getting my boyfriend some, after dying his hair pale pale blonde. Plot probably not mine, combination of everything is.
Rating: T for mention of self-destructive thoughts. (Not suicidal, though)
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Genre: Romance/Angst
Word count: 2335
This one actually turns out to end good! But please review a happier story from me as well. Tell me if you think the rating is correct, I know that Norwegian Standards for rating differs very much from other countries, and is very liberal. However. The story is split in sections that represents stages at Hermione's life; stages filled with hope, sorrow/pain etc. Hope you like it. And please be nice about the flames? Yes, that's it. Goooood people.
Excerpts from two decades of my life.
Hogwarts, June 1998
We're finished! I graduated from Hogwarts today. I can't believe we're finally leaving the school, I'm going to miss it so much. I can feel that all the others will as well. Of course, we don't have the safety anymore. When leaving Hogwarts, you're suddenly left all alone. I, of course, graduated along with my two best friends. My last memory from Hogwarts is the three of us together, laughing, talking about our future plans and taking pictures of everybody else. It feels like we're going to live forever. Ginny graduates next year, she's a natural part of the gang. All the 7th years are lining up to take a photo. I'm in front with the Head Boy. We have worked silently together through this year, and although we're not friends, we have an understanding. He has asked me to do something important for him. I've agreed. You can see the worry in our faces in that picture. When I look at it, I'm having a hushed conversation with him. There's something we're hiding. The rest of our class takes no notice in that photo. Oh, I'm going to miss them terribly!
Godric's Hollow, July 1998
The War has come. Harry has only two Horcruxes left to destroy before we can face Voldemort. We're currently hiding in the ruins of James and Lily Potter's old house. Harry has made a discovery. We're trying to find out what to do next. Some of our old classmates are fighting already. We can't. We have to be there and help. We promised Dumbledore. There's only the three of us. We know we're in grave danger, but we're trying to make the best out of our situation, laughing and joking when we don't have to be serious adults. But we have to be, a lot of the time.
Knocturn Alley, August 1998
I did a Fidelius Charm today. A secret is now hidden inside me, and I hope I won't regret it. We met some Unspeakables as well. I was the only one who went from "our side." I met one of them. Have I done the right thing? I hope so. I read the Prophet. There have been deaths. Five of my classmates are already dead. Only halfbloods or muggleborns of course. The War is still not entirely open. I have not been forced to kill yet. We're still hiding, Harry has only one horcrux left. I want an end to this.
The Burrow, December 1998
I'm celebrating Christmas with the Weasley's. Or the remaining Weasleys, that is. Bill has already died, and so has Fleur. Molly has lost Arthur. George is dead, and Fred isn't making jokes anymore. They have received a message that Percy has been murdered as well. My parents were murdered two months ago. All this, it just makes me feel so… cold. I shiver when I think about it. We all have to make sacrifices. Some of the families are gone forever. The Finnegans, Zabinis (even though they belong to the Death Eaters), the Woods, Lovegoods, and Amos Diggory and his wife. We all have to suffer. I don't pity myself. I stopped the day my parents were buried. I have to stay strong. I've made a promise.
Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London, April 1999
Ron was brought in today with wounds and bruises. Someone has used the Cruciatus Curse on him. He won't ever be the same. We have caught Wormtail. He'll be sent to Azkaban as soon as we win this war. Or could you really win a war? I'm not sure anymore. But I have to stay alive. I made a promise. I'm keeping a very important secret for someone.
Hogsmeade, July 1999
Am I really still just 19 years old? It's unbelievable. Ron has been dead for three months. I'm still grieving. Out of the Weasleys, only Fred and Ginny are alive. A whole family has suffered. Fred doesn't talk anymore. He just kills. We are looking for Bellatrix Lestrange. She needs to be taken down before we can get to the Dark Lord. Harry has destroyed the last horcrux. I can see the growing determination in his eyes. He is worried about what will happen, of course. But there's still hope, isn't there? He and Ginny are deeply in love. I'm starting to feel numb and weak, but yet so strong.
The Battlefield, September 1999
That was it then. My 20th birthday, and the month Harry managed to kill Voldemort. Fred is dead now too. Out of my Gryffindor Classmates, only I, Harry, Lavender (for some weird reason, maybe because of her inner eye or something… Come on, we need humour in wartimes as well) and Neville survived. We have captured the last Death Eaters. They'll be put in Azkaban without a hearing. The Dark Mark carved into their skin is proof enough. I found him as well. My secret keeping was for nothing. I cry a bit over that, he helped us through me. And I bury all those I love.
Diagon Alley, October 1999
I'm dead. I can't feel and I can't taste. I just exist. My body is an empty shell. I have lost dear friends in the war. Most Wizards and Witches my age are gone. Whole families have died, sacrificed themselves to the cause. And we won. But at a terrible price. Harry is married to Ginny, who was the only Weasley to make it through the war. I'm dead. I couldn't find any love inside me. So I just left. I figured Harry and Ginny had enough to bother with than to take care of me. We were friends. But I feel like a dementor, sucking all the happiness out of the places I go to. 20 years old, I pack my bags and shrink them to fit into my pockets. I pay an office owl to send my last words to Harry and Ginny, hoping they might find some more love than I'll ever be able to. It's so much easier when the one you truly love is still alive.
Siberia, Russia, October 2002
I'm 23 years old. I'm poor, thin and starving. But I am also hard-working. I have dedicated my life to learning more and more. I should know everything there is about transfiguration now. I'm equal to Minerva McGonagall, the brilliant witch who stood by my side 5 years ago, urging me to live, before she died herself. My favourite professor. I haven't fulfilled what she asked me to yet. I haven't lived. I'm still an empty shell. I've got brains. I've got beauty. But all Russian women are beautiful, and I'm not the stereotype. Far more important. I don't speak a word Russian. I tried to learn some Bulgarian once, but that was a dream I had as a teenager. I have no illusions anymore. They died with me in the War.
Siberia, Russia, October 2003
One year later, and I'm trying to get my life back again. I know everything I ever could about my subject, and there's time to move on. I've met a man. He's ten years older than me, but he can support me. He wants children. I want a life. I don't want to be tied to a house for the rest of my life. Being a housewife, seeing my children being sent to boarding schools. This man is a muggle. And I couldn't bear to tell him why his children know magic. I don't want to send my children to Durmstrang either. It's a cold place. I visited once, and t was filled with an unsaid evil. I felt strangled inside that school. But while living in Russia, it's the only choice I have. You can't send Russian children to Hogwarts. They wouldn't understand. No one would.
Siberia, Russia, November 2003
How could this happen? He was dead. They were all dead. And those who weren't were certainly not in Russia, and absolutely not residing in Siberia.
"I moved my manor to the snowy winterlands." Sure, I believe him. It was painful to meet him. I could see the sorrow in his deep, grey eyes. He has beautiful eyes. How could I never see that before? Truth to be told, I never wanted to see it. Secondly, I always thought he would die at my wand. I was, if any of us were better than the other, the one with a small advantage. But he survived. His family is dead. Almost all from his side are. The ones who still live are in Azkaban. Four years ago, I could hire a job as a dementor there myself. Now, I'm starting to see some light. He's always been there for me, as I've been for him. We just didn't know then. We had an understanding. I was the one who knew he was a spy. But I was also the one who found his body. He said he had missed me. I missed him too. Two desperate souls have met. Barely clinging to their bodies when they're alone, but growing when we're together.
Siberia, Russia, December 2003
Merry Christmas. I've spent it with him. He never married, as he was expected to. He didn't have to when his father died. He didn't have to produce an heir. He didn't have to strut around. Hell, he didn't even need to take care of himself. So he moved to Russia. He looked a bit shabby and worn when I met him. He had a beard. I didn't even recognise him at first. But he saw clearly who I was. He shouted my name, and I turned. I dropped the hand of the elder Russian I was walking with, and ran over to him. He thought I had died too. He couldn't find me anywhere. So he had fled, so he wouldn't have to end up in Azkaban. He had been lonely in Russia. So had I. Now, it was time to be together, just the two of us. It felt strange in the beginning. But soon we realised that there were no one here to watch over us like earlier. So basically, I moved into the manor.
Siberia, Russia, April 2004
Half a year later, we found out that we shouldn't hide anymore. We had things to prove, to make up to others. But we needed to go to the Department of Mysteries. There, the proof of his innocence in the War was concealed. They would probably look at his arm anyway. It had the Mark. I loathed it. He hadn't been able to look at his arm since the War ended, except when he was trying to rub it off in the shower. I usually look into his eyes, trying to comfort him. It's five years since Ron died. I cried all day, and he asked me what it was. "Nothing," I answered. But he understood. And he smiled to me. He's changed.
Moscow, Russia, October 2005
He loves me. I love him too. How did that happen? We have to go back to England now. We married three years ago, and I'm pregnant, expecting twins. We can't decide the names, but we still have some time. Fortunately. We'll move back before school age. We're just going to have to move the house too. We shut down one part of it. We just need a bedroom, a kitchen, living room and bathroom. Oh, and we have offices and a library. I'm still studying my transfiguration, hopefully, there will be some work for me when we get back. But it will be a long time until that happens. We will move from Russia, though. Oh, did I mention that we're still on our honeymoon? He decided that anything under 6 months wouldn't be sufficient. I like some of his decisions.
Berlin, Germany, June 2006
I gave birth to a boy and a girl today. An heir and a princess. We decided the names as well. Since Russia gave us so much, they will have one Russian name each, along with their other name. So, what do you think about Xavier Mikhail and Willow Zarina? Xavier because he insisted, Willow because of the ones we've lost, our sorrow and grief. Xavier is his middle name as well, in fact. Who would have thought in school that such a stupid boy could have a nice name like that? Huh? Oh, did I mention we moved to Germany? We'll live there for some years, he's studying potions now, and Germany is the potion country. I'm just happy. And exhausted.
Hogwarts, September 2017
Are we really this old? Our first children are going to school. We're arguing about which house they'll end up in, but we guess they'll be Rawenclaws for some reason. Figured that would be an alright mixture of us. But we don't approve of the colour yet. Back to my age. I'm 37, have spent the last 17 years of my life outside England. Russia, Germany, France, China. We've experienced a lot. And another thing, we're both teachers. I'm supposedly Head of Gryffindor, while he got the Slytherins. Well, can't complain, we're allowed to share a bed. There are a lot of other teachers as well. Lupin has had the DADA job for the last ten years, Tonks was transfiguration teacher, but stopped when the two of them had too many children to take care of. So I'm the substitute. The Charms teacher is an elder woman that I vaguely remember. There haven't been many replacements other than that. I can't wait to see where our children will go. I think they resemble him, people will see it, and they think he's dead. Few will remember me, I think. But I never was popular at school. I was the one who could be trusted. I must look at him. All girls will love their potions classes, that's for sure. I'm so glad I gave this man four children. I truly love him.
A/N: Review? I'm not completely sure of this story myself, it just sort of popped up in my head. Please bring me back some constructive criticism, but not flames. There is a difference. Constructive criticism makes good writers. Flames kills writers after burning their paper and their stories.