Hermione Granger had never considered herself a practical person. Oh, she was smart, and logical, and bookish, and sometimes wise. However, she had a tendency to run away with her ideas, sticking to them with amazing stubbornness.
No; Practical was never something she had used to describe herself.
She had, after all, befriended a boy named Harry Potter, number one target of the most dangerous Dark wizard in history. She had read about him, but it never really hit her how dangerous it could be knowing the Boy-Who-Lived until somewhere around her third year, when they had to go back to rescue Harry's godfather and escaped convict, Sirius Black. Sometimes, Harry would become so serious, and you could tell when he was thinking hard, because he always got this hard look in his eyes. He had a mischievous grin, and a warm hug, which he distributed often to her.
Then, she had fallen in love with her other best friend.
Ronald Weasley was rude, and blunt, and headstrong, and sometimes made her so furious that she could spit. He was also kind, and honest, and brave, and loyal. His family was amazing. Sometimes when he cracked jokes, he would get this glint in his eyes like he was trying not to break into laughter himself.
He pulled her out of her shell, or, in her case, her nose out of her book. He could make her laugh easier than most. He stuck up for her.
They both did.
She had often thought to herself that these two boys would be the death of her, figuratively if not literally.
They squabbled, and argued, but the three were possibly the closest friends in Hogwarts since the Marauders themselves.
During the Battle, when Hagrid had brought out Harry's "dead" body, her whole brain had, for the first time, frozen.
She couldn't breathe.
She couldn't cry.
She couldn't even speak.
Her whole world had just stopped, right there and then when she saw those lopsided glasses on his scarred face. His eyes were closed, and she remembered thinking she would never see his green eyes again. They would never burn in anger, or become hollow in sadness, or melt in joy ever again.
She hadn't needed to look at Ron to know that he was just as shell-shocked as she was.
But then, it had turned out to be a ruse. She had watched in unbelievable fear as he circled with Voldemort. She was so relieved she thought she might faint. And he had won. She had gotten her best friend back and her boyfriend was alive and well. Her and Ron had been the first to hug him when Voldemort's body hit the battle worn stones. The three friends that could never be parted.
Suddenly, Hermione was interrupted from her musings as she realized her bag was talking.
"Hermione Granger."
Fumbling with the clutch, she opened her bag and pulled out a silver mirror. Ron's face was beaming out of it. "Hey, Hermione."
She grinned. "Hi."
They had gotten another set of mirrors after Hermione had decided she would go to Hogwarts another year and the boys joined the Aurors at the Ministry of magic. Ron had wanted to keep in contact without having to wait days for an owl. Harry had agreed, and the mirrors were bought before she had left.
"Oi, you git, I want to say hello too!"
"Well, hurry up."
"Ow! Ron, you stepped on my foot."
Yes, she decided, her boys would be the death of her.
She wouldn't have it any other way.