Chapter one
The room was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it would have been silent, were it not for the soft creaks of the floorboards and the harsh, uneven breaths that filled it.
Despite the intense ache in her stomach, Hermione refused to give up. She had promised herself that she would complete at least 100 sit-ups that morning, as part of her new diet. It was during the final battle that Hermione had realised her fitness was not up to scratch. She had found herself short of breath at the most inopportune moments, and had vowed to herself once it was all over that she would sort out the problem.
In many ways, it was a coping mechanism, and she knew that. It was far easier for her to do one hundred sit-ups than it was for her to think about all of the people she had lost. Remus, Tonks, Mad-eye – and so the list went on. She didn't think she would have been able to cope had Madame Pomfrey not been able to heal Fred after that wall fell on top of him. Unfortunately, though, she couldn't do as much to help Percy. At least he had gone out in a blaze of glory, tracking down the Death Eater whom he held responsible for almost killing his brother, Thicknesse. Unfortunately for Percy, when he finally found him, Thicknesse was surrounded by other Death Eaters. Capable wizard that he was, Percy was no match for 5 dark wizards.
The Weasleys were distraught, Molly especially. It was horrible enough that her son had been killed, but she couldn't help but blame herself for Percy's prior estrangement, despite her entire family trying their hardest to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong. Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be able to forgive herself for missing out on the last few years of her son's life.
After the battle, Hermione returned home. Thankfully she was able to locate her parents and restore their memory within a matter of days, with the help of Kingsly and other members of the order. Within a week everything was running smoothly – or, as smoothly as it possibly could be.
Despite putting on a brave face, the past few months had had immeasurable effects on Hermione. If she was lucky enough to get to sleep at all, she would inevitably have nightmares about her time in Malfoy Manor. It would seem that the psychological effects of Bellatrix's work might even be as permanent as the slur engraved in her forearm.
Hermione lay back on the floor, having completed her exercise for the day. This fitness boost was just what she needed. A chance to better herself, physically. She had always harboured insecurities about her body. She didn't suppose the frumpy school uniform helped much either, but she had always felt like she was on the tubbier side, not enough to be classed as fat, but definitely enough to be seen as unattractive. As strange as it was, the best Hermione had felt about her body in recent years was round about the time of the battle. She thought that it was because of all the time spent camping, and on the run. She'd been getting plenty of exercise, and food supply had been limited, consisting mostly of berries, when they could even eat at all.
Obviously, she knew that not eating was a silly thing to do, so Hermione was sure that she did eat – although it was mainly salads, and the occasional soup. Only, without her noticing, the portions seemed to have been getting smaller and smaller. Hermione simply put it down to her stomach shrinking. It made sense, didn't it? Her stomach was finally returning to its proper size, after years of it being over-stuffed.
A knock on the door drew Hermione from her thoughts.
She scrambled from the floor and quickly got into her bed, she didn't know why, but she didn't quite want her mother knowing about her dieting yet.
"Come in." she called, once she was properly under the covers, with a book in hand
Her mother opened the door, gave her a smile, and went to sit on the end of the bed.
"Still in bed dear? Its 12:30, and I was wondering what you wanted for breakfast. I was thinking I might make pancakes."
Hermione cursed inside her head. Her mum's homemade pancakes were probably her favourite food of all time. She could feel her mouth watering at the thought alone.
"That's ok, mum. Thanks though," She added with a smile.
"Really?" her mother asked, surprised. "what will you have? It's really no trouble for me to make them."
"Honestly, mum, I'm fine. I'm going to go to Diagon Alley today to get my books for school, and Harry, Ron, Ginny and I are going to grab lunch together. Knowing Ron, that will be as soon as we get there."
"well, alright then. What time are you supposed to be there? I can give you a lift if you want?"
"Thanks, mum, but that's alright. I'll just use the floo."
Jane smiled softly, "Ah, yes, that's right. Me and my muggle way of thinking…" she stood up from Hermione's bed and made her way over to the door. "Well, I ought to leave you to get ready then, don't want to make you late."
"Thanks, mum, see you later." And with that, Jane Granger left the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving Hermione once again alone with her thoughts.
She didn't like lying. It made her feel too guilty, especially when it was to someone she cared about, and she knew cared about her. But there were some things worth lying for. She hadn't planned on going to Diagon alley that day, but she didn't see any harm in doing so, so she picked herself out of bed and started towards the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and whilst waiting for it to heat up, she decided that she might as well weigh herself, just to see if her efforts in the past couple of weeks had paid off. For the last couple of years, Hermione's weight had yo-yoed around 145 lbs and 140 lbs. For a girl of her height (5"7), that put her BMI somewhere around 23, which, to her knowledge, was somewhere around the upper end of the healthy sector. Hermione simply thought that she would try and get her BMI to the lower end of healthy, somewhere around 18 or 19, and then she would stop.
She turned around to face the scales, and took off her clothes, making sure not to glimpse herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, and then finally, after what had felt like hours of hesitation, stepped on them.
She looked down, and was confused by the number she saw. Assuming there had been some sort of error with the scales, she got off and repeated the process. But the same number was displayed. 138.3 lbs. Hermione turned around, eager to see what difference 7lbs had made to her body, but was thoroughly let down when she saw that there was no difference what-so-ever. If anything, she thought she looked worse. Sighing, she stepped into the shower. She was foolish for expecting to actually see a difference already. She suspected that wouldn't start to happen until she reached something in the order of 130lbs.
Pushing all thoughts of weight loss from her mind, Hermione began to plan the day ahead of her. She hadn't actually heard much from Ron or Harry since the battle. She knew that they were both at the burrow, though. From what she had heard from Harry, Ron was still unsure of how to cope with the loss of a brother, and Ginny was no better. Hermione understood why Harry wanted to be there, in fact, she would be too, were it not for the fact that she really had no idea how to act around Ron anymore. They had kissed during the battle, but he had made zero effort to contact her since. Of course, Hermione had understood that initially. She wasn't sure she would be much in the mood for flirting if a member of her family had been killed, so she had decided that she would owl him first instead. And so, she did. She had gotten no reply, however, and had come to the conclusion that the owl must have lost the letter. So she tried again, and again, and again, until she was absolutely certain that there was no error with the postal system, but that Ron was simply ignoring her. She had owled Harry, asking if he knew why he wasn't replying, but Harry had sent back a rather brief owl, saying that he hadn't a clue. Hermione, unsure if she believed him, had come to the conclusion that perhaps Ron had regretted their kiss, and whilst that had hurt her initially, she understood that after everything that had happened to him, Ron was more than entitled to want some time alone.
Hermione climbed out of the shower and went to towel dry her hair, not feeling particularly bothered with how it looked, after all, she was only going book shopping. By the time she was dressed and ready to leave, she had made up her mind in regards to Harry and Ron. She wasn't going to ask them to meet with her, but if she saw them in Diagon Alley she would definitely go over to them, and it wasn't that unlikely that they would be there, being that there was only a week left until the holiday was over.
Hogwarts had decided to redo the final year for all of the students who had missed out on it. The solution that they had come up with was to have Hermione's year go back as the 8th year. Thankfully, due to all of the reparations already taking place in the castle, it wasn't too much hassle for a couple of new rooms to be added to the dorms, to make room for the extra students. Hermione, however, would not be staying in the Gryffindor common room, as she had been chosen to be head girl! She was incredibly honoured, of course, and couldn't wait to find out who the head boy was. She suspected that it might be Neville, but she knew that was wishful thinking. Especially now, after the war, Hogwarts was going to want to try and promote inter-house unity, which meant that the chances of Head boy and Head girl both being in Gryffindor were extremely slim. The best she could hope for was Ravenclaw. Terry Boot, maybe.
Throwing on her coat, Hermione made her way into the living room, saying a quick goodbye to her mum before hopping into the fireplace and calling out, "The Leaky Cauldron."
As soon as she arrived, she headed straight for Flourish and Blotts, her favourite shop. As soon as she stepped through the door she realised how much she had missed it, and how glad she was to be back in the wizarding world. She started wandering aimlessly through the isles for a bit, there being no need for her to rush things, and by the time she had come to the end of the first isle, she already had about 10 books stacked in her arms (she only needed one of them for Hogwarts). Realising that she had to focus on the task at hand now, or else she would run out of galleons, Hermione somehow managed to one-handedly fish out her book list from her pocket and began reading it whilst walking through the next isle. Hermione had added three more books to her pile when suddenly, she found herself colliding with a tall, hard mass.
"I am so sorry!", Hermione muttered, completely flustered as she scrambled to pick up all of her books. She had yet to look up at the poor innocent bystander she had needlessly charged into, out of sheer embarrassment.
She didn't have to look after she heard his next words.
"Granger." He spat, "I should have known. You need to watch where you're going, mudblood. Good thing you've caught me in a good mood today, or this might have ended rather differently for you."
And with that, he simply walked away, being sure to kick one of Hermione's books under the shelf as he did so.
"Slimy git…" Hermione muttered to herself, filled with rage as she moved closer to the bookshelf to stick her hand under. Just as she'd managed to reach it, however, the book flew out of her reach.
Assuming that Malfoy had come back to taunt her some more, a furious Hermione turned around, her wand drawn. But much to her surprise, instead of seeing Malfoy holding her book with an infuriating sneer, she had come face to face with Fred and George Weasley.
"Careful there, Hermione," George chastised.
"You'll poke someone's eye out with that thing." Added Fred, with a grin.
Hermione immediately put her wand back into her pocket and ran over to hug to the two boys. "Fred! George! It's been so long! How are you?"
"We're brilliant, Hermione" answered Fred
"Perfect, in fact." Added George.
"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has been doing better than ever after the war; everyone's been so miserable for so long now that they're all desperate for a good laugh."
"Speaking of, we wanted to ask you if we could borrow your mind for a couple of hours. We were hoping you could lend us a hand perfecting a new shampoo we're working on. It's supposed to make all of your hair fall out for a couple of hours and then grow back fully. The first part works really well! It's just the second bit we're having trouble with…"
Hermione laughed, "Of course I'd be happy to help. It's nice to see you two havn't changed." She added, sincerely. She had worried that Fred's near death experience would have made him see life more seriously, and that he would lose the fun streak Hermione loved about him. Thankfully, it didn't seem that was the case.
"Us? Change?" said George, affronted, "Never!"
"It seems we're not the only ones either…" Said Fred, looking in the direction Malfoy had stormed off.
Hermione sighed, "Well, what did you expect? So what he had a change of heart towards the end of the war? It takes a lot more than 5 minutes' worth of forward thinking to erase an entire lifetime of the exact opposite."
"I suppose you're right Hermione." Muttered George.
"As always." Added Fred.
"But, that doesn't put him above retribution, now does it?"
Hermione laughed and shook her head, "Whatever you two are planning, I want no part of it!"
The twins grinned at her, before turning towards each other to start scheming. Hermione carried on with her book shopping, the twins trailing closely behind, hearing snippets of their conversation the whole time.
"A simple summoning spell…"
"Swap his for ours…"
"Can't wait to see the look on the slimy bald git's face…"