Chapter One
"It's final then. You'll have the kids on the weekend, and I'll have them throughout the week," Hermione said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The divorce had gone much smoother than she had expected it to; although Ron was the one to suggest it in the first place.
Someone else, he had said. He had fallen in love with someone else. It had broken Hermione's heart to hear him say those words after fifteen years of marriage. She had changed, he had told her, into someone he didn't know anymore.
She had been the devoted wife and mother, giving up everything for Ron and their two children. Maybe she had changed. She admitted she wasn't her bossy, know-it-all self anymore, and maybe that had been why he started looking for another woman to love.
"What about Christmas?" Ron asked, holding Hugo's hand. Hugo was ten, and still thought the world of his father.
"I think we should talk about that later."
"Tilda and I want them with us." Tilda was the new woman. She was tall, not to mention thin. She stuck her nose up whenever Hermione was around, as though she were better than Hermione.
"And I want them with me. Please, let's discuss this later."
Ron nodded. Still holding Hugo's hand, he turned and left, Rose following closely behind. This would be his first weekend with the kids. At fourteen, Rose could care less if she were at one house or the other, but Hermione did. She did not want Tilda being that all-important mother figure for Rose.
Hermione walked silently home, pondering what she would do now. Ron had gotten the house, so she had moved her things to the small three bedroom flat in London she was now renting. This would, hopefully, only be a temporary fix, only until she could secure a job and know she would be able to afford a decent place on her own. She picked up a muggle paper, knowing the Daily Prophet would be waiting for her on her stoop.
Once home, she poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch, skimming through the classifieds looking for anything that might catch her eye. There was a position for a journalist at the paper she was reading, and she circled it. She had always been one with words, and she thought she should at least send in a resume.
She moved on to the Daily Prophet, but the only thing in there was an opening for a cashier at Honeydukes. She sighed then finished her glass of wine, pouring a second. She looked at the clock; seven-thirty was way too early to call it a night. She turned on her television set, and flipped through the channels. Nothing was on.
She poured herself a third glass, having finished the second, and laughed to herself; pouring a third glass was something she rarely ever did. Hermione opened up a book she had received as a present many years ago. There was an inscription on the inside of the front cover that read:
"Dearest Hermione,
I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you are able to take something from it.
Yours Always, Harry and Ginny"
She missed her friends. The two of them had moved out of the country when Harry had been given a Headmaster's position at a school in America. Perhaps she would use the Floo Network and pop in for a few hours. No, she decided. They were probably busy. And they were on a completely different time schedule now. She finished her glass and sighed again. Turning to the first page, Hermione began to read.
Hermione woke the next morning to find her book laying open on her lap, her wine glass on the floor, and her hair an atrocious mess. She had woken to an annoying tapping noise coming from somewhere in her mind. She rubbed her eyes and picked the glass up off the carpet.
She was setting it in the sink when an owl flew up to the window. It started pecking on the glass, and she realized this was the tapping that had pulled her from her slumber.
She pushed the window open, and the bird flew in. She did not recognize this bird, but thanked it and grabbed her wand from the table to conjure a mouse for it. She untied the envelope that hung from its leg. It was from Hogwarts.
Seeing the red ink brought back a rush of memories of happier times. Despite the goings on of the war, Hermione would give almost anything to be back with her friends in Hogwarts. At least they had all been happy back then.
She only barely registered in her mind the owl as it stalked the mouse.
The letter was from Headmaster McGonagall. She was in need of a new Charms professor, and she was offering the job to Hermione. Without even thinking twice, Hermione went into the room she had designated for Rose and grabbed a piece of parchment and quill out of Rose's trunk. Her response was short, but to the point. She accepted the headmaster's proposal.
She rolled up the note and tied the tiny scroll to the owl's leg. The bird flew back out the open window once it was finished with it's snack. Hermione took a deep breath then went into her room and pulled her own trunk from the depths of her closet.
It still held her old Hogwarts robes, some of her higher-scoring papers (which she laughed at when she realized there had so many of), and some of her old books, the ones she had had a particular interest in when she was a child. She pulled her copy of Hogwarts: A History out and opened the book. She touched the pages lightly, remembering all the times her two best friends had made jokes at her for actually reading the book.
She finished pulling everything out of the trunk, only to fill it with supplies she would need this year. She packed her clothes in separate suitcases, and then shrunk them with a spell so they would all fit neatly in the top of her trunk. She shrunk her copy of Hogwarts and stuck that in there as well.
Closing the lid, she looked around. If she packed everything up, and shrunk it all, she could fit it all into only a few trunks and save tons of money on storage. Just what she wanted to do with her weekend. But there was only this weekend before school started on the first. If she didn't do it now, she'd have to pay another month of rent.
Hermione set to work on shrinking everything that she could. The furniture, the dishes, everything. She had just finished putting the last of her belongings away when Rose and Hugo came home on Sunday night.
"What's going on here?" Rose asked, walking in her bedroom to find nothing.
"I've found something a bit closer to Hogsmeade. I was just packing everything up. I've left your beds though, and some clothes for the two of you along with your trunks and robes." Hugo and Ron walked in, their jaws dropping at the sight of an empty house.
"What in bloody hell is going on here, Hermione?" Ron asked, practically shouting.
"Don't use language like that in front of the kids, Ron. I'm moving. As soon as the kids are on the train, I'm taking everything to my new home." Ron was speechless. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I'm glad you've found something better. This place was awful."
"Compared to what you were living in with your parents all those years ago? I think if you'll remember, they loved their situation. And I loved this tiny place when I was forced to move from the home I had kept for all those years so that you're new whatever-you-want-to-call-her could have it! You said I had changed, Ron, but I think you've done some changing of your own. I have no idea who you are anymore."
"That makes two of us, Hermione. I don't even know why I fell in love you in the first place." His words hurt, but Hermione put on a face of stone to keep Hugo from getting upset. Rose had been no stranger to her parents' failing marriage, so they never kept anything from her. Hugo went into his room and shut the door. Hermione had left a few of his toys out so he wouldn't be completely bored.
"Will you be at the platform to see the kids off tomorrow?" she asked, her breathing slowly regulating her heart rate.
"No. I have to take Tilda to the a doctor's appointment."
"It's Hugo's first year. You remember how hard that was? How can you do this to him?"
"I have other obligations to take care of right now, Hermione, other priorities."
"Your kids should be the number one priority in your life, even if you don't care for me anymore. Don't make them suffer because of your feelings."
"I'm not. Tilda thinks she's pregnant. We're going to either confirm or deny. So I am keeping my kids my priority. You can keep your kids yours."
Ron turned and left, and Hermione slammed the door after him. She pulled out the glass of wine that she had opened only days before, and poured herself a glass. Before she knew it, the remainder of the bottle was gone. But she felt much better. She went to bed that night in a decent mood, and she dreamt of far, far better days.