The war had been over for years. Her personal battles, however, had never stopped. Hermione Granger lay sprawled across her favorite armchair in what could have been judged to be an uncomfortable position to the uninformed observer. Then again, if such an observer were present he would probably first note the morose look that graced the visage of that heroine.
It had been years since Harry had died. She had clung to Ron in an effort to preserve their friendship, clung even when he perceived her interests to be romantic. She had lost one best friend to war; she had not wanted to lose another to emotional distance.
So she agreed: agreed to go out with him, agreed to sleep with him, agreed to marry him. And here she was 17 years later with children she adored and a husband she didn't want.
He wasn't much of a husband, not really. Divorce in the wizarding world was all but unheard of. It just wouldn't do for two prominent members of society to set such a precedent, at least that was what Ron had said and Molly Weasley and the Ministry Committee for the Preservation of Magical Traditions. For some reason her personal life was under their Ministry appointed jurisdiction.
But it was HER life and there was no way that this Gryffindor was going to give up because the Ministry had deemed it proper. Hermione had done at that moment what had previously been relegated to her schooldays; she defied authority in an outrageous public display. Ms. Granger moved out.
Rita Skeeter, somehow still in journalism, had relished the entire scandal. The headlines all portrayed Ron as Hermione's indulgent husband putting up with atrocities from day one. To a reader of the Daily Prophet several things were made clear by the articles. Firstly, the marriage was doomed from the start due to Hermione's quaint muggle upbringing as evidenced by the refusal to change her name to Hermione Weasley. Ms. was no way to address a married woman in Their World, now was it? Secondly Hermione had cuckolded Ron with everyone from Snape and Draco Malfoy to the Giant Squid.
In truth, Hermione found the allegations of adultery amusing. Snape was dead; she and Draco hated one another; and the Giant Squid was a cephalopod. Besides, Ron had his bi-weekly meetings with Lavender that never seemed to make news. Why couldn't Skeeter have attacked the guilty party?
Hermione roused herself from the plush armchair and began to pace, glancing about the room for things to distract her from her thoughts. The only objects of note in the room were pictures of the Trio from when The-Boy-Who-Lived still lived, the aforementioned chair, a writing desk and floor to ceiling bookshelves. Had Rose and Hugo been home she could have found solace in her children, but they were off at Hogwarts. The books were her personal collection, all cherished and read many times over. This left only the pictures as a distraction.
Had she ever really been that young? The trio waved at her and she just stared at her young self, a wave of nostalgia overcoming her. She thought back to her years at Hogwarts, back when she was the know-it-all best friend of Harry Potter. She retraced her journey from The Hogwarts Express to the Final Battle.
She remembered the quiet evenings spent in confidence with Ron and Harry. The three of them would sit on the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room and talk until the fire dwindled. They had spoken of their childhoods, of their hopes, of their futures.
Harry never got that far.
Some days Hermione worried that Skeeter would publish a biography similar to the one she had written about Dumbledore. And all at once, her course of action became clear. She held her memories of years of exploits close, attempting to recall every last detail of the Hogwartsian tales of the Golden Trio. And with a certainty that surprised even the woman herself-
Hermione Granger walked over to the desk, sat down and began to write.