A/N: This is one of the worst one-shots I've ever written. But I had written down a list of songs to do one-shots in the Harry Potter fandom and this is what came out of this one. In case it wasn't obvious, it was written for the song "Weightless" by All Time Low. Listen to it and try to correlate the parts. It's bad, but it'll have to do. Review!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, really. The world and characters are JKR's, and the song that it's written for is All Time Low's. Enjoy.

Weightless

January 2, 2003

Five long, endless years ago, the Second War Against Voldemort finally ended...and so did the main purpose of my life. For seven years of it, the near sole reason of my being was to help the ever-so-marvelous (please note my sarcasm) Harry James Potter defeat the dreaded Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle. I did more than my fair third of the work; I ensured that the illustrious Mr. Potter made it through Hogwarts with sufficient grades; I saved him and his sidekick the irritating Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley innumerable times from things like Devil's Snare, unsuspecting death by Basilisk, and Death Eaters; and I invented the spells that tracked down the final Horcruxes and killed the Dark Lord. But, in the end, Harry gets an Order of Merlin, First Class, an immediate appointment into the Auror Department without NEWTs scores, and tales and history books written about him, and I get an Order of Merlin, Fourth Class (is that even possible? I had wondered at the time), a free year at Hogwarts, a couple of footnotes in the history books, and an occasional appearance in The Adventures of Harry Potter.

I remember attempting to protest, but I simply ended up attending Hogwarts to finish my missed Seventh Year. I barely passed with one Outstanding and three Acceptable NEWTs; the professors were shocked and appalled. After all, I was supposed to be the Brightest Witch of the Age. I still loved learning, but I was such a mess after the war that I simply couldn't focus. I felt so...weighted and worn down. I was like a book, half unread. People saw me, but they didn't really see me. I was just the brain.

I have emotions, though. I have a sense of humor. I want to be laughed at, laughed with...just because it would allow people to see me. I wanted-still do, really-this weight off my shoulders. I want to feel weightless, like I used to before I ever had to go to Hogwarts.

Now I'm stuck in this fucking rut-I'm in a damned dead end job at Borgin and Burkes of all places. I'm waiting for a second-hand pick-me-up; not drugs, but a ticket out on someone's coattails. But I want out of this job. And I want to stop aging.

In a sense, you could say that I'm over getting older. I want to work on a formula to make myself young again-3 or 4 years old young again. I want a new chance at life. I'd still have my magic, but I wouldn't be Hermione Granger, Harry Potter's lesser-known sidekick, anymore.

For the moment, though, I can tell that it's not my weekend. Mr. Borgin is yelling for me. We've got an important customer. Severus Snape. Maybe it's gonna be my year.

Later...

Yes! Severus is now on board with my plan!

I was shocked, four years ago, when I returned to Hogwarts and found him to still be alive. Many people had thought him dead at the Dark Lord's hand, myself included. Obviously, he wasn't. Well, when I started the year, my potions were absolutely atrocious, on par with everything Neville Longbottom had ever done (he got an OoM: Second Class). Snape, as I still called him at the time, was furious about my lack of effort. The first day, he gave me detention for that night. He made me sit down in front of his desk.

"Miss Granger," he had said,"what in Merlin's name is wrong with you?" That was the first time I ever heard him use a tone that wasn't his teaching voice or his deadly whisper. This was a shout of pure outrage. I was frozen. "You have always been my best student! Now your potions are worse than Longbottom's! What the hell is going on with you?" I couldn't answer. Then he sort of...tried to come onto me, in a way.

I immediately sprung into action. "Stop, please, you b-, professor!"

He looked smug. "Why?"

I frowned. But I could feel that I could tell him what I'd told no one else. "It's not really you, sir. I'm...asexual and aromantic. I don't feel sexual or romantic urges or desires. I only feel platonic love."

He nodded solemnly, then grinned widely (which, at the time, I found pretty creepy) and backed off. "Don't worry, Hermione. I am too. Now, don't you think you can tell me what's wrong? We are very much alike."

I told him all about my bitterness and weighted-ness. He understood it all. He made me swear that if I tried in no other class that I would at least do my best in Potions. And I did. That one Outstanding I got was on my Potions NEWT.

After that, he became like my big brother. We kept in contact over these past years.

Now it's all going to pay off. I'm good at potions, but I'm definitely no Master like Severus is. I talked to him about the plan and he thinks he can help me formulate and create the potion. But he has three stipulations: 1. that I let him take the potion too, 2. that I help him permanantly cure lycanthropy, and 3. that I let Remus Lupin take both potions.

I pondered the risks for a second, but I realized that I didn't want to waste another minute here; I wanted to be reckless for once. I could even pretend once more that I can impress people, that every word I say, by design, turns a head. I agreed. Now I just need to find the time to do this.

On second thought, screw it. I can't let another day go by. I'm quitting. I can't wati to see Remus; he was a good friend of mine during the war, after Ron, Harry, and I started spreading apart.

September 19, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. It's my last birthday as Hermione Granger.

We've cured lycanthropy. Remus is a normal wizard again. And the de-aging potion is done. We've agreed that we'll send the formula for the anti-lycanthropy potion to Hogwarts first. McGonagall will make sure it gets into the right hands. If we sent it to the Ministry, they'd use it as a weapon or make it practically useless thanks to endless testing.

Severus has suggested that the three of us write our conclusions to our lives as Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, and Reums Lupin. By this time tomorrow, we'll be living in the States as Samuel (age 4), Hermia (age 3), and Roman (age 3) Kimball. Remus and I will be twins and Severus will be our older brother.

I'm glad to be done with this life. I'm over getting old-here, at least. The Kimballs who are adopting us are all the things our parents weren't, necessarily: kind, open, accepting, and Wizarding. This is everything I don't want to dream anymore. I've been going crazy, stuck here and all. This is my reaction to everything I fear: failure and mediocrity.

It's a bit cowardly, but it is cunning, in a way. Thruth be told, the Sorting Hat was about to put me in Slytherin when it discovered I was Muggleborn. Occasionally Muggleborns end up in Slytherin, but the time was not right to let them in. So it found my place to be in Gryffindor.

Maybe I'm crazy, but then Severus and Remus are crazy too.

Our deaths have been faked by necessity. Now we'll be free like never before. This is it. Good-bye Britain. Good-bye Hogwarts. Good riddance Harry, the Weasleys, the Ministry. Good-bye Hermione Granger.

Maybe it's not my weekend,

But it's gonna be my year.

A/N: And that's a wrap. Happy Birthday, Hermione. I hope you enjoyed it, readers. Tune in at some innumerable months in the future, and I might have a new story. Read my other stories! Review if you want! -Dani