Part 1 – (A)

Prologue

A/N: Please read this author's note! So…this is my first fanfiction in a very, very long time. But anyways just a few notes before this gets going. This story will follow everything read in the books, including epilogue, and a few things from the movies. Also this story was partially inspired by the song lyrics from The Story by Brandi Carlile.

So this is not a romantic little story about how Hermione and Draco end up together. The characters will not be 100% likeable abhorrent (hopefully). All of the characters in this story will make bad choices and good choices. This is a story about Hermione's life outside of the years at Hogwarts we know about. It is a story about how even all the wrong choices, risks, heartbreaks, and flaws that happen along the course of life shaped her. Most of the story will be told through letters, notes, and diary entries written by Hermione.

I am going to be separating the story into 7 parts of Hermione's life each made of a couple chapters. Each part will also begin with glimpse into the present from Rose's life and another few lines of the song lyrics. This prologue will serve as Part 1. Sorry it is extremely short, but have to start somewhere, right?

Also JK Rowling owns these characters, this world, and a piece of our hearts (mine at least).

"All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am"

-Brandi Carlile, The Story

Present:

"Rose!" She set the box down and looked up just in time to see a leather folder fly towards her head. She caught it looked back at her brother quizzically.

"What is it?" She thumbed through the pages looking for an explanation.

Hugo shrugged, "Found it in the desk."

"It's Mum's handwriting," she said almost to herself. He only nodded in response, as he picked up another box and headed out of the room. As he past her, she noticed the shine of a tear in his eye that threatened to spill out.

Rose sat down in the desk chair. The brown leather binding of the folder looked nearly broken from use. The aging pages were covered distinctive scrolls of her mother's handwriting. Some of the pages appeared to be letters addressed without names, and others were simple notes or diary entries.

She spent the next few hours reading through many of pages that captured a part of her mother she had never been privy to: all of her inner thoughts, her hopes, her fears, her experiences, and her journey to be the person she knew. Rose attempted to sort through her own reaction and emotions to what she read: hurt, anger, betrayal, sorrow, joy, sympathy, and regret. How could she reconcile this woman with the confident, controlled, altruistic, honorable woman that raised her? The woman Rose idolized her whole life? Her mother had always seemed so perfect.

Her mother and this woman had a lot in common, but this woman in the letters seemed so much more…human. This woman had flaws and made mistakes. She was determined, but wasn't always sure what she wanted. She was bold and brave, but had fears about what could have gone wrong. She was passionate about helping others, but she was also passionately in love. She was happy, but she wanted things she couldn't have. She was caring, but also incredibly selfish. She was logical, but sometimes she would let her emotions rule her decisions. At times, this woman lied, drank, cursed, and kept secrets. But it would seem they were one in the same. Was it all true? Did everything Rose read really happen?

It was all there in black and white. It was in the delicate handwriting that had signed her birthday cards and permission slips. It was on the parchment that reassured her when she was a homesick child and made lunch plans as an adult. The sheer number of pages alone made it difficult to deny. Yet it all seemed so unbelievable.

"I should have known I would find you up here reading." The smirk nearly audible in her husband's voice. She turned around to see him leaning into the doorframe watching her. The mix of emotions were caught in her throat. He came closer to put a hand on her shoulder. His eyes filled with concern as he looked down at Rose, who was clearly a little distraught. "What is it?"

She motioned to the folder with her fingertips still tucked between some of the pages. "It's my mother's…It's her life story. Her love story."

He nodded and began rubbing her back gently.

She continued to look down at the pages without meeting his eyes. "But the love of her life was not my father." She paused, mulling over the words in her head. "It was yours."