I sat in the Gryffindor stands at a Quidditch game, cheering for Harry. He would swerve suddenly, and my breath would catch in my throat. Even with the superb effort of the Gryffindor team, we were behind by 30 points. The fate of our team rested on Harry's shoulders. Despite the obvious stress that he was under, Harry would fly by the stand I was in every so often, and he would wink teasingly at me.

Suddenly, Gryffindor scored again. Ron leapt to his feet, nearly toppling me over in the process. I stood up, and shoved Ron aside.

"Watch it, you big oaf! Next time you jump up like that I'm going to be knocked right out of the stands!" He laughed, and then drew me close to him in a warm embrace.

"You looked chilly" I laughed and poked him in the stomach, swerving out of his grasp.

"Hey! No fair…you know I'm ticklish…" he moved towards me, but before he could pounce, there was a massive uproar around us.

Harry had caught the snitch! Gryffindor fans jumped to their feet and the entire stand came alive, with students clapping and stomping and jumping all around us. I moved closer to Ron to avoid being knocked around by a pair of overly excited second- years. He leaned down and whispered something in my ear, but due to the celebration I could not hear him. I could only assume that it was something intimate, meant only for my ears, or he would simply have shouted it at me. Content, I snuggled against him and sighed softly, at home in his arms.

"Ron…oh Ron…" I tossed and turned murmuring his name until I was jarred out of my dreams of tall red heads by a violent beeping. With a groan I rolled over and turned off my alarm clock with a swipe of my hand.

I rolled out of bed and stumbled, only half awake, to my small bathroom. I splashed water on my face to wake myself up, but it was no use. I yawned, but the yawn turned to a yelp when I felt a pair of arms circle my waist. I look in the mirror and giggled.

"Ron…you scared me!" I began to object, but I grinned in spite of myself when he started nuzzling my neck.

"Calling my name in your sleep, eh?" he questioned suggestively, highlighting his intentions with a raise of an eyebrow.

"No...yes, I was, but that doesn't mean…" My protests were cut off when he spun me around and lowered his face to mine, his breath hot against my mouth.

"He even has nice breath at this hour…Hermione, you certainly chose the right man…" I leaned up and pressed my mouth against his. When our lips touched, the world around us disappeared. I wanted to spend forever in his arms; there was no better feeling than….

Bolting straight up in my bed, my hair tangled and a layer of sweat covering my body. Slightly disturbed, I checked by bedroom for any signs of a red headed intruder. The other pillow in my bed was untouched, the case as pristine as if it had just been laid out, when in reality it had been on my bed for nearly four months- a testimony to my deep, dreamless nights.

Catching my breath, I tried to think reassuring thoughts as I tied the drawstring to my robe. The fact that it was only a dream was enough to settle my heart rate at best, but the fact that this was the first time I had thought of my past life in nearly five years was no help to ease my troubled mind.

"It's too late to stop now, I suppose" I thought as I opened the cap on the toothpaste.

All through my later years at Hogwarts, I often daydreamed about what my life would have been like if I had never received the letter from Hogwarts, announcing my unique talents. My parents had been only too thrilled at the discovery of my gift, as was I, but I soon realized how confusing it could be to be a simple girl of eleven suddenly thrust into the magical life.

I was detached from my family for most of the year, only getting too see them briefly during the Christmas holidays, and then for two months during summer. Because I came from a non-magical background, I felt like the entire school was expecting me to fail, so I decided that I would prove them wrong. Being the academic head of every single class I took had not only a mental and physical toll on my mind and my body, but an emotional one as well.

I became obsessed with my grades, if I felt that I was slipping in any areas of my academic life, I would immediately cancel any and all social events, and study into the wee hours of the night, shunning any and all that tried to rescue me from my nearly obsessive nights of frenzied revision.

Sometime into my seventh year, I realized that I couldn't go on like that any more. Coming to only one conclusion, I vowed to myself that after I completed my magical schooling, I would totally excommunicate myself from the magical community. So, on the night before graduation, I wrote both Harry and Ron, my closest companions, two very long, very heartfelt, and very tearstained letters, informing them of my decision. I avoided them during the graduation ceremony, and just before I left, I handed each of them a letter, kissed them both, and walked away from the only real friends that I had ever had.

Shortly after that, I earned my high school diploma and then enrolled myself in pre- medical school, but found myself to be far too distracted, (the constant studying only brought back painful memories)so I dropped out. Shortly after that, I landed myself a job as a receptionist in a veterinary clinic, where I still work today.

During my attempt at medical school, I met a man named John Christopher Williamson. He was strikingly handsome, so of course I, then a naïve girl of only 18, accepted his invitation to dinner. I found the way he was reluctant to disclose any details of his life to be intriguing and mysterious, as well as a little odd. Life with Harry and Ron had not prepared me to be the one keeping up a conversation.

He asked to see me again, and I gladly accepted. After three months of dating him, I began to see why he had not been eager to share his life with me.

Handsome as he was, the man's life was boring. I stuck with him despite of his lack of excitement, and we remain together to this very day. We have a routine, developed and nurtured by four years of steady dating. At first I found comfort in the routine, but now, slightly more mature, I find that the comfort has turned to boredom. Predictability was certainly not something that my friendship with Harry and Ron had prepared me for.

I turned on the water for my shower, hoping to wash away all the thoughts of Harry, and certainly of Ron. But all I saw when I closed my eyes was the look of bewilderment and hurt that crossed across the two boy's faces as I turned my back and walked away from them forever.