When I was younger, my mother always told me the same thing every night before I went to bed. She'd kiss me on the head, tuck me into my bedcovers and say 'Always walk through life, Hermione, as if you have something to learn… and you will.' Then she'd kiss me again, switch off the light and whisper goodnight.

I suppose there's something to say for that quote. Perhaps that constant reminder throughout my childhood was what brought me to being who I am, to being who I am known for being. Learning, you might say… is my oxygen. Without it, I feel constricted, suffocated. I strive to learn. What is the point of progressing day to day if you are not wiser today than you were yesterday?

There are lessons to be learnt even when you are not in school, even when you are not the bookish girl that once waved her hand so wildly in class, desperate for approval and for recognition of her aptitude. Some lessons are learnt on a peaceful sail across the hours. Others are learnt in turbulent waters, storms and all. But that is what makes me who I am – no matter how I learn something, I simply must.

I've learnt many things throughout my life. Whether it was the education I received as a young girl at a Muggle primary school, or whether it was my Magical education at Hogwarts. Whether it was learning how to duel, how to fight and survive in the war. Whether it was learning how to cook for myself, clean and inhabit my own flat, to live on my own. And learning to forgive and forget. And most importantly, learning to let my guard down; to let others in… To love, and be loved.

For that's the most important lesson of all.

Hermione rubbed her temples, setting down her quill, and rubbing her hands, trying to loosen the stiffness that had set in to her hand. Frowning, she read and re-read the page in front of her; hoping that this time, on this draft, she might be satisfied with the words she had found, how they rolled on the page.

"How are you getting on?" a soft voice from behind asked, placing their warm hands on her slouched shoulders. She felt the relaxing pressure of thumbs working the knots on her back.

"I think I have a start," she replied. "I mean, it's the thirtieth draft I've done today. But it's the only one I actually like." She leant her head back against the body behind her. "Well, sort of like."

"I'm sure it's great. May I read?"

"Certainly." Hermione swung her legs out from under the table, standing and letting him sit on the chair. "Please be honest."

There was silence as she let him read, biting her lip in anticipation for what he might say. He was her harshest critic; and always had been. His approval and his opinion were the most important to her.

He set down the page. "Hermione, it's wonderful." He turned to her, with a smile on his thin lips, his ebony eyes reflecting the nearby fire that was glowing. "I assume, of course, that learning to be loved, and to love… has a little to do with me."

"Who else…" Hermione whispered, folding herself into his lap, and kissing him. "And I'm sure the same can be said for you, Mr. Teaching you to do the very same was a mighty task."

"And was it worth it?"

"It was worth every second."

He kissed her again, cupping her face with his hand, before pulling away and resting his forehead against hers. "As I like to hear. Now, shouldn't you continue your writing. You have a book to write."

"Yes, my first book. I can't believe it."

"Yours is a story worth hearing, Hermione."

"I much prefer the last few chapters though, everything else seems so dull."

"Yes, I imagine fighting the Dark Lord was so very dull. Not to mention being one of the most famous witches of all time, and the most intelligent witch of her age. My, my… how drab." His sarcasm dripped from his voice, and Hermione shivered slightly; she adored his voice.

She slapped his arm playfully. "I just mean, the best years so far… have been the last two. And I would much rather talk endlessly about them, and about you."

"That would be dull. Now get on and write."

"Yes, of course."

"Hermione Granger: published author, order of Merlin first class, war heroine, Charms Mistress…"

She cleared her throat. "What did you call me?"

He grinned at her, kissing her nose. "Hermione Granger."

"Well that's not my name, is it? Not anymore."

"No. It's not."

"So correct it."

"Fine. World renown Charms Mistress, Order of Merlin: first class, published author.. the beautiful, and utterly enticing and ravishing… Hermione Granger-Snape."

Beaming, Hermione threw her arms back around her husband. "Speaking of ravishing…"

"Say no more." He swept her into his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. "You can write in the morning… This, simply cannot wait."

Hermione giggled, her heart fluttering in her chest.

Yes, learning to be loved was definitely a lesson worth learning.

Thanks for reading. Just a quick little story I knocked out while sitting in bed. Not sure if I should continue it or not... would love to hear your thoughts :) Thanks for reading, please review if you can - just like to know how it was received - it's been such a long time since I've written anything. PP xxx