Saturday, July 31st

I had everything in my bag, and I was ready to go. Ginny and Luna would be calling for me anytime now. I was so excited. It was Harry's 21st Birthday party and we were all going out to The Waterhouse restaurant in Westminster, and then going clubbing at The Strobe, just down the street.

Ginny and Luna rung the doorbell and I answered the door with a smile.

"Let's go!" I announced, and we flitted off down the street, laughing and chatting, ready for a great night out.

We arrived at the restaurant, and got seated. It was me, Harry (obviously!), Ginny, Luna, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville and Dean and Seamus' girlfriends, I didn't care to ask who they were.

We drank a lot. A LOT. The dinner was nice, and we stumbled drunkenly out of the restaurant towards the club, the heel of my new shoes hanging off. Oops! Like I was sober enough to care.

Sunday, August 1st

Oh my god, I thought to myself. I had the most horrible headache, ever. I didn't know where I was, I didn't know how I'd got there – in fact, I couldn't remember anything past about seven o' clock the night before.

I started to think. I had been going out to party to celebrate Harry's 21st birthday. Hmm. I left my apartment, and it was me, Ginny and Luna. I struggled to remember much after that. We arrived at the restaurant, and I think I had a few drinks. God damn it, I knew what happens when I drink! I let myself go completely!

It was the fact that I wasn't sure what had happened after that that scared me the most. I was warm though, nice and warm. I smelled the sheets. Thank God. I was in my bed.

I poked my head up from the duvet, and glanced around the room. Yes, my room, my bed, my clothes - strewn all over the floor. The heel of my new £345 Jimmy Choo's detached from its counterpart. Damn it. I must have been absolutely hammered. (Like I didn't know that already!) This was completely un-Hermione.

I rolled over, and put the pillow from the other side of the bed over my head, in an attempt to block out the late morning sun. Except, when I pulled the pillow, I seemed to be fighting for it. I was too drunk to think why, though. I just pulled, and pulled, until it came free.

"Ouch!" yelled a male voice, the owner of which had probably just banged his head on the metal bedpost, due to the sound of bone clanging against metal.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

Oh my God.

I leapt up and started bashing him with my pillow, oblivious to the fact that I was rather poorly dressed. In that, I had no clothes on whatsoever. The shame.

"YOU." I bashed him, "GET." And again, "OUT!" and again. And a few more times for good measure. "RON! Why the hell would you do this! This is not right! This is beyond the boundaries of normal! GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT YOU EVIL MAN WHO TAKES ADVANTAGE OF DRUNKEN WOMEN!"

"Is it wrong," he sat up, rubbing his eyes too, mirroring my actions of a few moments before, "that I found that a complete turn on?" he laughed hoarsely and dropped back down to the mattress, hands behind his head lazily.

"URGH! You SICK, STUPID, IMMATURE BOY!" I screeched, and he leapt out of bed, at which point I covered my body and my eyes while he got dressed.

I lowered my voice. "We did it, didn't we?"

"Heck yes, we did." He grinned, his eyes glazing over, obviously reminiscing, until I jumped down off the bed and slapped him round the face.

I shoved him out of the front door with the same ease. Half dressed, and with his clothes thrown after him, he stood sheepishly out on the street as I glared at him: "You tell no-one. This didn't happen. This never happened."

And just as another sickeningly dreamy smile crept onto his mouth, I added: "And it will never happen again."

I slammed the front door in his face and thanked God at least they had done it at her place, and not in the Club, so no-one knew.

And I was drunk anyway. Everyone knew what happened to the normally up-tight and frigid me when I got drunk.

I'll just forget it and put it behind me.

The past was the past, and there would be no need to ever bring it up again.

September 19th – My Birthday

My birthday! Ah, twenty-two years old and still going strong. Not a very significant age, but who cares? It's my day! And there goes the doorbell, better go and get that.

It's Carl. He's so lovely. He's brought me a gorgeous gift. A new (engraved!) desk lamp. He knows how to hit the spot, really.

We've been seeing each other for about half a year now, and things are quite serious, already. We haven't moved in together yet, but I hope we will soon...

He's the kind of guy your parents would just LOVE. Well, if I had parents to show him to, I would. My parents are living it up in Australia at this moment though.

They don't know it's my birthday. They don't even know they have a daughter, and that she's a witch. But it's been just over five years now. And I've sort of grown to accept it. I've got Carl to look after me now. He's such an angel.

And, on the magic front, he does know that I'm a witch. And he's fine with it. He says it makes me even more magical and spectacular. I love him, I really do. Smart, funny, handsome, just overall amazing.

It's only 11am, but I opened the wine, and we had a little kiss and more on the sofa. My family (well, extended, as in, the Weasleys, Harry, Luna, etc.) arrived at about three, and Molly made a big fuss in making the dinner - smoked salmon and dauphinoise potatoes with assorted green vegetables. Delicious.

We had a great time opening the presents, and I got a lot of awfully nice things – a paperclip, staple and file clip executive style stationary organiser, leather coated and embossed with 'Hermione J Granger' on the front. It was perfect. That was from the Weasleys. Harry got me an all-new, 3rd generation FiloFax (just what I needed!) and Luna (still not fully adapted to my non-wild lifestyle) got me a set of books with titles along the lines of 'How to Hunt a Fhitlptiosnjakladjjfk' and 'Focus On: The Drararjkflkkllllsyuxzi'. It was not quite to my taste, but I thanked her all the same.

After the gorgeous dinner, we were sitting, full to burst, in front of the TV watching the X Factor. Some of those people really do not know when to stop. My good God. Molly stood up, and I asked her if she wanted anything. She said no, but could she have a word. Of course, I said yes. In private, apparently. She took me into the downstairs toilet, rather cramped for a middle aged lady and a younger woman. She started to speak.

"Well, Hermione. I know what I'm about to say will sound a little odd, but just hear me out. I know you and Carl have been, well, attempting to conceive. And, I just thought, as I know how much this means to you, I would help you a little along the way."

She handed me a tiny box wrapped in ribbon. A pregnancy test. She was so thoughtful. Like my mother.

"Thank you!" I gave her a tight hug, and said, "you don't know how much you've helped me in the last five years. You're the mother I haven't have in that long." I felt a solitary tear drop down my cheek. I didn't even know it'd been coming. I sniffled, and a few more salty tears fell out of my eye.

"There, there. You'll be absolutely fine. You did the right thing." She whispered, and squeezed me tighter, and although I saw her, my own mothers face was swimming through my hazy mind. The words were coming out of her mouth.

"I know." I quietly mumbled. Even though I didn't. In my eyes, I would do anything to have her and Dad back. I didn't know if I did any good at all. I didn't know if it was the right thing to do.

"Well, I'll leave you alone for a minute," she said, hushing me. "You don't have to do it now, dear, but, when you're ready." She added on to the end, in a rushed tone that suggested she thought she'd offended or upset me in some way. It wasn't her fault, of course. I'd been bottling up for a while.

She let herself carefully out of the room and I sat on the closed toilet lid. I heard an airy but also sharp 'Nothing, nothing, everything's absolutely fine! Now, who's just been on then?' in Molly's particular voice that invoked that the subject was closed, and not to be opened. I nearly wanted to laugh. This was my family, now.

Julie and Graham Park knew nothing of their 22 year old daughter. They were not part of my life anymore. They were no longer Granger's, the parents of model student Hermione, and dentists. They were two doctors living in the upper end of Sydney. It's a wonderful life for some. In their minds they had moved to Sydney 5 years previously for a change of scenery and a getaway from English life. It indeed was a grand getaway, as well. A getaway from the lives they had lived for the best part of 50 years prior to the strong spell I'd enchanted on them.

But, maybe, this would help if I made a family of my own. I already have one, but what if I had a real one? One that was all mine, and I had children to love and look after? And a husband (my darling Carl) to cherish until death parts us? And an estate car to ferry my little boy to football training in? I could go into the gorgeous little dance shop on Fairway Park with my daughter, to get her shoes for her very first ballet lesson, couldn't I? Just thinking about it was making me happier.

I'll take the test. Right now. I did my part, and looked at the little stick that would change my future forever.