Hermione walked down the halls, passing all types of students. There were Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, Ravenclaw and her beloved Gryffindors. The kids were tall, short, thin and others who... well…could have done without the pasties. With her books under her thin arm, ready to teach her next class, she sat on a bench and continued to study the pupils. They were all so young and could never quite realize the loss the generation before them had experienced.
Close to seven years previous, the largest war in the Wizarding World broke out. Their beloved hero, Harry James Potter, died merely months ago due to his horrendous seven year, merciless terror. It was horrifying to all but a relief to some as well. As Harry fell, the Dark Lord fell as well, ending everyone's despair.
At night, Hermione would find herself crying for no reason. She would sit up on semi-darkness and continue to cry for the real reason; losing the only best friend that she had left. The other closest friend that she had remaining was Gunny. She was so preoccupied being a widowed mother that she wasn't dependable. So, there she was, aging away, on a small wooden bench, continuing to study the children who passed her, anxious to get to their next class, in fear of being late. The bell rang, and the halls were silently deserted.
Had she been in school today, in her seventh year, she would currently be looking at Ancient Runes while the boys were in Divination. Three fourth years rushed past, two boys and a girl. The two boys had brown and black hair and the girl had red har. They reminded her so much of her, Harry and Ron that she almost broke out in tears. After they retreated, a blonde woman and a red-haired man were approaching her. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat.
"Hello, Hermione," the man nodded to her as the blond walked past poshly.
"Good afternoon, Ronald," she enunciated coldly. As they walked away, she formed her hand into the shape of a gun. "Bang," she whispered. "Bang, bang. You're dead."
