Disclaimer: I do not own anything that isn't mine.
A/N: This bit is a tad serious, just some background information etc. It is also very short, and future chapters will be longer and more lighthearted. Please Review! (the 's mark the beginning of a paragraph as there are some problems with formatting on this computer, sorry guys!)
Prologue
The Last War was over. After years of harsh battle, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had
finally been defeated. Although the "good" had won, it was not without sacrifice. Muggleborn
witches and wizards, as the target of Lord Voldemort's reign of terror, were forced into hiding
to avoid his sweeping purges. Those who were not caught and killed lived in constant fear of
being given away by traitors to their cause. Hermione Granger, among others, spent long years
creeping from cover to cover with the help of the Order of the Phoenix.
It is in this way that three best friends grew apart. Hermione struggled with hiding, unable to
help those she loved most, especially when she learned of the death of Ron Weasley, who died
in battle with a Death Eater, who died of injuries afterwards. Harry Potter had been hidden
away, closely guarded, until it became time for the final battle. To everyone's amazement, it had
been Draco Malfoy who had organized the meeting for the battle. For years, he had been
working secretly for the Order, passing information gathered from his family to Dumbledore.
Now it was time for the Muggleborns to re-emerge into society. For 25-year-old Hermione
Granger, this presented opportunities and problems. It felt strange to walk around in the sunlight,
to not have people guarding her wherever she went. With money lent to her by the Order,
Hermione rented a small flat, furnishing it sparsly with cheap, unfinished pine chairs, a dresser,
round table, and desk. An old mattress sagged sadly in the corner on the floor, covered with
cheap white linen sheets. The apartment was small and smelled of damp, but Hermione gladly
cleaned this place she could finally call home, and artistically hung pretty fabrics on the walls to
cover brown water spots and patched of unfaded paint. She opened all her windows and cast a
charm to help lessen the musty smell of the dank little room, and folded her few clothes neatly
into their drawers.
Hermione was not one to be beholden to anyone, not ever her friends in the Order. So,
dressing in her best robes, which were faded, patched, hopelessly outdated, but clean, and
smoothing her long, brown, uncontrollable hair as best she could, the brightest witch of her age
set out to find a job. She was sure she could find someone who needed her.