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Hermione turned restlessly, rubbing the back of her hand across her clammy forehead. It was no use. She just couldn't sleep. She kicked off the light sheet that covered her and placed her feet on the timber floor. She switched on the antique bedside lamp, a house-warming gift from her favourite aunt, and groped absently on the bedside table for the bobble she had dropped there two hours before. Feeling it beneath her fingers, she grabbed it and, with a yawn, arranged her hair into a messy knot. Tucking some stray pieces of hair behind her ears, she made her way to the kitchen, grabbing her wand on the way out and using it to turn on lights as she went. After pouring herself a glass of orange juice, Hermione flung herself on the couch in her cramped, low-budget two-bedroomed apartment.
Cosy, the estate agent had called it. Hermione felt that he had been making a joke at her expense. This is what she got for trying to assert her independence.
When the War was over she had moved back home to live with her parents, but it was so strange after so many years apart. So many years when she didn't have to answer to them or to tell them where she was going or who she was seeing. It was only a couple of months before she had had enough.
It wasn't that she didn't love her parents. She did, so much. But they hadn't realised that she wasn't the eleven nearly twelve year old that they had sent off to Hogwarts so many years ago. She was all grown up now. She was able to make her own decisions now. She had fought Voldemort, for Merlin's sake. She had watched her friends die. She had seen lives torn apart by the war. And then her parents just expected her to be able to come home and act like she hadn't experienced all that?
She couldn't do that.
Hermione guessed that it wasn't merely their ignorance of the fact that she was an adult now that was the problem. During the summer after the War Hermione had travelled to Australia, along with Harry and Ron, to reverse the memory charm she had placed on her parents. From that moment they hadn't wanted to let Hermione out of their sight. Not for an hour. Not for a minute. Not for a second. Not ever. And, truthfully that was fine at first. She was so thrilled that they were OK and she needed the comfort that only a parent could provide.
But soon she had started to feel smothered. So, she had moved out. Her mother had cried. She didn't understand how Hermione felt. How could she? She had never gone through what Hermione had gone through, but Hermione knew that her decision had been for the best. The last thing she had wanted to do was to make her mother sad but it had worked out that way in the end, nonetheless. Ultimately, she had to put herself first, at least for the moment.
Hermione sighed and turned on the television, a present from Arthur Weasley and family, for her new apartment. It was a new model, developed by young, entrepreneurial wizards, a couple of years older than Hermione herself, that incorporated channels developed specifically for wizards by wizards. They had sold their invention for millions of Galleons.
The young witch glanced around her dingy apartment. She wished she had come up with it. Money was something that could come in very handy at this stage of her life. Giving up on the impossible, she returned her focus to the screen in front of her. Lazily, she lifted her wand and uttered the password to access the wizarding channels. With a sip of her orange juice, she flicked to the Wizarding Television Network.
She was just in time for a late night news bulletin. That was one good thing about this new invention, it made communication between the people of the wizarding world much easier and since the trials of some Death Eaters were taking place at the moment, everyone was glued to their television screens to find out the truth.
To see if justice would be served.
To find out if there was any humanity or any regret left in the blackened souls of those depraved murderers in response to their heinous crimes.
Hermione rested her head back against the comfy, old couch and listened to the news.
"Good Evening and welcome to WTN News," the newsreader began. Frowning, Hermione realized she hadn't seen her on the broadcast before. "Here are today's top news stories," the newsreader continued. Hermione recognised her as a former Ravenclaw Prefect and Percy's ex-girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater. She must be a new addition to the team, Hermione concluded.
"The trial ended today of Alecto Carrow, a female Death Eater who was accused of War Crimes, Crimes against Humanity and Crimes against Peace was convicted this afternoon of all crimes. Ms. Carrow was a teacher at Hogwarts during the school year of 1997-1998 and during the aftermath of the Great War it was claimed by many student that Ms. Carrow, along with her brother Amycus Carrow, used excessive violence against students if they were disobeyed in any way. Ms. Carrow was sentenced to life in Azakaban for her crimes. We are joined now in studio by Michael Corner, who was a student at Hogwarts at the time. Michael, do you believe that justice was served today?"
The picture turned to a young man sitting across the news desk. Michael opened his mouth to speak. "I don't believe that any punishment given to Ms. Carrow could adequately make up for what she did to us, for what she put us through. But I am content to know that she will never be free to roam the streets again."
Penelope nodded. Hermione could tell that she was trying to mask her own emotions. The pretty newsreader was trying to appear objective and calm, but she had lost as much as anyone else to the War. Clearly struggling to regain control of her feelings, she said, "I'm sure that a lot of our viewers out there would agree with you. But tell us a little more of your personal experience at Hogwarts during the school year of 1997-1998."
The young man bent his head and he appeared to be trembling slightly at the memories. Hermione could sense the wave of pain that passed trough him when he thought of that time. He was silent for a time. Sitting up, Hermione laid her glass on the plain, wooden coffee table. "It was horrific," he finally managed to stammer. "I remember waking up in the middle of the night to sickening, blood-curdling screams of pain. I remember students being forced to perform the Cruciatus Curse on their friends. I remember being tortured by The Carrows on numerous occasions for trying to help out fellow students or just because they felt that it was entertaining." He raised his tear filled eyes and looked directly at Penelope Clearwater. "I hope they burn in hell for what they did to us."
Hermione saw Penelope reach over and lay a hand on Michael's, trying to give him what little comfort she could. After a few seconds, Michael began to regain his composure, and Penelope seemed to realise that she was hosting a live television show. She turned towards the camera and announced a commercial break.
"Nox," Hermione muttered quietly. The television screen went black. Hermione sat still for a moment before rising and heading back to her bedroom. On the way she encountered Crookshanks. He wandered out of the spare room and greeted her by rubbing his soft, fluffy and warm body up against her bare legs. Hermione bent down and rubbed the top of his head. The cat purred in utter contentment, closing his green eyes. Hermione smiled, scooped him up in her arms and made her way back to the bedroom, turning off the lights as she went. She laid her big fur-ball on the end of the bed and crawled in under the sheet again. Crookshanks moved upwards and laid his head on her stomach. Closing his eyes, he nodded off to sleep with ease. Hermione stroked him for a few minutes before closing her eyes and trying her best to get at least a few hours sleep.
Hermione woke to bright rays of sunshine flooding in through the narrow window. She woke up slowly, trying to cling to her dreams but failing miserably. It was time for life... unfortunately. She threw the sheet off and got up. Crookshanks had seemingly already vacated his position on her tummy. With heavy legs, she wandered in the general direction of the kitchen, not that there were many other places that she could deviate towards, and grabbed the cat food off the shelf. "Crookshanks," she called. He came immediately. The cat had an unadulterated love of mealtimes. Moving over to his food bowl, she poured some food into it. She then grabbed a glass bottle of milk from the fridge and filled his saucer. After replacing the milk in the fridge, she closed it with her foot, stifling a yawn as she did so. Crookshanks proceeded to lap up the milk enthusiastically and Hermione started to wonder what was there for her own breakfast. She started to search through cupboards and found Cheerios box with enough left to fill a bowl. Blocking out the fact that the cereal was more than likely stale, she snatched a clean bowl from the drying rack, retrieved the milk from the fridge and mixed the two ingredients together to make breakfast.
Bon Appétit!
Finally she managed to track down a spoon and then she sat down and began to eat the gone-off contents of her bowl. Half way through her breakfast, an arrival came through the Floo Network.
"Hey," her red-headed friend greeted with a smile.
"Ron! You know, some people consider it rude to arrive unannounced into someone else's Living Room at seven in the morning," Hermione was not in a very cheery mood this fine morning.
"But you don't mind," Ron answered, as he headed for the fridge. He found her orange juice and poured himself a glass, draining the rest of the liquid.
"How would you know? Did you ever think to ask?"
"Didn't think I needed to," Ron replied between gulps, "You're my girlfriend. I should be able to visit any time I want."
Rolling her eyes, Hermione finished the last spoon of her breakfast, and levitated her bowl over to the sink. "I'm just saying that a little privacy would be much appreciated."
"Aw, don't be like that, Hermione. You'd miss me if I didn't come around as often." Ron said, a grin forming on his freckled face.
Hermione snorted, before washing her bowl with a spell. Rising from the hard wood of her chair, she walked towards her bathroom.
"Hey," Ron called after her, "Are you working today?"
"No, not today," Hermione called back, "Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering if you wanted to do something, that's all."
"I…," Hermione began to compose an excuse of why she couldn't spend the day with Ron, but she realized she had done that the last two times he had asked. Sighing, she thought she should probably go with him, in order to avoid another fight about her long hours at her mediocre job. "What do you have in mind?" she asked.
"Dunno. Ginny's playing a match today. She could probably score us free tickets," Ron said with a smile.
"Sure, sounds good," Hermione agreed.
"Great!" Ron said, "I'll go ask her!"
Ron travelled back to his apartment the same way he had come. He lived there with Harry and Neville. It was a really nice apartment. Harry could afford it though, Hermione thought with a chuckle. They had asked her to move in with them but Hermione had said no. She had not wanted to add pressure to her relationship with Ron by moving in together so soon into their relationship. It was probably a good thing that she didn't anyway. Knowing how neat Harry and Ron were, all the housework would have been left to her. That would have sent romance and friendship out the window for sure.
Ginny had been supposed to move into this apartment with Hermione, but that plan had fallen through. Molly had put her foot down and refused point blank to let Ginny live anywhere but under her own roof. She proclaimed that Ginny was too young, even though she was only a year younger than Ron, Harry and Hermione herself. But Hermione suspected that Mrs. Weasley didn't want her youngest chick to leave the nest too soon. Hermione understood where she was coming from, but that did mean that Hermione would have to find a new flat mate. There wasn't a chance in hell that she would be able to keep up with both the rent and bills all by herself, especially not on her poor wages. A couple of days ago, she had sent an advertisement into the Daily Prophet to try and find somebody. Anybody would do at this stage. It was due to be published today. With a feeling of dread, Hermione thought of the bills sitting in her post box at this very second. She sighed, exasperated.
Hopefully she'd find a suitable flatmate as soon as possible.