Author's notes:
Eighth year at Hogwarts with a very much alive Fred. He will never be dead in my fics, I can't take the pain.
I have no connection to the Potterverse except for my love of Dramione fan fiction and the firm belief that Draco and Hermione were meant to be. I now own a badge to go with my Slytherin keyring.
For those of you who like timelines to be as exact as possible, I bent the rules slightly with the FanFiction website. It was established in October 1998 but, for the purposes of this story, it has been up and running since early 1997.
Love and travel plugs to coyg81 and a big thank you to In Dreams and Noppoh for taking the time to help me out.
Rachel x
.
September 1998
"Are you sure Mr. Thomas?"
"Sure, Miss Pickles. They'll work. One spell will have the wards changed in the room so the technology will work and the other will copy what's on the screens to parchment, like a printer."
"That's phenomenal work! How did you manage it?"
"I...em...wanted something to occupy my time, and my mind, considering all that had happened before -" he paused. "You know."
The new Muggle Studies professor looked at the young student in front of her. Why did they all have to grow up so fast, she smiled sadly. "I can totally understand that, Mr. Thomas. Were they difficult to come by?"
The proverbial "back of a lorry" came to mind as Dean Thomas looked up and smiled.
"Not at all."
.
Mid August 1998
Hermione sighed and leaned back in her chair. The Burrow was full of hilarity with double helpings of pranks and high jinks. Fred and George had brought two crates of new products for everyone to sample and, so far, Harry was sporting rather perky boobs, Ginny could only speak Swedish, Ron was walking around on the ceiling, and a very pregnant Fleur was trying really hard not to wee on the floor from laughter. Molly was in the kitchen, as usual, preparing a Sunday roast that could feed Wiltshire.
"Mione!" Harry called up the stairs. "You coming down? Check out my new rack!"
"Jag tror att jag kan vara gay," Ginny laughed, eyeing Harry's larger chest with interest.
"They look good from up here, mate!" Ron was caught peering down the front of Harry's open-necked shirt.
Hermione really wanted to stay away from all the noise. She didn't want to leave her writing; it was soothing, but it wasn't right to ignore her friends (she'd be doing enough of that when studying started). A year hidden away from the world, hunting for horcruxes, had her craving company but sometimes she needed the silence. To just be.
After the events of the past year, seven years really, the wizarding world had the luxury of sampling normal life; no evil, no corruption, no death, no sorrow. Loved ones were mourned, never to be forgotten, but the future held promise and hope. The Weasleys opened their home to Harry and Hermione, with Molly doing her utmost to ensure the young adults around her spent as much time as possible relaxing and laughing.
After all, laughter was the best medicine.
And so was Sleeping Draught, which they had all been prescribed to alleviate the night terrors and nightmares. Ron suffered from the former more so; he would dream of leaving Harry and Hermione in the Forest of Dean and returning to find their bodies mutilated and burned. His screams in the darkness woke everyone else from their nightmares. It was only through Legilimency, performed by one of the senior healers at St. Mungo's, that his trauma was revealed and now a counselor at the hospital was helping him deal with his guilt. The rest of the family, along with Harry and Hermione, took various doses of Sleeping Draught.
Hermione took a dose every second night and was slowly weaning herself off the potion. They were returning to Hogwarts in two weeks and she was determined to study for her N.E.W.T.s with as clear a head as possible. She had also discovered an outlet for her recovery, she began to write again.
As a child, she would write little fairy stories and share them with her cousin Janice, who also wrote for fun. They were the same age and inseparable as children.
When Headmistress McGonagall, then a professor, visited Mr. and Mrs. Granger to explain that their daughter was a witch and would be welcome at Hogwarts, Hermione insisted she be allowed tell her cousin of her newly discovered talents. After a standoff with a precocious eleven-year-old, the Minister of Magic had the family agree to various rules and regulations regarding the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Janice was introduced to a world she only ever thought of as imaginary, and a spell was cast that prevented her from speaking about it to anyone but the Grangers.
Hermione's cousin had only recently returned to England having spent the past year in hiding. After Monica and Wendell Wilkins were safely established in Australia, Hermione approached Janice and explained the danger she feared her cousin may face if she remained at her home. The emotionally drained witch spent an exhausting morning casting spells and charms until the girl before her was unrecognisable, spoke with an Irish accent, and was suddenly an expert in both Irish and Scotch whiskies.
Their reunion was bittersweet; Hermione couldn't reverse the spell she had cast on her parents and was heartbroken by the loss of the two people who gave her life. Janice consoled her cousin as best she could, considering she had to explain her year-long absence to her own family and friends, not to mention her new qualifications that technically should have taken over a decade to achieve. As far as Janice was concerned, she was alive and so was her favourite cousin. Anyone else with questions could just fuck off.
Bothered by Hermione's dark humour, Janice spent a few weeks at The Burrow with the Weasleys and Harry before returning to her muggle life. The original spell cast on her was lifted by the Ministry so she was able to converse with everyone about magic and other wizarding topics. In turn, she explained to Mr. Weasley how to play Tomb Raider on his newly acquired Playstation. He became rather fond of Lara Croft and her...attributes.
She found herself in awe of the loveable family and their homelife, even more so when Charlie came home from Romania to see the heroes return triumphant. Their attraction was instant and most welcome by Molly who feared her second eldest son may never settle down. The fact he was scheduled to spend more time on British soil, sourcing illegally bought baby dragons, had Molly introducing seating plans at the dinner table so the two could spend as much time together as possible. When it was time for Janice to return home, Charlie went with her...to help her settle back in, of course.
.
The day after she arrived at the Burrow, Janice sought Hermione out and the two left the quirky house to spend some time alone. Stopping about a mile away, they sat on a transfigured picnic mat and ate the sandwiches Molly insisted they bring with them.
"Want to talk about it?" Janice bit down on a carrot stick.
"No."
"I didn't think so. How are the meds?"
"I'll wean myself off the Draught as soon as I can. I need to feel like me again." Hermione sighed. "I need to feel normal."
"Hun, you may never feel normal. Your life so far has been a whole fucking world of not normal!"
Another sigh.
Janice handed her cousin a box containing Molly's famous turkey, ham, stuffing, and cranberry sauce sandwiches. She made them all year round.
Biting into the wholegrain delight, Hermione gazed out over the meadows that surrounded The Burrow. It was so peaceful, so serene. She still couldn't comprehend how they were all back from a war; there was no victory parade, no pictures of sailors kissing girlfriends, no celebratory holiday. There was just silence, until the twins would arrive the following week.
"I've started writing again."
Janice smiled. "I thought you might. It was always your go-to therapy. What are you working on?"
Hermione drank some tea before answering. "Nothing in particular, just some thoughts and ideas."
"Will you continue when you're back at Hogwarts?"
"I'd like to. Why?"
"Well, I have an idea. And I think you'll like it."
.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! Why not?"
"Because I write for myself. And sometimes you. That's it!"
"Come on, Hermione. Your name won't be published, just your story."
"I don't know-"
"Look, it's good for you. Writing has always been your escape and now, well, you need something-"
"I'll have my studies!" Hermione exclaimed. "There'll be so much to do. I won't have time-"
Janice laid a hand on her cousin's arm. "You can do this. That brain of yours will easily separate school work from...from fun work!"
Hermione sniggered. "It might be fun-"
"It is bloody fun! Reading it is one thing but writing it is a whole different ballgame. I'm into this fic at the moment where…"
.
Two weeks flew by in laughter and fun. The day before she was to return to the newly rebuilt Hogwarts, along with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she spent some time sitting on the window seat in the living room, staring out at the pouring rain. Janice had left with Charlie, and a wad of parchment. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. What had she let herself in for?