Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoats Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Winter's End

Chapter 1

The sun shone brightly through the thick clouds but provided little warmth in the crisp December air. Every few minutes, a chilling breeze would rip through the trees, rattling branches and leaving only the most stubborn leaves still attached. Students could be seen trudging slowly to their classes, pulling their jackets and sweaters tightly to their bodies for warmth.

Hermione reluctantly pulled her gloved hands out of her sweater pockets to pull open the door to her classroom and made her way to the front. She was early, as usual, and the room was almost empty, most students choosing to sleep that extra 10 minutes before forcing themselves to class. The room was barely any warmer than it was outside, and she felt the cold seeping into her skin as she pulled off her scarf and gloves to seat herself in the first row. The heater must not be working, she thought to herself as she pulled up a desk to place her notebooks and pens on. It was at times like these that she missed Hogwarts the most. The rooms there, all magically heated, were always at a comfortable temperature and the Gryffindor common room was always such a cozy place. And of course, there was Harry and Ron, whom she hadn't seen in four years. The last time they had talked was before she went home for Christmas sixth year. Before the attacks that drove her usually good-humoured parents to suddenly pick up their entire lives and move halfway around the world, with Hermione in tow. She had owled Harry and Ron frequently in the beginning but as their lives diverged, letters between them became scarce. They last time she had owled them was almost two years ago and she had received no reply. Hermione knew it wasn't their fault, neither of them was good at expressing things on paper, and they were both busy with Auror training and preparation for the impending war. The war that she should be helping with.

Thoughts and regrets came tumbling out unbidden and unwelcome into her head and she shook her head as if to physically push it out. Her unruly hair, painstakingly twisted up and pinned just an hour earlier, threatened to break out of the metal bonds. Momentarily distracted, Hermione reached up to re-secure the stubborn stray locks but her thoughts soon drifted again. Her parents, at first very supportive, though slightly apprehensive of her life in the magical world, grew more and more alarmed at the news of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Hermione tried to keep her parents ignorant and safe from the war but, as a Muggle-born witch, her presence in Hogwarts and her role as Harry's best friend threw her and her family into the spotlight more often than she would have liked. After the Christmas attacks her parents had demanded Hermione withdraw from Hogwarts before she could finish her last three terms. They moved to a small town in California, America far from Voldemort and the Death Eaters to rebuild their lives. Dumbledore, although he advised against Hermione leaving, forged papers that allowed Hermione to enroll in a local high school and then to apply to University in the States. Now, Hermione was in her third year at the University of California, Berkeley and despite the fact that she was happy here; she couldn't shake the guilty feelings from abandoning her friends at Hogwarts during such tumultuous times.

A hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to laugh at the figure that had plopped down beside her, relieved to be distracted from her thoughts before they got even more depressing.

"It's freezing in here!" A voice said, out of layers of cloth and faux fur that covered her body from head to feet.

"Anne? Is that you?" Hermione teased, raising her left eyebrow slightly.

"Pfft. Don't laugh, you'll be sorry when I get hypothermia sitting here in class." Anne retorted and reached up to pull down her hood, spilling black hair down to her back. "We pay thousands of dollars to be here every semester, you'd think they could at least fix the heaters." She grumbled, reaching into her bag to pull out a notebook and pencil as the professor started to lecture.

Hermione smiled in agreement, and with a click of her pencil, she shoved all thoughts of Britain and Hogwarts out of her head.

With a muttered expletive, Harry dodged to one side, allowing the curse to fly past, before rolling back onto his feet and casting a spell at the attacker. The assailant blocked it with a shield and launched another curse towards Harry. This one missed and hit a glass vase that was unfortunately placed by Harry's head. With a crash and a surge of liquid and petals, the vase burst, spilling the contents onto the carpeted floor.

"Oops," the opponent said with a sheepish grin, which turned into a bit of fear when the side door opened, admitting a rather short woman who surveyed the scene with both hands on her hips. The water made a gray and drab splash on the normally cream-colored carpet and flower parts littered the area in a haphazard fashion.

"Oops is right, Ron!" The woman snapped. "I just cleaned the carpet this morning."

"No worries, Tris," Harry tried to deter the upcoming explosion with a soothing tone. "Easily fixed." He aimed his wand at the mess and with a quick reparo and scourgify, the only thing that was left was an empty vase. Trisana turned to Ron but before she could open her mouth, Ron conjured a bouquet of roses and presented them to her with a dazzling grin.

"Sorry, Tris honey," he cooed with a syrupy sweet voice he knew she loved to hate. Mostly because he could never pull it off without sounding slightly sarcastic. "I promise me and Harry will play in the backyard next time like good little boys." He capped off the performance with an innocent smile. Harry had seen the same scene play out many time between the two and he could barely suppress a chuckle when Trisana smacked Ron lightly in the head before giving him a peck on the cheek and taking the roses and the vase into the kitchen to fill.

It still amazed Harry sometimes that Ron was married. Trisana and Ron had met during Auror training almost a year after they left Hogwarts. She had been in the same hand-to-hand combat class, and during one session, she had been partnered with Ron, who made the mistake of going easy on her because she was so petite. Ron had ended up with many more bruises than he started with and a new healthy respect for the fellow redhead. Although Tris had wanted nothing to do with Ron during his initial advances, she soon became an integral part of their group of friends, becoming first Ron's girlfriend and then his wife after a short ceremony only six months ago. To an outsider, it may seem like the relationship consisted primarily of squabbling, but Harry knew the two of them were rarely actually angry with one another, and most of the fights were in good humour.

"Let's get out while we still can mate," Ron said in a conspiratory whisper. "She'll come at me yelling again when she finds out I conjured the roses from the garden out back."

Harry complied with a resigned sigh.

"To my place?" He asked. Without waiting for a reply, he Disapparated and reappeared in his sitting room moments later, closely followed by Ron, who flooed in with a flurry of ash. Ron coughed and waved the settling dust away from his face before entering the room.

"I still don't see why you can't spell your Apparating shield to me, instead of making me floo in every time." Ron complained.

"It's a complicated spell," Harry replied with a sigh, they'd had this conversation many times before.

"And you're lazy," Ron added, plopping down on the couch. "And enjoy watching me lungs fill with ash."

"Exactly," Harry affirmed, before settling down himself. They hadn't been talking five minutes before Harry's doorbell went off. Along with the customary ringing sound, a name flashed over the door, alerting Harry to the identity of the visitor. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Draco," Harry said, opening the door.

"Harry," Draco replied, stepping over the threshold spilling snowflakes onto the floor. "Merlin, it's cold in here." He muttered a quick spell and the temperature in the room rose noticeably.

"Rude as always, Malfoy." Ron sneered. "Shouldn't you ask Harry before using spells in his flat?"

"You're teaching me about good manners?" Draco asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "I've seen you eat, Weasley, your manners are atrocious."

In reply, Ron stuck his tongue out.

"Oh, very mature." Draco spat out, but the corners of his mouth threatened to turn up. Sensing a weakening in his opponent, Ron puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes in a face that very closely resembled a blowfish. If blowfish were cross-eyed, that is. Draco's face widened into a smile and he let out a chuckle, before returning his face to a scowl.

"Okay, okay, Weasley," he said. "You win." Ron let out a triumphant whoop, which was accompanied by Harry's groan at their antics.

"Do we have to go through this every time we meet?" He asked. "Seeing who could make the other laugh first is sort of a juvenile a game for Auror's, isn't it?" Two matching glares met this remark, and Harry threw his hands up in defeat. The three of them settled down with their respective drinks and Harry was again filled with wonder at the changes in their lives from their Hogwart days.

When Draco had first joined their Auror class, Harry and Ron were full of suspicions on his motives, but after six months of paranoid digging and searching, they finally came to accept the fact that Draco had turned to their side. No, not turned. Turned suggested a change in alliance, and as Draco loved to say, in that snarky tone he had whittled to perfection, he had never really declared an alliance with Voldemort's side in the first place. Not that Draco was now a sweet, kind gentleman of any sorts. He was just as rude as ever, but Harry and Ron could now identify the layer of subtle humour underneath his comments, that they never detected, or that never existed during school. Draco was the first to admit that he was an annoying pest at Hogwart, but he had changed after they left school. Perhaps having to live in the harsh world outside of Hogwart's protection, or perhaps just living outside his Father's influence had forced Draco to consider his choices in the war. Whatever the cause, Draco had somehow integrated himself in the group of friends that consisted of Harry, Ron, Tris and a few others they had met during training. Harry was happy with his life, despite the ongoing troubles in the world. But he could never help thinking to himself, if only Hermione was here too.