01/05/2007 14:10:00

(A/N—I realize that the chapter before this was pretty short. That one and this one are supposed to just kind of lead up to the main story. Get it? Got it? Good.)

(A/N (II)—The Rabbi thing? Lol, I know they're all Christian. Just my heritage coming out. If it bothers you that much, copy and paste into a word document, and change it to Priest.)

Hermione Granger awoke to a start. Things were silent, an experience she was not used to. Opening her eyes, she discovered that she was in her old Dorm room at Hogwarts. Wow, she thought. Has it really been so long since I woke in this bed every day? Guess so. Wait, why am I here? She looked around. Her pajamas were things she'd never seen before in her life, very generic, like somebody just had the word "Pajamas" in their head and zapped her into them. Oh yeah. She remembered last night. The fight and the blood and the love and the… Harry. "Harry?" She called, hoping that it had just been a horrible, terrible dream. She heard voices on the other side of the door, but not the one she wanted to hear.

"She's up."

"Don't just sit there, do something!"

"And what do you suggest?"

"What are you looking at me for? I'm a guy, we don't do the whole breaking news thing."

"Mr. Weasley, you are… Fine, I'm going in, with no assistance from you, I might add."

Professor McGonagall walked through the tall cherry doors. Her right arm was in an immaculately clean white cast, and there was a long line of stitches that from just right of her chin to the back of her skull. "Miss Granger? Are you awake?"

"Yes, Professor."

McGonagall came over to the side of Hermione's bed, and looked at her beloved former student. Hermione studied the old woman's face. It was wrinkled into a tight stare, as if that was all she could do to keep her composure. "Miss Granger, do you remember the events of yesterday?"

Hermione broke into tears, signifying a yes. McGonagall looked sympathetic, but also a bit uncomfortable. "Hermione, where do you plan on staying? Do you have a job? Are you going back to your parents?"

Hermione let out an extra whimper. "They died. A muggle disease, cancer."

"I see." McGonagall said. Poor girl, she's lost everybody! Well, I didn't come here to cry. I came here to help. "So, what do you plan on doing?"

"I… I don't know. After the war, me and Harry were going to… forget it. The bottom line is I'm homeless, jobless, and hopeless."

"Now, now, Hermione, we'd never let that happen to you. What I wanted to discuss was an opportunity. Beauxbatons has a position similar to a muggle guidance counselor, and we wanted to imitate that at Hogwarts. You'd basically get to know the students, take care of enrollment and expellments, and settle some touchy issues. You're more than qualified."

"Are you serious?"

"You can always go back to your muggle family, of course…"

"No, I mean, thank you. When do you want me to start? Can I wait until after the funeral?"

"Of course, dear. Next week. I'll show you your new office/corridors later. I'll allow you to freshen up." McGonagall ended, walking out of the room. Hermione got up and looked in the mirror. The object in question was a plain white nightgown with frilly edges. Yuck! She almost said out loud. Her hair was tasseled and worn, but looked beautiful compared to her face. It was scarred and red, not to mention tear streaked. She transformed the grandmotherly article into a black dress that she wore to her mother's funeral. Neither form fitting or flattering, just as it should be. She zapped plain black ballet flats, and finally decided to hide her sad face behind Nicole Riche style sunglasses. With a flick of her wand her hair was in a sloppy bun. Well, I'm ready as I'll ever be.

The second she walked into the old common room, she saw Ron facing the unlit fireplace. "Ron?" She called.

He turned around, his face similar to Hermione's. "Hey."

"How are you? I mean, are you injured?"

He lifted up the bottom of his shirt to expose a zig zag line of stitches. "Death eater. Would've killed me, had Fred and George not come around. Suppose he was just having a bit of fun by torturing me with a kitchen knife first. Had to beg 'em to let me out of the hospital."

Hermione ran to her best friend and hugged him. How could her world be turned upside down like that?

"How bout you?" He asked.

"I don't even know. All I remember is… yeah. And I woke up this morning in my old bed."

"Oh." He turned back to the fireplace, the back of his head facing Hermione.

"Ron?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Where did McGonagall go?"

"Suppose her office."

"Alright, thanks." Hermione said, waiting to see if he'd even turn around. He stayed in his position. Perfectly understandable. She thought. Now, where was McGonagall's office?

When she finally arrived at her destination, Hermione politely knocked on the grandiose door. McGonagall immediately came, answering the door with a weary expression. "Oh, Miss Granger. Do come in."

Hermione entered and sat in the cold, hard chair opposite McGonagall's desk. The professor took her respectful spot and began to speak. "So, what is it?"

"Is anybody trying to take care of the funeral arrangements?"

"That was actually what I was doing right now."

"Stop. I'm doing it."

"Well, Hermione, I know you two were best friends, and I'm sure you can say something, but…"

Hermione abruptly cut her off. "Yes, Professor, I know we're best friends, but that's not all. I was his wife."

McGonagall looked in shock, which Hermione took as a signal to continue. "He proposed on the ride back to the muggle world, the very last year he attended Hogwarts. Our marriage ceremony was just a few vows before a Rabbi, where we signed the paperwork. It was going to be kept secret until the end of the war, when we were going to announce it to everybody and have a big ceremony."

McGonagall studied her, bewildered. "Hermione, is this your grief talking?"

Hermione was appalled. How could she doubt her marriage? There was no evidence, no home shared, not even a joint Gringots account. Then she remembered. How could I forget??? "Professor, look." Hermione put her right hand on the desk, and removed a band aid from her ring finger. Beneath it was a diamond ring and a platinum wedding band. She slid the engagement ring around to show off the engraved bottom. It read 'My Angel'. She then turned around her wedding band, which had the engraving 'Mrs. Potter'. "Proof?"

"Oh, Merlin's Beard…" The Professor gasped. "Certainly, you can take control of the arrangements. Naturally, myself and Albus… I mean Professor Dumbledore, will help you out."

"Thank you, because I don't even know where to start." Hermione said, beginning to cry again.

Professor McGonagall looked at her, wanting to say something like, 'its okay, nobody knows what to do.' Or 'just let it all out', but nothing seamed appropriate, so she just let her cry.