Sunlight streamed in through the windows of her office bathing her hair in a golden light that reflected off her softly curling hair. It wasn't real sunshine, but Hermione had given up her hope for one day getting the real thing many years ago and hence rarely looked out the window into the fake landscape that the maintenance department had worked so hard on for her. Her desk was littered with files, laws that needed to be proofed and checked before it could be submitted for signature, appeals from wizards wanting someone to look into cases for a family member who was currently incarcerated. For all that Hermione had so flippantly decried the field of Magical Law so many years ago; it was in fact where she had found her niche. It was where she made a difference in the world preventing horrible and unethical laws from finding its way into practice. But while she gave the appearance of working diligently, her mind was not on Ignatio Meinhart's pleas that his conviction for unlawfully breeding chickens to dragons be overturned.
This might have been excusable, if she had been thinking of her daughter Rose, who had just been made a prefect, or of her son Hugo, whom she knew had a quidditch match coming up that he was convinced he would not survive. Or even of her husband Ronald, who was away visiting his brother Charlie. Poor Charlie had finally lost a hand to one of those dragons he devoted himself to. Ah, well at least poor George wouldn't be the only member of the family missing a body part anymore. Instead, it was on a slightly creased piece of parchment lying just beneath Mr. Meinhart's file.
Dearest,
I beg you to reconsider. We so rarely find time to see one another for more than a few stolen moments. We finally have the opportunity to spend an entire evening together. As quaint as it sounds, I would actually like to experience waking up next to you. Should you change your mind, you know where I will be.
D
She tried again to concentrate on the file, but failed. Ronald's plans had not changed, her children were away at school. Who would know if she never came home that evening? Nobody had ever noticed when she slipped away before had they? And being who she was, nobody would ever think to question her whereabouts if she should disappear. So what was holding her back? She moved to brush a lock of hair from her face and caught sight of a silver frame perched on the corner of her desk.
In it, she and Ron were smiling happily at Harry who was behind the camera, occasionally stopping to kiss one another and embrace. Ron is what's stopping me…she thought. It made no sense of course. How could she have betrayed her husband so many times before without burdening herself with remorse only to falter at the idea of spending the night with her lover? What was the difference between then and now?
The difference was of course, a year.