CH2

Loud Pipes-Ratatat (Ft Dan Avidan) X

For most of her life, Hermione had been a part of the Wizarding World and yet it still amazed her that the magical community could exist alongside that of muggles with the latter being none the wiser. Once upon a time, she too, had been ignorant of this other side of humankind.

There were times when she wondered what her life would have been like had she never learned of magic, but luckily those thoughts were far and few between. Now might've been one of those rare moments of doubt, but the small spark of excitement kept those feelings at bay, if only for now.

The soft buzz of machines and low hum of talk were background noise as Hermione looked around the crowded London airport. Muggles were bustling to and fro looking for their terminals or their travelling companions, completely oblivious to yet another of her kind's secrets.

Enchanted Air was the Wizarding world's premier international airline for those who did not fly via broom, traveling long distance by floo, or apparating. There were a few, mostly muggle born, who simply desired a hassle free, and magical danger free, flight.

This entrance was disguised as an out of order metal detector with a simple green velvet rope keeping muggles from stumbling into it. A witch or wizard would pass through the terminal much like Platform 9¾, except with much less running.

For a moment Hermione just stood and watched people walk by, their eyes passing seamlessly over the enchanted entrance, and rush to the slow moving security lines. She wondered briefly if they would have noticed it even if it hadn't been layered with several concealment charms. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own little bubble, oblivious to anything outside of their narrow gaze.

A barely audible voice crackled overhead, announcing the departure time for flight E.A. at 10:00 am.

Anxiety gripped her soul, though this was a kind of hopeful worry. The unknown, but for the better. Though if she were truthful, and she really did try to be, anything would be better than the hell she was escaping.

The press had been reporting her apparent leave of work was her admission of guilt and while Hermione had gone over the incident nearly a dozen times, being reassured by everyone she knew, including the minister of magic herself that the fault was not hers, she couldn't help but feel that the reporters were partially right. She could've…

No! She chided herself, feeling the darkness of guilt begin to overtake the tiny spark of excitement. You've got to move forward.

Today, of all days…

The morning had come, once again full of barely faded nightmares, leaving her shaking and tear stained as she packed the rest of the things deemed necessary. The panic and pain hadn't left, but rather increased as the morning went by.

Ten years ago to the day, Hermione and her two dearest friends were bloodied and damaged, scarred in ways that not many knew. To everyone else, the battle of Hogwarts was won exactly a decade ago.

Even now, there were witches and wizards lining the streets, right outside the airport. They celebrated in merry songs and epic tales and cheerful parties. It took nearly every ounce of restraint in her to keep from shaking them. Couldn't they see that this was a day for solemn remembrance, not happy revelries? Voldemort was destroyed, yes, but it was not a full victory and it never would be. They may have won The War, but they had lost as well.

So much loss…

Hermione sighed heavily as she turned away from the vulgar display of public gaiety, comforted by her dear friends. The boys joined her in disguise, but she could always tell who was who simply by the way Ron stood or how Harry always tried to adjust glasses that weren't there.

Hermione could feel the falseness of her smile, but the boys didn't mention it. They stood on either side of her with their arms flung around her shoulders in an all too familiar embrace. The thin, dark skinned man with the awkward stance looked as though he might be sick.

"Hermione, you aren't really going to fly in one of those death traps are you? Apparition would be much better…," his voice drifted from a foreign mouth, in a deep tone that was not his and yet it was Ron's apprehensive words that were spoken.

"Honestly Ron, how am I to apparate with all of my belongings? Muggles have been flying for decades and have rarely crashed, and their planes aren't supported by magic," she retorted quickly, rolling her eyes at Harry. The bright sapphire eyes sparkled with mirth, a kind that belonged to harry alone, at Ron's misunderstanding of anything muggle related. Instead of black unruly hair, this Harry was light blond and very pale; not quite thin but sturdy. A ghost of someone passed through her mind before her friend spoke, the image disappearing as quickly as it came.

"Don't mind him, Hermione, he's just upset because you'll be gone for a year and he'll have no one to bicker with," Harry said, smiling in the way he does that was both worried and hopeful.

"If that's the case, I'll tell Ginny to be extra antagonistic," she laughed and it felt odd in her mouth after all of the sobs. Even as Ron grumbled and rolled his eyes, the thundering of her heart picked up at the realization of what was to come.

Again, the cackle of a barely audible voice announced the final boarding call for flight E.A.

Hermione looked at her friends. Really looked at them, beyond their temporary disguise. Harry with his unruly black hair, and emerald eyes he passed to his children. He smiled a lot now, no longer burdened with the weight of the world. No one deserved happiness more than him, and she was so glad that he had found what he'd always longed for; a family.

And then there was Ron. Even though it didn't work out between them as a couple, there would always be a special place in her heart for her first love. His freckled face lit up with joy as Harry made a quick joke about Ginny's temper. He too had found what he was looking for; recognition and a talent of his own. But mostly, he had come to see in himself what everyone else had seen. Worth.

It was she who was lost. The brightest witch had never stood a chance outside the world of her youth. Those wonderful and awful years she had spent with these two boys; now men.

Merlin, she would miss them dearly. The buzz of noise faded as more hot tears spilled from her eyes, unbidden and raw. Strong arms pressed closer and she could almost pretend they were young again.

"I'm making the right decision, aren't I?" The quiver in her voice apparent, though the breaking of her heart remained silent to all but her.

Without saying a word they both pulled her in tight. It was just the three of them, like it always had been.

They stayed that way for only a moment, holding breaths and each other, but time was short and they all knew it well.

"I've never known you to make a wrong decision," Ron said confidently, using the sleeve of his jumper to wipe the tears from her chin.

Hermione squeezed him once more, thanking him with action. Then to Harry, a look. A question, to which he responded with a nod and a smile. Worry and hope.

They parted then, after whispered farewells. They boys went to their home and their life.

Hermione to something unknown.

When she finally boarded the plane, after a few wizard precautionary screenings. The signed paper from the minister allowed her to fly with the disguise, though the security didn't like it at all.

When the all clear came through, Hermione was allowed to take her seat, happy to see the small craft was nearly empty. Not many wizarding folk would be traveling on this day.

It wasn't until the engines had started loudly and the jerky rumble of takeoff had passed, that Hermione began to relax into the padded seat. Her mind, calmer now that the plane was steady in the sky, began to review her plans. She carefully removed the creased paper from her lap bag, making sure the stewardess was out of sight.

It must have been read a thousand times and she was sure she'd read it a thousand more. It did not feel real, this sudden and dramatic change, and yet here she was.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are thrilled to accept your application for the yearlong exchange teaching position at Four Winds Academy. I understand that you would like to join us at the end of the school year and stay for the summer to better prepare yourself for teaching. As mentioned in the application, we offer on-site housing for all of our staff during the school year and those who wish to remain over the summer. You are more than welcome here.

We await your owl with travel details.

Regards,

Four Winds Academy Of American Witchcraft and Wizardry,

Jacob Blackfinn

Mr. Jacob Blackfinn

Dean of Admissions

It was simple and without flourish, unlike that of her old headmaster. The paper was crisp and white, inked from what appeared to be a typewriter, and something about the simplicity of it made the knot in her stomach ease slightly.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried desperately to imagine what this next year would hold, but for all of her hurried research, she came up with little information about the school in which she was to teach. Had she not sent in a well-stocked application and a few high ranking recommendations, she was sure she wouldn't have qualified, not having the proper training.

But the Dean had accepted her regardless and hopefully, by the time she came home, Hermione would have a new perspective on life. She would hopefully find herself; her meaning.

Anything.

The harsh jerking sensation woke her, the panic rising like bile. Another sharp lurch forward and slowly she began to fight her way through the fog of fear.

Unfallen tears burned her eyes as she quickly put away her wand. At some point, she had fallen asleep, forever chased by the nightmares of war, to be awoken by the plane landing.

Chiding herself quietly, Hermione gathered up her few belongings and followed the other passengers off the craft and into the largest terminal she had ever seen. The narrow walkway opened up into a veritable city; shops, foods, and even a hotel with rooms lining the upper levels. She was just a drop of water in the ocean of people, everyone moving with purpose and action.

It may have been intimidating for some of her kind, but Hermione was simply in awe by live that vibrated from every corner of the airport. It was the final link, a sort of official sign that she was here and she was changing her life.

A small smile, foreign and crooked, curved her lips as she spied a sign, held high above the rush of muggles.

H.J. Granger

The man who was holding the paper noticed her approach, nodding a small bow. Onyx eyes spoke of old wisdom and life, though there was tremendous kindness there as well as he beamed at her. A long braid of silken raven hair was graciously hanging from the side of his warm tanned face and immediately, Hermione recognized him as the Dean.

"Welcome to America, Miss Granger."