Two months earlier – May 22nd:

Hermione hadn't slept all night. Hours had passed. The sunlight had faded surrounding her in a thick blanket of darkness and then returned slowly. Birds sang their cheery songs. Her alarm went off to signify that it was time to get up and get ready for work but Hermione did not move. She remained still and motionless as she let her alarm play out. She had thought about death and wondered when it was coming for her like it had come for so many of her friends. You're safe now you're safe now you're safe now, the words being chanted as a form of comfort did nothing to lighten her heart as it continued it's dull thud against her ribcage.

It was hard to find motivation for a life you no longer wanted to be a part of. After countless funerals for the ones they had lost and balls honouring her and her friends for all the work they had done she was tired. She was constantly tired. Her mind had locked itself away from anything war related. She didn't read newspapers. She stopped attending all the functions that glorified their work against Voldemort. She stopped mourning for the friends she couldn't bring back. She stopped eating. She just stopped.

She still went to the funerals though, dragging out the same black shirt and slacks. All the headstones looked the same now. They all read the same thing. It was a shame, she had thought, that in death all these people became one dull piece of stone carved with the words, 'dearly missed.'

Hermione thought back to Tonks. Were they really honouring her memory properly? With a drab grey headstone? Granted flowers of all shapes and colours covered the ground surrounding it but what did it matter. Tonks didn't know. She couldn't see the flowers. She couldn't smell them. Touch them. It was all useless. Their attempts to mourn were mundane. Ordinary. Most of the dead were anything but ordinary.

But it's not like she could tell them now. Even Lavender, whom Hermione hadn't been that close with, she deserved more than the ordinary. They all did. The death eaters that had died had been given headstones like this too. They were obviously isolated from the others, often buried in their private gardens, but they still had the same things. In death they were all the same.

Hermione thought Voldemort and his followers should have been cremated to make sure that they were all dead but who wanted the ashes of such evil floating about the Earth. No one particularly wanted the bodies buried under the ground either, infecting the soil with their ugliness, but something had to give. They had to go somewhere.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. She stayed in there for as long as possible too, furiously scrubbing on her forearm until the wound opened up again and bled bright red down the drain. It probably would have healed by now had she of left it alone but it scratched at her from under the surface of her skin. The only thing Hermione didn't stop was showering. Sometimes she'd shower more than once in trying to rid her skin of the filth coating her. She could see it under her nails like dirt, staining everything she touched. Even the water that had seemed so refreshing had seemingly turned to mud as soon as she stepped under it. It seemed fitting for a mudblood, she had thought.

She dressed quickly in a simple pair of robes that swamped her small frame and apparated to the Ministry. Hermione had been approached by the department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and had taken the place instantly, needing something to distract her. It was easy enough. She didn't want to have to think too much. She'd managed to fight for the rights of various creatures – starting with house-elves but when she got home in the evenings she couldn't help but feel despondent about it all. What did it matter that house-elves now got pay and people to talk to if they were mistreated. She'd heard that her work had gotten the attention of a lot of people and that she was in the running to be the next Minister of Magic.

No one had actually asked Hermione how she felt about it though. If they bothered to talk to her about it, instead of praising her, they'd know that she didn't want any of it. The last thing Hermione wanted was to be put up on a pedestal and praised. She couldn't change anything. Any laws she could pass wouldn't help. War never ended. Like the waves it slowly drifted in, crashing against the shore and leaving destruction in its wake before building up again.

All Hermione really wanted was to leave. Just for a little while originally. She'd heard that her parents had been located in Australia and made plans to see them and bring their memories back. Maybe she could stay with them for a little while too. She hadn't told Ron or Harry that she was leaving yet, but she had a month still until she was going. She'd tell them next week.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!" Ron bellowed.

Hermione winced at the tone of his voice, "Not leaving Ron, not forever. Think of it as a holiday."

Harry and Ginny both gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. They had gotten married a few months back. It was a nice change from all the funerals but still difficult as many people who should have been there weren't. Harry too had struggled back into normal life after being on the run for so long but Ginny had been his strength when he had none. She was a truly remarkable woman and she was perfect for her best friend. Her stomach had rounded slightly since Hermione had last seen her. They were expecting their first born soon. Everything was bliss in the Potter household.

Ron on the other hand had dated many women including herself a few times. They had tried to make things work after the war had ended but Ron had wanted to rush their relationship whilst Hermione wanted to switch off. It wasn't that she didn't care for him, she did. It just felt wrong to be so happy and in love when she thought other people deserved that more than her.

"It'll only be a little while."

"How long?" Ron had questioned.

"I don't know how long Ron nor do I wish to put a limit on it. Not forever."

"A few weeks then. When you get back we can give things another go." He said, reaching out to link his hands with hers. He looked over his shoulder at Harry and Ginny, clearly wishing they weren't in the room. He lowered his voice when he next spoke, "I love you 'Mione. We've both said stupid things and done stupid things, but I love you. It's time for us to start settling down and thinking about the future. I want that future to have you in it."

Hermione sighed in frustration, frowning, "We'll see Ron. You know I care for you deeply, but I don't want to get married and have kids yet."

"Just, think about it when you go away, okay? I'll be waiting here."

Hermione nodded and Ron smiled at her leaning in to plant a short soft kiss upon her mouth. She didn't return it. When he pulled away, a confused expression on his face, she turned and left.

"I know Ron's being difficult Hermione. I'm sorry about that."

Hermione sighed, "It's not your fault Ginny. I suppose we just never gave things a proper try. That's my fault."

"You can't force what won't work. I know you two love each other, but I don't think it's the right kind of love. You're brilliant Hermione but you're complex. I mean that in a good way. You want to travel and learn and research and explore. Ron just wants the simple things in life. I think he's had enough adventure to last him a lifetime. He wants to settle down, get married, have kids. You're both at different places in your lives. You'd be unhappy if you chose to be with him. You're not right for each other."

Ginny had become somewhat of a love guru in recent months attempting to set Hermione up with an array of men. As much as she loved her brother she knew that the two weren't right for each other. So far Hermione hadn't enjoyed any of the dates she'd been on with the men of Ginny's choosing but her friend insisted it was only a matter of time before someone 'swept her off her feet.'

"But I don't want to be swept off my feet," Hermione had said in response, "I just want someone to be there."

"Look, I've got another one for you. Just meet him. You might be pleasantly surprised. I know how you both felt about each other in school but he's really grown now. I think you'll be very imp-."

"No Ginny. No more dates. I'll see you when I get back from Australia."

Hermione landed in Australia on May the twenty-ninth at ten o clock in the morning. She only had a hotel booked for a few days as she planned to head to the address her parents were staying at as soon as possible. She headed to her hotel to check in and then ran over the plan in her head. Hermione decided she was as ready as she could be and headed out into the sun. She observed the area around her as she walked. If anything the location was certainly beautiful. A beach was close by and there was an adorable little book shop she knew she'd have to pop into at some point.

It was a nice change from England. The weather there was really getting her down. She strolled through a park noticing a couple disappear beneath a willow tree and smiled softly to herself. That had been her and Ron once, before the war when they could be carefree.

Not anymore. It wasn't that she didn't love Ron. She knew a part of her always would. But, she loved Ron the same way she loved Harry and Ginny and Luna. It was a love she knew would never end but it wasn't enough to build a stable relationship on. Her and Ron had been through so much together. As much as Hermione wanted to love him, she couldn't. It would be easy to settle down with him. It was what most people expected of her. But she couldn't put her faith and trust in Ron and know that he'd always be there because he wouldn't. Working as an Auror meant he'd be away a lot not that Ron was really there for her when he was present. He didn't understand the weight she carried. The war was over and that meant they could move on and be happy in his eyes. Hermione still felt the need to carry the lives of those she'd lost. She knew Harry felt that way too. Ron didn't. In fact Ron had promptly locked all his memories of the war safely away.

Hermione wanted someone she knew she could rely on. Who understood her need to keep every casualty close to her heart. She wanted someone who wanted to see the world like she did and learn of everything that had come before her and everything that could come after her. She wanted to discover new cures and spells and creatures and plants and make a name for herself that was more than just 'war heroine.' Hermione knew she could do more than that. That she could save more people. So many were still suffering. She would be a fool to say she'd done everything she could. She hadn't. She needed to do more. Save more people. She didn't want to be Minister of Magic. She wanted to become a healer. She wanted to help.

Before she knew it she was outside a house. Her parent's house. It was all white wood panelling, beautiful green grass and endless amounts of pansies. Mrs Granger loved pansies. Hermione had loved them too until she'd gone to Hogwarts. She made her way up the path and rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door and it took every ounce of Hermione's strength to stay in control of her emotions. All she wanted was to break down and cry in her mother's arms knowing that she would be able to comfort her in a way that all mother's do.

"Hello?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Hi, I'm holding a collection for an animal center nearby. I was wondering if you'd like to make a donation."

"Oh yes of course. Come in. I'll just be a moment."

Hermione stilled briefly. She hadn't expected to be invited in. This made her job a lot easier. All she had to do now was catch her mother unaware. She checked her waist quickly to make sure her wand was still there. Mrs Granger led her to the living room and insisted she would only be a few seconds. Hermione looked around, observing the pictures hanging on the walls.

Her dad wasn't in any. Where was her father? It was just her mother and-,

"Hi."

Hermione turned on the spot and came face to face with a girl. "Hello little Miss. Who are you?"

"'Mione," The small girl replied, "Who you?"

Hermione took in the girl's appearance properly. She had dark brown curls, a dusting of freckles across her cheeks which were round and she had a small, pink mouth which was spread in a grin showcasing two lines of straight, gleaming white teeth. Her eyes were different though. Green. Like her father's. Aside from that one difference the girl looked exactly the same way Hermione had when she was a small girl.

It didn't seem to click for a long while that this child was technically her younger sister. Hermione just stared blankly as the girl began to play with a small teddy bear on the floor. Hermione recognised that teddy bear. It had been her mother's and then her's when she was young. She had always told herself that when she had children she would give it to them. Mrs Granger came back into the room and lifted 'Mione on her hip, taking her over to the sofa. They all sat and made idle chit-chat whilst Mrs Granger wrote out a cheque. Hermione attempted to make conversation but was continuously distracted by the little girl. Her replacement. She should have considered this possibility. She should have known that her parents had wanted another child. They had gotten pregnant very young and had always wanted Hermione to have a younger sibling. It seemed that Hermione finally had the little sister she had always wanted; only the little girl was her.

"Here you go sweetheart," Mrs Granger said, passing the cheque to Hermione.

"Thank you. How old is she?"

"Mione's four, aren't you?" Mrs Granger gestured for the young girl to show Hermione on her fingers how old she was. Hermione watched in horror as 'Mione held up four small fingers for her to see, wiggling them and giggling. "She's a very quick learner. She's already started reading herself to sleep instead of waiting for me to come and read to her. Very self-sufficient."

Hermione had been like that as a child herself. Always too impatient to wait for her mother to come and read to her. She often woke up in the mornings with her story book on her head from where she had stayed up far later than she should have done desperately trying to finish it.

"I suppose she has brilliant parents though that taught her that way," Hermione said softly.

Mrs Granger's eyes glazed over, "We've done our best. My husband passed away recently. Cancer. But we've managed haven't we 'Mione."

Hermione's mind crumbled then. She couldn't stay in this house a minute longer. She had sent her parents away to give them a better life while she was fighting for hers. She didn't expect for them to replace her. She didn't think her father would die. She didn't think she'd lose her family. Not when she'd already lost so much already.

She quickly mumbled her apologies and ran from the house, tears falling relentlessly from her eyes. She ran for so long that her throat began to protest in pain. The burn was so overpowering she thought it might be bleeding. Her muscles ached and the weight of the people she carried on her shoulders, the people she refused to let go of, fell limp and heavy on top of her.

Hermione needed to find somewhere isolated. She kept running, eyes darting down every alley, searching for a place where she could mourn on her own. Eventually she chose one, her legs pushing her forward and down the small street where she eventually collapsed, her breaths coming out in desperate gasps. Her tears didn't stop falling. Her body didn't stop shaking. The sobs racked her whole being.

What could she do now? She was essentially an orphan. She couldn't restore her mother's memories, not now she had another daughter that had the same name and mannerisms as her. What would happen if that girl had magic in her veins too? Hermione prayed she didn't and then scolded herself for being so selfish. But magic had been the thing that had made her different. Magic had been her purpose in life. Getting bullied for being intelligent had been worth it somehow, to know she had this ability that other people didn't. It was her destiny. Hermione felt a little less special to know that there was another Hermione who had all this to come. Who would experience magic filled with only happiness.

So what were Hermione's options now? Go back to England, to her job that didn't stimulate her mind, to a boyfriend who still wasn't really a boyfriend, to best friends that had a place on the Earth and a family on the way. Where was Hermione's place among that? After all the death she had seen and caused did she even want to go back?

No. She didn't.

Then what else could she do. She could stay here. She could become someone new. Hermione Granger was a thing of the past. She was a girl who had seen such horrors. So many terrible things were imprinted into her eyelids that even in sleep she couldn't help but relive them. But she had a choice now. She could live an ordinary life where no one would attack her for her muggle heritage or genius. She could have an ordinary job, meet an ordinary man, have ordinary kids, live ordinarily, die ordinarily, be ordinary.

What a brilliant thing that would be, she thought, to be ordinary.

Hermione drew her wand from the holster around her waist and with a shaky hand she placed it against her temple whispering, "Obliviate."