A/N:

To be honest, the town in this story is made up, and is definitely a combination between Stardew Valley and Sun Haven. I do have plans of making this into a multichap, but I have to finish a few other projects first, haha *dies in overwork*

Let me know if you guys enjoy this concept or not! Feedback on these one-shots helps me gauge whether a sequel or expansion needs to be prioritized or not :)

No betas, so all mistakes are my own!

Word Count: 2504

Disclaimers/Warnings:

Summary: When Hermione reaches her limit, she decides that a new start is needed.

Prompts:

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Assignment 2

Extinct Languages with Head Girl Gen

Task #2: Write a fic about someone moving somewhere new.

[February monthly] Loops' Letters

S - Stardew Valley

"Star Haven"

Hermione tuned out her boss' shouting as another intern got ripped to shreds. Once upon a time, she would have jumped to the rescue, but working in this thankless Ministry job for five years with nothing to show for it wore her down. They couldn't fire her because she was a War Hero and one third of the Golden Trio, the Brightest Witch of her Age, but they also refused to advance her because she was a Muggleborn.

They may have won the war, but they were still fighting, and Hermione was just so tired. She didn't want to be here anymore. She was sure that was their plan: beat her up so much with work to make her leave, then point at her and accuse her of being unable to handle the work.

Well, they can't make me leave, Hermione thought to herself. She would prove to them that she was every bit as good as a Pureblood, better even, and eventually they would see her worth.

A door slamming open startled her out of her thoughts, and she ducked her head down, not wanting to be seen above her cubicle walls. The intern came rushing past her, headed towards the bathroom, openly sobbing. Hermione didn't make eye contact.

She couldn't afford to.

Hermione finally entered her apartment at eight o'clock that evening. Her keys tumbled out of her hands into the stone dish she kept by the door, and Crookshanks was there, meowing incessantly in greeting as he twined between her legs. Hermione reached down and gave him a quick pet, and then he rushed off to the kitchen, meowing the entire way.

"Yes, yes, it is after dinner time. I'm sorry Crooksie," Hermione said as she shucked her books and traveling cloak before following her familiar into the kitchen. The routine was automatic for her, pulling out a clean bowl, popping open the can of wet cat food, and spooning out the recommended serving. The vet had suggested this new diet, seeing as how Crookshanks was getting older. She set the food bowl down, secured the leftovers in the can and popped it into the fridge, dropping the knife into the sink to clean later.

Now, she was going to get out of her work clothes, nibble on some cheese and crackers, then take a nice soak in the bath before curling up in bed with a book. It was Friday today, which meant she had two whole days to herself before she had to get back to work. This was also the first weekend she's had to herself in months. Hermione was going to take advantage of every spare moment she had to recharge and recover.

Her snack enough to fill her stomach, her bath done and making her feel more human again, Hermione sank into the couch in her bedroom with a content sigh. A stack of books sat on the side table next to her, and she clutched at her mug of tea happily. The rest of the pot also sat on the side table, so she wouldn't have to get up to replenish anything.

Hermione grabbed the first book off the stack and began reading.

The chime of her floo wrenched Hermione out of a dreamless sleep, and she jerked up from where she lay sprawled on the couch. She hurriedly got up, her book falling to the floor as she rushed to her living room. A voice was calling out insistently. Hermione internally winced at the book, but she knew that voice in the floor, and whenever he was angry, every second counted.

"Mr Fletcher, what can I do for you?" Hermione asked as she entered the room, seeing his face formed in the flaming green embers of her fireplace. An idle glance at the clock on the mantle said that it was nearing midnight, and she had only been asleep for an hour at most.

"Sinclair failed to deliver on the project. She's been terminated. I need you to take over the Adkins account and deliver progress by Monday morning," he demanded in his gruff voice.

"But sir, it's the weekend, I-"

"Granger, I don't care if you have to work for forty-eight hours straight, you will be getting this work done," he stated. Hermione was quiet for a beat, and then replied.

"Yes sir. Will I be getting overtime for this, sir?" she asked.

"Of course not. It's the weekend. No one gets paid on the weekend," he replied. Hermione violently bit her lip to prevent her scowl from forming. "Now, Granger, I need that report on my desk by seven, Monday morning. Get to it!" His face disappeared from the flames and they reverted back to the orange embers that burned innocently at her. Hermione let the scowl finally come out, her stress levels rising once more. Cursing her boss, she padded heavily back into her bedroom. Crookshanks stared at her from his perch on his cat tree, yawning largely. Hermione paused in front of him, leaning over to give him a giant kiss on his head. She then pressed her face against his fur, trying to calm down.

"Crooksie, what am I going to do? I'm drowning, but I don't want to give up…" she murmured, her hands stroking his fur to try to calm down. "I want to prove them wrong…" Hermione trailed off as she spotted, out of the corner of her eye, a thick white envelope laying under her book. Releasing her cat slowly to make sure he didn't lash out to reel her back in once she stepped away–Crookshanks has ruined many a jumper in the past by doing just that–Hermione went over to her downed book and picked it up. It was one she hadn't read in years, since before her third year at Hogwarts. She had been reading it with her grandfather in the hospital, but then she had to leave for school. Her grandfather had been sick, and didn't make it to the end of the year. She hadn't had the heart to pick it up again until now.

Fingering the soft leather of the cover fondly, Hermione set the book down and turned her attention back to the thick envelope. Picking it up with trembling hands–why was she so anxious about this unknown letter? It's not like people were sending her hate mail again, and malicious things couldn't get in through the wards–Hermione opened the envelope.

Inside the envelope was a handwritten note–Hermione instantly recognized the writing as her grandfather's–and a second, thicker piece of paper that looked notarized.

Hermione focused on the letter first, noting that her grandfather had dated this letter a few days before his death. Hermione bit back a sob as she read, collapsing back into the couch as all of her repressed emotions hit her.

My Dearest Hermione,

It is with my deepest regrets to not see you again before I pass, and that we couldn't finish our novel together. You were always my brightest star, and I hope that you never make yourself too small or dim yourself for others. You deserve to shine the brightest, and you deserve peace of mind when doing so.

Make sure to never settle, not in love, not in life, not in happiness. I want to ensure that you always have a place to be yourself, if you need it. If you ever find yourself in dire need of a change, please know that you have options. The same thing had happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what really mattered most in life…real connections with other people and nature, and a connection to myself. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belonged. I'm sure you remember me telling you stories of the farm I cultivated in my youth, in the town of Star Haven. I met your grandmother there. Your father was born there, our family fortune started there.

Unfortunately, in my twilight years, the farm had fallen into disrepair, and I couldn't keep up with the daily maintenance needed. When your grandmother died, I closed everything down and headed back to the city, to be closer to family. If you decide to take up this task, it will require hard work and patience. It will become your full time job. Please don't make this decision lightly, my Starling. I don't want you burning yourself out because you think you have a duty to me. You do not. This is my gift to you, a safe place for you to go if you need it.

Enclosed in this letter is the deed to the farm. There is a farmhouse, a well, acres of land, and a greenhouse. The farm can be self-sustaining once you get it up and running, but it will be hard work in the beginning. But you, my little Starling, will rise to the task admirably.

Don't mourn me when I'm gone, for I've lived a full and hearty life surrounded by people who love me. Celebrate my life with those who have been left behind, and make a toast in my name every now and then. Don't let me fade from memory, but keep my legacy alive with your words and deeds.

With all of the love I have for you, my dearest granddaughter,

Hugo Dagworth-Granger

A navy blue wax seal rested beside his signature, in the crest that Hermione remembered seeing on the flatware her Grandfather used for special occasions. The crest was simple, merely a stack of three books with a quill resting on top of them.

Hermione wept, setting the letter and property deed aside to mourn the grandfather she missed. Crookshanks jumped up onto her lap to comfort her, and she clutched at him tightly.

As she calmed down, Hermione's mind wandered. Was this a sign from her grandfather that she was meant for more? It had been four years since her last relationship–she and Ron hadn't lasted long once they tried dating seriously. They were just too different. Thankfully they parted ways as friends, and were just as friendly as before. He had a wife now, with his first child on the way. Harry, too, was married to Ginny, and she was pregnant with their second. Even Neville had married Hannah, although neither of them indicated they wanted children at the moment.

But Hermione? She was single and stuck in a dead-end job at the Ministry. Sure, they promised her promotions and recognition of her work, but it's just been placating words for five years now. And now mandatory unpaid overtime this weekend? It wasn't a first, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

Hermione reread her grandfather's letter a second time, three times, a fourth. Her eyes glanced over the deed to the property she apparently inherited. With her scant knowledge of the countryside, Hermione knew that the property was located in Southeastern France, only a few stones' throw from Switzerland. Hermione vaguely remembered traveling there once as a child and marveling out the car windows as they drove through the snowy mountain pass.

"Crooks, what do you think…is it time for us to do something new?" She held the letter out to her familiar to sniff, and the orange half-kneazle merely purred loudly at her before readjusting himself onto her lap with a heavy plop for cuddles. "Then that's settled. I'll take the weekend to relax, and then Monday morning I'll resign from the Ministry. And then we'll be off to Star Haven to start our new lives!" A shadow of hesitation flitted across her face and her grip tightened on her cat. "I just hope that everything turns out okay."

Walking into work with just her beaded bag at six-fifty-one in the morning on Monday was the best feeling ever. She stopped by her cubicle, packed everything into her purple beaded back–it wasn't much to begin with, just a few photos, a succulent, and a blanket for when warming charms weren't enough–before walking to her soon-to-be-ex-boss's office, a stack of papers in hand. Her heels clicked on the tile flooring, and she had never felt lighter as her plan went off without a hitch. The stack of papers landed on Ian Fletcher's desk, and she turned and left the office before he had even gotten off of the elevator.

Six-fifty-nine saw Hermione sweep her cubicle one last time for anything she had left behind, and then leave, her ex-boss's roar of "Granger! You can't quit!" echoing in the silent room behind her.

As she stopped at the elevators, a quiet applause started behind her, and she turned to find her coworkers clapping for her. The elevator dinged, and the clapping turned into cheering.

"You go, girl!" Olivia Brocklehurst screamed out. Hermione allowed herself a small smile and a wave before she entered the elevator, and then she never looked back.

Moving to a completely different town and country was surprisingly easy. Having dual citizenship already, it wasn't that hard to just step on the train with Crookshanks in his basket and her whole house and life packed up in her bag.

No matter how much in disrepair the farmhouse would be in, and no matter how un-handy Hermione was, she knew everything was going to be alright. She had her magic, she had her legacy, and she had a new start.

What more could she ask for?

Her train ride took several hours, which Hermione whittled away the time reading. As the sun's rays were just beginning to hit the horizon, the train entered the mountains. Stashing her book, she excitedly peered out the window at the snow-capped mountains around her. Memories came flooding back, of visiting this quaint little mountain town, spending hours at the library, doing crafts at the community center, and much more whenever she visited her grandfather.

Something in her chest loosened, and Hermione knew she was coming home.

"Alright, Crooksie. Back in the basket. We're almost there," Hermione stated as the train began to slow. Crookshanks obliged with a soft meow. Hermione was thankful she had the foresight to book herself a compartment instead of just general seating. It was nice to be able to stretch her legs every now and again.

They station they arrived in was quaint–everything was just quaint, and despite Hermione's expansive vocabulary, she couldn't call it anything else but–and Hermione paused as she entered the waning sunshine to just take a deep breath. Train soot mixed with fresh mountain air, and Hermione couldn't help but grin.

"Miss Granger?" a voice said from behind her with a thick French accent. Hermione turned to see an elderly man, in his mid-60s, waiting for her, his hands clasped behind his back and a soft smile on his face. "My name is Louis. I'm the mayor of this town. Welcome to Star Haven."

Hermione returned the smile and reached out to shake his hand. "Thank you," she replied in French. "I can't wait to live here!"