Chapter Text
Hermione Jean Granger - A reflection on the war and those days after
I suppose it's easy now to look back on the war and point out all the mistakes we made. We should have taken extra polyjuice potion to the ministry. We should never have stayed for the wedding. We should never have gone to Godric's Hollow. So many mistakes that we all made. Yet, the history books all say that in the end, the mistakes don't matter, we won.
But did we? In those dark days after the final battle it was hard to believe that we did, in fact, win. It was hard to see the positives when so many were dead. They say that war leaves far more scars that the visible ones, and it's true. No person that lived through those dark days escaped unscathed. We wear the scars to this day.
This book is a reflection on those days after the war, told by my eighteen year old self. As an avid reader it is important to me that the truth of that year is told by my own words. Of course, this is my damaged eighteen-year-old self's experience of that year- how we all grew stronger and recovered.
Week 1.
We won. Or that's what people keep telling me, that is what is plastered across the papers. But we didn't, did we?
Surely winning should mean I'm happy, I'm not, therefore we didn't win. Logical, yes?
I've barely seen Harry since the day after, he's been with Kingsley at the ministry. When I did last see him, he looked tired and like I felt. There is so much we need to talk about, so much I need to talk to him about. He understands- he know why it is so hard to go from 'constant vigilance' to freedom. He wouldn't treat me like they do. Neither would Ron.
That has perhaps been the worst part of this whole week, the poor Weasley's. I've stayed with o them this week, in Ginny's room like before. Same bed, same duvet, almost like nothing has changed. But of course everything has. Seven Weasley children down to six. It's like the Earth has shifted, like gravity has been turned off. Everything that had once been so clear, so easy, is no longer so. Even Ron.
I haven't spoken to him, I've tried. Ron's family need him, I'm trying to be supportive, understanding, it's hard. They need him, they need his grin, his cheer, his hugs and his support. Especially George and Molly. They all need him. He hasn't even seen them for a year. It's selfish of me to expect him to be with me all the time.
In my dark moments, when I wake from one of those nightmares I begin to think that perhaps we are not in love, or together. That perhaps, just perhaps, we only kissed because we thought the world was ending. Those moments are the hardest, it's like I can still feel her hands in my hair- like I never left that room. One look at Ron is all that I need to remind I me. We are forever. He is mine and I am his. Even if it's not now, it will be soon. We belong together and have done since we were eleven- I know that now. So I squeeze his hand when he starts to fall, I kiss his cheek when he stumbles. I let him know that I am here, I will always be here. It helps him, I think.
"Hermione?" Ginny asks quietly as we lay in bed. Her voice tense. "What was it like?"
I am floored, what does she mean, 'What was it like?' I think to Ron splinching, to my parents, Ron leaving and Godric's Hollow. So many atrocities, so much fear. How can I explain that? So I don't. "Easier than yours." It's true. Sure our year was hard but we were together, alone, for the most part.
"Do you think we will be ever okay?" Her voice broke.
"We will be," I said and I meant it