Chapter Text
Hermione was the one that realised it first. She was sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow with a teetering mountain of wedding invitations beside her when Molly brought it up.
'So, dear, have you given any thought into how long you'll have your job?'
'My-what?' Hermione spluttered, certain that she must have misheard the Weasley matriarch.
'Your job, dear. It's not right for children to be shunted off to their grandparents house every day, though Arthur and I will love having them here as often you and Ron need. But eventually you will have to give it up.'
'Molly, Ron is barely halfway through his Auror training, and I'm going back to Hogwarts as soon as it's rebuilt. There's a time and a place for talking about careers and children, and it certainly isn't now.'
'You have to plan ahead for the future.' Molly said kindly.
Then Ginny walked in chattering happily about some restaurant that Harry took her to and Molly's attention was turned to her youngest child.
Plan ahead for the future?
Hermione went back to Hogwarts and tried not to get too choked up when she thought about all the faces she would never see again. Or how much blood was spilled on the very stones she walked on with a near silent tread, a hold-over from their year in hiding.
What would my future hold? If I could gaze into the Mirror of Erised, what would I see?
She may never know the answer to that question, but she knew what she would not see. Hermione would not see herself struggling to keep a Qudditch team's worth of children fed while Ron was the only one bringing Galleons home. Mrs. Weasley may have been able to raise seven children with a single income, but Hermione had no desire to live hand-to-mouth just to please Molly.
Hermione wasn't even in love with Ron. She agreed to marry him because she thought she should, since Ginny and Harry were well on their way to marriage, to hear Ginny tell it, at least. So, if she and Ron were joined in marriage, then the Golden Trio of Gryffindor would truly be family.
By all the gods, she said yes because she was afraid. Afraid of their friendship falling apart now that they don't need her anymore. Not for essays, or scouring the school's library for some obscure bit of information that would help them with that month's mystery, or Horcrux hunting.
Hermione wondered what her mother would say if she were here. Probably that she should marry for love and that if Harry and Ron only kept her around because she was useful to them, then she could tell them both to sod off.
She is Hermione Jean Granger, proud muggleborn and one of the many people who had kept Harry alive until the day came for him to vanquish Tom Riddle, what little had been left of him, anyway.
Mind made up, she continued on her way to Charms class, mentally composing a letter to Ron and another to Mrs. Weasley, explaining why she can't marry Ron. At least, not yet.
Ron had only started paying attention to her after other boys, particularly Viktor Krum, showed interest. Perhaps it would do them both a great deal of good to date other people, and someday, if the Fates allowed it, they would end up together. If not, then Hermione wished him all the best with a witch who better suited him than she.
Maybe she would write a letter to Viktor while she was at it. What was one more sheet of parchment? He could have found a nice witch of his own since they last spoke, but she valued his friendship more than a fleeting summer romance. And if he was single and willing, perhaps that summer fling could become something more.
Whatever the future holds, I'll meet it head-on.