1

For Hermione Jean Granger, life was finally worth living. No more living in the woods. No more being the brains of the Golden Trio. She could just finally breathe. And being able to breathe was something she was looking forward to quite a bit.

Once the dust finally settled, and Voldemort's body was laying stiff on the floor, Hermione knew she would finally get her life back. She loved Harry like a brother, she truly did, but she knew she was ready for a break after Dumbledore's ridiculous scavenger hunt. She had stood by The Chosen One through the whole journey, and while she did not regret being there for him, she knew it was not the path she wanted for herself. Of course she was the consummate Gryffindor, brave until the very end, but now she was ready to spend a little time on herself. Be a little selfish. And that meant no more adventures.

Hermione watched Harry sitting with the Weasley's. She watched them all, silent tears running down their faces with Fred lying there on the table. If she turned her head just so, it almost looked like he was sleeping, a smile still on his face. It was almost like this was his final gift to them, a peaceful smile and slipping easily into the beyond. But Hermione knew it wasn't a gift, and much like needing a break from her best friend, she also knew she needed a break from the Weasleys as well. She could not handle the oppressive grief, at least not when she had her own, and maybe that wasn't fair, but she needed to get away.

She took a last look at the red headed family and her best friend, and slipped quietly away. No one noticed her, not even Ronald, the boy she had once given her heart to; the boy she had just kissed a few hours ago. Hermione knew the kiss was a mistake. She knew the moment their lips touched. He was another brother, and nothing more. She knew he was not the one after he left that night in the woods. She knew she could never be with someone she could not trust, and by the gods, Ronald Weasley proved to her he would never be trustworthy. So she had let him go and harden her heart. And that worked almost perfectly until they were down in that damn chamber. With her emotions running wild, and the adrenaline of the destroying another Horcrux running through her veins, when Ron leaned forward to kiss her, she let it happen. She may have even responded a bit, which she later realized would just make things that much more difficult.

Hermione knew she needed to go back in the shack. After Harry telling them of his memories, she knew she could not leave his body there alone. That man had been so brave. He was not a nice man, but she knew now he was a brave man, and she could not leave his body in that cold, dirty shack. He deserved more than that, and she decided she would be responsible for him now. Her mind made up, she slipped quietly out the front door and made her way back to the Whomping Willow and to the man left alone in the dark.

2

Hermione crept slowly back up the tunnel toward the shack. The whole walk, she was slowly preparing herself for what she knew she would see. She could already see him, slumped against the wall, blood surrounding him, his eyes staring forward without actually seeing anything. No snarky remarks, no verbal abuse, no nothing. She could almost taste the coppery iron of his blood that she knew was still lingering in the air. She could see the meaty tendons and muscle hanging limply from his neck, and the blood dry and crusty around the snake bites. She knew his already pale skin would be almost translucent with his blood loss.

Come on Hermione, get it together. You know you can do this. He deserves this, she thought to herself. Hermione had reached the door at the end of the tunnel and gave herself a shake, You've got this. She walked through the door and saw him. That's when she knew that everything she had tried to prepare for was wrong. Everything she had seen in her mind was false. The truth was so much worse than she remembered. He was there, right where they had left him. But how could one body hold some much liquid? She knew somewhere deep in her mind that a body held eight pints of blood, but how could that translate to what she was seeing? She thought she had the smell and taste of that room engrained in her brain. She was wrong again. It was stifling how intense the smell of his blood was. It coated her throat and made her gag. And it wasn't just the copper she could taste, there was so much more when a soul left a human body. In the several hours since they left him, his body had lost control of his muscles and had expelled his bodily fluids. And that's when she felt the tears. She did not even know she was crying, and she could not tell if it was from the smell or the absolute heartbreak of seeing him like this. Worst of all, was the darkness she could still feel. She could feel the lingering effects of dark magic in this room. It was like tendrils of dark energy licking her skin, reminding her that he had lost his life in a tragic way.

Hermione was glad she had come alone. She was glad that no one else would see him like this, and she was glad that she would at least give him the dignity of being presentable in death. With one last shudder to strengthen her resolve, Hermione Granger pushed up her sleeves and got to work. She may not be as good as Molly Weasley when it came to cleaning spells, but she knew she was good enough to take care of him. Her first task was to get rid of all the blood and gore, maybe then she could think properly.

With quite a few targeted Evanenscos, the floor was slowly losing its red color. As she removed the blood surrounding his body, she did not know if the smell was only in her head or if the room still smelled of his insides. Hermione knew she could have cleaned his body with magic, but somehow that just did not seem right. She conjured herself a bowl of hot, soapy water, scented lightly with sandalwood, and a washcloth. She tried to start at his neck wound, but after hesitating for a second, she knew she had to start somewhere else. She lifted his stringy black hair away from his face. It was well past greasy, she thought. She took the washcloth and slowly brought it back and forth across his forehead. Initially, all she accomplished was smearing the dirt around his head. She worked herself into a rhythm, wipe a bit of grime then dip the cloth back into the water. She looked at this like a graph. She divided his face into little squares and worked slowly to remove the dirt coating him. By the time she had cleaned his face, she had changed the water several times. Deep breath, Hermione. Time to get to the difficult parts. With freshwater and a scourgified cloth, she started cleaning under his chin and down his neck. She almost started crying as she brought the cloth over his day old chin hair. It will never grow again, she sniffled. She brought the cloth down his neck to the first set of puncture marks. The blood had crusted around the bite marks, yet it had not scabbed over. Obviously the venom in the snake's bite had an anticoagulant. She wiped away the dried blood down his neck at the first site and this time, she did not even try to stop her tears. Hermione changed her water and cleaned the cloth again before moving to the next set of puncture marks. This set was much the same as the first, and yet still better than what she knew she had next. With the second set of marks cleaned, she once again tried to center herself before trying to attempt the gaping neck wound.

Hermione knew she needed more than just her simple bowl of cleansing water and a cloth. She grabbed her wand and used it to spill water into the wound. Once the water leaving his skin was more pink than red, she knew she was ready for the bowl and cloth again. Hermione grabbed the cloth and gently dabbed around the wound. She used her other hand to move the hanging flesh. Years later, Hermione would never be able to explain how she successfully cleaned his wound. Once she was satisfied that his neck was clean, she conjured herself a crescent needle and some medical grade string. She slowly worked both by hand and with her magic, piecing the torn flesh back together. Hermione could not count the minutes or even the hours really. All she knew, was that by time she was satisfied with his stitched up neck, her back was sore, her legs were stiff, and her arms ached. But none of that mattered. All that mattered to her, was that when she finally stood up, the man laying on the floor no longer looked like something from her nightmares. And the reality was, he would become part of her nightmares, she knew that now.

Hermione knew she was finished, and she imagined someone had to be missing her by now. She could not leave him though. Summing her strength, and trying to find the right memory, Hermione sent her Patronus with a message to Harry to meet her in the shack and to bring others to help. With her message sent, and her energy gone, Hermione sank to the ground, with her head in her hands. Hello old friends, she thought as the tears streamed down her face again. She did not even want to know what she looked like. She was probably still covered in bits of him, and with that sobering thought, she tried to clean herself up as well. Hermione grabbed her bowl and filled it one last time with fresh, clean water, and washed her hands as well. Once she began the process, she could not stop. She was rubbing the cloth back and forth across her face, trying to erase the memories along with the dirt and grime.

That was where Harry found her, sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, with a dirty cloth rubbing her skin raw, while she cried uncontrollably.

"Hermione, you can stop now," Harry said while he gently pulled her hands away from her face. Harry took a look around the room while he held her hands. "Did you do this yourself?"

"Of course I did. I couldn't leave him alone and let anyone else see him the way we did," she cried.

Harry stood up and pulled Hermione up with him. Without speaking, he eyed Kingsley and then looked toward the body laying on the floor. Kingsley understood the message, and quickly conjured a stretcher. He levitated the body onto the stretcher and covered him with a white sheet while Harry moved Hermione to the exit of the shack. Harry did not let her look behind them, "Just one foot in front of the other Mione," he whispered into her ear.

The four bodies left the Shrieking Shack that night. Three breathing, and one forever still, all of their lives changed completely. One to be buried an unsung hero. One to become Minister of Magic. One to become the greatest Auror of their time. And one to live on to have another great adventure, even if it was completely against her will and wishes.

3

Hermione walked up the front steps to the Hogwarts entrance. Stopping at the stop stairs, her hand resting on the door, she took a deep breath. You can do this, Hermione, she whispered to herself. Throwing her shoulders back and lifting her, she pushed the front door open. Hermione walked into the hall, looking around. Little had changed in the entrance, but so much had changed within her. She looked toward the main staircase and could see Fred and George flying down on their grand exit. She blinked, and could see Fred's face, frozen in his last smile, just a corridor away. Hermione blinked and looked the other way. She looked toward where she knew the hospital wing was. She had spent a lot of time down that wing, not too long ago. Not only had she had her own recovery time in that wing, after she was healed, she stayed on to help Madam Pomfrey tend to the many other injured witches and wizards.

Hermione had never thought about a career in healing, but after helping in the hospital wing, she knew that was her future. And in order to make her future a reality, she knew she needed to come back to Hogwarts and finish her seventh year. It had been a fight between her best friends. They had never understood her desire for schooling. Once Kingsley had offered them a chance to become Aurors, both boys had jumped at the chance. After immediately saying yes, they both looked to Hermione with expectant eyes. It almost broke her heart to tell them no. But she knew she could not continue their lifestyle. She could not be the once chasing down the bad guys. For once she wanted to be the one in the background. Doing her duty without the glory. She wanted to be normal.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't hear Professor McGonagall calling her name.

"Hermione dear, did you hear me?" the head mistress asked.

"I'm sorry professor, I was far away in my own thoughts," Hermione replied. "You were saying?"

"It's quite alright, my dear. I just was saying hello. Are you ready for the coming year?"

"I hope so," Hermione said, trying to show her favorite professor and mentor she was better than the last time they had met. "I just hope I'm making the right choice, coming back I mean."

"Hermione, you and I both know the life of an Auror is not for you. You are where you belong. Hogwarts needs you just as much as you need it," she said with a smile. "Now come, let's get you out of the cold entry way and into your new chambers.

Hermione was one of a handful of students returning to take their 7th year. Because there were so few returners, and because they were all legally adults, Professor McGonagall along with the other returning professors thought it would be better to house the students in their own chambers. Hogwarts was large enough that they could actually have their own wing. These student would all be coming in before term officially started. Part of their being able to return to school was taking on a teacher's assistant position. Going into the medi-field, required the core classes for NEWTS. Hermione knew she could pass all of her NEWTS with an "O" except Defence Against the Dark Arts. She almost laughed every time she thought about struggling in that class. It was ridiculous if you asked her. She was part of the the damn Golden Trio for gods sake, she helped defeat the most evil wizard in their lifetime, and yet she knew without a doubt that she would struggle on the DADA NEWT. It was that reason, and that reason alone that she requested being the DADA teacher's assistant. She knew she had her work cut out for her, but she needed top marks. She needed to break away from the Golden Trio. She needed to be more than just the muggle born best friend of Harry Potter. She needed to be more than just the one that got away from Ron Weasley. She needed to be Hermione Granger, the best student Hogwarts had seen, and if she had it her way, she would be.

4

Hermione was going through her trusty beaded bag, placing the items she had meticulously packed around her room when she heard a knock on her door. Placing the bag down, Hermione exited her bed room and headed to her living area. Keeping her wand held tightly in her hand, Hermione slowly opened her door. "Harry, what are you doing here?" she asked the bespectacled boy standing outside her door.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. You left without really saying anything, and I was worried."

"You don't have to worry Harry, I'm where I need to be -"

"But what about you and Ron?" Harry asked.

"What about us? I know I made myself clear after the meeting with Kingsley."

"Yeah, but,"

"No buts, Harry. I can't follow the two of you into the ministry. I can't be the brains of the Golden Trio anymore. I need to figure out what I want, and while I don't know what that is yet, I know it's not wasting more of my life chasing the bad guys!"

"But I'll miss you, Ron will miss you."

"And I'll miss you as well, but I need to live my own life now Harry. I don't want to be an Auror, that's not going to make me happy. And I can't be the perfect housewife for Ron. You know I can never measure up to Molly, and we all know that's what Ron wants. Trust me Harry, this is for the best. The two of you can start your journey and not have to worry about me. I can start my life again here, at Hogwarts, my only home now."

"What will I do without you beside me to tell me when I'm wrong? Who's going to tell me to keep going? How can I keep going without you Mione?" Harry cried.

"I'll always be in your corner Harry. You know if you need me, I'll be there. But honestly, this is a good thing. I want to learn how to save people Harry, not just capture people."

Even though Harry knew what she was the truth, it did not mean he wanted to believe it. Harry knew he could count on Ron, but he also knew that Hermione was his rock, and just maybe he was not ready to really take a step out on his own.

"You're right Mione," Harry said. "I know this is the place for you. And who knows, maybe your training will come in use. I mean, I will probably need someone to fix my cuts and bruises after all the tough cases I'll get."

"Of course you will, although how that will be any different than the last seven years, I don't know," Hermione laughed. "Seriously Harry, I'll be right here for you whenever you need. You're my best friend, and the most important person to me now. I wouldn't even be standing in the room, let alone the castle again, if you hadn't picked me up off the floor of the shack a few months ago."

"You know I wouldn't leave you there, and you know I couldn't leave him there either. What you did that know was probably one of the bravest things I've encountered, and we spent the whole last year in hell."

"I know Harry, and I'll be forever grateful to you for that night," Hermione said gently.

"And I'll be forever grateful to you for me even being able to walk and breathe. We'll make it through this, right? We'll be able to walk different paths and still be best friends, right Mione?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "Nothing could take me away from your friendship, Harry James Potter. You're stuck with me.

"Good. Because Merlin only knows what I would do without you. I'm not sure I can handle it," Harry said, shaking his head slightly. And with that proclamation, Harry James Potter, the Chosen One, took one last look at his best friend, gave her a hug, and walked out the door to his future as an Auror. If Harry had known at that moment that that would be the last time he looked in his best friend's eyes, he would have held her longer, he would have made the time to stay, he would have told her he loved her. But Harry was not a seer, he did not know the future, and he did not know that Hermione's life would change forever.

Harry walked out of the castle, whistling slightly to himself, while Hermione went back to setting up her room. She hummed slightly to herself, while she created piles of items to be placed in her room and what needed to stay on her person at all times. Yes, Hermione might have told her best friend and even herself that she wanted to concentrate on her new, villain free life, but she was a realist, and she knew that her little beaded back would be on her at all times, packed with the most essential items for survival. War had changed her, and she would never be unprepared again.