This is a ridiculously late birthday present for Aga, but there you have it, punctuality isn't my strong point!

This fic is designed to almost slot into HBP - albeit in Hermione's POV - so I hope you enjoy it; I don't own anything

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed
All I know is a new found grace
All my days I'll know your face
All I know since yesterday is everything has changed
Taylor Swift & Ed Sheeran, Everything Has Changed

Sitting by the common room's fire—always a beautiful place to sit in winter—Hermione couldn't help but feel a slight smugness. Well, to be perfectly honest, it was more than a slight smugness in comparison to her best friends' situations, but that wasn't something she could help, was it?

Neither of the boys had grasped that sixth year was the start of an increased workload, with longer and more complicated homework set with continuously shorter time to complete the work—and that it wasn't going to give up in momentum throughout the next two years. Even though it was increasingly doubtful that their seventh year would actually occur—though Hermione always thought on the positive side, and hoped that their Voldemort hunting could take a backseat until they passed their NEWTs—that didn't mean that they could slack in this one year of normality.

Harry and Ron's inability to prioritise meant that they had spent the entire evening practising for a Quidditch game which was a month away, and even worse, it wasn't on a scheduled practise night. Apparently, Ron needed more support, which was something Hermione believed—but she didn't believe that it was more important than actually keeping up to date with their studies. She had said so to them before they left, with a clear warning that they would not be copying off her Transfiguration essay when they returned—an assignment due in the following day. Naturally, she had finished it at the weekend, but she knew the headway Harry had made wouldn't help him that much, especially as what he determined 'headway' was actually about three lines.

As she waited for them to return so she could chastise them in person, Hermione continued to knit one of the many hats she was making for the House Elves. Part of her was suspicious that they were all going without a fuss, but she wasn't going to show that to anyone, not even her best friends; they had all made it perfectly clear that they didn't believe that the Elves would want them, and she wasn't going to voice any suspicions about where the knitting was actually going. For all she knew, the Elves actually did want them, and she was being successful in setting them free.

S.P.E.W was just one of the things Hermione knew that she'd lose if war broke out. She wouldn't be able to protect her friends and the Elves at the same time and no matter how strong the Elves' right to freedom was, she had always known that it would be their trio over the rights of any other creature. Only Harry could defeat Voldemort and only they could help Harry. And no matter how hard she tried to stop herself thinking about it, the war was ever closer. Voldemort was out in the open now, and that meant that he could quite openly start amassing an army, not to mention creating plans to destroy Hogwarts' strong leadership. Only those in the castle would be strong enough to hold him off, Dumbledore the most prominent, and only their Headmaster's existence was stopping the outbreak of official war.

She hated to admit just how tired he looked whenever she saw him at meals—which was rare now. Harry's reports were more frequent than the meals, and he confirmed that Dumbledore wasn't looking his best, something which kicked Hermione into overdrive. As well as making hats and other items for the Elves, her spare time was taken up by learning every type of spell she possibly could; their future wasn't clear and their situation could change rapidly. The spells they learnt in school…they wouldn't be enough to survive as well as defend and defeat Voldemort.

Umbridge had highlighted to Hermione just how many failings there were in the education system. She knew that it was the same in the Muggle one, and that it wasn't just their wizarding education which had flaws, but they were learning what they needed to know to pass the NEWTs, with only some exceptions—such as McGonagall, who taught them spells which could actually help if they were in a tricky situation—and Hermione didn't feel confident that she could do enough to keep them going in the real world. So she was reading everything she could, everything from household spells (as she didn't think either Harry or Ron particularly enjoyed doing the dishes) to how to bind an attacker in a cocoon. It wouldn't be enough still…but it might make her think that they could be safe.

She had kept this secret from her friends, of course. If she hadn't, Harry would demand to be able to learn some of them as well, and no matter how much she loved him, she knew that he wouldn't be able to do some of these spells. He didn't have the time to master them like she did—he had other, more important commitments, ones she didn't have—and he could barely keep on top of the spells he was supposed to be learning. She didn't need to add anything to his workload.

And Ron…Ron. Every time she was around him alone, she had to resist the urge to say something about how she felt. Working closely with him on complicated magic—it would either destroy him as a crush, or it would make her so infatuated she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the magic without thinking of him. Neither of those options were appealing; she would be heartbroken if she didn't get the chance to be with him, but she never wanted to lose her independence, not to mention their friendship. The three of them…that was all that kept her going sometimes, through the pointless lessons and the crippling fear that hit her sometimes in the middle of the night—fear that they all wouldn't survive this, that they would grow up beyond their years too quickly.

Anyway, Hermione wanted these evenings to be theirs; she wanted them to be filled with arguments about homework and whether or not Harry and Ron should read more. She wanted to discuss Harry's quite obvious crush on Ginny without Ron knowing, and to discuss Ron's Keeping skills next to a fire they roast marshmallows on. Their sixth year should be filled with things normal school students do, not formulating plans to fight Voldemort or try and learn things which probably wouldn't even help.

She wanted as much as a normal year as possible—and whilst she was breaking that, that didn't mean that her friends had to.

It was at that point that Harry and Ron returned from practise, sopping wet from the rain she could hear pattering against the window. Without a word, Hermione raised her wand and dried them off before the water could make the ink on her essay run, and she also raised an eyebrow.

"Good evening," she said, slight humour in her tone. "So, gentlemen, are you ready to complete your essays for McGonagall? Don't forget, you need at least forty five inches for her to even consider marking it, and you two currently have…nothing."

Harry immediately protested. "I have…four. And that's not a bad start, I don't think considering I didn't even know the title until last night."

Stifling a yawn, Hermione shut the book of advanced defensive magic she had been reading, slipping it under a pile of wool and knitting needles. They didn't need to see it. "Like I said, boys, it's due in tomorrow. You had best get cracking."

"Could we possibly…?" Ron started, and Hermione knew what he was going to say.

"No, Ronald, you don't need to read my essay—you're a genius, after all," she commented, throwing back his words the morning after they had received the assignment—"I'm a genius, Hermione, I can knock it together in about half an hour. I know everything to put in it, I don't need to sacrifice Quidditch to write some dumb essay."—and watching as he blanched. "So, seeing as I know you were lying and that you also have to start your Defence essay, you can read my plan. But that is all."

Immediately the boys smiled and Harry reached out to put his arms around her. Hermione resisted, however, not because she didn't want a hug but because she knew the title of the book would be visible from the hugging angle.

"I don't need a hug; I just need to know that you're going to do your next essay earlier, okay?" she said, knowing that it would never happen.

"We promise!" Ron exclaimed, causing Hermione to roll her eyes before picking up her knitting needles and pointing in the direction of her plan.

"All your references are there also," she added, just as the clock struck ten. "You have two hours until midnight, when I'm going to bed, so I'd get things done now."

And so they sat there for two hours, silent besides for the scratching of quills on parchment and the occasional fact clarification with Hermione, and it struck her just how much she'd miss the little things like this when they left on their quest. Homework and knitting—she never thought her life would come down to things like that…but it had.

Strangely, Hermione couldn't be happier that they had evenings like this to look forward to for the rest of the year, because the future wouldn't be planned out like this, it would be confusing and scary, and at least sitting by the fire was secure and constant. Fighting Voldemort would never be secure.