Disclaimer. I don't own Harry Potter. That is the Property of JKR and Warner Bros. The collage photos for Daniel R. and Emma W. belong to the magazine media. The image of Destiny is by Healthy Tree Frog. The image of Death is by DD Syrdal. Other images belong to the Internet. I just did the collage and I'm happy to own my laptop. Other than the idea for this story, I own nothing.

Warning this story contains mature language and situations. Rated M 18+.

I would like to thank God for another fic. Plus, my home team of cheerleaders. My mom and my son. Love you more than I can count.

Special thanks to the wonderful Noppoh, how is soaring high but still makes the time to help crazy writers like myself.

To the haters and the Ghost, I mean Guest(Anonymous) haters. I won't lie, I delete your comments. Life is too short to waste it on hate.

To the rest of the readers and reviewers, thanks.

Enjoy the read

Chapter 1.

The Quill Chronicles.

Warning: Angst ahead.

Hermione's POV.

Hermione's apartment. December 2000, just another evening.

It's a Saturday when she remembers that she has one more chore to complete. She rolls her eyes at herself for being distracted, but, dutiful as she is, gathers the tools for recording her journal: A golden dicta quill and parchment. Hermione shakes her head, annoyed about the exercise which she considers, at this point, redundant. She adds with reluctance:

"Looking back is painful, Doc." Hermione exhales and looks at the Dicta Quill twirling, as though it was an invisible and eager assistant waiting for her to continue.

"Anyway, it hurts to look back and realize that winning the war wasn't as amazing as I thought it would be. With the conflict done, many things happened all at once. Harry got engaged to Ginny, I got engaged to Ronald, and Molly couldn't wait to have another wedding at the Burrow. At the time, I was so broken that I agreed, and my marriage turned out to be a dramatic comedy of unimagined proportions."

She takes a sip of her bourbon and just as she smiles a tear rolls over her cheek.

"We got married and, after the wedding night, it dawned on me that this was a mistake. That I wasn't the right one for him. That he wasn't going to change. He would continue being a slob, loud mouth, now a smoker and a drinker, and, to top it all, a bad husband."

She looks at the ceiling and wonders if she should continue, however, her shrink is expecting the diary, and if anything, Hermione is compliant with her chores.

"Doc, I hope you don't mind me using a couple of short words when I visualize your mother. Merlin, this is hard, and hell! I should have killed him, but no, death would have been too kind… I'm not proud of my actions, but everything changed as I became a mother to our child, my beautiful baby, James Arthur Weasley, and, once again, tragedy hit. After my son passed away my marriage too went to the bin. I mean, where the hell was he? Where the hell was my husband? Oh, not to worry, he was busy fucking Lavender Brown and he had the gall to add: "Lavender is a real woman, and you were just too busy, and it's better this way Hermione, James would have grown up with divorced parents, and seriously, that's no future for a child of mine."

Hermione laughs as tears stain her face. "I saw red. Next thing I remember is having my wand active and having used a sticking charm on his testicles and glued him to the wall, and magically inked on his back: "Harder Lav-Lav, hit me harder I love pain!"

Hermione stops, reliving the memory, and bursts out in inevitable giggles. She takes a moment to breathe, then carries on. "Yep, that was the way that that trainwreck, uh, marriage, came to an end… After formally signing the divorce papers, I bought a one-way ticket to Sydney and I promised myself not to return to Britain; I just couldn't, it hurt too much."

The dicta quill stops and Hermione sighs.

-oo0oo-

Again, it's a Saturday. Hermione loathes her attitude. She takes a glance at the Dicta Quill, shrugs, and activates the aide with a flick of her wand.

"Let's get over with this. I really hate you Doc, but you said it would be cathartic."

Hermione smiles with sadness.

"I have a really tough time looking back, but you insist that the past holds the key to my healing process. Well, I feel like crap every time I recall said past, my academic formation and Hogwarts, because, well, I easily and steadily lost my mind, and fell in love since day one."

Hermione clears her throat and adds.

"While no one was looking, because of exams, teenagehood drama, death eaters, death conspiracies, war, and so on, I spent long periods of time observing him."

A strange smile appears on her face, as she closes her eyes and whispers to the room.

"Gazing at his shape, his shadow, and trying and failing to get over slight vertigo I felt every time I beheld his silhouette. I was besotted, while he was too busy to notice my unrequited love. I admit it, I had the biggest crush on Harry James Potter, and to him, I was dear old, good, dependable Hermione."

Once again tears stain Hermione's face, and she realizes just how much she is starting to hate Saturday's thanks to her therapist.

-oo0oo-

It's yet another Saturday night, and the Dicta Quill comes to life as Hermione takes a moment to gather her thoughts. The quill scratches quietly as the words start leaving her mouth.

"New year is around the corner. I've mentioned it before, Doc. You see, I stopped celebrating Christmas ever since I was seventeen. However, currently, I'm on a new path; so after a long consultation with my pillow and since this is a new Millenium, I decided that it was a good idea to celebrate."

A strange smile crowns Hermione's face as she puts words to her thoughts.

"For starters, I was thrilled with the idea that I'm able to pinpoint my feelings, my attitudes, and my reactions, and trace them back to the key persons that aided/hindered me as I was growing up. Along with that, I have a list of things that I feel are dragging me down. Ambitious as I am, I thought I could fix myself, once it for all."

A serene smile appears on her face.

"But here's the thing, emotions are not books that I can understand and push to the side once I got to the gist of the matter. Let me elaborate," she drinks from a cup of tea and resumes.

"Since I was on a personal journey towards healing, I decided that a flow chart would help."

Hermione smiles again, closes her eyes and adds, not without shaking her head:

"The plan, in question, included organizing my dinners, a pattern for my work clothes, a strict evening beauty routine, and, while I was on it? I made a schedule for disposing of unused things, one of those was my desire, my libido, and the need for a partner, yes, my plan even had a calendar date on which I would donate all of the unwanted junk to the second-hand store."

She laughs at herself for being silly.

"Imagine Doc, it annoyed me to no end when I realized that my libido cannot be detached. Useless thing! Why was it given to me anyway? All the good it ever did was spoil my appetite. Oh well, back to square one."

The Dicta Quill stops.

-oo0oo-

Hermione knows it's Saturday; it's the time of the evening where she has to bring out the Quill and Parchment. This time, the words flow naturally.

"I've been thinking, Doc. Sometimes I try not to think too much because when I do, I begin to have regrets. I question my actions and motives. I guess self-control is the key. For me, as much as I hate to admit it, self-control was for a long time a foreign concept. Let me elaborate."

This time, Hermione shakes her head and sighs, then adds:

"We all have dreams. We all want a legendary love, and love does happen; in my personal case, it was with food. The romance between the microwave and myself was epic."

Hermione blinks and reads the last sentence in her journal. She scratches her right ear and looks around her tiny flat, slowly releases her breath and continues with her monologue:

"The result was a seven stone gain in body weight. What can I say? The microwave never rejected me, it didn't argue, it didn't look at me in anger or frustration, nor provided me with comparisons to why the need of a better lover. No, food never reasoned that our relationship was a mistake, so I just ate."

She smiles with sadness and deactivates the Dicta Quill.

-oo0oo-

Saturday again and, to Hermione, this evening the task seems too difficult to complete. Regardless, she has the magic Quill and the parchment ready. After a bit, she starts:

"I really hate this, Doc, recalling my marriage to Ron, our lost son, James Arthur, and how brokenhearted I felt after the whole experience was done. It just feels like rubbing salt on an old wound."

She sighs and adds:

"I cannot believe I was so desperate." Hermione sniggers at the memory. "It doesn't matter as much as it used to, anyway, that period of my life left me with a mountain of practical knowledge. I currently have a list of things that came to me as a revelation. For example: How not to fall in love. How to put a foot down when the Mother in Law (Molly Weasley) intervened and had a say on the design and color of my wedding gown, the venue, the cake, and my guest list.

Hermione sighs and a different smile accompanied by tears frames her face.

"I felt like a fool for being married to him and on the same page, I felt, well, I felt like the wife of a Hyena.

Hermione grabs a pillow and yells against it, muting the sound of her wails. After a moment, she resumes her recording.

"And, let's not forget what happened after I found out about his affair with Lavender Brown. I felt I'd been had; that the two lovers had laughed behind my back while I was busy completing the pregnancy of our only child. And his stupid speech after my baby's death? Well, I don't think it's hard to imagine the natural outcome, right Doc? Like for example, I don't know, I lost it, and right then I decided that I had enough."

She rolls her eyes and adds:

"The relationship was done for, and my former husband was, at last, free to return to the wild, to go back to his pack."

She giggles, after, in a casual tone of voice her memory resumes.

"Along with his return to his natural habitat, a reminder, a very interesting note attached on his arse, and swollen balls, with no hint of gratitude on my behalf, as I said, a mountain of experience."

Hermione sighs, and adds almost in a whisper:

"I'm not proud, but trading Ron for overeating? It was not one of my better courses of action, then again, this wasn't even the first time that I made a mistake. I'm not just a witch, I'm human."

She flicks her wrist and the Quill stops while she dries her tears.

-oo0oo-

Saturday evening rolls around again and Hermione wonders if maybe she could slack, behave a bit more like a typical single woman, and go out instead of staying home and recording her journal for her therapist.

Again, before she has another moment to consider her habits, the Dicta Quill is ready and so is the parchment. She grimaces at the topic of this revelation, but, nevertheless, she talks into the quiet room.

"Oh boy, rock bottom? Or how did I realize that I needed to get help?... The thing is I don't know; I was simply tired, exhausted really, of being the crutch that was readily available for my "friends" or the "greater good" or whatever was the cause was. I got worn out by the dependable label, and I too got tired of being the scapegoat of other people's prejudice."

In the soft moonlight, Hermione admires how her forearm clearly reads "Mudblood".

"I don't know what the exact turning point was; I guess you can say it was the instinct of survival. What I do know is that I got tired of feeling alienated, used, and discarded as a tissue paper after my part was fulfilled."

She stares out of her window and looks at the stars, then adds:

"I don't know what my future holds. I know where I come from, and I'm still working on my sanity, for the time being, though, I think, um, going back to the start is not bad; it's not a dream, but hey, at least I'm not scared anymore."

The Dicta Quill trembles and softly deactivates.

December 2001. Hermione's Apartment. Sydney, Australia. One evening.

The Dicta Quill and the parchment make an appearance after almost a year of slumber.

Hermione smiles as though she is greeting an old friend and welcomes the revival of her Saturday routine.

"It's been an interesting year, to say the least. Uhm, at the start of the year, I bought a second-hand time turner at a flea market. It was sold to me as a broken clock. After repairs, it seemed that it was a gift from the gods because it was just what I needed."

...

"I was able to get two additional identities through the goblins and I managed to get five different jobs. Mind you, five full-time jobs for at least six months. It enables me to consider going back to school and getting my A level exams."

...

"I've been working out and, since I'm repeating each day for at least a number of days, my weight is no longer an issue. Having the stamina, on the other hand, is where the matter resides."

...

"Self-control is still difficult but I have a color code agenda for each of my jobs, schools, and therapy. Here's to a new year."

June 2005. Sydney Australia. Yes, it's in the evening, again.

Hermione is crying; she's been crying for what seems like ages, and she knows this is the best moment to bring out her journal and her Dicta Quill. She takes a drink of her water bottle, clears her throat, readies her tools, and, in a whisper, she adds.

"I was able to connect back with Monica and Wendell Wilkins. They were quite enthusiastic about my application, of meeting a single woman that had as many academic credentials as myself. After the initial resilience and doubt about my multiple references — in contrast to their job offer, the nature of the nondescript dental practice, and my rebuttal — well, they took me in, with open arms, as a talented assistant."

...

"In their own words, I'm an ideal candidate for the job. Oh God, what am I going to do? I found my parents."

A second later, the Dicta Quill deactivates with a soundless thud, just as Hermione grabs her pillow and muffles a cry. After, she feels her eyes get blurred by tears.

Before she forgets, she stops, reactivates the Dicta Quill, and babbles one additional detail.

"I purchased an old chest box, Uh, the box was another find at the flea market. It had original works from the Hogwarts Founders, lost works by Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, and a compendium of old myths about the creation of the world."

August 2006. Home of doctors Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Guest room. Sydney Australia. Just any other evening.

The Dicta Quill trembles and it starts writing.

"I know it's been some time. Uhm, well, to start off, I became a junior associate in the dental clinic."

Hermione's eyes well up with tears.

"I became a partner, no thanks to the excellent reputation the Dental practice acquired from one of our patients. You see, he and his family, well, they claimed that they were healing, it seems as if by magic. The practice gained prestige, a lot of it, following my entry. Soon the clinic became a health center. The Wilkins believe I am their lucky charm."

...

"I've begun a personal and independent study as a member of the healing group. I asked the Wilkins if they wanted to be involved with the study. The objective of the research was to develop a treatment for potential patients that had memory blanks. The Wilkins, bless their heart, agreed, only because of their curiosity."

...

"It was a random factor that actually got me the breakthrough. I didn't think it would work, but doctor Monica was going through menopause and after a bad fight with her husband, I suggested a holistic juice and meal program that had a hormone and fertility base."

...

"I, uh, well, my patients, the good doctors Wilkins and Wilkins, were unaware of a small detail, uh, the treatment had a base of magic potions, the potions in question, were included on the special diet the two underwent, and, well, Dr. Monica became pregnant with triplets, oops!"

...

"The Wilkins, in turn, well, they were enchanted and welcomed the idea of parenthood. In the meantime, I kept a meticulous watch on Monica's prenatal care. It was a high risk, precious pregnancy, and even though I had, at that point in time, given up on getting my parents back, their acceptance meant the world, to me."

...

"It was a little bit after my little sisters and baby brother were born, that Monica looked at me. I mean, looked at me with a little more care."

"I have been inseparable, and, to any other person, would have been found overbearing. To the Wilkins, I was the unofficial cousin/nanny/colleague. The babies, much like myself, were all magical, and instinct closed the memory gap. The day came that I found myself reflected in my mother's gaze and then, out of the blue, she asked:

"Hermione, is it really you dear?"

Tears rolled over my face as I nodded in return. I quietly inquired:

"Mum, do you really remember me now?"

She got up and hugged me until I could no longer keep in the years of sorrow, contained previous to her touch. I broke down while holding her, and just as though I was her newborn babe, she added in a soft tone:

"There, there sweet child, you're okay, now."

...

"I know for a fact that magical healing happens when two females cry together. Dad was scared of the emotional state in which he found his household. My mother and I embracing and crying, his newborns empathizing their sorrow to us. Afraid, he questioned:

"What's wrong?"

"Daniel, it's Hermione, our Hermione,"

His facial expression changed and he too joined the embrace as tears clouded his eyes. In a murmur, he added,

"My little girl, my beautiful princess Hermione. Emma, how, how is this possible?"

"I thought I lost you, mum, dad, I thought that I wouldn't get to have this again. I'm a big sister now!"

The Quill stills and Hermione accepts that everything is at peace. She takes the Quill and adds by hand.

We cried, we laughed, my baby siblings smiled, and I was introduced as their sister. At that moment, by letting love and magic take shape in our mutual acceptance, I felt my heart, once again, become whole.