Written for the Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition - Round 7. Prompts were "Let's go somewhere a bit less dull.", Red nails, "What are you smiling about?"

As soon as Hermione opened the door, she was met with tears and laughter and hugs.

"My baby girl," her mum half sobbed in her arms. "My baby girl got accepted into Harvard! One of the most prestigious schools in the world! I'm so proud of you!"

Her dad smiled at her from a short distance away, an unmistakable proud light in his eyes. "We're both proud of you."

Hermione's jaw dropped. She floundered for a moment, her hands waving around as if not sure what they should be doing.

"Harvard?" she squeaked. "I got accepted into… Harvard?"

Both her parents grinned and nodded.

With an ear-piercing shriek of excitement, Hermione all but tackled her parents, laughing all the while.

…

"Hermione? Have you got a minute?"

Hermione looked up from her desk, gesturing for Harry to quiet down. Her brow was furrowed and she was glaring intensely at the papers scattered in front of her. Harry hovered patiently by the doorway, watching her. Finally, she sighed, rubbing her temple in irritation.

Hermione folded her hands and turned back to the doorway. "Yes, Harry?" She asked.

"Well, the Department of Mysteries were calling for your help," he explained. "Do you mind sparing them a moment? They seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough, or something like that."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I don't suppose the paperwork is going to get done just by staring at it. I might as well do something useful."

…

Wringing her hands on the strap of her backpack, Hermione made her way through the crowd. This was it. She was at Harvard. This crowd of students, they would be her peers, her friends, throughout university.

Not only that, but they would also be her fiercest competitors. Hermione's stomach was churning just thinking about it. Pressing a hand against her stomach, she forced herself to take a deep breath. In, out. In, out.

Once she had gotten her heart rate down again, she set her mind on a logical path. She had read all the textbooks twice, and had even done extra research on the subject she was studying, which was Law. She had a high rate of success. She would be fine.

…

Hermione waited patiently for the elevator to lower her to the Department of Mysteries. With a 'ding' sound, the elevator opened, and she stepped out. She was immediately surrounded by a small group of people, who had clearly been waiting for her. They were all trying to speak at once, which resulted in jumbled cacophony of sound.

"So glad you could come down here—"

"We really need your help—"

"If you could just—"

"The spell—"

"Stop!" Hermione commanded. The voices quieted down. "Now, start from the beginning."

…

"So it's you," a voice came out of nowhere, startling her.

Hermione whirled around, books nearly toppling out of her hands.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's you," a young man repeated, walking out of the shadow of a nearby tree. "You're the one everyone's been talking about. The amazing first year law student, with nearly perfect grades."

Hermione flushed. "Well, I really don't— I don't know what you're talking about."

He gave her an easy laugh. "My name's Dave. I'm a couple years ahead of you. It's my pleasure to meet you."

Hermione shyly smiled back. "I'm Hermione. Nice to meet you too."

…

"Come on Hermione, let's go somewhere a bit less dull."

Hermione sighed, for what seemed to be the millionth time in the past hour. "For the last time Dave, I have homework to be doing."

"Yeah, homework that's due in a week."

"I can't procrastinate, or I'll fall behind," she said firmly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Fall behind?" Dave's tone of voice was incredulous. "You're ahead of the course work! Come on, it's just for an hour. I'll treat you to some coffee and a cookie okay? You still need food."

Hermione pondered for a second, then reluctantly let him drag her out of the library.

"Just an hour," she said crossly. "Only one hour, okay?"

"I promise," he said laughing, one hand firmly over hers.

…

"What's wrong? WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Mr. Weasley. Please calm down."

"Calm down? You're asking me to bloody calm down? My fiancé is in there! So, I'll ask again. What. Happened?"

A sigh.

"My deepest apologies Mr. Weasley. Hermione Granger had come to help the Department of Mysteries at approzimately 11:13 a.m. They were testing a protype version of the oblivion spell. I personally don't know the details, but it appears as if something had gone wrong. Ms. Granger is currently suffering from memory loss."

"That's it? Can't her memory be repaired?"

Another sigh.

"As I mentioned earlier Mr. Weasley, it was a prototype version of the spell. It was supposed to be permanent. A complete memory wipe. And in Ms. Granger's case, everything to do with the Wizarding World, and magic, is simply gone."

…

Flexing her fingers in front of her, Hermione stared in disbelief at her red nails.

"How did you convince me to do this?" She wondered.

Dave simply laughed at her displeasure.

She glanced up at him, a frown crossing her face. "What are you smiling about?"

He grinned at her. "Nothing."

Lacing their fingers together, he led her out onto the street to continue their date.

…

"I hope you understand Mr. Weasley, that there is no hope at all. We've have to replace her empty memories with false ones, and send her back to her parents. There's nothing we can do."

A pause.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"…I—I see. If you could please just leave me alone for bit."

"...Certainly."

…

"Will you marry me?"

Hermione dropped her purse. Eyes wide with disbelief, she stared at the kneeling man in front of her. He grinned up at her.

Feeling hot tears well up in her eyes, Hermione lunged forward to embrace him.

"Yes. Yes, I absolutely will!"

…

Hermione lowered herself slowly to the bench. Her face was set in a slight grimace. In her old age, it was hard to do anything; her bones ached constantly, and her memory was slipping. All she could do was take walks and reminisce on the good days, with her parents and her spouse. Dave. He had been a good man. All she could do now was watch the birds, waiting for her own ending. But she had lived a good life. She would embrace death gladly when it came.

A slight squeaking sound from the other end of the bench broke her musings. Hermione turned her head, meeting the steady gaze of the old man who had just arrived.

"Hello," she said politely.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. "Hello," he said back.

"Are you new here?" Hermione asked curiously. It seemed even her old age wasn't even enough to dampen her questioning nature. "I've never seen you here before."

The old man lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I come and go. I'm not surprised you haven't seen me before. I live in England."

"England? I was born there," Hermione smiled lightly. "What did you come all the way here for?"

"I came here to see someone very special to me," the old man said, with a smile so heart-breaking that her own heart couldn't help but ache for him. She pressed a hand against her chest, trying to suppress the pain that had sprung up suddenly.

"This person must be very special indeed," Hermione murmured softly.

"She is," came the quiet reply.

…

An old man knelt at the foot of a neat grave marker. Slowly, carefully, he lightly ran his fingers over the inscription. Almost unnoticed, a single tear fell from his left eye, tracing a gentle path down his wrinkled cheek.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder. Brilliant green eyes bored in his clear, blue ones.

"It's time to let go, Ron."

The old man gave a grieving, bitter smile.

"I had let go a long time ago, Harry."

…

"Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much more strength to know when to let go and then do it." -Ann Landers