If You Would Only See

CHAPTER ONE: A New Life


A new life was what she had wanted and what she now had. A life no longer shadowed by the threat of war, the threat of impending death and doom. It had been difficult for Hermione Granger to adjust to life after the war. So much of her time had been spent helping the Order keep Voldemort from gaining control over the wizarding world that she hadn’t really thought about life after. As such, the months following the death of the Dark Lord had been filled with confusion, angst, and a depressing desire to figure out just what and who she really was.

In time she discovered her purpose. She used her love of knowledge, of books, and she opened a bookstore in Hogsmeade. She smiled as she unlocked the front door and entered her little haven. The Magic Quill was her baby. She had nurtured it, loved it, tended it carefully and had seen it grow into a very successful business she could be proud of. She wasn’t surprised to find the house-elves she employed, paid of course, all ready there cleaning and restocking shelves.

“Good morning Goon!” She smiled. “Good morning Taffy.” The tiny creatures greeted her with cheerful good mornings, quickly returning to their work.

At the back of the store there were two doors, one was to her office, which opened into the storeroom in back, and the other was to the restricted section, where she kept rare, and more powerful books on magic that younger, less experience witches and wizards should not get their hands on. The wards on the door were set to recognize the level of skill, and whether or not the wizard’s intentions were dark before allowing them entrance.

She entered her office, smiling as the room lit in welcome, the air filling with the rich scent of lavender.
“I love magic.” She said with a smile as she tossed her coat and bag into a chair. She caught her reflection in an antique mirror, and stopped. She leaned in close, frowning slightly. She had never been vain, never really cared all that much about appearances. She would never be beautiful, she knew that, was fine with that. Her skin was a soft, golden shade from spending time in her garden, weeding and tending to the herbs and plants. Her eyes were big, the color of dark bourbon and framed with impossibly thick lashes. Her brows had a natural arch that tended to make he look as though she were always inquiring. Her lips were full, bow shaped, and a dark pink color achieved without the aid of cosmetics. Her hair, well that was another story all together. She wore it long, the weight of it serving to control the curls to some degree, though it still tended to be bit frizzy, and was frequently in her face and pulling free from whatever style she had attempted to force it in to.

She didn’t possess a bad figure. She was of average height and had lost the lanky slimness of her youth. She was curvy, round and soft in the right spots, maybe more than she should be, but she liked it, was comfortable with herself and her body. With a sigh she walked to a small window and reached for the letters piled on the ledge. She needed to refill the treat dispenser for the owls. She seated herself behind her desk, and shifted through the bills and advertisements, stumbling across two personal letters, one from Luna Lovegood, and the other from none other than Draco Malfoy.

In recent years, he had become one of her closest friends. The war had changed him. He had endured unbelievable torture from his father and the other Death Eaters, leaving him scarred on the outside, and almost completely decimated on the inside. She and the other members of the order had found him, near death, and nursed him back to health. The end result was the crumbling of their animosity towards one another, and a friendship that had blossomed. Now, mudblood and ferret were terms of affection, not insults.

***********************************************************************
Dear Mione,

Don’t forget, lunch at the Warlock’s Inn, noon.

Much love,
Draco

She smiled, writing a reminder on a yellow sticky note, and pasting it to her date book. She opened the letter from Luna. She wasn’t certain why Luna insisted on sending her messages via owl; she only lived three doors down from Hermione on the little street in Godric’s Hollow.



Dear Hermione,

Don’t forget to set your jack-o-lantern on the porch tonight. The Nargles will leave you be if you remember.


Luna

Hermione shook her head, laughing to herself. Luna and her nargles. She heard the front door open. The house elves welcomed the customer cheerfully. Hermione didn’t hear a reply from the visitor, just the footsteps as they walked across the hardwood floor, then the tinkling of the wards on the restricted section door as they allowed the person entrance. She went about her normal, everyday work, ordering inventory, paying distributors and payroll for Goon and Taffy. She was distracted when the wards sounded again, signaling that the customer had exited. She looked through her open office door, staring at the wizard who now stood at the counter tending to his purchases. He wore a black, woolen cloak, the hood pulled over his head, hiding his face.

Despite not being able to see him, she felt a tingle of familiarity. Who was he and how did she know him? He handed his money to Taffy, took his purchases, wrapped in plain brown paper, and walked out the door, his cloak billowing behind him.
“No, it couldn’t be.” Hermione said to herself. Surely she was mistaken, but the way he turned, the way he walked, the way his cloak had moved….but he was dead. Wasn’t he?