Morning, Beautiful

Ten years. It had been ten years since the end of the war; ten years since she had watched her friends dying on the battlefield. After it had all been over and Harry had stood victorious, all Hermione could think of was getting out. There was no way she would be able to stay there, not after everything she had seen. And done. So she had apologised to Ron and spent the next seven years travelling the world in an attempt to ‘find herself’, as the papers had deemed it. They had never really been able to discover where she was – which she thought had annoyed them no end – simply because she had not wanted to be found. The whole point of being able to disappear so effectively, she figured, was so she could have the time and space to figure everything out, away from their prying eyes.

 And figure things out she had. Arriving back in England three years ago, the very first person she had run into – quite literally, as it turned out – was Oliver Wood. Captain of the English Quidditch team at the time, Hermione had realised that he had not lost any of the charm he had possessed during school. They had spent the entire night sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, just talking about what their lives had been like since the end of the war. She had, of course, kept up with his career through the papers and had even managed to make it to one or two games over the years, but had never imagined that ‘England’s greatest playboy’ would actually just be the same happy, caring man she had known in school. He was still, understandably, obsessed with the game, but that enthusiasm had only added to his charms as far as she was concerned.

 Huffing a little as she rubbed her hand over the swell of her belly, she smiled as she felt their second child – a girl this time – kicking at her. It had been an amazing three years travelling around with her husband and son and now they were to be blessed with their second child in as many years. Her smile widened as she heard him moving to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her swollen middle as they stared out over wizarding London from their top floor balcony.

 “Morning, beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, his soft Scottish accent sending shivers down her spine.

 Yes, she had definitely found herself on her travels and was now incredibly thankful that she had also managed to find him.