Perfectly in Pieces

Epilogue: 3

Two more to go.

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Hermione
Three months later

The smell of clean, brand new parchment fills her senses as the book is placed on her desk. The leather cover with its perfect engravings in gold and black and spine that has never been truly tested feels good underneath her fingers.

Her team members stand around her desk and wait with excitement.

This was a long time coming.

Yet, this is still only the beginning...

A thought reinforced by the etching of the number one into the leather she keeps rubbing back and forth. Holding exactly 817 pages of information on the Second Wizarding War.

817 pages filled with the most accurate information possible.

The list of references after references that take up 23 of those pages proves the accuracy.

They had been working on this first installment for months. And now, here it sits. In front of her. Physical proof of everything she was trying and beginning to accomplish.

Hermione always loved books and the words that they held. Whether the words fit together into a story for knowledge, power, change, or for pure enjoyment, they each had their place.

And now, here she was, leaving a lasting impression on society with her words.

With her story, and so many others.

With the hopes that the same mistakes, the same pains, would not be felt by others in the future.

"Uhm... Hermione, are you okay?"

She blinks and looks up at the people still waiting. She crooks a smile of embarrassment before she finally pulls the hardback cover and follows the direction of the sewing work to allow the spine to rest to the side as it was intended.

Lasting.

Affective.

Hope.

"I'm first!"

A hand with a quill shoots out to the cover page and quickly writes. Four other hands follow and leave their names all over the front of the title page of the first copy of the book that was being printed and sent to every wizarding book store, school, and other place of education that existed.

Minerva had already ensured its addition to the curriculum, and they would continue with each new installment that dove deep into the intricacies of the last war.

"Waiting on you."

Hermione reaches out, takes the quill, and scrawls her name underneath the main title. As soon as she makes the last swoosh of the tip against the page, her office erupts with cheers, flashes, and claps.

Usually, Hermione would never agree to write in an actual book. Especially one of such value. But she was outvoted by her team and begrudgingly gone along with the idea to sign their names in the first printed copy that was handed to her by the company only minutes ago. But now, as she looks down at all their names, she thinks this wasn't such a bad idea. It made it more personal. More meaningful to see the names of each of them within the compilation of research they had dedicated most of their time to form into existence.

She picks up the book and walks over to her bookcase. The cameras flash again as she adjusts the large tome at an angle to display the cover and the work. Not sinking it back in between other books to hide everything but the spine. No. This one will sit proudly on display as it should.