What Should Have Been

{preface}

The sun was shining so very brightly that morning. It seemed like the perfect summer day, especially with the way her open windows allowed a refreshing summer breeze to sweep through and snap the curtains in a pleasing sound. If her ears heard correctly, there were even birds floating and chirping outside! It couldn't have been a better day.

Hermione rolled over in her bed and smiled into the empty pillow that was crisp and clean. Her sheets were a perfectly colored tan, accenting the rest of the room in a few Gryffindor colors, but mostly that same tan color. The queen-sized bed she was in was nearly made every day, and her flat was beyond perfect.

She liked it that way, and since that day was a Saturday, there was no better way to spend a perfect day than tidying about her perfect flat.

Ministry work was in a pile on her nightstand as always for late-night escapades, but that day felt wonderfully calm. Why ruin it with work? Cleaning wouldn't take too long, then maybe a visit with Harry would calm her down. As much as determination was her most blunt attribute, there was a nagging in her mind that said something about that day just was not meant for work.

Hermione felt like Harry, just having a bad feeling about something. Of course, her feelings weren't Voldemort-induced, but that was of no matter.

She finally mustered up the poise to sit up, and sooner than later Hermione was standing in the lovely sunlight, enjoying the warmth of the rays. Her feet took her closer to the window where she took in the warmth of dark, sodden floors absorbing the heat. Hermione smiled, and soon she was gone into the washroom to change into a proper day's robes.

They were adorned quickly. The excitement of reading alone all day enthralled the young witch to no end. Hermione just wanted to do some quick cleaning charms first, and then her full attention would be diverted to a book.

Work was done as quickly as getting ready was, then Hermione threw herself into her most comfortable chair and opened the first book atop a pile of many. She kept several spares just in case days like this showed themselves despite being as rare as a unicorn.

Hermione was hardly a page in when suddenly, a black kitten jumped into her lap. She was startled, of course, how did a cat get into her home? There were the open windows, but on the twelfth floor?

"Who are you?" She questioned, earning a head-jerk from the kitten. It stared solidly at her with green eyes. The small creature reminded her a bit of Harry.

"What's your name?" All her sanity had gone as she spoke to the docile feline.

"Of course, you won't tell me, will you? If you did then I am afraid I would have to escort myself to St. Mungo's, huh?" Hermione told the kitten as it flipped over on her book so it's stomach could be more easily scratched by the witch.

"How delicate... oh! You have a collar!" The brunette discovered vividly, almost alarming the purring fluff on her book.

"Sorry, let's see then," Hermione hummed as she drifted her fingers towards the tag and saw that a name was written blatantly on the white surface.

"Harry. Well that was anti-climactic. Your name is Harry and you look just like him," Hermione sighed as she tousled with the small kitten. "Just who do you belong to?"

Her smooth tone calmed the kitten suddenly, pouncing its small, black form around on Hermione's book and lap. He rolled about, and Hermione caught sight of the other side of the tag.

She wondered if she could just place her fingers under his chin—

The kitten, Harry, suddenly stood and hopped onto the floor. The witch sighed and decided no harm would come to having the small creature around for a while. If he got in, he could certainly get out as equally efficiently.