A Wisp of Love and Laughter (Hermione/George)

A Wedding

"Is there a right way for being strong?
Feels like I'm doing things all wrong..."
                          ~ Scene Two - Roger Rabbit
                            Sleeping with Sirens

*~*~*~
Hermione inhaled the crisp morning air as she stood outside on the deck. The wind was sharp, cutting through her light pajamas and robe.

The weatherman had called for a balmy 75 degrees for the day.

Perfect day for a wedding, she mused.

A damp cigarette balanced precariously between her fingers. She brought it up to her lips, taking a drag absentmindedly.

It was an addiction she had taken up after everything that had occurred.

An offering by a strange girl in a dark, dank pub. A nod, a careful huff, and one coughing fit later she found out that the dreadful habit calmed her nerves.

Nerves were a new sensation for her. She had somehow managed to avoid them up until the War. The fond memory of the know-it-all she was before popped into her head. She managed a grin, but it drooped.

She had spent nine months of the last two years finally finishing her seventh year at Hogwarts.

A year of schooling that proved her priorities had changed significantly. Sure, she had poured over her notes nightly alongside Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Yes, her hand still shot up automatically to answer the questions thrown about during lessons.

But being at the top didn't produce the same thrill as before. She had much more enjoyed her time hanging out with the trio of oddballs in prohibited places, dodging any hint of Headmaster McGonagall. The pub in Hogsmeade was often their favorite after-hours retreat, Dumbledore's brother allowing them to stay way past closing time. Butterbeer, fire whiskey, giggle juice.

All drinks of choice that soothed their bad memories and walking nightmares.

The absences of classmates throughout the classes was a constant reminder of those who had died for a cause much bigger than themselves.

The scar on her forearm itched and ached. An odd sensation that reminded her of her own personal souvenir of the nightmare she had endured. She pushed her sleeve down, hiding the scar underneath that had been peeking out.

Mudblood.

Years ago the word had made her blood boil so hot violence had erupted. Now, it was simply a word. A sound that meant nothing. Words didn't hurt as much, not when you had seen death up close and personal.

As she exhaled, a puff of nicotine swirled around her. The puff encased her like the loneliness in her chest.

Graduation seemed like ages ago. So much had happened.

The rustling behind the sliding glass door notified her that her parents were up. A smile reached her lips. Immediately following the War, she had located her parents and reversed the spell. The two had been furious with her when she first explained what she had done. They had eventually understood though and the three of them now cherished every moment they spent together because of the lost past.

Although she loved spending so much time with her parents in the last year, even working alongside her father in the muggle world, she missed her old friends more than she would care to admit.

Catching sight of the time on her watch, she stepped back inside.

"Morning dear," her parents chorused cheerfully.

She returned the greeting and laid a kiss on their cheeks.

"Aren't you running a bit late?" Her mum questioned. Hermione shrugged.