Fourteen years since the war waged against The Dark Lord and his followers was won. Voldemort was the very essence of horror and evil. The mass of his servants were seduced by his early charms and later terrorized into aiding his black-hearted cause.They were merely pawns in his self-serving war. Alas, his corruption and devilry were defeated. The tenacious mission for righteousness did in truth rein over the evil. Nevertheless, not all the evil the Dark Lord had spawned was spelled away when he was vanquished. Evil in the hearts of his true worshipers proved to be imperishable and they did not relinquish themselves without a fight. These enduring worshipers continued to commit wicked acts and endeavored to spread their evil..though in times after the war evil was no longer such a contagious disease. These were the times of righteousness, and the people readily took hold of the movement glad to be free of the ominous terror that had ruled their lives.
~Fourteen years later~
Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. She felt sick. Another nightmare…it had been so long, yet Voldemort still plagued her dreams, distorting them into nightmarish visions of a dark past. Hermione felt somewhat of a relief once she had realized her nightmare, she instinctively rolled over, her arms searched for her husband longing to be comforted against his warm body but she found nothing but a cold empty space of mattress. Now she felt a whole new wave of sickness come over her but she knew this was a nightmare she could never wake up from. His side of the bed had been cold and void for the past three years. Ron can no longer ease her nightmares.
Hugo.Hermione had shaken away her nightmare and somewhat restrained her grief, she rose out of bed glancing at the alarm clock. 3:34 A.M. Hermione inwardly dreaded the hour knowing how exhausted she was going to be when her day began.
She swiftly followed her son's cries into a bedroom just down the hall. Hermione flipped on the light to her son's room revealing sky blue walls, numerous stacks of books, a few brightly colored posters, and magically active pictures of his family and friends. Her eight year old son was sitting upright in bed covered in a football bedspread made by Hermoine's mother. He had taken after Hermione's father and fell in love with the muggle sport. His brown curly hair was tousled and messy and his face moist and shiny with tears.
"Oh, Hugo did you have another nightmare?" Hermione immediately comforted him, pulling him into her arms.
"Y-yes." Hugo half sobbed.
Hermione laid down next to her son wiping his face and stroking his brown curls. Despite his brown hair which favored Hermione, he looked just like his father.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked gently.
"It was dad..he was taking me to Flourish and Blotts for my birthday like he always did.. he said he had a big surprise and told me to wait where I was. I waited…and he didn't come back, I started looking for him everywhere and all the books became a maze and..and I couldn't find him anywhere..he was gone." Hugo began to cry again. Hermione rocked her son stroking his hair.
"Shhh now, it was only a nightmare Hugo, you don't need to be scared or upset any more." She smiled at her son. "Tomorrow is your special day, we have it all planned out and it's going to be wonderful."
"I know mum..I just wish dad could be here for my birthday."
Hermione looked sadly at son. "I know honey." Hermione said quietly into her son's hair. "So do I." "But your father will always be with you, you know that."
"I know mum." Hugo sighed.
"Hmm..why don't we go heat some milk and honey, and then you can get some sleep so you'll be rested for your big day tomorrow?" Hermione gently coaxed her sleepy son.
"Alright, mum." Hugo smiled at his mother.
Hermione waited until Hugo was lulled back to sleep after a steaming mug of milk and honey and went further down the hall to peek inside her daughter's bedroom.
She was sound asleep. Her bright red hair was vivd even in the dim light. She watched her for a moment thankful that she was having a peaceful slumber. Rose had always been her father's girl, and Hermione could never make up for his absent place. It had not been easy on her…it had not been easy on anyone. That along with her typical thirteen year old teenager attitude created a strained relationship between them to say the least. But Hermione had unwavering love for her daughter. No matter how much Rose pushed her away, she would always be there for her whenever she was needed.
As Hermione turned back down the hallway towards her own bedroom tears streamed from her eyes and she silently wept for her children, for herself, and for her husband who would never be here with his family again.
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