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The Crazy way It Ends by SlaptheWhiteFerret
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The Crazy way It Ends

SlaptheWhiteFerret

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and its characters. It all belongs to JKR.

It's 7th Year and It's Crazy

Chapter 10

February 8

Dear Diary,

It's almost been a decade since I last wrote. I was looking for my old Hogwarts trunk in the attic, and when I opened it up, there you were. You're a little dusty, and you're leather cover is a bit mottled with age, but you're still you, and I'm still me, except for a few small things.

One of them is my name. I'm no longer just Hermione Jane Granger, now I'm Hermione Jane Granger-Potter. So obviously yes, I did indeed marry the love of my life. We've been married for exactly 5 years to the day, and have a set of beautiful 11-month old twins, Emma Lily Potter and Andrew James Potter. Emily is going to look a lot like me, with her curly brown hair, but she has her father's emerald eyes and sense of mischief. On the other hand, I have a feeling that James will have my spirit and chocolatey irises and Harry's endearing untidy hair.

Reading all these journal entries made me wonder about a lot of things. I've heard some er- rumors. Christie has married someone rather interesting, so I guess I won't torment her. She's probably gotten enough to last a lifetime with her wonderful intellectual star of a husband.

Ronald Weasley and Luna Lovegood were married on the 27th of August the year we graduated, and Ginny and Draco are engaged to tie the knot of the 5th of May. You'll be happy to know that the Weasley Clan has finally accepted poor Draco, after some rather comical pranks pulled by the twins. One included a fizzy drink that dyed Draco's hair orange and magically gave him freckles!

We live in a modest house out in the country. There's a small orchard where we pick apples in the summer, and a deck looking out over the muted hills in the distance. It's a quiet life, and it's exactly what we want. Away from the lights and cameras and nosy reporters. Yes, we're famous, but we prefer to stay out of the papers' ways.

You'll be amazed when I tell you that the Prophet hasn't printed one nasty thing about Harry since 7th year. Maybe it's because Luna and Ginny are now the head of it, or maybe it's because Neville (yes, pudgy, squeaky, awkward Neville) who's an Auror with Harry threatened to reveal some rather nasty information about how their last manager was a Death Eater. Aaah, it's great to have friends. The Prophet does print things occasionally about us. For instance, today, they had a small article congratulating us on our 5th anniversary.

Be right back…the loo is calling my name…

Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhh noooooooooooooooooo, my cheeks are blushing like tinned tomatoes. I was just making a quick visit to the loo and back, and what happens? A complete invasion of my privacy. I could die! I walked into the room, and there was Harry, lying down on the couch with you in his lap, savoring every sentence aloud. He glanced up, rose from the bed and walked out of the room, pausing where I stood. He leaned over and whispered, "My bum had a fan club?" handed you to me and strolled out into the hallway. I turned the brightest shade of crimson imaginable. I can still feel my cheeks burning.

Oh bollocks, the babies are crying. The plagues of motherhood! Just taking the mickey, I love being a mother. I love being a wife, I love being a friend, but most of all I love being me.

Sincerely,

Hermione Jane Granger-Potter

The Luckiest-Woman-Alive

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Harry's POV

I've just had a rather enlightening experience. Fellers, I'm warning you, never ever read your wife's journal. All these years, we wonder what goes on inside those beautiful little heads, but trust me; you do NOT want to know. How could I go to Hogwarts for 7 years and not know that I had a fan club…of my bum, no less! I mean, honestly. And girls are normally worried about what we think of them! Now WE have to obsess over how we look too! Women have to be the most complex thing in this world. Harder than the hardest potion, spell, or charm. I'll have to start writing my father/son male bonding speech soon, and my son is less than a year old. I wonder what I should say. How about, "Andrew, you'll soon learn that women are exactly like transfiguration. They're very complex and volatile." Hmm what about, "They're like onions, they have a lot of layers and they smell." Only joking. Mione smells like…like…like apples and peaches…*sigh* Mmmmmmmm. The again, I could always go for the good old standby. "Women, you can't live with them, but you sure as hell can't live without them." That should work. Maybe I'll go and tell him right now. One can never start too soon, am I right? I like to think I am.

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A rather tired looking 26-year-old woman stood in her kitchen. Her pink fluffy slippers were tattered, and the lilac dressing gown was gray with age. She was a bit of a mess, the kitchen was an even bigger one, and the apartment was by far the biggest. As she lazily waved her wand in a stirring motion over the tiles, a steady stream of liquid poured onto the floor. Not bothering to realize that the empty cup she was aiming for was still in the cupboard, her eyes were glued to The Daily Prophet. The caption read, "POTTERS CELEBRATE 5TH ANNIVERSARY TODAY! CONGRATULATIONS!" Underneath was a large picture of a man, a woman, and two small babies. They were laying under an apple tree on a checkered picnic blanket, the woman holding the children on her lap. She waved the babies hands at the camera, and the man wrapped his arms around them all. "Potter Family enjoys the sunshine at their home." The woman grimaced as she glanced from the newspaper to the tea on the floor. Casually, she stepped over the puddle and sat down on a trash bin. Aaaah, finally a bit of peace from that dreadful husband of hers. Whoever said that arranged marriage was the new pink was definitely disturbed. She heard a heavy thud, "Great" she thought, "the good for nothing bastard's up. Now I get to play maid for the rest of the day. He'll be calling any second. 3…2…-"

"CHRISTIE! WHERE'S MY BLOODY SAUSAGE AND TOAST!!!!!!" Gregory Goyle cursed from the bedroom he shared with his wife, Christie Adams-Goyle.

Author's Note:

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I am soooooo sad that this story is finished. I just want to say thanks to all my reviewers, especially CrimsonTemplar who truly inspired the flow of this chapter. In case you noticed the date of this chapter, it's been chosen because it was the day my grandpa died, so it means a lot to me. All of you guys have been so great to review and help me through all of my writer's block and crisis times among other things. I tried to fulfill everyone's requests, but if you're really disappointed, I am really sorry. The great thing about this story is that there are so many ways to end it. I have no idea what I should do next, so any and all of your suggestions are welcome, and highly appreciated. As always, read and review.

XOXOXO

SlaptheWhiteFerret


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