Take a Chance

Disclaimer: I'm an HHr shipper. I'm posting this on the internet. I'm not British and I most certainly do not have a kid. Oh yeah. I'm definitely JK Rowling. NOT.

Summary: After the war, she is different. She is more alive than she's ever been. And that scares you, you who are so dead inside. “Take a chance,” she tells you. “Just… take a chance.”

A Word of Advice: Listen to the RENT soundtrack as you read. It will change your life.

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Take a Chance

The war has done her good.

It's ironic, isn't it?

The war has done her good.

Good. Not bad. But good.

It's incredible, but there it is.

Not in the beginning, though. For a while, after that Final Victory, she is as listless as you. You are lifeless, Ron is broken, and she… she is lost.

Lost.

It's hard to imagine, isn't it? The Smartest Witch of Your Generation, Hermione Jane Granger, is lost. She doesn't have all the answers, especially to the question that the entire wizarding world is wondering…

What now?

Luckily, this phase does not last long. The time to mourn has passed, and it is time to live again.

The fragmented Weasley Clan rebuilds the Burrow, with your and Hermione's help, of course. The house is not as it once was but the same heart and the same soul is poured into it, and one day it will become home again.

The Ministry is being constructed again, looking for members to replace the fallen. Ron manages a job in Muggle departments, just like his now-deceased father. What surprises everyone is how much he enjoys it. You too thought that he would spend his life working somehow with sports, but the war has changed Ron too, who is slowly putting his life back together.

Hermione is given a high level job that challenges her mind and her blood pressure. She is girl who all the overseers of the various departments report to and it's not easy job. Yet, she lives for the challenge and the thought of helping people is all worth it.

You take a job as an auror. Not because it's what you want to do, but because, after two years of fighting, it's all you know how to do. The fighting, the killing. It's nothing new.

And yet you hate it. Hate that you've become so nonchalant on deciding who lives and who doesn't. You hate that you're so callous and cold and… inhuman.

You don't notice that your friends are beginning to live again. That Ron's little jokes and ways start to creep back into conversations, that Hermione's familiar nags become more and more frequent. During the War you never hesitated to give your opinions to each other, but afterwards, it was as if you were all time bombs that the others needed to tiptoe around.

It hits you one day. In your flat (Hermione and Ron live down the hall in their respective flats), Hermione is visiting. She is chatting animatedly, and you are only half-listening. As her voice rises and you see hands flailing, you look at her. Her hair is vivacious in every way. Her hair bounces as her hands wave. Her pink lips don't stop moving and her flushed faces becomes rosier by the minute.

But it's her eyes that grab your attention. Sparkling like amber, they know the meaning of life. And it terrifies you that you don't any longer.

She seems to realize what you're doing and quiets immediately. Her hands are lifeless, her hair falling, her lips silent. And yet her eyes still retain that quiet twinkle that you have, in one moment, learned to appreciate.

To your surprise, Hermione gives you a sad smile. “Do you realize,” she asks you, “what I've been trying to do? What Ron has been trying to do?”

You don't know what she's talking about and you tell her so.

She shakes her head an the curls come alive for a moment. “Oh, Harry,” she sighs softly and leans back. “It's okay, Harry. It's okay to live again. So many have died, but you are still alive.”

A frown etches across your face. “I… I think… it's too late for me, Hermione. I can't…” you look down at your hands, helplessly. “I can't feel anymore.” And it's not physical anymore, not just. It's emotional and mental and you're numb.

She crosses the small distance between you and kneels. Cupping your face in her hands, she says, “There is life after death. Do you understand me? There is life after death.” Standing up suddenly, she sweeps her arm across her body, gesturing to the window before her. “I am living proof of it. Ron is living proof. The entire world is proof.” She comes back to you, and a teasing grin is upon her face, “Don't tell me that being The Boy Who Lived is now more of an ironic nickname than honored title.”

This is what scares you about her now. This is how the war has changed her. She is more confident about herself. Despite her job, she laughs more, smiles more. Her works always comes second; her family and friends always first. She is not afraid to be different and she is not afraid to appreciate life.

Now Hermione is somber once again and looks into your eyes, into you and says, “Take a chance, Harry…. Just. Take a chance.” A light is coming into her eyes that is familiar to you. You feel a speech coming on.

Her voice is exhilerated, and her gaze breaks yours as she gazes whimsically out the window. “Take a gondola ride in Italy. Walk the Great Wall in China. Explore the pyramids of England. View Paris from the Eiffel Tower. Or, if simplistic pleasures are more your style…” here, her voice quiets. “Climb a tree. Write a poem. Read a book. Dance in the rain. Make a movie. Kiss the one you love,” her eyes creep back to his. “Live, Harry. Living is the biggest risk you will ever take, the biggest chance, the biggest bet. But take it, Harry.” She swallows hard. “I was depressed… for a really long time. It took a lot to get out of bed in the morning. But one day I realized that there might not be a day where I would have mornings anymore. Where I would be as cold as dead as those who died for what we could have. Life. Freedom. Happiness.” Pleadingly, she looks into your eyes again. “Take a chance, Harry. Take a chance.”

You know if you take that chance, it will take time. Things will not come easy to you. But… have they ever really? No, perhaps not. But here is someone, standing right in front of you, who is willing to help make that load easier. Just as she's always done. Just as she always will.

Your voice is almost inaudible as you ask, “Will you… will you help me? I don't… I don't really know where to begin from here.”

Hermione holds out her hand, waiting for you to get up off your seat on the couch. “All you have to do,” she says, her voice calm though her eyes sparkle, “is jump.”

So you take her hand. And you do.

Perhaps the war has done you some good after all.

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Notes: Geez, this was random. It just came to me. About twenty minutes ago. When I should have been doing my math homework. (shrugs) Oh well.

To any feedback I get back, I really appreciate it. Thank you!

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