As soon as I left Hogwarts, I began my training as a Healer. I knew from the second that courses were offered that it was career of choice. I felt blessed to have gotten the marks in Potions that I needed, for Snape seemed determined that he would fail me.
Ron had congratulated me the day that the N.E.W.T. scores arrived. I remember the look on his face. He was proud of me. I was both elated and crushed. He smiled, gave me a hug, and told me he always knew I could do it.
“Mione, you’re the brightest witch in our year,” he said, slowly leaning toward me.
Well, if I actually did have supreme monarchy over the world, that’s what would have happened. In reality, it went a bit more like this.
Ron tore open his letter, snorting like a horse. He looked at it, disgusted, and tossed it aside. “How many did you get, mate?” he said to Harry, running long fingers through his fiery hair, which now stood on end from the number of times he had run his fingers through it.
“Eight,” Harry replied, smiling, satisfied. “You?”
“Six,” Ron said, snorting again. “What did you get, Hermione? Twelve?”
I blushed crimson. I knew Ron could read me like a book, but I didn’t care. It was just something I would have to get used to.
“No, Hermione, you didn’t!” he screeched, rolling off his bed and snatching the letter from my hand. “Merlin’s beard!” he said, pushing his fingers through his hair once more. “An O in Arithmancy? Isn’t that supposed to be hard or something?”
“Oh, yes, it’s very challenging,” I mumbled, faltering as I spoke, He laughed at me, a smile lighting up his eyes.
“Well, Hermione, they always said you were the brightest witch in our year.” I beamed, as his grin became devious. “I just figured that Arithmancy was impossible to pass.”
I grabbed the nearest pillow and promptly began bludgeoning him with it.
Well, he did eventually hug me.
I had often thought about Ron, especially in light of Ginny’s and Harry’s engagement a year after we left Hogwarts. They loved each other, even though she was barely nineteen and he was just twenty-one. I had decided that even if I did like Ron, I just didn’t have time to waste on sentiment. Here I was, valedictorian of my Healer-training class, my career just taking flight. Any distraction at this point could bring me down entirely, and I had discerned at a very young age that love simply wasn’t worth that.
War was upon us. It had come forth as our fifth year ended, long after I had first noticed Ron. Even I remember that first battle in the Department of Mysteries. That was the day that Sirius had died “ the day that had marked Harry’s slow descent into depression. If I needed any other reasons to stay away from Ron, it was that. I did not want to become attached to something or someone that might not be here for long. It wasn’t certain that anyone would survive that war, and I wanted nothing to do with it.
Any other girl my age would have thought it unfair. I was twenty-one, just beginning my career as a Healer. My prospects were excellent, and yet many would pity me. I had pitied myself at first, until I realized how little there was outside of that anymore. True; I could be happy with Ron, the one that I had loved all these years, but that would not save his life. He could leave, and I would be broken. Even I could not save him.
When I graduated from St. Mungo’s Honorary Healer Training Program, Harry and Ron were there. I remember the day perfectly.
“Healer Hermione Granger,” Harry said, smiling at me. I laughed as his wrapped his arms around me.
“When I was little,” I said, looking him in the eye, “I always wanted to be Dr. Hermione Granger. So much for that.”
“Yes, but you’re a Healer,” Ron said, shaking his head. “For shame, Hermione!” His eyes were filled with that sparkle that I loved so well. I laid my hand on his shoulder and glared at him.
“Shut up, Ron,” I said lovingly. He smile, his white teeth showing.
We all had gone back to the Weasley’s for my graduation party. Mrs. Weasley, ever since I had graduated, was determined to treat me like a daughter. My parents were there, but they didn’t stay for long. They never understood why I wanted so badly to be a witch, but it was my decision to live out my life. Harry, Ron, and I stayed out late into the night.
“Hermione the Healer!” he called, trying to make an insult out of it. He grabbed my graduation cap and threw it high into the air. I smacked him.
“Ronald!” I yelled, shoving him into a tree. “Get it back!”
It hit the ground a second later, a few meters to my left.
“Pick it up, Ronald,” I said sternly, pointing at it.
“Yes, Healer Hermione,” he said, sweeping me a gentlemanly bow. I glared at him, but smiled through it. It was so good to be back home. Even out of school, I had to do very little about finding a job, for St. Mungo’s had offered me a position in psychiatrics and instability right away. Ron had a stable job in the Ministry of Magic. It was not a particularly well-paying job, but it was enough for a twenty-one year old bachelor to live comfortably on. Harry, even, had a job now, and he and Ginny were still planning for their life together. It had taken me all these years to realize it, but we were finally growing up. We were growing up and going up into the world.
Amid all of the memories, I hardly noticed all the feelings that I had for Ron. I never let me them take hold of me, for I had too much to live for. Ron was a distraction, and I could not afford anything that stood in my way.
There had been so many good times with him and with Harry that it had always been hard for me to distinguish between friendship and love. Harry had always been there for me, as had Ron. I would have to learn to love on my own. But love was a frivolous thing, and I could not allow it to stand in my way, no matter what the situation. It was risky.
Outside my own little world, Voldemort was on the move. I didn’t know it, but these movements would bring my barriers crashing down upon me.