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Loving the You You Love	By : margaritama Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 6421 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Notes: Written for the H&V Ten Years Later Challenge. I was given several prompts that proved a bit tough but I really got hooked on Champagne. I just wondered when and why would Hermione drink champagne and it just spiraled into this little fic. I tried to work in a few of the other words but not all made it through. This story is about a woman coming to terms with herself and finding her own peace. It something many of us go through. The title is explained at the end and the quote in this story is from Sex and the City. Thank you so much.

Beta(s): Thanks L.W. and A.W. for your assistance. Any mistakes are mine. I ended up heavily editing this after I got it back from my betas.

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CHAPTER ONE – Mirror Mirror on the Wall or Whoever Invented Full Length Mirrors Should be Hexed

Hermione Granger, no longer Weasley, stared at herself in the mirror. Standing in a pair of dark grey knickers edged in tiny, pink lace ruffles and matching bra, she twirled, tucked and tsked over her body.

At forty-two, she didn’t think she looked that bad. Her face held very little evidence of time with few wrinkles. Her neck was still smooth, firm and no sagging. Years of consistent exercise kept her body in shape and toned, though not as slim as her younger years. Two pregnancies do take their toll, after all, as evident by her not-quite-so-flat stomach. However, her arms, hips, and legs retained excellent muscle definition, and not just for a woman of her age. Or so her daughter stated.

Overall, she felt she looked pretty good.

Sighing, she walked away from her image and into the open door of her large and expansive walk-in wardrobe. It was a luxury she enjoyed immensely and the reason she had purchased the large, extravagant three-bedroom town home in the tony section of Kensington in Muggle London. It was her hideout, escape and sanctuary.

Divorced nearly three years, she had been emotionally devastated and needed a place to recoup. Somewhere to lick her wounds, really. She needed a place to curl up and breathe where she could re-think and re-plan her life – alone.

The dissolution of her marriage had been a shock to her. She had believed they were happy – at least she had been content – when one day, eight months before her thirty-ninth birthday, Ron had come home and announced he wanted a divorce. Claiming while still he “loved” her, he hadn’t been “in love” with her for some time. He wanted to be free to find that feeling, and not lead Hermione on any longer. And with that statement, he had packed his bags, moved out and, essentially, quit their marriage without notice or warning. The children had been away at school, thankfully, and hadn’t borne witness to the emotional mess she had become afterward.

The month that followed was not one she recalled with happiness. In fact, the mere thought caused her to cringe. The waves of disbelief and anger mingled with bouts crying and pleading for him to come home, met with rejection on his part, were not the best memories of her life. It had been her sister-in-law, and best friend, who had finally confronted her by forcing her to reclaim her dignity. Was she or was she not Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger did not beg any man, who clearly did not want or respect her, to come back. That discussion had been a slap to her face. Ginny had stayed with her for a week and let her cry until she couldn’t shed another tear.

In retrospect, that was the beginning of her healing. Somewhere in the deepest regions of her heart, she steeled herself against the deluge of pain, anger and love she still felt towards her husband. It was she that sought out the best solicitors; it was she who began the divorce proceedings; it was she who broke the news to the children, both their families and friends; it was she who also discovered the illicit affair he’d been engaged in for more than seven months with a girl twenty years his junior. And that, as they say, had been the last proverbial straw.

In the end, she was awarded the house, more than seventy percent of their monetary assets, parental rights of both their children and, more importantly, she retained her dignity and honor. Insisting on child support, she declined alimony, as her position within the Ministry came with a top salary. As she explained to the court, and the entire world, really – the affair and divorce was front page of The Daily Prophet for months, the intrusion into her private life was a point she would never forgive – she was Hermione Granger and didn’t need his money. He was left with his job, his clothes and his young girlfriend, who promptly left him after realizing he had very little galleons left to his name.

The divorce took very little time. The day the papers were signed, she went home and sat in her large, empty, six-bedroom country home, listening to the silence that had been her life, wondering how exactly she had arrived there. It was in that moment she contacted two realtors: one a wizard and the other a top Muggle realtor from London. The first sold her home, essentially ending a chapter of her life; the other helped her find sanctuary and begin her life anew.

It was spring time and the children were away at Hogwarts, when she found the town house. She had fallen in love with it. It was exactly what her home with Ron wasn’t: elegant, airy and open. Renovated in the new open-style living her realtor had touted, there were no walls on the first level. It was just one huge room, ready for her inner designer to claim as her own. The second floor held two large bedrooms with their own en suite loos. The master bedroom was in the back of the floor and had the most sumptuously designed bathroom she’d ever seen. French doors opened to a small veranda overlooking a lovely garden and outdoor living space.

What cinched the deal were the two gloriously oversized fireplaces, one on the first level and the other in the master bedroom – it would make flooing all that much easier. The price was right and she purchased it on the spot, the sale of her prior home allowed her to pay for her new abode in full. She, Hermione Granger, owned something herself for the first time in her life.

With little time to spare, she’d made an emergency visit to see the children and share her news. At first, both had been apprehensive but had accompanied their mother. Both were quiet when they arrived at the new house. Hugo, she knew, was angry but he said very little and shied away from her touch. It had been Rose, sweet Rose, who took a deep breath, took her brother’s hand and walked him out to the garden. Half an hour later, both had returned with tears in their eyes. Hugo ran to her, hugged her tightly and sobbed quietly. Rose had come and wrapped her arms around both she and Hugo before whispering her support, love and resolution that they were happy to finally see her smiling. She was only thirteen at the time but her kindness belied the wisdom in her soul.

That year, she celebrated her birthday in her new home surrounded by her children, family and closest friends. Toasting with a glass of the finest elf-made champagne, she embarked on the beginning of her new life. Where it led, she didn’t know but she knew she was no longer afraid.

As for Ron, he became a roving lothario bedding witch after witch, all several years his junior. He remained, however, a faithful and loving father. Hermione made it clear their children would come first before his own needs. She wouldn’t allow them to be hurt further, ensuring they knew they still had parents who loved them and, more importantly, worked together to continue to raise them as they matured. She was grateful he agreed and was one area she would never fault him. Hermione, on her part, remained civil. Their friendship had suffered and she wasn’t sure if they would recover to regain what they had, as children – before the complexities of emotions, life and love interjected and derailed their paths.

She had long ago made peace with the fact that she wouldn’t trade a moment of her life, up to now. She would never regret her choices. She had two amazing children, life-long friends she loved and his family was also her family. It was Molly who had gone with her to find her parents in Australia. It was Arthur who had held her hand in St. Mungo’s as they helped her parents regains their memories. And both had been steadfast throughout all the divorce proceedings, never once treating her differently or rejecting their support. She was grateful and relieved she could still call them family.

Now, here she stood, feeling odd and ill at ease. The restlessness in the pit of her stomach traveled up through her spine and seemed to extend through the tips of her fingers and toes. Sifting through dress after dress, she groaned at the thought of having to find a Muggle dress that was also suitable to wear to an end of the year evening event celebrating Hogwarts brightest students. She grinned, recalling Rose’s note, via owl.

Mum,

Please wear something Muggle and not those old boring Ministry robes. You’ve got to look smashing.

Love you so,

Rose

P.S. Hugo says to wear the navy gingham – don’t you dare! Wear the white, strapless one with the flower accent on the skirt. Love you!

Her daughter was hell-bent on driving her insane. She knew Hermione rarely exposed her Muggle clothes in the Wizarding world. Away from there, however, she had a closet full of fabulous dresses, tailored slacks and trendy tops she enjoyed – not to mention her lovely shoe collection. And now, her children wanted her to march into Hogwarts wearing something completely Muggle. Not that she was ashamed, but she tried her best to maintain a façade of quiet decorum to keep any spotlight away from her life. Ron’s love life was enough to keep her name in the paper’s weekly with constant speculation on how she felt about his latest fling. She never commented and went about her business in the most staid manner.

Well, no use whining. She unhooked her bra, dropped it on the floor and stepped into the dazzling white, strapless tea length dress with exquisite hand-painted flower detailing on the swing skirt. Slipping on an elegant sleeveless silk shrug, she then stepped into a pair of red, glossy patent-leather peek-toe pumps. One last check at her hair, pulled back into a low and loose chignon, and simple makeup, and she was ready. Hermione then grabbed a navy satin clutch and Apparated straight to Hogsmeade where coaches would pick up the parents for the drive to Hogwarts. She was already late.
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Loving the You You Love