Punishment

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"There's something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you."

F. Scott Fitzgerald


Hermione woke up on Sunday morning to a little light show of fireworks outside her window, courtesy of Dumbledore.

She smiled as she jumped out of bed.

She was twenty years old today.

She shook her head as she made her way to the kitchen to brew her morning tea. What a vast difference one year had made in Hermione's life.

Last year around this time, she had just found herself thrown back in time. Had it really been a year already? The leap had added a few months, but for all intents and purposes, it had been nearly a year.

Her last day in 1998 had been August 28th. She had just gotten back from an early birthday party at the Burrow.

She had been listless and directionless. Sad and depressed. Confused about Ron. Guilty about the many deaths that had occurred. She'd felt guilty to be alive. That she'd survived.

She had been preparing for her final year at Hogwarts, excited to take her NEWTS finally. She recalled being unsure about what she wanted to do with her life. Work for the ministry? Become an activist? An auror?

All that worry, for nothing, she thought wryly.

In the course of one year, she'd traveled back in time, and now she was the highest paid journalist at The Daily Prophet, a delegate of the ICW, an aspiring political figure, co-founder of a new wizarding bank (which she felt rather accomplished about, seeing as that was something which would permanently affect the future) and a muggle activist.

Not to mention, she was now the adopted daughter of the greatest wizard alive and was learning directly under his tutelage.

Not to mention, she may or may not have had sex with her worst enemy.

Well. Scratch that. She definitely had.

Yes, a lot had changed in the past year.

So much so that Hermione was still reeling from all of the changes.

Hermione had decided to take it easy this birthday. In the late afternoon, she would have a few of her new friends over for a garden party to celebrate. Until then, she would simply relax and breathe the fresh air in her garden.

That is, it had been her plan until the packages started arriving. Boxes and boxes from various shops and vendors bearing gifts for Hermione Dumbledore.

She had Piksy stack them all in a corner. She'd get to them eventually. Hermione wanted nothing more than to enjoy the peace and quiet of her day and reminisce about her old life. She would allow herself to think about it, today.

She wished there was a way to get a letter home to her friends and loved ones, if only to let them know she was alive and well.

The best thing I could do for them, she thought sadly, is kill Tom Riddle.

She reached in her work bag and withdrew the rolled up parchment which he'd enchanted as a form of communication. It was an impressive piece of magic, and it reminded her of the journal he'd made into a horcrux. Perhaps it was even a similar spell he'd used for both. She fingered it mindlessly, then unfurled it, wondering if his last note would still be visible.

To her surprise, a new message was written on it.

Happy birthday, little witch .

Hermione rubbed her lips together to keep from smiling. How had he known it was her birthday? Only the ministry had her records, and a few shops which she suspected was Dumbledore's doing.

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