Chapter 1
Nightmares
Hermione woke up with a start. Her heart was thudding in her chest like she had just run a marathon. She blearily peered over the covers and examined the alarm clock.
Oh yeah. She had thrown it across the room last night about four. That's why it's blinking twelve o'clock, she grumbled irritably. It was early morning now and there was no way she was going to get back to sleep. She sighed tiredly. The silence of her parents' home had become a bit uncomfortable for her now after so many years being surrounded by others in her dorm room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even the pleasant tick tocking of her family's grandfather clock sounded odd to the girl. It had come to remind her too much of the room in the Department of Mysteries where she had fought for her life only one month before. Images of the Death Eater caught in the bell of Time aging back and forth from baby to adult while waving its arms trying to get free made her shiver with distaste. Nothing seemed normal anymore. Without thinking she walked to the hallway and pulled the weights free from the elaborately carved oak clock. The lack of that ticking sound was bliss.
Hermione hadn't slept much since she had returned from Kings Cross Station in early June. She was so exhausted. Visions of Voldemort and his followers attacking her and her friends wouldn't leave her in peace. She couldn't key down enough to realize she wasn't still under attack. The girl would have recurring fits of panic that were beginning to worry her father and mother. So many what ifs would flit through her mind jumpy and irritable Sirius was dead. There was no escaping that unpleasant fact. Hermione's heart broke when she imagined what Harry was going through right now.
Gently, she peeled back the comforter and slid her bare feet across the floor. She didn't want to wake her parents again. If she kept alarming them they would seriously consider not allowing her to return to Hogwarts. She had convinced them that she had contracted a kind of wizard's flu to explain her morose behavior. They didn't realize that most wizards enjoyed robust health that never led to simple disease or illness. Most of what witches and wizards would need healthcare for would be self-inflicted charms or for badly performed curses that backfired onto them.
The girl walked slowly down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Her mother had left the dirty dinner dishes in the sink to soak. Mrs. Granger wasn't one to be too obsessed with order like her daughter.
Hermione sighed and shrugged. Might as well be helpful. Running water and adding soap seemed mundane and normal. Just like Hermione liked it. Quietly she wiped the dishes in the water cleaning each one carefully. The water dripped over the edge of the sink getting her old and threadbare Snoopy nightshirt soggy in the front. The dishes were well loved and oddly matched. The Granger family could afford better china, but these were the dishes Hermione had bought her mother for Christmas with her allowance the year she was twelve. Her mom couldn't part with them, so they used them often, laughing at the chips and cracks as the years went on.
It didn't take very long, however and the dishes were dried and stacked away. She leaned back against the counter and enjoyed the cool air as her shirt chilled in the air conditioning. It had been a hot summer. Even the nights stayed balmy. Her father had ranted and raved about the price of running the cooling system at night, but Hermione loved the feel of the vents whooshing clean cold air down her back. The feel of it was delightful.
Hermione had started to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. She couldn't seem to handle anything too complicated lately, anyway. If her mother mentioned her holiday homework revision, the girl would blanch and murmur that she'd get to it and not to worry. She knew that her old self would have had it done in the first few days. She used to think that "a task done would be more fun" as her planner loved to chant. Now she didn't want to think at all. Any thought about Hogwarts or even her friends in the DA sent her into panic mode. Hermione's chest would constrict and she wouldn't be able to swallow. They had no idea what was really going on in the wizarding world. If they ever found out how dangerous her life was at Hogwarts she would never see the old castle or her Gryffindor mates again. She had held back showing how afraid she had been following the attack by Voldemort and the Death Eaters at the Ministry. Not one guessed that nightmares were nightly terrifying one of the strongest witches in the D.A.
Light was starting to peer through the windows above the sink. She wondered how many nights she could endure like this one. Up until two a.m. and awake again from nightmares by five. Not much chance to rest like that. What she wouldn't do for a long draught of Madame Pomfrey's dreamless sleep. She could have brewed it herself, but the underage magic decree prevented her from performing any magic at all away from the school. Not that she had the energy or mental faculties to accomplish the potion in the state she was in right now. She wryly admitted to herself that she couldn't possibly perform the simplest of charms even if she had tried.
The sunrise was beautiful. That lovely and welcome daybreak calmed her as she warmed a cup of cocoa in the microwave. She liked to slip outside to enjoy the soft chill of the morning before it all burned off in the heat of the day.
It was so nice here. It was calm and quiet. No one yelling death threats or curses that killed with one word or phrase. She shivered even though the temperature outside was quickly warming up.
How nice it would be to just attend a regular Muggle school she sighed.
She could if she wanted to. And maybe just maybe she really did want to. No more magic. No more attacks where she and her friends were the target of absolute evil. No more standing up against such atrocities to witness the death of innocents and mentors like Sirius.
A lump rose in her throat at the thought of her older friend. He had been frightening at first sight, but later "Snuffles" had become a good confidante. She had always considered him a more approachable parent figure. Her own parents didn't seem to want to know much about the magical world and her involvement in it. She also had so few close friends that the camaraderie of friend's parents had never been an option before. Sirius had been more playmate than parent having lost so much in prison that he took to the joys of Godfathering Harry with fervor and abandon.
Hermione shook off the momentary pang and dashed quickly upstairs as if trying to outrun her memories. A quick change into her bathing suit and twist of her hair she was ready for the day. It was all she could do to lie in the sun as she had every day since she had returned home. She could manage a doze but could never quite get to sleep. To sleep would be to invite the horrors that edged the corners of her mind.
The days passed quickly drifting one into the other. No one called for her since most of her friends were wizards and knew very little of Muggle technology. Ron had sent a few owls though, mostly to inquire about her contact with Harry. She kept meaning to owl Harry, but she didn't own an owl herself, and she always forgot to send one with little Pig, Ron's tiny owl. All she wanted to do was to drift through the days and enjoy the sun as it floated across the sky.
Her mum, tired of this behavior forced Hermione out of the house one day. It was still blistering hot as they traveled by tube to Harrod's. It was completely different from Diagon Alley, with its bright lights and flashy banners calling the customers to `buy me'. After a few moments, Hermione couldn't help herself. She was a teenage girl after all. Soon she and her mother were enjoying a lovely day immersing themselves in the latest fashions.
By the end of summer, she had developed quite a wardrobe, but still hadn't dealt with the issues that were plaguing her. She also hadn't written to Harry. She wanted to, very badly. Everything she wanted to say to him about Sirius and how proud she was of him felt flat and expressionless when she put quill to paper.
"Why don't they just use ball point pens! This is the twenty-first century, you know!" She groused after busting the tip on another quill. Harry would have laughed at that, she thought. She remembered the times back in school when Voldemort seemed far away and they were just students with nothing more to worry about than their exams.
Just the thought of Harry laughing brought a smile to her face. His eyes always lit up with green sparks when he was delighted about something. His messy hair would fall forward on his face and his loud gaffaw would send Ron chortling in response. Her smile faded. Harry would not be laughing now. Her heart saddened with the image of her best friend hurting over Sirius's death.
She stared back at the scratched and ill-written parchment then snatched it off the desk throwing into the bin. She huffed as she slid back against her chair. No ideas came to her. How was she going to tell him that she was so terrified? He would be ashamed of her. Was she a Gryffindor or not? Maybe she should have been a Ravenclaw. She had been clever, but not really that clever. A Hufflepuff? Apparently she wasn't being that loyal after all. She stared at the bin overflowing with bits of parchment and snapped quills.
"Harry will never understand." She whispered sadly to herself.
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