This Subdued Fire

Disclaimer: I don\'t own, nor did I create the characters from the \"Harry Potter\' fiction series. They are all owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Press, Scholastic, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. In other words...Please do not sue me!! :)
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The next two days passed in a numb blur for Hermione. Friday and Saturday were spent looking at all of her cousins and their mothers and fathers, enduring their trite, if heart-felt condolences. She had to bear their grief and her own and sometimes it felt like they were trying to will their feelings, their voluble emotions into the stony girl. Some of the family wondered if Hermione had lost her ability to speak, they hadn\'t heard her say a word for the past week.

Saturday she startled them by asking them to pass the newspaper to her when they were done. Hermione took a perverse pleasure out of scaring the hell out of her well-meaning relatives.

Sunday came on the heels and hells of a sleepless night. Hermione left the hated dress, shoes and coat at Lydia\'s and packed the rest of her things to return to Hogwarts. It was the last of November and Winter gripped the city in its icy claw. Antoine and Lydia took her to King\'s Cross. He himself needed to be dropped off at the Chunnel so that he could take the train back to Paris and then from there another train to the Loire Valley.

Hermione allowed herself to be hugged and then disappeared through the barrier with Boolean and Crookshanks. Robespierre was nowhere to be found, he\'d disappeared the night before and while Hermione was vaguely worried about the thin little cat, she also knew that he was never hers to begin with.

The porter took her suitcase and bird cage and she boarded the train, settling into an empty car with relief. For the next few hours there would be no talking, no interruptions, just blessed relief and silence.

Exhausted, Hermione fell asleep on the seat and woke up as the conductor blew the whistle signalling that they were pulling into Hogsmeade. She sat up, blinking away the cobwebs from her fuzzy brain. She looked at Crookshanks merrily scratching up the banquette opposit her. Shaking her head at her errant pet, she scooped him up and pulling out her wand, *Reparo\'ed* the ruined seat cover.

The locomotive came to a shuddering halt at the station. Hermione wiped away the condensation from the window and saw Ron and Professor McGonagall waiting to take her back to school. Closing her eyes she steeled herself and got up from the seat, shrugging her coat on. Picking Crookshanks up again, she made her way to the center of the train and stepped down to the platform. Ron collected Boolean and her suitcase from the porter and the trio Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

As they walked to the entrance of the school, Minerva was the first to speak. \"I suppose you\'ll be taking your Apparition tests soon, Neither of you need any further instruction on the matter.\"

\"Yeah, Dad didn\'t get a chance to take me down there this summer so I\'ll be going over the Christmas holiday,\" Ron replied.

\"What about you Hermione?\"

\"What?\" Hermione said, distractedly.

\"When are you going to go down to the Ministry and get your licence?\"

\"Oh. I hadn\'t given it any thought. I suppose I\'ll go over the Christmas holiday as well.\"

Minerva nodded and they fell into a companionable silence once again. Minerva sent Ron to the Owlery with Boolean and she and Hermione continued on to the castle. Professor McGonagall spoke again. \"Hermione...if you ever need to talk to someone, don\'t ever hesitate to come to me or Albus...rather, Professor Dumbledore. Our doors are always open.\"

Hermione didn\'t say a word, merely kept walking until she got inside. Stepping over the threshold, she turned to Professor McGonagall and gave her a quick, rare hug and went upstairs to Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall merely smiled at the girl and waited for Ron to come in from the Owlery.
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Hermione stepped through the still enlarged portrait hole and every mouth in the common room fell silent. They knew, they\'d all been at the funeral. And those who hadn\'t were quickly informed by the Gryffindor gossip mill. Hermione smiled derisively. (They\'re all waiting for me to crack up. Well fuck them.)

Without so much as a by-your-leave, she went up the stairs to her room. Breaking the wards on the door she walked in. A fire and the torches immediately sprang to life. She dropped Crookshanks on the floor and he scampered around getting re-acquainted with the red and gold chamber. Hermione often wondered how a cat that big moved as fast as he did.

Hermione dropped her suitcase on the ground and took off her coat. Everything looked so foreign, yet familiar. She changed out of her Muggle clothes into her uniform and robes. Hermione sniffed rather disdainfully at the loafers and knee socks she had to wear. They felt silly and childish and she didn\'t want to wear them anymore. She wanted...she didn\'t know what she wanted.

Rummaging in her bag, she found the packet of cigs and taking one out of the box, she lit it, quickly crossing to the window to smoke out of it in case Hogwarts had some sort of magical smoke detecting device. As the nicotine hit her system, Hermione found elf elf calmed and able to think better. She was tired of playing by rules she had no hand in setting up. But as the Bard once wrote, revenge is a dish best served cold. The only thing she wanted, really wanted other than revenge was to get the hell away from Hogwarts. Being at Hogwarts, meeting Harry Fucking Potter had cost her everything. Everything. Unfortunately, Harry already had nothing. There wasn\'t anything she could take away from him to cause him to hurt. Hermione wanted the world to hurt as much as she did. But that wasn\'t going to happen. The best thing to do was to continue on in her way, the year was nearly half over.

Hermione finished her cancer stick and stubbed it out on the windowsill, flicking the cold end out into the dark night. She looked at the bedside clock. It was nearly ten, time to go patrolling. Hermione left her bedroom and found Ron down in the common room waiting for her. She gave him a tiny tiny smile and they left, going about their duties swiftly and silently. It was midnight, now the first day of December. Hermione was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She consoled herself with the fact that there were only nineteen days until the Christmas break began.

She and Ron were walking back to Gryffindor when she spied Draco out of the corner of her eye. He was beckoning her to come to him but she ignored him and continued on with Ron. Hermione told herself that Draco didn\'t deserve her acknowledgment and she certainly wouldn\'t condescend to even look at him. Ron gave the password and they stepped through.

Draco came out from his hidey-hole in a narrow corridor. She\'d done it again, as she\'d done it the last time he saw her. She ignored him, as if he were lower than the dirt under her feet. And he supposed he was. But had to somehow make her understand. It wasn\'t his fault. But Draco knew that deep down it was his fault. If he\'d have been a decent human he\'d have not put himself or her in the position where they could be hurt. But he had and he needed to try to make it up to her.

Draco had to admit, he missed her. She\'d been gone for a week, yet he\'d distanced himself from her since the day of that fateful Quidditch match. Yet another reason to hate Lucius. For the first time in his short life, Draco truly regretted ruining someone\'s life. It gnawed at him in a way that nothing else ever had.

He stood at the Fat Lady\'s portrait staring at the florid woman\'s visage with a morose expression. Despite the bad blood between them, the Fat Lady decided to take pity on Draco.

\"It\'ll be alright dear, she\'ll come around eventually.\"

\"No...she\'ll never get over this. Never.\" He crossed to the wall that the portrait was hung on and slid down to sit on the floor, cradling his head in his hands. The Fat Lady could only watch as the young blond sank into a pool of deep regret.

December brought about massive changes in Hogwarts\' Head Girl.

While the Hermione everyone knew and loved (or at least tolerated) was firm and no-nonsensical, this Hermione was stern and cold. She did not lose her temper, she did not yell or lecture as was her wont. She merely stood and looked down her nose at the rule breaker and calmly deducted points from the miscreant. Or worse yet, she began to assign detentions and more and more students were seen in the company of Mr. Filch, who thanked the gods above that there was finally a Head Girl with a brain in her head.

The student body began remarking that December was warmer than Hermione. She attended every class, still answering questions, still Little Miss Know-It-All, but there was a determined air about her that no one had ever seen before.

Hermione spent nearly all of her spare time in the Library and she removed herself from the party planning aspect of being Head Girl and a prefect. She delegated those duties to Ginny and Pansy, who she felt were more than capable of planning revels than she. Everyone was willing to go along with these personality changes to a certain degree, but the incident that broke the camel\'s back was the day she called Hagrid \"a great bumbling oaf\" and stormed away from Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had a terrible look of hurt on his face and he dismissed the class early and retired to his house. The students in class were shocked and appalled that Hermione would say such a thing. Harry and Ron had enough of Hermione\'s awful attitude. The two confronted her the Friday before the upcoming Hogsmeade visit.

They were in the common room, sitting about the fire. Hermione was sprawled on the couch with a book. Harry and Ron were sitting at a small table playing a hand of Exploding Snap. The sounds of the cards crackling and popping destroyed whatever concentration Hermione had and she snapped at them.

\"Do you two mind?! I\'m trying to do something constructive over here, instead of wasting my gray matter.\"

Ron jumped up from his seat with a snarl. \"That bloody damned attitude of yours stinks, Hermione. You\'ve become a real fucking bitch and I wish you\'d get over it. I mean, you\'re acting like Snape.\"

\"It takes a bitch to know a bitch, Ron Weasley. And I don\'t have to sit here and listen to this twaddle.\" Hermione moved to get up from the sofa but Ron pushed her back down.

\"If you hadn\'t noticed, I\'m trying to have a conversation with you.\"

Hermione raised a mocking eyebrow. \"Conversation? That\'s a four syllable word. Sure you don\'t want any ice to stop your brain from overheating?\"

The others in the room gasped collectively. That was low, even for the new Hermione.

Ron merely smirked. \"Sure, darling. You could chisel it from around your heart, if you could even find it.\"

Harry\'s eyes widened as he heard Ron\'s rejoinder. And then he heard, rather than saw the smack that Hermione delivered to the red head. When Ron staggered back Hermione leapt from the couch, eyes blazing. \"What do you know about it, Ronald Weasley! You know nothing, nothing at all!\"

Hermione\'s head whipped around looking at all the wide-eyed stares. \"What are you all looking at? Mind your own bloody fucking business!\" She ran up the stairs and they could hear the reverberation as the door to her room slammed shut.

Ron stood and rubbed his rapidly reddening cheek. Harry merely looked at him and shook his head. Harry knew the anger that Hermione was feeling. It was the anger that still burned inside of him from time to time. Oh, to be sure, the fires were banked but they were still there, smouldering. But for him it was different. All he\'d known was loss and pain. He couldn\'t imagine being thrust from safety and security into the abyss. The only thing to do was to let her ride it out. She couldn\'t stay like this forever. Or could she?

Upstairs, Hermione was in a high rage. Breathing hard, she fought to control the emotions spiraling through her veins when she heard a sizzling sound and smelled the familiar scent of something burning. Taking her hand away from the bedpost it was wrapped around, she saw a charcoal black handprint against the deep red finish of the wood. She took a deep breath and pushed everything far down in her soul.

(Yes...that\'s better. Feel nothing, Hermione, nothing at all. It\'s only a week to go and then you\'re free of this place until after the new term begins.) She schooled her features into passivity, vaguely noting as she pulled the Djarums out that she was down to two cigarettes. Thank Merlin that it was a Hogsmeade weekend this weekend. She\'d go down to the Lighter-Upper and get a couple of packets.

Lighting the cigarette, she took a deep drag, and opened the windows, allowing the arctic December air to swirl through the room. Hermione pulled out her cauldron and levitated it, lighting purple flames underneath. She transfigured a hairpin into an ashtray and laid the cigarette in it and began digging under the bed. Crookshanks was there, eyeing her curiously. He took a swipe at her hand with his paw and Hermione, feeling a bit mean, blew smoke in his face, sending him scrambling from under the bedskirt to hide in the armoire set against the wall. Hermione found what she was looking for and pulled it out. There were various and many potions supplies in the cardboard box. She had nearly a full supply of valerian left over from the Dreamless Sleep potion Snape required them to brew.

Hermione felt that she needed something and that something was Dreamless Sleep. She began mixing the ingredients in the cauldron, and was gratified to see it turn the proper color. She stirred it with her wand and sat back to watch it simmer. Another twenty minutes and all the bad dreams would be gone. Hermione got up and and exchanged her clothes for pajamas. Fifteen more minutes...

Hermione continued to smoke her cig and pace around the room waiting impatiently for the Dreamless Sleep. The self-extinguishing fire she placed under the cauldron stopped burning and the potion was ready. Hermione ladled some into a mug and placed a cooling charm on it. She turned the covers back on the bed and slipped into it. Hermione gulped the potion down in one go and felt her eyes immediately begin to get heavy. She managed to get the cup onto the nightstand before dropping off into a heavy, reverie free slumber.

Hermione woke up, groggy and cloudy-headed after taking the Dreamless Sleep last night. (But, she reasoned, I needed a good night\'s sleep - free from...well, I won\'t think about that.)

She eased from the bed, let Crookshanks out to do whatever it was that he did and began her day. She showered and dressed in a pair of dark blue bootcut jeans and a black polo shirt and stacked heel black leather boots. She smiled, remembering that she\'d enchanted the little horse and rider on her shirt to turn different colors. Grabbing up a jacket, cloak and money bag, she left her room and went down to the Great Hall. A lot of the conversation at the Gryffindor table stopped when she came into the hall. She regarded them all with a raised eyebrow and a deep sigh. Turning on her heel she left the chamber, not wishing to be the subject of whispers and stares at the breakfast table. Besides, she wasn\'t very hungry to begin with.

That brought Hermione up er ser short. She hadn\'t eaten since the day that her parents were killed. (Twenty days, then. Ah well. If I did, I\'d vomit and that\'s worse than not eating at all.)

Hermione proceeded down the hall until she came to a familiar side corridor in which rested a little niche with a window and a comfortable tapestry bench set into the stone. She fished around in her cloak and coming up with her wand she gave the air a swift flick and \"*Accio \'Heaving Bodices\'!*\".

A few minutes passed and the paperback came sailing around the corner and into her hidey-hole. Catching it easily, she opened the pages, savoring the smell of ink and paper. She read and the time became later and later. An hour slipped by, then two and she heard the clamor of students in the large hallway about to head off to Hogsmeade.

Hermione reduced her book and placed it in her jacket pocket which she put on and then her cloak over it. Hurrying out into the entryway she saw that it was jampacked with bodies. She felt a prickling on the back of her neck and turning, saw Draco looking at her with a strangely open expression in his eyes. Raising an eyebrow and giving him a derisive smirk she deliberately turned away from him and moved with the crowd to the seemingly horseless carriages.

They soon arrived at the village and deed fed from the carriages and the students scattered in different directions. Hermione went to the Lighter-Upper. The small establishment was located not too far from the Hog\'s Head. The sign was a wand that had been painted to resemble a cigar that had been enchanted to smoke and ash. Hermione went in, appreciating the smell of rich tobacco that permeated the air.

The clerk eyed her in much the same manner as the clerk in the other store where she purchased the first packet of cigarettes. But as she was overage, there was nothing he could do about it. Hermione passed the man the Sickles in exchange for two packets. She tucked them into her cloak pocket and left the shop. She felt the need for a butterbeer but didn\'t feel like subjecting herself to the noisyness of the Three Broomsticks.

Crossing the cobbled lane, she went into the Hog\'s Head and ordered up a pint, but only in its original bottle. Hermione had no wish to contract tetanus or some other nasty disease from an underscrubbed glass. Taking the bottle from the dusty looking bartender she popped the cap off on the edge of the bar and took a good long swig and lit up a fag. Inhaling the smoke, she slipped into a corner of the room and settled at a table, looking around morosely. Hermione stacked her feet, ankles crossed on the tabletop and sipped at her beer, wishing she had something stronger.

Finishing the fag and the beer, Hermione left thg\'sg\'s Head. She traipsed around in the snow, thinking useless thoughts, wondering about the state of the house. She hadn\'t been there since that day. Now, it loomed before her. Only a week until the Christmas holiday and a week until she had to go to the fucking deathtrap house and only a week...Her thoughts trailed off and she pushed them and the concomitant emotions back down until they were a tiny speck.

It was becoming an uphill fight just to stay on top of it all and feel nothing. Every night she drank Dreamless Sleep and every night it was becoming harder and harder to overcome the dreams with the potion. Last night\'s potion had been brewed with an extra dose of valerian and also with a spoon of crushed poppies. Hermione knew she should be careful with that stuff but she was beginning not to care. Sometimes she thought it would be easier to just go with it and see what was behind the tattered veil. Only the occasional surge of rage held her back from that point. She wasn\'t going to let them win.

So she continued on in her way, slipping further down into the darker parts of thought, wondering when she was going to fall for good.
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The week slugged by and it was Friday, the last day of term and examination time. Hermione was running on nervous energy the whole week. She\'d been forgoing the Dreamless Sleep in order to be completely prepared for the tests. If Ron, Harry or Ginny noticed anything different, they didn\'t say. They were preoccupied with passing their own exams and besides, none of them were on speaking terms with Hermione, w sui suited her fine.

Potions happened to be the last exam of the day and Snape set the hourglass on his desk while the students brewed their potions. He looked at Hermione as he\'d looked at her the for past twenty-six days. She was emaciated looking, her hair was lank and dull, pulled back into an exceedingly tight ponytail. Her eyes burned fever bright above those starched white cheeks. Severus knew the signs, oh yes. This was more than just grief alone but he had no recourse with Hermione. She was not in his house, and none of her other teachers nor the Headmaster made any comment about her changed appearance. They all thought it was just the natural grieving process.

She was snappish and ill-tempered, answering questions still but with an apathy that startled Severus, who was used to her nearly levitating from her seat in eagerness to answer. He\'d heard her schoolmates whispering about how she was becoming like him: withdrawn and sullen. And it was true. On the few occasions he\'d had to talk to her he was struck by the similarity of manner between them. Another life ruined by the Malfoys. He smiled mirthlessly. Snape had a fair idea of what she was dosing herself with but again, he had no proof. The girl looked like she was drawn tighter than stretched elastic. The wrong word might send her tumbling over.

So he watched and waited as Albus requested of him. He looked out over the students and saw Hermione\'s hand shaking as she added asphodel to her potion. That was almost enough to make him call off the examination right then and there. Severus flicked his gaze over to Draco. The blond looked as sure and confident as always as he put a drop of dragon\'s blood into his potion. But Severus saw the faint dark circles under his gray eyes. He\'d heard tell of the sleepless nights Draco spent wandering the dungeons. Draco wanted to unburden his soul to Hermione, but he knew that she would just think that he was lying to her about it. And she would have good cause to think that. Severus could tell her, but it was up to them to get it sorted.

By some miracle, Hermione\'s potion turned the creamy color that it was supposed to. Severus could see her sigh of relief. She ladled a helping of the potion into a glass beaker, sealed it and put it on his desk. She Vanished the remaining potion and cleared her tabletop and left the potions laboratory.

Snape saw Draco\'s eyes wander after her longingly and he felt an uncharacteristic tug of sympathy for the young man. Draco turned back to his potion with a resolute expression and finished brewing it. The young man stoppered a portion of his potion in a phial and left it on Severus\' desk. Draco cleaned up after himself swiftly and went out of the door.

Draco saw the tail end of Hermione\'s robe as she disappeared up the dungeon steps to the main floor. She kept going on her way until she arrived at Filch\'s office. Hermione knocked sharply on the door and Filch answered with all of his nastiness intact.

\"\'ere now, what do *you* want?\"

\"I\'ve come for the Christmas decorations, Mr. Filch,\" Hermione near sneered at the caretaker.

Filch didn\'t seem put off by her attitude but he led her into his office where there was a closet where all the decorations were stored. Filch handed her two medium-sized boxes. \'There you go. All in those boxes.\"

\"Splendid, Mr. Filch.\" Hermione turned on her heel and ran smack into Draco, who she hadn\'t seen behind her. \"Goddammit, Malfoy, look where you\'re going.\"

She picked up the boxes and continued on to the Great Hall. Malfoy spoke as he followed her to the chamber. \"I thought you weren\'t going to help decorate. I believe your exact words were \'I don\'t have time for frippery.\'\"

\"Yes, well. I am Head Girl and I have an obligation and I will fulfill it.\"

\"How wonderfully noble you are Hermione,\" Malfoy sneered.

\"Don\'t call me Hermione.\" It sounded like her teeth were clenched.

They reached the empty hall and some of the other prefects and teachers were there waiting to begin the decorating. Dumbledore was there, too. He was shocked at Hermione\'s drawn appearance but said nothing, not wishing to cause a scene. Hermione set the boxes on one of the tables and everyone dug into to pull the Reduced objects out and Engorge them. Once everything was back to full size, they began lining the hall with holly and ivy garlands and floating Christmas trees.

Professor Flitwick, having finisheminiministering his exams, charmed the enchanted ceiling to snow from now until New Year\'s day. The tiny professor helped the students hang the decorations and even the ghosts got into the act. The Bloody Baron\'s robe front spotted a small sprig of holly leaf and Nearly Headless Nick wore a wreath of holly and ivy on his silvery head. Even Peeves was in the holiday spirit, no pun intended. He\'d somehow gotten his tie to have green and red Christmas trees on it instead of dots.

Ron and Harry came into the Great Hall to find Hermione and Ginny on ladders, coaxing fairies to decorate the trees which were suspended in the air. Ron looked appreciatively at Hermione\'s legs under her skirt and was embarrassed to discover that her knickers were covered in little purple hearts. He called up to her.

\"Oi, Hermione!\"

She looked down. \"Hmm?\"

\"Do yeed eed any help?\"

She gave Ron a faint smile which told him she appreciated his olive branch. \"Yes. See if you can give Professor Flitwick a hand in hanging that garland.\"

\"Alright then.\" Ron gave her a small salute and headed in Flitwick\'s direction.

Draco saw Ron and Hermione\'s interaction and was hacked off that she and Weasel were on friendly terms again. He\'d heard about their falling out but apparently that rift had been healed. He continued on with his task, grinding his teeth. Pansy came sidling over, openly flirting with him.

\"\'Allo, darling.\" He greeted the pug-nosed girl.

\"Oh, we are in a good mood today. Thinking about the newest toy you\'re going to get for Christmas, Drakie?\"

Draco cringed inwardly at the simpering endearment. \"But of course. Then again, what could I possibly get that I don\'t already have?\"

\'That\'s true. Are the usual festivities happening at the Manor this year?\" Pansy asked.

\"Of course. Mother and Father wouldn\'t have it any other way.\" He charmed green and silver snakes on thelveelve minature trees that marched down the center of Slytherin\'s table.

\"Ah. Then I shall be there with bells on.\" Pansy gave Draco a light kiss on the cheek before going off to help Millicent string popcorn.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Draco\'s tactics. He hadn\'t changed a bit, the sodding git. She deliberately turned her back on him and went back to putting fairy lights in the garland. Soon the hall was completely finished and everyone stood back to admire their handiwork.

Dumbledore praised them and gave each house twenty-five points for a job well done. He Summoned up a tray of sweets from the kitchens and everyone sat down to enjoy. While Hermione put on a show of eating and laughing, Dumbledore noticed that she was just moving things around on her plate. He hoped that she could come to grips with her grief over the Christmas holiday before she turned self-destructive.

He surreptitiously observed Draco. The blond seemed to have gotten it together, yet Dumbledore saw a bit of bravado behind the pointed way he ignored Hermione. He wanted the two of them to put aside their differences, but the way things were going it looked as if that would never happen. Dumbledore had hoped that Hermione\'s innate sense of justice and fair play would be enough to bring Draco back from the precipice of joining the Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy\'s and Tom Riddle\'s blasted interfering put a stop to all of that.

Little did Dumbledore know how Draco spent his nights. Draco spent part of his nights fucking Pansy into oblivion, wishing that the girl lying sated and sweaty in his bed was a bushy haired know-it-all Gryffindor. The rest he spent hovering outside the Gryffindor portrait hole just wanting to catch a glimpse of her, hoping that she w tak take enough notice of him to listen to his tale. And hope of all hopes, find it in her to take him back. Since the day of the Quidditch match he\'d had little contact with her, except to be a nasty sneering bastard. Draco hadn\'t the foggiest notion of why he acted the way that he did.

After a half-hour of faking the funk, Hermione excused herself from the table and left the Great Hall. Four sets of male and one pair of female eyes followed her exit. She made her way to her House and instead of the occupants of the common room going quiet, the conversation in the room became louder. Hermione could catch the words \"Mage\", \"bloody shame\", \"cold bitch\" and \"fucking nuts\" floating about. On hearing that last, Hermione was sorely tempted to take points from her own house. But she refrained.

(It is, after all, Christmas,) she thought as she swept up the stairs, robes billowing out behind her.

(It was the last day of term,) heain ain rejoiced. (No more pitying or angry looks from beneath lowered lashes.)

Hermione stripped the robes and hated unifoff, ff, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a fitted white shirt, no shoes. Opening the armoire, she lugged out a large suitcase and began tossing items into it haphazardly. All the Christmas hilarity was about to make her puke, if she could\'ve left that night, she would\'ve. Everyone was just full of good cheer. (What was there to be cheery about?) she thought with a sneer. (Nothing, that\'s what?)

When the suitcase was loaded, she flicked her wand at the zipper and it zipped itself up. Taking a cigarette out the packet in its hidey-hole, she lit it with a quick *\"Incendio\"* and laid on the bed thinking contentedly about how good it would feel to get out of Hogwarts. A small voice in the back of her head spoke up.

(You\'ve never been all that eager to leave her before.)

(True. But I can\'t stand this place now. All I want is to lead a normal life.)

(But you\'ve never been a normal girl. What are you going to do? Give up magic and live as a Muggle?)

(If that is what it takes.)
Hermione bolted upright. Was she really thinking about leaving the wizarding world behind? With a shocked feeling stirring around inside her, she realized that yes, she was. What had being a witch ever brought her anyway? Magic had cost her more she she\'d gained.

Her mind began racing along. She was still a minor in the Muggle - no, normal - world. She could still take some sort of equivalency courses and get into a normal University. Buoyed by these traitorous thoughts, Hermione felt happier than she\'d been in a long while. The dinner bell rang and instead of getting up she stayed behind in her bed, smoking and thinking about leaving Hogwarts for good. But then her inner voice intruded again.

(I may be able to leave the wizarding world, but the wizarding world will never be able to leave me. I\'ll still be a witch for the rest of my life. I\'ll never be able to erase the magic from my veins and go back to my ordinary life before this wretched school.)

Her small feelings of happiness dashed, Hermione extinguished the cigarette and got up. She walked over to the still full cauldron of Dreamless Sleep. She hadn\'t slept very long or well in a week and it showed. She was jittery, shaky with nervous energy. The nightmares kept coming to invade her slumber and sometimes she awoke with a scream dying on her lips. After the first time, she put a Silencing Charm on her chamber.

She spooned up some of the potion into her mug. Going back to the bed she climbed into it, still dressed and downed the contents of the cup, feeling the blessed relief of sleep washing over her and pouring into her veins.
*****************

Hermione stepped down from the train. She gathered up her belongings and stepped through the barrier at platform nine and three-quarters without a backwards glance. The station was decked out in traditional Christmasy things and she frowned at no one in particular. Lydia was standing between platforms nine and ten waiting to take Hermione back to her house. The two women embraced and Lydia was shocked at Hermione\'s thinness and said so.

\"My God, Hermione! You\'re nothing but skin and bones. If there\'s one thing you\'re going to do today, you\'re going to eat. Even if I have to tie you down and force-feed you. Come along.\" Lydia swept off, indignant at the state her granddaughter had let herself get in.

Lydia and Hermione went out to the parking lot and they got in Lydia\'s little silver Audi and drove to the house. Hermione\'st Pet Pet, nee Patricia, was waiting for them along with her small brood. Hermione never could stand her Aunt Pet nor her overbearing husband or her two runny-nosed brats. Pet took every chance she could to attack Hermione about something. Whether it was twitting her over her magical abilities or her hair or whatever, it was always something.

Lydia took her granddaughter\'s hand and squeezed it. \"Now don\'t let Pet or Walter bother you. They don\'t really mean anything by it.\"

\"If you say so Gram.\" Hermione looked skeptical as they went inside the house.

Pet heaved her bulk from the chair and went over to engulf Hermione in a hug. Hermione vaguely noticed that she was pregnant again. The gorge rose in Hermione\'s throat. (Anr nor no-necked monster walking the planet. I wish I could slip some Adverse Contraceptus into her tea.)

\"Oh, Hermione. I\'m so glad you\'ve come home for Christmas instead of staying at, at school.\"

Walter got up and pumped Hermione hand in a sweaty fist. \"Yes, yes.\" He began pompously. \"Always glad to see you Hermione. I do so miss Peter.\" Hermione\'s overworked eyebrow rose. \"Oh, and Clarice, too. Such a charming woman.\"

\"Hmm,\" Hermione replied noncommitally.

\"Hermione, dear, why don\'t you go put your things away and then come back so we can have a visit.\" Pet told her.

\"Actually, I have some questions for Gram, if you don\'t mind,\" the girl-woman replied coolly.

\"Yes, dear. Anything,\" Lydiawerewered.

\"Would it be possible for me to stay at *the house* while I\'m here in London?\"

All the eyes in the room widened. \"Yes, but - but why would you want to stay there?\" Lydia questioned.

\"Grandmother. I told you before I wanted to get things settled as quickly as possible. I need to sort through Mum and Dad\'s belongings and my own and try to sell the house. Did Tobias leave anything for me to sign?\"

Lydia, nonplussed by Hermione\'s attitude, got up and went over to the desk in a corner of the room and pulled out a sheaf of papers. \"Mr. Berg left these for you. Once they\'re signed and notarized you can start. Of course, you can occupy the house now although I\'d prefer it if you stayed here with me.\"

\"I know you would. But I have to do this.\" Hermione\'s voice brooked no argument.

\"Alright. I see you didn\'t even bother to take your coat off. I\'ll take you there.\" Lydia looked resigned as she rose from her chair and collected her coat and pocketbook.

\"Thanks Gram.\" Hermione offered up the faintest flicker of a smile.

The two women left just as Hermione heard her Aunt Pet whisper furiously to Walter, \"The ungrateful little wench! She ought to be bloody glad that Mother is willing to let her stay here.\"

Hermione\'s mouth tightened unmercifully and she slammed the door behind her. (Bloody bitch. I\'m glad I don\'t have to spend the next sixteen days having to put up with her.)

Hermione and Lydia got back in the silver car and drove \'round to Hermione\'s house. The block was snowy and dark. Some of the neighbors had Christmas lights on their houses which twinkled in the frigid air. Hermione pulled out her seldom used keys and opened the door.

The still fetid air rushed out, smacking them repeatedly in the nostrils. Even though the house had been cleaned, scrubbed and disinfected, Hermione could still smell the blood and death that permeated the dwelling. Lydia walked in and began opening the windows.

\"It\'s so still in here. Some fresh air would be nice, wouldn\'t it?\" She turned to Hermione and smiled.

Hermione stood in the doorway, her feet rooted to the spot. Lydia could see the greenish tint to Hermione\'s skin under the pallor the girl had worn for nearly a month. The grandmother rushed forward to enfold her chick in her arms. \"You don\'t have to do this. You can always come back with me.\"

Hermione drew a deep shuddering breath and this time she didn\'t smell devastation. \"No, Gram. I have to do this. It\'s the only way.\" Hermione stepped back from the older woman and looked at her in the eyes that were so like her own. \"Please.\"

\"Fine. But if you need anything, anything at all, don\'t hesitate to call me.\" Lydia hugged Hermione hard and then left the house, escaping her own painful memories of the place.

Hermione squared her shoulders and walked in. She closed the door behind herself and snapped on a light. Everything looked just the same as when she left for Hogwarts earlier that year. Mail was stacked up neatly on the end table. Hermione shrugged off her coat, gloves and scarf. She picked it up and began flipping through it. Bills for October and some for November which would have to be paid. There was one for a double subscription to some dentistry journal her parents got. Letters from \'Ars Alchemica\' and from \'Vogue\' reminded her that her subscriptions were nearly at an end and would she like to renew. Hermione tossed those aside with a dismissive sniff.

A small package lay on the bottom of the stack. Hermione crossed to the green leather sofa and sat down, quickly ripping it open. Inside the package was a small red velvet box and inside that box was a gold locket. The locket was in the shape of a lion and it had a tiny ruby for an eye. Hermione opened the locket up. Inside on one side there was a picture of her parents, smiling and happily waving at her. On the other side were and and Harry grinning and elbowing each other.

And with that, all of Hermione\'s defenses crumbled.

A keening sound erupted from her soul and poured out of her mouth in unrelenting waves. Clouds gathered in the sky overhead and thunder and lightning rumbled across them in turn. Old folk pulled young ones to them, reciting what their mothers told them: \"Thunder in winter is the Devil\'s thunder.\" The youngsters looked at the clouds in awe and then the snow, ice and wind began to pour down on the city and suburbs. The noises made by the blizzard echoed the pitch made by Hermione Valentina Granger as she slipped from the couch to kneel on the floor. Her grief came rushing out with such an intensity that the windows began rocking with the force of it.

The wild cries began to subside until they were mild choking sobs. Hermione got up from the floor and made her way to the bathroom. She flipped on the light, blinking madly as it irritated her salt-swollen eyehe rhe ran some cold water in the sink and splashed her face with it. Hermione looked up and regarded herself carefully in the mirror which hung over the sink.
******************

Draco sat up in his empty bed. All at once, an intense sadness and rage slammed into him, disturbing his sleep. He got up and crossed to the closed french doors that opened out onto the balcony overlooking the vast manicured garden. The panes of glass were frosted and he could see enormous steel grey clouds rolling in the pitch black night sky. Thunder and lightning crackled alarmingly and the clouds opened with a rush of wind and snow so great even the imposing edifice of Malfoy Manor gave a shudder. Of a sudden, Draco felt seized by the force of the storm and sank to his knees. There were ice blue sparkles falling from his fingertips and frostbite inducing tears rolling down his cheeks. The feelings reached a fever pitch and he opened his mouth on a silent scream and began to recede.

The fierce pounding in Draco\'s heart slowed in an instant and his chest ached with the depth of it. The boy got up from his knees and wandered into the bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water and looked at himself carefully. His red-rimmed eyes stood in in his ultra pale face. His normally coiffed hair stood on end as if he\'d been hit with a bolt of lightning. Draco smiled wanly. It felt like he had. The feelings that flowed through him ebbo a o a tolerable pitch and he went back into his bedroom and got into bed, falling into a deep dreamless slumber.
******************

Hermione felt empty, wrung out. All the emotion and thought she\'d sublimated over the past month was simply gone. And now there was nothing left. She felt like an empty husk, a veritable tabula rasa. She closed her eyes and flashes of that day came back in nauseating waves. Hermione willed them from her mind and went back into the living room.

She opened the crazily packed suitcase and scattered clothes and shoes and books around looking for it. And when she pulled the glass phial from amidst its cradling cushion of clothing, she exhaled a small sigh of relief. Walking back over to the sofa, she sat down heavily and removed her boots. Hermione caught sight of the lion shaped locket lying on the floor. She picked it up and clasped it around her neck. And with shaking fingers she unstoppered the phial and took an unmeasured swig. The effect of the potion was like a heavy cloak being dropped on her shoulders. Hermione managed to get the phial onto a side table before curling up on the sofa and dropping off.

The bright sunlight streamed into the curtained windows the next day. Hermione sat up, thinking about the previous night\'s events. She shook off the last of the Dreamless Sleep and got up from the sofa. The clock on the mantel read two p.m. and Hermione frowned in disgust. But she shrugged the feeling off and padded into the kitchen. She got a glass of water and chugged it thirstily. There was nothing in the refrigerator but her appetite was still off, so no loss there.

Hermione knew that she\'d eventually she\'d have to go upstairs and begin. But she put that off and went to shower and change. Coming back into the living room she dressed, putting a pair of grey sweat pants and a white t-shirt and trainers. She needed to go out and get boxes, tape and a permanent felt-tip pen. She\'d gotten her driver\'s licence over the summer grabbing her coat, she went back into the kitchen and saw the garage door remote and car keys lying on the counter. They were her Dad\'s. A slight sniffle escaped her before pushing it away.

She opened the side door of the unattached garage and got into the little green Saab her father used to jet around in. She started up the engine and toyed with the notion of just sitting in the closed garage and letting the fumes take her. But something stirred in anger within her at that thought and she snapped the remote control irritatedly and drove to the nearest shop.

Hermione collected the boxes, dodging cheery wishes of \"Happy Christmas\" with barely concealed snarls and open eye rolls. As she was leaving the shop someone calling \"Miss, Miss\" stopped her. Turning around she saw a gorgeous brunet man running up to her.

\"Did I forget something?\" she asked, hedlyedly patting down her pockets and rummaging in them.