DISCLAIMER: nope, never owned this, never will…

SUMMARY: The war is over and Hermione is left alone filled with only her grief. But when Ancient Magic comes into play, Hermione finds herself no longer walking alone. SBHG Pre-HBP and staying that way!

A/N: Like above, this is pre book 6 and staying that way. This is my first attempt at a "M" story. Hope I didn't screw it up too much. This will be a short story, only 10 chapters so I hope you like it. The title "Walk Alone" is after a poem.

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an imposter."

"I didn't…" Harry began, not entirely sure whether he was being reprimanded or not.

"For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry…although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preference before impersonating myself."

--Dumbledore and Harry, HPB

Chapter 1: The Power of a Tear

A fierce scream echoed around the small room as the seventeen year old girl woke from a reoccurring nightmare, a think film of sweat covering her pale and worn out body. Her mess of dark brown curls clung to her skin, damp from sweat. Her breathing rapid, trying once again to shut out the painful memories that often kept her from any sleep.

This happened every night. She would lie down, believing that the memories would not swoop down on her, and then she would dream. Everything rushed back at her in her dreams. Every tear, every pain, every death. She remember all.

She clutched her pillow tightly to her chest, hoping that from it she would gain some kind of comfort. She made no move to wipe away the treacherous tears that flowed steadily over her flushed cheeks. She stared out into the darkness through dull brown eyes that had seen too much, too young.

There was a time when pain did not etch the young girl's heart. A time when laughter rang throughout every room. A time when few tears were shed. A time when her eyes showed youthfulness and joy.

But that time had passed. Everyday served as a bitter reminder of what used to be and the loneliness of the days to come. Her eyes showed the emptiness of her soul. She lost the will to survive a long time ago when she lost everything that ever mattered.

Ever breath she took was a step closer to her last when Death would open his arms wide and take her from this cruel world. After all, Death had taken so many during the war, what was one more casualty?

Yes, the war was won. Nearly everyone had celebrated joyously, not caring that so many had lost their lives, not caring that whole families were destroyed for the cause, not caring that so many were missing still. They had won, but victory always came at a price.

The girl looked deftly at the simple wooden box that sat upon her dresser. That was where all the medals and awards she had been given were stored. She was proclaimed a "war hero" and her name was known nearly everywhere. She would trade it all, though, for just one moment, one single minute, with those she loved to tell them goodbye and that she was sorry for not being able to save them.

She could still recall the look on his face as he fell, his eyes wide in realization, his body convulsing for one final time. There was no laughter filling his eyes as the battle commenced, as he took his last breath and left this life. He had won and lost at the same time.

He was the reason she had fought. He was the reason she had remained strong as so many around her lost their lives, some too young to even be fighting. He was the reason that she couldn't forget.

Now, he was not there to dry her tears when she remembered all who had fallen, for as she reminded herself day after day, he was among them. Though with his death, there came victory, but many forgot the sacrifices made to secure victory. They celebrated, they drank to those who died, but they no longer remembered. Not like she did. Each death, each scream of pain and agony, each face haunted her.

Time, it seemed, could not heal her broken heart. There was just too much weighing her down. The memories haunted her and she felt as if there was no escape. Usually she avoided sleep to avoid the onrush of memories. But exhaustion always won and she would sleep…some.

She reached over and picked up the silver picture frame on the stand beside her bed. The picture staring back at her showed happier times when the only thing worrying them was whether or not they were passing their classes. A solitary tear escaped her eyes and splattered silently onto the photo.

With a sigh, she replaced the picture and slid back down into the bed, telling herself that she was alone and would always walk alone. That was her fate.

As her eyes drifted shut, allowing once more for sleep to embrace her, all thoughts were erased from her mind. Unbeknownst to her, her single tear of loneliness and grief would stir up ancient magic to answer the hidden prayers of her heart.

A/N: Okay, I know that was short but it was sorta like a prologue. Just an intro. This is a Sirius/Hermione fic so if you don't like it, don't read, or do read and become convinced that they would make a great couple. I personally think they do. Hope you guys like it. Please review!