Disclaimer: Not mine. Kinda wish it were mine. But it's not. Sorry.
The summer after sixth year was one that would be forever engraved, carved so deeply into every recess of Hermione's mind, that she was sure even if she could suppress the memories, she would yet remember everything in her dreams.
The morose spring portended the growing belligerence that would inevitably occur that summer, and it was drawn on later that it all should have been predicted earlier.
Against Harry and Ron's wishes, Hermione had, returned home in late June, determined to see her parents once more before going into hiding. At King's Cross Station, Harry had swiftly pressed a small bag of coins into her hand and whispered to her that, should she ever need assistance, all she had to do was come to King's Cross and request a ticket to Hogsmeade.
Nodding in understanding, she had hugged him, then Ron, and departed for Kent, and her parents.
There were no words to be said that she would be watched, so the first time she felt eyes on her, she just shrugged the feeling off; knowing that somewhere, nearby, an order member was carefully watching her every move, ensuring her safety and thereby theirs.
When Hermione had set foot on her own doorstep, she had released a breath of subconscious anticipation that she had not known she had been holding. Her house and her parents still stood. She did know, however, that she did not have long. Did not have long before they would find her, and she had to go fast.
So, a fortnight after her arrival, she had, with a put-on air of sophistry, set out, leaving her stunned and worried parents in her wake.
She met Remus Lupin at their designated place of departure and immediately dropped her sophistry, instead, her own sadness and worries brimming to the surface. Two hours later, she had been sent off by portkey to a location that was still unknown to her.
And that was what had her standing three feet from the elegant French-doors, arms crossed and hips shifted slightly off, her gaze on the blue electricity that hummed around the cracks in the door.
"Hermione, you're not going to get out," Harry told her, firmly.
She didn't answer. Really, she was too busy figuring out how to hex Lupin into next century for this.
"D'you know this is for your own safety?"
"Yes," she bit out, rather harshly.
"Hermione ---"
"Harry! It's not you whose being locked unceremoniously into a house with no-one for company!" Hermione yelled, spinning on her heel.
"For now you need to be safe!" Harry yelled back, towering over her.
"You listen here," she shouted, poking him harshly in the chest with her index finger, her other hand on her hip. "I will not be pushed aside in this war, Harry! I want to be a part of the action! I need to be a part of the action!"
"For now you are staying here, and that is final!" Harry yelled, the authority in his voice overpowering hers.
With that, he spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.
Hermione stayed, standing in the middle of the parlour, for several moments, until she heard the faint !pop! of his departure.
"DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN!" Hermione shrieked, stomping her foot.
Instead of increasing her chances of getting out of here, she was sure that she had drastically decreased her chances.
As suddenly as the outburst had come, it too departed, and in it's place left a feeling that Hermione couldn't quite place.
"Is mistress upset with Master Harry?" Hermione looked up from where her eyes had focused childishly on the floor to where the house-elf was standing.
It struck Hermione at once that this house-elf was different, and for a second, she couldn't understand why she would even think that.
All thoughts of S.P.E.W. had been pushed to the back corners of her mind with the belligerence of Voldemort's pressing business with Harry looming on the horizon.
"What?" It was all she could think to say in her sudden surprise.
"You seemed mad with Master Potter. I heard you yelling."
Dumbstruck, Hermione nodded.
"He's only doing this to protect you, Miss."
Her mouth opened in what seemed to be a silent plea for quiet. If she said anything further, Hermione failed to notice.
It didn't matter any-ways. She would figure a way to get back to the battle, even if it meant sneaking back in disguise. She had a right to fight, right alongside Harry and Ron, and they weren't going to deny her that right.
She'd make them see.
Starting with a simple note.
Hermione smiled, a rare smirk that took her features from innocent to truly mischievous.
A simple note.
She should say, notes
No one had been to visit her. No one. Not at all. Six weeks and the only company she had was Beau. Not that she minded having the elf as company. Beau could play a mean game of wizard's chess, and win almost every time.
But she missed Harry. And Ron. And Lupin and Tonks and her parents and ...
The list went on and on and on.
Her friends, her family. All were barred from her.
But it was the response to her letters that shocked her.
At first, she had been very polite. First, she had apologised profusely to Harry for her behaviour the day she was delivered to the safe house. Several letters she had written, most of them only barring an apology. Beau had faithfully delivered them, but had bore no response for at least a fortnight. Then she had grown confused and angry. The letter she wrote then demanded that she be released, or at least allowed visitors. That letter, again, warranted no response from either Harry or Ron or the rest of the Order. That was when mere anger had turned into downright fury. She had written a letter, using her best political knowledge to the Order in general. In short, it demanded her release, or at least the Prophet to be delivered. She wanted news. What was going on in the world that was so troublesome to relay to her?
Now, Harry's response to all of her letters was staring her in the face.
She had distanced herself from the piece of parchment, and was now standing across the parlour with her back to the window, the sunlight brushing her back, warming her, oddly.
It read:
Hermione,
You know this is for your own safety. There are other matters that we must attend to and I cannot come running every time you need something. This is the last response from us. We will contact you when necessary.
Harry Potter
Her eyes fixed on the scrap of parchment, she knew this had been written in a last resort to silence her. She had no ideas as to why, but Beau had told her that Harry had told her not to bring any more letters to him or to leave the safe-house at all.
"Mistress please. You have not eaten anything since morning. You must eat something."
Hermione shook her head, slowly at first, then quickly. Finally, she stood still once more.
Beau's voice seemed distant and unfamiliar. She felt the evening chill begin to seep through her thin shirt and into her skin. Though it was summer, it was not particularly warm. She knew it had something to do with the house. The house itself was unnaturally chilly in places and in some, like the attic, almost unbearably warm.
"At least go to sleep. I promise to wake you if anything happens. But you're no good just walking around like that."
Her eyes, still focused on the object of her shock, barely registered that Beau was leading her out of the room, towards the stairs.
"Beau --- no --- wait ---" she protested, beginning to fight off the elf's strong grip.
"No. Mistress must sleep."
It was a firm resolve, and Beau wasn't going to rest until Hermione was tucked in upstairs.
She decided to go along with it. Maybe she'd feel different in the morning.
Highly doubted, she thought to herself.
AN: This is meant to take place right after HBP, so staring the summer after. I guess you could say this is where JK left off. I'm hoping to update every week. But I'll forewarn you of any writers-block. Please read and review. Reviews help me change things so my readers appreciate the writing itself more. Please and thank you!