This starts at the end of sixth year and goes into the seventh year. Dumbledore found all the horcruxes. Everyone who died in ANY of the books died here as well but the Battle took place at the end of sixth year.

Normal. A word used rarely over the past year. After the battle that destroyed the darkest wizard known to man, goblins, giants, elves and half creatures; all of the student's had been sent home. There had been little noise, as everyone had either been sleeping or in a state of shock. Hermione Granger spent the entire ride staring out the window, trembling, even though the days were getting steadily warmer.

At King's Cross, there were relieved sighs and sobs coming from parents as they saw their child exit the train. Hermione greeted her parents with a long hug, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, honey. I'm so glad you're back," her mother, Deborah, cried.

The parents of Hogwarts' students had been sent a letter earlier that day informing them that Voldemort along with many students, staff, Death Eaters and other fighters had died and to "please be careful when talking to your child as it will take them a long while to move on". Those that had lost family were visited by the surviving staff to break the news, bring back the body and offer their condolences.

The Granger's stood on the platform for a few more minutes, until her father, Paul, put an arm around his wife's shoulders and set off to the car. Deborah pushed the luggage trolley, Hermione clinging onto her parent's sleeves, making sure they really were there, not just a figment of her imagination. She was placed in the back seat, Paul doing up her seatbelt.

Everything was just a hazy blur because she hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and hadn't had much of the elaborate breakfast that had been sent to the common room.

Her door was pulled open and she robotically got out, heading straight for her bedroom, the one thing that hadn't changed over the year. The comfort of her bead put her to sleep in seconds, dreaming of various coloured lights flashing around her.

Hermione rolled over, glaring at her clock. Four-oh-three. In the morning. She groaned and pulled the purple pillow over her face. She hadn't slept as long as she'd hoped. Pulling back the sheet, she made her way to the bathroom. Switching on the light, she sat on the white tiled floor, alternating between watching her shadow and her reflection in the full length mirror. The sadness of losing Fred, Tonks, Dumbledore and Lupin grew into anger. It wasn't directed at anyone else, not even Voldemort or his Death Eaters, but at herself.

Ever since the Easter holidays when she was in Fourth Year, she'd been growing more and more self-conscious. Hermione hadn't expected her Muggle friends to have grown up so much in the short period of time that she'd been away at school. By the next holiday, she'd bought make-up, nearly a whole new wardrobe (Muggle and witch), had invested in the best de-frizzer sprays and gels, but the thing that had really hit her, was her weight. All of her female and even quite a few of her male friends were thinner than her. She didn't like that everyone looked better than her, so she'd gotten into a daily routine of exercising. After a few months of getting nearly no-where, she'd resorted to dieting.

When she looked up dieting tips on the internet, she'd come across a site called House of Thin. It had what she needed. BMI charts, model BMIs, tips, rules, chat rooms, everything. Then she found the photos. These people were very thin. They had bones poking out at all angles, all over their bodies. Some weren't as bad, but nearly all of them were thinner than she wanted to be. It didn't look healthy. They were called 'thinspiration' and fell under different categories; real girl, scenespo, model, celebrity and reverse. Reverse were photos of severely obese people to turn the viewer of eating.

Hermione, although a little revolted by the majority of the people, followed a few of the rules and tips. She started off cutting down her calorie intake to 1500 a day, with a half hour of exercise. By the time the Final Battle had come around, she'd fasted for a total of three months in three years.

"Hermione? Where are you?" She heard her mum call from down the hall.

Locking the bathroom door, Hermione readied herself for a shower.

Hermione stirred her cornflakes and milk with her spoon, round and round the bowl. Her appetite had shrunk dramatically since the Battle, and she couldn't bring herself to eat.

"Hermione, darling, please eat. You don't look too well," her mum pleaded from the other end of the kitchen bench.

Hermione looked up at her mum and answered, "I don't feel too well. I'm going to lie down for a bit."

Once up in her room, Hermione pulled her journal from underneath her bed. It was A5 sized with green, purple and black swirls on the front and back. The paper was thick and slightly brown with no lines. She'd stuck a new thinspiration in it every Monday, describing the girl's beauty, what that girl had that she didn't and why she wanted it. The first picture was of a girl who had a fairly regular body. The latest had thighs that barely touched.

I feel like I'm falling further and further into an endless hole. Everyone else is at the top, not realising that there is a huge, gaping hope right near them. I wonder when they'll see it. Sometimes I don't want them to notice. I'll just fall quietly. Other times I want to scream, tell them they can still catch me. I haven't gone that far.
But then I think, maybe mentally, I have gone a long way, but physically, I haven't. I'm always going between 10st and 9st weight, then getting it back, losing it again. An endless cycle. But this time is going to be different. I'm going to reach8st 9lb by the first day back. That gives me a little longer than the usual holidays.
The Final Battle destroyed quite a bit of Hogwarts. We were sent home a month early because they were worried the castle was unstable. Most of the staff had to be taken to St. Mungos for their injuries. I hope everyone is ok.
I think I might skip my exercises today, I'm just too devastated.

Hermione shut the journal and placed it under her bed, checking that it couldn't be seen from the doorway. She lay across the white shaggy rug in the middle of her room searching the internet for her latest role-model. After checking several sites, she came across a photo of a blonde girl flexing her arm. She had no flab and little muscle. Pure thin. Hermione bookmarked the page, shut the laptop and rolled onto her back.

"It's going to be a long break."