Written post DH. Don't treat this like the Bible and take it too seriously.

It had only been a week since the war, but the paranoia did not go away; the fear that there was still something out there trying to kill Hermione and her two best friends. She feared that it would be like this for the rest of her life. She wasn't entirely wrong. For the rest of their days, the three of them would still keep their wands concealed beneath their pillows at night, and were almost always on subconscious guard. But for now, she tried to let the relief set in. It wasn't easy. She hadn't slept very well since Lord Voldemort fell to Harrys wand seven days ago. In that time, she'd gotten about twelve hours sleep, so she was on edge and cranky almost all the time. Not to mention Ron had barely looked at her since she'd kissed him in the Room of Requirement. Every time he did, he turned very red and became flustered and embarrassed which meant he then became very defensive, usually asking her angrily why she was looking at him so much. Harry himself had been unusually calm. Hermione suspected he was on a lengthy prescription of Madam Camilla's Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey.

Hermione sighed. She was sitting in the dining room of No. 12 Grimmauld Place with Ron and Harry. There was a lengthy and awkward silence, broken occasionally by Harrys content sighs.

Grimmauld Place had had to have been expanded a good couple of meters in all directions as all the remaining teachers had come back along with a couple of families that needed extra protecting from remaining Death Eaters. This was now one of the last safe places out there.

Hermione looked up. She looked at Harry and his little smile, then at Ron. He was fiddling with a hole in the tablecloth. His face was slowly turning red, he knew Hermiones eyes were on him. She looked away, he'd have started another shouting match if she didn't. She didn't know why, but the silence was pressing on the back of her brain like a weight and with every second that passed she became more and more annoyed and angry. Hermione wasn't usually a violent person, but she was getting so aggravated by the second, she knew that if she didn't break something soon, she'd crack and probably start hexing Ron and Harry… especially Ron.

Good god… what had gotten into her? On top of the mounting rage she was feeling, she now felt upset and angry at herself too. Without warning she jumped up from her chair and ran out of the room. She could hear Harry tell Ron he should go after her as she ran up the stairs. Oh if only he would. All she needed was a hug and a shoulder to cry on. Hope welled inside her for a second, but it was ripped away and hurt pilled itself on top of her already conflicting emotions when she heard the tone of voice Ron usually used when he was making excuses not to do something.

She ran faster to the top floor, it had been uninhabited since Sirius had died. Plus, there was no one around to hear her anyway. She flung herself into the old dusty room, slamming the door behind her. It cracked and almost fell of its hinges more because of old age rather than Hermiones strength. She looked around in fury, trying to find something... something she could destroy that no one would miss. She tore the drapes from the old four poster bed, kicked and punched a chest of drawers to oblivion and tore the doors of a wardrobe from it's hinges. It still wasn't enough. She pulled her wand out and blew it to pieces.

This was a big mistake. The room was covered in decades of dust, and this paired with a spark caused the entire room to ignite in an almighty explosion as each particle caught fire. Hermione screamed and ducked. After a while, she looked up. Everything in the room was burned to a cinder, but there was no remaining fire as there should have been. She noticed she was standing in a part of the floor that had remained unburned, and she assumed that this was how she was still alive. But what had happened?

"For a Mudblood, you don't know very much about how Muggle fire works, do you Granger?"

Hermione turned slowly. Draco Malfoy was standing a foot from her, in the section of floor that had remained safe. She was shocked to say the least.

Malfoy put his wand back inside his robes. "Speechless for once. Looks like you're finally learning how to behave like a Mudblood."

"You… you…"

"Saved your ass? Yes I did. You might want to clean this up before anyone finds out what happened, your pristine Golden Child status might be lost." He turned to leave.

"A… but.. what…"

Malfoy snickered. "For the smartest Witch of her age, you are acting the dunce."

Hermione looked offended, but gathered her senses. "How?" Was all she could manage.

"I shouldn't have to explain myself to a Mudblood. But maybe it'll teach you some respect. There's a Library hidden behind that bookshelf," Malfoy pointed to what would have been Hermiones next point of destruction after the wardrobe. "I've been reading in there since we got here, I put a Muffliato charm on this room every time I come here. I heard your ruckus and came out in time to see you nearly kill yourself. I should point out to you that I only saved your mediocre ass because your people saved my family. I don't know if you Mudbloods or half-bloods have the same concept of honour as we Purebloods have, but ever since you took us into hiding, we have been indebted to you, and now, we are even."

Hermione was still gaping.

"I trust you will not talk of this, I don't wish to have shame brought on my family. And I will keep your secret of your unladylike temper-tantrum. Another thing we Purebloods are honour bound to do is to keep our promises. Don't make me regret saving your ass." And he walked out of the room.

Hermione spent the next hour sitting in a corner by the bed, contemplating what had happened. After she'd gotten over the initial shock, she got up and proceeded to spend the next five hours returning the room to its former dusty, decrepit and decaying glory.

By the time she had finished, it was one in the morning. It wasn't at all surprising that neither Harry, nor Ron came to look for her. Harry was probably convinced she was 'just fine' being in the state of mind he was and Ron wouldn't want to face the concept of running into her by herself.

'It never ceases to amaze me,' she thought as she sat down with a copy of "Hogwarts: A History" from 1028, 'how people can manage to stay in character sometimes.'