Chapter One

The "theme song" of this story is 'Fix You' by Coldplay. I just feel that it relates really well to the story. Try listening to it before or whilst reading—you'll get more into the mood of it. Or not. But music has been known to intensify the feels, don't you think?

The stormy weather started one mid-October morning. The ceiling of the Great Hall hung low with thick billows of grey fog, setting a damp and dreary mood to the breakfast events. Not that things hadn't been a bit heavy since term began, the bad weather just intensified the feeling and made it harder for one to pretend that everything had gone back to normal.

Even after that long and glorious summer, the one that had celebrated victory and freedom and safety at last, a shadow of what had been defeated still cast itself over the Wizarding world. Hogwarts in particular felt the weight. Having hosted the final battles of the Second Wizarding War within its walls, and having been controlled by Voldemort and his supporters just last year, the school was inevitably susceptible to feel the war's repercussions. The castle itself had only just been finished with repairs, and there was still a certain fragility and caution with which students discussed the past few months. Many returning students had been directly involved in the Battle of Hogwarts, and the incoming crop of first years seemed to have lost the usual gleam of delight in their eyes. Most of them could name loved ones who'd died a matter of months ago—the wounds were far from healed.

It hit Hermione harder than most, the way Hogwarts had changed. She'd been living in a strange new house in muggle London all summer, taking care of her parents (who were still recovering their memories), and she'd thought that returning to Hogwarts would feel like a warm welcome home. She supposed there was significant difference to be afforded to the fact that her two best friends (one of which was a bit more than) as well as the rest of her year, were no longer present. Today, though, Hermione was feeling a bit perkier than usual. She had made plans to meet Harry and Ron at The Three Broomsticks and it was to be the first time she had seen them in two months. They had chosen not to complete their magical educations, in favour of Auror training. At the time, she'd called their decision ridiculous, but now that she had to live through this distress without them, she almost wished she had left too.

Since she'd returned to Hogwarts, Hermione had been spending most of her limited free time with Ginny Weasley, who was quite often accompanied by Luna Lovegood. Hermione generally found spending time alone with Luna a bit uncomfortable, but seeing another familiar face around certainly cheered her up a bit.

Hermione, Ginny, and Luna had been delighted to discover, during Herbology with Ravenclaw a few weeks back, that their good friend Neville Longbottom was staying on the grounds for a few months to assist Professor Sprout with a larger than expected crop of medicinal winter vegetables.

"It's a bit of a relief, honestly." Neville had confided, "Gran's been intolerable. Ever since she heard about what I've done in the Battle, she hasn't shut up about it. We have guests 'round for supper all the time now just so she can show me off."

These friends made it bearable. They lent a sense of familiarity to the blur of pain and numbness. But what they didn't lend was a sense of home. Because now- only now that all of that was lost- did Hermione realise that Hogwarts had been her home. And she bit her lip hard to fight back the tears.

"You look cheerful." Ginny's voice interrupted Hermione's train of thought. Hermione shrugged. "Not much to be excited about, I s'pose..."

Hermione invited Ginny to come along with her to Hogsmeade, but Ginny was busy with Quidditch practice. Romilda Vane, who had overheard their conversation, offered to go, but Ginny shot her such a murderous look that Romilda fled, leaving her meal on the table untouched.

Hermione ended up going to Hogsmeade alone, though not at all disheartened, to meet Harry and Ron at The Three Broomsticks. Frost crunched under her feet and she folded her arms tightly against her chest, barricading herself from the ruthless cold that seemed to seep through her skin and down to her bones.

She spotted them, presently, a distance away. She felt a pang of joy as she picked out Harry's familiar features: spectacles, unruly hair and all. It had been too long since she'd seen him. And there was Ron. Her heart did a little flutter when she saw him, even after all these years.

"Harry! Ron!" She shouted as she picked up her pace to join them.

She hugged Harry first, then Ron- God, he was so strong- for a bit too long. He let go before she did.

Harry seemed well enough. He wore an expression of weariness, though, that Hermione had never seen him with. Auror training had had it's effect on both of them. They looked stronger, more solid. They were men, not boys. There was something very different about Ron, however. She had noticed it ever since the war ended, really, but it had become more pronounced with each successive time they met. He seemed a bit stiff and vacant. And somewhere in those beautiful sky-blue eyes, there was something lacking. This sort of fire that had always been there, and that Hermione had always adored, was missing. And it was sad, but also rather frightening.

They were tucked into a snug little booth in the back corner of the pub, where they hoped to avoid most of the stares. A pair of particularly warty old witches in sweeping black robes whispered harshly over bowls of steaming slugs, their unwavering gazes (the witches'- not the slugs' gazes) fixed upon Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Even though the war was over and Voldemort gone, there was still danger. His supporters still lingered. Since Ron, Hermione, and especially Harry had played such major roles in the downfall of the Dark Lord, they had to be particularly cautious. And it was exhausting.

"Chess board." Ron remarked absently, indicating a chess board on the end of their table, nearest the wall.

Harry and Hermione each ordered butterbeers, and Ron made quite a scene about ordering firewhiskey, since he now legally could.

"You won't drink that!" Hermione said sharply. "It's only mid-morning!"

"'Course I will." Ron said with a grin.

Harry talked all about his and Ron's part-time auror training. Ron started to say something, but choked on his firewhiskey and collapsed into a fit of flaming coughs, which more than singed the table. The murmurs of the witches across the room became increasingly off-setting, sometimes sounding more like enchantments than conversation.

"Harry?" said Hermione, a little shakily. "Do you think we should take a quick look 'round the pub? Just to be safe, you know." She gestured tentatively toward the murmuring witches.

Harry agreed to get up and have a look, insisting that Hermione and Ron stay seated so as not to attract attention.

"Fancy a game of chess?" Ron asked Hermione, as Harry left.

Hermione shrugged. Though she prided herself on her logic, chess- with Ron- had always been a tremendous weakness on her part. He virtually always beat her. She thought, sometimes, that this might have more to do with the nervous feeling she got when they played than actual lack of skill on her part. She still got butterflies in her stomach like she had when they were eleven. Perhaps more out of habit than anything else. But then again, he was really gorgeous when he was concentrated…

"Aren't you supposed to be the brilliant one?" he remarked by her second move.

"Shut up, won't you?"

"if you really want me to." He laughed as his bishop casually demolished her rook. Hermione felt a bit embarrassed. "You really should have been expecting that." he added.

And as she watched him, just for a moment, Hermione thought that she could see that fire in his eyes again. And when he looked up at her with a sly grin, "Your move." he said, she was sure of it. His eyes were alive and bright, and so icredibly blue. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and she couldn't help smiling back.

But the moment was cut blunt as Harry returned abruptly, talking fast. "They're supporters, Ron! One's literally got the dark mark." It felt unreal. They were supposed to be safe, now. "We've got to go, mate. Hermione, I'm so sorry. You should disapparate as well. Just be safe-"

Hermione caught Ron's eyes, for just a moment, and saw that they had gone cold and vacant again. Then Harry disapparated, dragging Ron along with him. Just like that, they were gone. Her friends were taken from her again, and she shivered from sudden cold.

Thank you so much for reading! Please review! I want criticism-especially about whether everyone is in-character.