Chapter One

The Midnight Guest

She had spent all of her 25 years in London, and yet somehow the rain still surprised her. It hadn't been completely her error--the sky had tricked her, convinced her it was a lovely day outside and that there wouldn't be a drop on her pretty little head. But now it was pouring, and Hermione Granger was hustling out of the tube station as quickly as she could without slipping down the steps and killing herself. With one arm wrapped tightly around a large square box and the other balancing the weight of her purse with a brown leather bag, she planted her feet on the sidewalk with a heavy sigh. Luckily, her flat was only a fifteen-minute walk away, and when she arrived, she was so relieved that her load felt suddenly weightless. After a performance that included some impressive juggling, hackey-sack, and skillful tooth weightlifting, the door to her flat swung open heavily and she dropped her things onto the floor.

She looked up at the clock; it was half-past eight and already it was pitch black outside. With a few flicks, the TV was on, the water in the sink was running, and a soft light flooded from the corner of the living room. She placed her coat on a rack behind the door and disappeared through a hallway to the left. A few minutes later, she emerged in a black t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, her damp hair hanging loosely over her left shoulder. Standing in front of the sink, she placed a pot under the running water and watched as it filled up as she listened to the news. A box of bowtie pasta sat patiently on the counter next to the stove, and oh! "Congratulations to Harry Potter," the TV rang out in a shrilly, excited (yet obviously secretly disappointed) female voice. "He's just gotten married, oh Ginny Weasley must be the luckiest girl in the world!" Hermione stopped, the pot of water still in her hands, and looked on in time to see a clip from the wedding video. Two beaming smiles lit up the screen as the two newlyweds practically skipped down the aisle, and for a split second she saw her own beaming smile watch on with the rest of them. Ah, so they've finally caught on, she thought to herself with a wicked grin. Took them long enough. She turned back to the counter and placed the pot on the stove, still listening to the jealous newscaster drone on about the wedding. "You know, their families must be overjoyed. They've finally gotten to reunite, and for such a wonderful occasion. This wedding is something of a heaven-send, and I think it happened at just the right moment. It's the beginning of a new life, a good fresh start, after the hard times we've seen. And especially for Harry, getting to see his friends and family together again, I think--"

Hermione flicked her fingers, and the woman was gone. Instead, she was replaced by a slightly overweight man speaking enthusiastically about his amazing, revolutionary six-burger indoor grill. The box of pasta rattled over the boiling water, each bow floating briefly before settling at the bottom, and Hermione sighed. If only Harry's friends and family had all been there... she thought, tossing the box toward the trash can and fighting hard to ignore it as it hit the floor two feet away. After a few minutes, she carried the bowl of pasta and a small glass of wine to the sofa and settled down into it. She flicked back over to the news. Surely they must be onto something else by now, she thought. "Christmas is two weeks away, and that means...time for present shopping! What the best, most sought-after gifts are and where you can find them, coming up shortly. But first..."

The fork stabbed lightly at the pasta, clinking against the bottom of the bowl, then lazily made its way towards Hermione's parted lips. Just as she bit down, her lips closing over the engraved silver, the shrilly voice returned, this time in a much darker tone. Hermione wondered what could possibly have happened now--after living through the past fourteen years in complete terror of anything and everything, it was hard to truly shock her any more. She picked up her glass of wine and swirled it around gently before touching it to her lips. She was about to place it back on the floor when a very fuzzy picture of what looked like a small orange creature appeared on the screen.

"This just in: it's been reported today that there has been a sighting of Ronald Weasley just outside of Avebury, just this morning."

And the wine shot straight out of her mouth. She couldn't lift her hand to wipe away the red trickling down her chin; she was frozen stiff. Her ears reached achingly toward the tv, as if they were reaching for the sounds of sustaining life, and she slowly rose to her feet, the bowl of pasta tumbling blindly out of her lap and onto the floor and her breath caught in her throat.

"None of this has been verified, and police are skeptical as to whether this claim holds any merit. The man who claims to have seen Ronald Weasley is currently in psychiatric care in a center just outside of London. Ronald Weasley has been missing for over five and a half years and was previously presumed dead. We'll update you as soon as we have further word on--"

There was a knock at the door, and Hermione nearly jumped through the ceiling. She felt her breath move through her and didn't recognize the sensation of air entering her lungs. She felt like she was drowning as she approached the door and placed her eye against the view hole. It was a hooded man, and with the darkness outside whe couldn't discern who it was. She felt her stomach drop somewhere into the floor and her hand quivered against the doorknob.

"Who is it?" she finally mustered up. There was no answer. She placed her eye desperately against the peephole again, straining as much as possible to identify the stranger. She opened her mouth, the words leaving her throat much easier this time.

"Who's there?"

"Hermione, please...open the door."

Her heart exploded beneath her ribcage. No...it's impossible...

Her hand fumbled with the lock, her fingers turning the handle as calmly as possible. Her eyes closed intuitively as she took a step back. The door swung open and rain fell at her feet. She opened her eyes and a sharp breath shuddered through her. A pair of hurt, painfully blue eyes seared into her and she stepped back once more.

"Ron?"