Chapter 1

Hermione sighed as the sunlight streamed unceasingly through her windows. Rays of sun should be banned. Hermione thought. They are just far to cheery for such a time. Brings false hope. She kicked off her covers yet remained lying in bed, the dark and heavy bags under her eyes revealing that despite the queen-sized comfy Sleep-number bed, satin sheets, and plush pillows, sleep still refused to be seduced to come and stay awhile. Nope. She hadn't slept in days. Hadn't slept well in months.

She sighed again, she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, and flipped her legs over the edge of the bed. The cheery room with its yellow-painted walls filled with beloved knick-knacks, a doll house, and shelves and shelves of her favorite books contrasted greatly against Hermione's never-ending cloud of consuming sadness. Looking around the room, a slew of childhood memories flashed before her eyes. Her beloved stuffed moose Ducky (don't even ask), the chipped tea set, and the first dictionary she had ever received (she was eight years old. it was the only item on her birthday list. read in record time. no seriously, her name is in the Guinness Book of World Records) The fond memories that her room contained still failed to lift Hermione from her depressed gloom. This room reminded her too much of home. Her parents. She stifled a sob. Her parents. Gone. Never to know her. Know of her. To remember. To them, she had never even existed.

Obliviate. Hermione watched, tears streaming down her face, as the pure love in her parents eyes faded into emptiness.

She faded from the pictures. The necklace she had made for her mum in her Transfiguration class disappeared. Every trace of Hermione was erased in the Muggle world. In that one word, her entire foundation had crumbled. Dad. Hermione gasped. My bumbling protector. Hermione's chest heaved with emotion. Mum. My best girl friend. My confidant. Without you guys, your wise advice and encouragement how can I go on? Your calming presence was the only thing that could sooth my frazzled nerves. You were my only connection to "normal" and the Muggle world.

Then, Hermione could not even imagine a worse, soul-wrenching pain that what she was experiencing. She gave a short, bitter laugh. What a naive child she had been then. Then. That would turn out to be only the beginning. The beginning of inconsolable, overpowering grief.

More and more slaughters of Harry's closest friends and those he considered family happened in quicker intervals. Neville. Luna. Ginny. The rest of the Weasely's were the next victims of horrific torture and long, drawn out killings. Ron and Ginny's deaths had especially devastated Harry. Not to sound rude but it was true. It was Ron and Ginny, how could it not affect him in the greatest of all ways. Hermione remembered He became a shadow of his former self. Never smiling or laughing, his sparkling emerald eyes dulled, red-rimmed from the crying he only succumbed to in private, Harry Potter was breaking. Though still unable to kill Harry literally, the Dark Lord seemed to finally realize how to do so through other means.

And that's how Hermione ended up back at Hogwarts, living in the Room of Requirement for the past couple of months. It had been moved from its previous location. How it did? Hermione wished she knew. It was as if the school instinctively knew the importance of secrecy. Only Headmistress McGonagall and Harry knew of her little abode here. Not even Snape, whose allegiance Harry still questioned, knew of her whereabouts.

Hermione shook herself out of her daydreams No use breaking down about the past. There is no time for weakness. Despite her new "no where to go, all day to get there" life at Hogwarts, Hermione was determined to be productive and help Harry as much as she could. God knows he needs all the help he can get. I can't even imagine the pressure he's under. The weight of the Wizarding World on his shoulders. The fate of all that is good in his hands. Etc. Etc. Harry can not afford to make any more blunders. In Hermione's heart, way deep inside, pushed back behind her fierce loyalty to Harry, she felt as if the moment of triumph had passed. That they had missed it. As if, somewhere along the lines, something had gone horrible wrong and messed up fate. She believed that Voldemort had grown so powerful that it was near impossible to defeat him now. At least, not without help. It was as if the wizards felt it too, for lately there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. As if knowledge of imminent defeat had been imprinted on the hearts of all those in the Wizarding World.

Obviously, Hermione thought, Voldemort must be stopped. I wonder... She hurried over to her mini library and pulled out a few thick books. She was currently in the midst of research and studies, trying to find some key, or hidden fact, that could aid Harry's endeavor. Multiple theories weaved in and out of her frenzied mind. Time passed by unknowingly around Hermione as hours and hours passed with her pouring over the pages of the books, underlining, dog-earing, sighing, crossing out sentences. She finally gazed up at the clock. It was the beginning of the twilight. And not a single theory she began with remained a possibility. She slumped over her desk, tears starting to bud from the corners of her eyes. God Dammit. Lately, she was being so God damn emotional all the time and it was starting to bug the hell out of her. She angrily dashed the tears from her eyes and gently closed the books and filing away her notes.

Suddenly there was a flash of green. Hermione screamed. Dobby stepped out from the fire place. "Hello Miss."

"Dobby! What are you doing here! How did you know where to find me?"

"The Headmistress McGonagall has sent me, miss." He bobbed his head. "It is such an honor, miss, to be entrusted with this, miss -"

"Dobby! What is it?" Dobby cleared his throat and pulled out a notecard.

"Code DA. Lemondrops." And with that, Dobby snapped his fingers and, with a crack, disappeared. Hermione stood frozen, eyes unblinking, a knot forming in her stomach.

"Crap."