She slowly walked through the big, empty hallway; her lone footsteps echoing around the room. She knew where she was heading, but the door got further and further away with each step she took. The more she concentrated on that door the more it shrunk. The more her mind wandered, the further away it got. She started pace walking, then running, but it was no use. The longer she was stuck there, the blacker the room became until she couldn't see a thing. The room started shrinking around her, she could feel it. She tried to run to where the door was but found only wall. She was trapped in darkness with no escape…
"Hermione! Hermione!"
A four year old Hermione Granger woke up to find her father standing over her.
"Are you okay, Hermione? You were shouting in your sleep."
"I'm fine, Daddy. It was just a nightmare."
Her father sat down on the edge of the bed, because she looked quite pale. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Well, I was in a big room, and there was a door, and I was trying to reach it, but I couldn't. I knew what was behind it, and I knew that I had to go through the door, but I didn't want to. It scared me too much."
"Well, was it the thing behind the door that scared you?" the little girl nodded. "Can you tell me what it was?"
"You promise that you won't laugh?"
"I promise."
"It was me, but all grown up and big. If I went through the door, I would become a big girl, but I don't want to. It's too scary and I want to be little forever."
Her father nodded. "Did you know that I had the very same dreams when I was your age? I was very scared about growing up, too. But my daddy always used to tell me that it took a lot of courage to grow up and become who you really are. You may not want to, but in time you will be big and brave enough to do so. Growing up is a part of life, and if you can't do so then you leave."
"Do you mean die?"
"Yes, I do."
"But what if death doesn't want to give you a chance to grow up? What if he just wants to kill you straight away?"
"You're scared about this, aren't you?"
"A little bit."
"Well, don't worry. It's normal for people of your age to worry about this. Think of death as a person; just a normal person. He has all of the same body parts; arms, legs, mouth, nose, eyes. He also has a heart. He knows when it's someone's time to go, and he knows when they should stay; but he will always give you a chance. When it is time, you have to go; but until then you need to live your life to the full. Life can't be appreciated without death, but it does no good to dwell on it. As you become older and wiser, you become less scared of death and you treat him as a friend. You will not believe me until you are older, but it is true."
Hermione smiled and nodded. "Thanks daddy. I think I'll be okay now." After one last hug her father left the room and Hermione managed to go to sleep peacefully.
A nineteen year old Hermione Granger sighed as she lifted her head out of the pensive (McGonagall had lent it to her for a while). It was her way of coping. The war had ended a few months ago; so she went looking for her parents. She found them where she thought she would, but there was just one problem.
The memory charm that she had used hadn't gone according to plan. Something had gone wrong, and now, it couldn't be undone. Hermione tried to lift the charm, but they still didn't remember a thing. This meant that Hermione had no parents. Well, she did, but they were stuck in the memory loss ward of St. Mungos, probably permanently (to make it worse, she had to see Gilderoy Lockhart every time she wanted to visit them). There was the chance that an antidote could be made, but since the type of spell could not be identified, it was a long process of trial and error.
This is what Hermione did. While all of her friends could get up, get jobs and move on from the war, she was stuck. In the day she would work constantly, trying to find the antidote; and at night she would go to the pensive. She would replay memories of when she was younger; it was the only memory of her parents that she had and she didn't want to forget them.
Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by a sudden noise.
"Up again, 'Mione?" she turned to see Ron standing next to her.
"Did you-" She started to say, but he just nodded.
"Why do you keep doing this, Mione? Why do you keep looking back? Every time, it hurts you more."
"My dad always used to tell me that the fires of the past, no matter how entrancing, will only singe the wings of the future. I guess that it's true, but this is the only reminder I have of them, and I don't want to forget. You wouldn't know what t's like Ron. You still have your parents, you haven't lost them."
"Mione, I may not have lost my parents, but I have lost family before, I do know what it feels like to lose someone that close. Don't forget that. Also, don't forget that you are the smartest witch of this generation. If there is anyone who can find the antidote, it is you."
Hermione smiled slightly. "I guess you're right." She and Ron stood up to go back to bed.
"I have to say though, Mione, those really were some terrible sayings. Death has a heart? The wings of the future?"
"Well, it's not like you're any better."
"What do you mean?"
"Think of life as a piece of cheese? Books only try to curse us with knowledge?"
"… just, shut up."
A/N: This was written for round 13 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Go Harpies!