By Any Other Name.
by Flaignhan.
Prologue.
Hermione Granger wandered clumsily down the stairs, her right leg seeming much heavier than her left. She gripped the wooden banister to stop herself from stumbling down the stairs and causing much unneeded damage to herself and leant against the wall momentarily as she sorted herself out.
She arrived in the kitchen, and put a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster, noticing that it was past nine o'clock – both her parents were at work. Crookshanks strolled lazily up to her and wound himself around her legs, trying to get some attention from his owner. Hermione crouched down and scratched him behind his ears, earning herself a satisfied purr and a look of content from her cat.
She unwillingly shivered as the memory of her last few days at Hogwarts floated back into her memory. She hadn't told her parents she was leaving home yet. She hadn't told them that she was most likely going to end up tortured or killed by the most evil wizard that history had ever recorded, or by one of his pathetic, narrow minded, dependant, glory seeking peons.
No, of course she hadn't mentioned that.
Nor had she mentioned that her headmaster was now encased in a white tomb in the Hogwarts grounds, or that there had been a horrific battle in what was, supposedly, the safest place in Britain.
She had mentioned, however, that she would not be returning to school in September, causing her mother to gasp and her father frown at her in a confused way. Of course they thought it was the result of simple things, bullies, finding the workload too easy, arguments with friends… They didn't realise of course that they were preposterous ideas, none of those factors had ever halted her studies before, and now that she was an official witch, (having come of age at the beginning of her last school year) such problems were laughable.
No, she had not told them a thing, and felt rather guilty about it.
She showered and dressed as per usual, pulling an orange v-neck jumper over her white vest, before plucking a few ginger cat hairs from her dark jeans. These days, Hermione actually looked like an adult, rather than a constantly worrying, frizzy haired, teenage girl who was more often than not seen carrying a number of books in her thin arms.
She had grown up.
Or rather, she'd had to.
She sighed, running her fingers through her thick tangle of bushy hair, which, although still an annoyance, had calmed down a fair bit over the last couple of years. She supposed it was her hormones settling down as she neared the end of her teen years. She lifted a strand away from her head and frowned as she looked in the mirror. Her hair really could do with a bit of a trim, it was getting quite long. She let go of the brown lock that she had twined between her fingers and it fell back into place. Well, as into place as it could be, when her hair was as unkempt as it was. She patted it down half heartedly and let her thoughts wander back to the impossible task that had been plaguing her mind ever since she'd stepped off the Hogwarts Express.
She would be going to The Burrow soon enough. From there they would go to Harry's aunt and uncle's, as Dumbledore had requested, and then on to Godric's Hollow, and from there…she had no idea.
She heard a loud crack and looked out of her window sharply, causing her neck to click in a most unpleasant way. She knew the sound of apparition anywhere. Was it Harry? No…he hadn't passed his test…he hadn't even come of age yet. Not that that would bother him. Ron also hadn't passed his test, but it was unlikely that that would bother him either. A member of the Order, perhaps? No, they were far too concerned with tracking Death Eaters and avoiding death at the moment. She didn't have the slightest clue as to who it would be, and she put her hands quickly into her pockets to stop them from shaking. No one knew where she lived…they couldn't trace her…could they?
She froze as the door bell rang, the traditional Westminster chime echoing inside her head. It all seemed too horribly and utterly normal. She snatched up her wand from her desk; cast the strongest protection charm that she knew on herself (which rebounded everything except the Unforgivables, another thought that made her shiver unwillingly) and made her way slowly downstairs.
She opened the door a tiny bit, and her eyes widened. She had been right to be cautious, but she opened the door fully now, causing her caller to fall flat on his face in the hallway.
Blonde hair splayed around his head, and she noticed that there were frequent blotches of dry blood on his horribly pale skin. He looked like he hadn't showered since…since the night he'd left with Snape.
Biting her lip worriedly, resembling her younger self ever so slightly, she dragged him fully into the house, and shut the door, casting several locking charms on it.
She ran a shaky hand through her hair, wondering why, exactly, there was an unconscious Draco Malfoy lying at her feet.