Chapter 1.

Back for her Seventh year at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry and it should be the easiest year yet. The war is over and Voldemort is dead and gone. The streets of wizarding Britain are alight with celebrations which still show no sign of ending, but Hermione doesn't join them. What is there to celebrate? Death, more death, and destruction. Never a joyous thought. Instead, she buried herself in her books - as any good know-it-all would - and avoided the world at large until her final September the first train journey up to bonnie Scotland and the place of her dreams and nightmares.

The desire for normalcy overtook all rational thought. All she wanted was to bury herself in routine, but from the moment she stepped on the train she knew that wouldn't be the case. The students were too quiet - their losses also too great. As head girl she felt a sort of responsibility for these students- no more than children- who, like her, got caught up in an adult's war of bigoted belief. Nevertheless, she had to carry on a patrol of the train before she could retire to the private 'head's' cabin. Duty before pleasure after all; not that there was much pleasure to be had anymore…

A half hour into the patrol and a scream reverberated around the train. A young, female scream full of fear, pain and pure terror. Hermione ran as fast as she could to the source, her war instincts kicking in, but was relieved to see nothing but a sleeping 12 year old girl, warding off the terrors of the night. Nightmares Hermione could deal with; they were an old friend.

As she carefully shook the girl awake she whispered to her to keep her calm, "Hush now little one, it's only nightmares- they can't hurt you anymore. Hush. Calm and relaxed." And the girl slowly came round from her fearsome dreams, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead and tears running from her eyes as she softly whimpered in Hermione's arms.

"It's alright little one, you can cry. What's your name?" She asked- trying to remain calm despite the grip of icy fear which had crept up her spine with the memories that had awoken.

"Sally-Anne" she whispered despondently. "Sally-Anne Parker. I'm so sorry miss. I didn't mean to disturb you. You can leave now if you want. I'm fine." As Sally-Anne garbled out this response, Hermione was dumbfounded. She couldn't understand why this girl was so upset, or had so much fear which appeared to be directed at her.

"Miss Parker, my name is Hermione. I'm the head girl. I just wanted to make sure you-" and that was as far as she got before she was quietly interrupted with "I know, but I don't like to be around people. So please, please leave."

Hermione was all set to respond angrily to that dismissal but the look of pleading in her eyes changed her mind and all she said was "Of course." Before slipping out of the cabin door.

The war was a terrible thing- so much unnecessary suffering. It is easy to forget other people when one an introvert like she is. Honestly- who was she to put her suffering before others? Here she saw a little second year caught on the outskirts of a war she had no place in. Who knows what losses Sally Anne had endured? Who was she to feel her own suffering was so important? No. Then and there Hermione Granger resolved to try to hide her war terrors and help all those young who were inadvertently born into an era of darkness and a reign of terror. Never again, she reaffirmed, would a student have to suffer like that- especially one so young.

As Hermione finally made her way back to the head's cabin it shocked her to see the amount of cabins empty bar one. Where once joy and companionship was shared, now there was solitary and loneliness and that broke her heart. The place filled with joyous memories of her two first and best friends of a time was now filled with a crushing emptiness. And at that thought, Hermione felt her chest constrict. Harry and Ron. How she missed them.

Harry with his easy charm, his kindness and caring. His selflessness and heart willing to forgive infinitely. Ron, despite teasing and insensitive comments, still innately caring and funny. When was the last time she'd seen either of them? Not for months she supposed. Harry was a recluse post war and Ron, well she had no desire to see him just yet. Their break up was anything but clean. And with that memory the tears started to fall.

She desperately sought to wipe them away as she hurried the last few metres to her cabin where she quickly slipped inside.

"Are you alright Granger?"

Hermione turned to look at the platinum haired boy and could only think one thing.

"What. The. Fuck?!"