No infringement intended, just borrowing Jo Rowlings' characters.

Bruised clouds drew close over the dreary summers evening covering the majority of England, storms rolling in to reflect the unease of the magical community at large. Lightening intermittently illuminating the cloaked sky, calls of thunder close behind.

Veiled eyes watch the rain whip against arched window panes with almost a mesmerised curiosity, in the low light of candles, listening to the weather howl and cry throughout the grounds. Usually tempests drew her in, still could on occasion but the memories of Azkaban still floated to and fro. Empty shrieks of lost souls calling out to deaf ears. No one can hear them now and yet an echo remains on the wind. Huffing in distaste she turns her back to them, heels whispering duly over the aged solid wood beneath them.

Lestrange petulantly bowled herself into the only moderately comfortable emerald leather chesterfield chair in the Malfoy library, much to her annoyance of having to hide away at all. However, consoled by the fact the chair was in fact Narcissas', though hard to believe she would keep even a slightly worn piece of furniture, it was due to her affinity towards reading and in lieu of discomfort afforded by any other seating. Bellatrix turned her head right towards the side table, reaching out to the paper she discarded there earlier. She began flipping tediously through the Daily prophet, the events of the Ministry break in were of course skimmed over, it wouldn't do for them to admit to the extent the Dark lords' followers and himself had been able to penetrate the hub of magical defence throughout Britain. Information leaked regardless due to the scale and no doubt Dumbledores involvement, 'bloody busy body' Bellatrix mused. Her eyes sharply focused in on what she was looking for throughout the entire rag, ''Hermione Granger'' the name felt bitter rolling off of Bellatrixs' tongue; ''Got you'' her high pitched cackle made even the old tomes' spines shiver in response.

Hermione had spent the first couple of weeks of summer with her parents, they had spent ten days in Italy leaving only a couple of days after she had arrived home from School. The holiday was much needed in many ways, but undesired in more. She couldn't tell her mother and father that she had gotten involved with duelling a mass of magical serial killers… all the while breaking into a top secret area of magical law enforcement! She may be mad enough to have followed Harry into it (for his and Rons protection obviously) but not nearly mad enough to divulge that sort of information to them. So she compartmentalised it away, smiling at the appropriate times genuinely enjoying others, nevertheless what happened haunted her. The 'incidents' of the last few years weighing on her mind and shoulders, quite honestly… it'd be worrying if they weren't.

Arriving home brought more ambivalence into Hermiones' life, relief on one hand being surrounded by familiar walls, walls she'd grown up within, protecting her from the world outside. The other hand bringing a stark reality, albeit a magical one into the light and the fore front of her mind. She now knew better…the bricks were no more a barrier to a Witch or Wizard than a breath of fresh air, a spell uttered under ones' breath. A larger part of her than she cared to admit would take comfort in being amongst the magical world, safer knowing she could defend herself and her family if needs be without the threat of expulsion. It was on this note mulling round her bedroom dealing with her clean washing from their holiday that Hermiones' frustration grew exponentially, resorting to externally berating herself rather than internally ''You're being ridiculous, will you just stop thinking for five minutes!''

''Hermione? You alright in there?'' her father bellowed good naturedly from the master bedroom.

''Yeah I'm fine Dad, you know what I'm like… talk to myself half the time!'' she faux chuckled, brow creasing as she pondered whether 'fine' constituted as a lie.

''There's medication for that sort of thing or a potion or two I bet''

''DAD!''

''Sorry''

She swung her bedroom door open, her father standing in the adjacent doorframe.

''Liar''

''Lying's better than hearing voices you know''

''I don't hear voices, thank you very much… It's called an internal dialog; you should try it sometime''

''Cheek, Hermione'' her mum berated as she swept by with more laundered washing into the master bedroom.

''Sorry Mum''

''Liar'' her father mumbles only loud enough for Hermione to hear, eyes twinkling away.

''Touché'' Hermione snorted.

''P. s for an internal dialog it was rather audible… just for future reference'' he grinned ear to ear. Hermione shakes her head willing herself not to back chat when her mother's in ear shot. Clearing her throat and giving her father a poignant look she continues.

''I'm nearly done arranging my clothes, I'll see you both at breakfast?''

''Alright honey, try get some rest and don't read too late…if you can manage that'' her mother called from the other room.

''Uhmm what your mother said and we need our sleep so keep the voices down'', her father stage whispers and winks. Sighing at her fathers' intentional torment she bids them goodnight.

Hermiones' parents fell to sleep much earlier than she did, they were due back to the dentistry office bright and early in the hopes of catching up on patients' files and appointments. With this the house fell into utmost silence, the only discernible sound now was the gale lapping rain against her windows, lulling her to sleep as she read gently propped up in bed.

Whispers seep through a veil, prophecies brush consciousness reaching out to the living. Books topple from their homes, indescribable limbs purge vats of viscous fluids, ominous laughter; ricochets off of the endless jade and blackened tiles.

Listen

Listen

Listen

They're coming.

Sweat traces the nape of her neck, minute hairs rise in synchronicity. Intricate masks breach the inky darkness, a pale chiselled face among them her cold eyes chilling her to the bone; no discernible irises in the shroud surrounding them. Her body frozen both in awe and fright. I can't move, why can't I move? The atmosphere shifts cloaks billow and smoke distorts. Hermiones' head hurts and shoulders scream so much and yet she can't recall why, howling in the distance, her friends; where are they? A peel of light blinds her, illuminating the smog a predatory stare ebbing back into the shadows from once it came.

Hermione jerked violently snapping her from her paralysed state, deafening thunder clapped startling her further causing the aged tome to slip from her chest onto the floor. Heart pounding like a percussionist choir Hermione vigilantly glared into the dark of her room whilst gathering her wand from beneath her pillow. Sighing as her clothes gripped to her body in a sickly cold sweat; as she reached out blindly tapping the lamp on her bed side table. The light was rather sophisticated when left untouched for long enough it dulled lower and lower until finally switching itself off, a thoughtful gift from her parents. There was nobody there amongst her humble room, decorated in a light charcoal hue contrasting gently with light oak furniture. These nightmares were new, although she'd had many before given her eventful years at Hogwarts, there was something about these that struck an accord with in her even deeper than that of a Basilisk. She turned her head as her heart rate eased with in her chest checking the time 3:47 am, ''why me?'' Her sigh brought a flash bulb memory of her first year of Hogwarts to the front of her mind, a smile gracing her lips I think it should be why is it always us? Neville.

Hermione detangled herself from the dishevelled bed sheets climbing out to her right and headed towards her window, peering out of the rain streaked panes. The threat of her dreams skittering away unto her subconscious as she absorbed the sight that befell her. Most do not enjoy the cold wet turmoil of a tempest, but she did; there was something about the power it wrought that spoke to her drawing her near. Most individuals both muggle and magical found it depressing, but to Hermione there in lay the beauty of it.