This is my very first attempt to creating a fan fiction.
Any help is most certainly welcome and needed.
Anything you recognize does not belong to me.
JK rowling owns Harry Potter.
Chapter 1: Sleep
After the show she came home, changed into her pajamas and deposited her clothes from the evening into a small shabby wicker basket that was sitting on the floor beside her dresser. She then looked into the mirror for a quite some time as if she was searching for someone else to look back at her. After taking a long deep breath she eventually gave the search up, crawled into her bed and melted into the mattress. She felt like the wax that was slowly dripping from the candles sitting on her dark cherry wood dresser. She smiled unconsciously at the scent of the lavender candles wafting throughout her dimly lit bedroom.
A little over a year ago Lupin suggested that Hermione should try aromatherapy, but like most of the numerous helpful hints he would attempt to nonchalantly slip into their conversations, she just shrugged off his suggestion. He was always trying to help, and he knew what he was talking about. Hermione had enough sense to know that Lupin was experienced when it came to dealing with deamons in simple ways. She knew that she was insurmountably lucky to have him, and all of the others. Hermione was a smart witch. So she also knew nothing, even the love of the ones leftover, could help her.
One evening after a meeting with the Order at one of the many shabby safe houses they ended up having to abandon right before the war ended, she literally fell across a large basket full of the purple candles on her doorstep. It had been an eventful gathering, one she still has trouble living down in her mind. The thought of her behavior that night makes her stomach churn and face burn with embarrassment, even though everyone else acts like it never happened.
After showing her arse, apparating away and landing on the annoying basket she began to cry. She stood up and anger from the tears caused her to burst open the door and kick the basket inside. A large number of the candles rolled across the floor. Hermione, unthinking, stormed up to the basket, reached in, grabbed hold of whatever was left inside and started chucking the contents across the room. After her second tantrum she found herself alone on her couch, crying herself to sleep.
She awoke sometime later to a strange, but beautiful smell. Opening her eyes and glancing to her hearth she took in the sight of a small puddle of candle wax in front of the dying embers in her fire place. Apparently in her rage she hadn't noticed that some of the candles had rolled, or possibly sailed through the air, into her fireplace.