DISCLAIMER: I own nada…or do I?

I've never been on here before but I figured this is a good place to practice my writing. I'd appreciate comments, both good and bad. Thanks.


Tears blurred her image in the mirror, Hermione wiped them away angrily. She had learned at the hands of Voldemort that crying achieved nothing, it didn't ease the pain. Tears were powerless. Yet her newly healed body rebelled and she resorted to ignoring her natural response to sorrow as she brushed her hair and checked her clothes in the glass. She was pretty, she supposed, in a girl next door way. Her brown hair fell around her face in waves of brown, framing a fragile face with a perfect mouth, long lashes and bags under the eyes from staying up reading every night. Hermione hated those bags but books were her only escape from reality and she would not sacrifice her night's relief for a little vanity. She turned in front of the mirror, sighing. Even though she ate little to nothing her shoulders, hips and stomach still remained thicker. She was never fat but since puberty had arrived she'd had curves. Short and curvy as she was she would never be a model.

Hermione smirked at her own folly, it seemed impossible and delightful to her that her mind could still wander into the realm of envy about someone else's shape. Voldemort may have robbed her of the last vestiges of her innocence but she was still a girl. He could not take who she was though he had scarred her both emotionally and physically.

She dried her eyes and hoped that by the time her friends came to collect her she would be in control again. At least some of those who were still alive, she thought as another tear carved a path down her cheek, glinting in the sun from the hospital room window.

'Not again!' she scolded herself. She needed to get a grip. She couldn't stand another day in St Mungos but in order to leave she'd have to be something other than a blubbering mess. Gritting her teeth she stared at the white walls, willing herself to think of nothing.

A loud knock interrupted her attempt, wrenching her back to reality.

"Come In" Hermione called as she got up and started to straighten the bed covers for the hundredth time. She had to look busy; she couldn't let them see her sitting there. The door opened to reveal her two oldest friends. Harry's hair still looked disheveled as his brilliant green eyes glanced around, taking in the packed bags on the floor, the medicine bottles on the counter, and lastly Hermione herself. As he stepped into the room, Ron followed. His arm was wrapped around Fleur Delacour's waist and his red hair flamed merrily in the sunlight. Hermione smiled her first genuine smile and was pleased to discover she hadn't forgotten how to be happy. She ran over to receive a hug from them both, careful to avoid Ron's amputated shoulder; the wounds for him were still raw as well.

"I'm finally getting out of here! May I ask where I'm being brought?" She laughed, doing her best not to think of anything sad. She wanted to finally enjoy a purely joyous occasion; she hadn't had one in years. Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

"well, we're picking someone else up from the hospital too and then we're bringing you both to Hogwarts. The new year is beginning and well, we thought since…" Harry trailed off as Ron picked up the loose end of the conversation

"since you can't go home, it'd just be better to go straight to school. They've allowed us to go back and finish eighth year." Hermione stooped to pick up her bags, placing them on the bed she turned around to face the boys. Her eyes shimmered from unshed tears at the reminder of her dead parents and the rubble that remained of her home.

"Hogwarts is open again? Why did no one tell me these things when they came to visit?" Hermione knew she sounded petulant but she couldn't help it. Life had gone on without her while she was recovering and she was jealous. "Who is this person anyway? Do they go to Hogwarts too or are we going to have to drop them off on the way?" 'stay calm' she admonished herself, this is no reason to become so childish, grow up. Childhood is over; Voldemort ensured that, so just grow up.'

Harry stared valiantly at the ceiling and Ron wouldn't meet her eyes. Hermione began to feel a little nervous.

"Out with it" Hermione chuckled uncertainly "it can't be that bad."

"Well, we kind of didn't tell you something else," Harry said quietly, now staring at his feet. Fleur flicked her blond hair impatiently but since the war had left her mute she could do no more than elbow Ron in the ribs.

"Ow! Okay Fleur!" Ron's ears turned red as he faced Hermione, nervously casting his eyes from one corner of the room to the other. "since you've…been… with Voldemort" he began "and then… in the hospital… you've kind of… been out of it…" Hermione put her hands on her hips. She didn't like where this was leading and the speed at which Ron was telling it, left her more impatient than ever to get to the point. "and… you've missed the betrayal… of Voldemort… by one of his… closest… allies," Ron scratched his nose and looked helplessly at Harry

"We've tested this ally many times… with all the spells we could think of. His information did lead us to Voldemort, Hermione, and he ended up fighting him as well." Harry continued

"He's turned good we're sure of it!" Ron added and even Fleur now eyed Hermione and the door to the hallway nervously. Hermione was too shocked to even protest the fact that she had not heard of this sooner. Slowly a realization began to form and with it an image of a young man: blond, pale and sneering. She sank onto the bed, letting it settle under her weight as she forced out the question whose answer she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"Who is it?" she asked anxiously looking at all three as they squirmed under her gaze.

"Draco" Harry muttered "Draco Malfoy"

"WHAT?" Far quicker than she had sat down Hermione found herself on her feet once more. "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE FRICKING KIDDING ME!" she screamed to the room at large. She paced the floor, anger and fear warring for control. It couldn't be Malfoy! Not the one whose father had watched her being tortured, had laughed at her pain! Glaring up into her friends faces she realized she would have to control her impulse to scream, kick, and tear the room apart. She forced herself to stop, to cement her feet to the ground, and take deep breaths of air. "You're sure he's on our side?" she asked "Harry? You have to be sure."

"I'm positive Hermione." Harry looked her squarely in the face. She focused her attention on the depths of his eyes.

"OK, ok, it's going to be okay. But Jesus! Couldn't you have told me sooner?" Muttering, she hoisted her bags off the bed and turned around. 'It'll be fine, you'll be fine, he'll be fine,' she told herself. Unfortunately she wasn't so sure.