Disclaimer: No, I own nothing of Harry Potter. Oh man, if only I did! Ah well.

A lot can happen in six years

People meet each other and get married in six years.

Children are born and take a rough sort of human shape.

Countries form, disband, and rise up against themselves.

People die.

But, of course, some things stay stubbornly the same.

Like this field. In the six years (six whole, entire, long years) that had gone by, it was exactly the same as it'd been when she'd stood here last. As if six years hadn't passed. As if not even a moment had passed since she had stood here, slowly dripping blood from wounds she didn't feel, too sad to even scream.

Hermione Granger stood at the edge of a burnt black field that stretched from the road behind her to the edge of the charred and black forest that stood about half a mile away. There was a great muddy lake to her right that rippled slightly. And just to the right was the great pile. If she titled her head to the side and squinted, she could still imagine it smoldering.

No, it had stayed exactly the same. Well, except for all the fires. And the… the mess.

Hermione sighed, and slowly rubbed her arms.

She should go. It had seemed like a good idea to come back, knowing that this was on the way. It was good for her, she supposed. Closure, or something. But it was hard. Still hard, even so many years later.

The square white car groaned into life as she nudged it into gear, and sped away from the field as fast as she could.