April 29th, 2015

Hello everyone. My name is Brenii, and I have not written a single story since late 2009. Just last night, I finally felt the need to write again. And worked on this first chapter from 2 to 4am. xD

I do not own anything regarding Harry Potter. Please feel free to leave comments, I feel quite rusty after my haitus.

Please enjoy :D

I look...so pale.

It hurt. It hurt so much. And then, abruptly, the pain was over. It was gone.

Have I always been that pale?

It was as if a vase filled with bright flowers and crystal clear water, had suddenly fallen. The flowers askew. The water dripped until there was no more. The vase itself was still whole. And yet, so hollow. So empty.

No, surely not.

Emotions? There were none. What were emotions, again? Feelings. Empathy. She used to so full of such things. Almost to the brim. Overfilling her, making her ache.

Maybe it was just recently. I obviously have not been getting enough sun lately. Too much hiding.

Wait, what was she hiding from again? The brunette blinked, recalling distant memories. A flicker of recognition flashed across her features. Hiding? Yes...hiding. She had been hiding. For a long while. Hiding, and running. From what, though? She shook her head. The more she attempted to remember, the further the memories frisked away as if on a gust of wind.

No of course not. I've always been pale. Of course.

The young woman looked up from her hands. They was so white. So pale. She flexed them, counting each digit as she did so. But she couldn't feel it. She knew she should have been able to feel it, even if it was a small bend. But still, there was nothing. She felt in her mind that she should be worried, and her breath hitched. But not a moment later, a calm came over her. The memories of touch vanished as soon as she recalled them. And again, she was sitting, staring. Staring at her pale, pale, hands.

"Such a shame, child."

She felt, deep inside of her, that she should have jumped. Flinched, something. But her head slowly turned towards the voice. There was a person, a man, sitting on the ground beside her. Her eyes glazed over as she took him in. Calm. So very very calm. His clothes were gray. And he wore no shoes.

No shoes. How odd.

She swept her gaze across his being. The pants were slacks, and the shirt was buttoned all to the top except the very last one. And when her eyes finally rested on his face…

She blinked. Shook her head, and tried again. Her gaze was blurry. She could not see. On the inside, her chest clenched in fear. Who was this man. She should be alone, who was he? But as soon as her panic began to spread to her fingers and toes, the man took a deep rumbling breath.

And then she was calm.

Her eyes travelled back to her hands. So very pale. It seemed to be her only anchor to where she sat. The only thing her mind could stick to. Her eyes flicked to the man beside her as he leaned in close and reached for her hands. She did nothing, said nothing, as he took them in her own. He caressed them as a father might to his worried child.

"Hermione, can you see?"

Her eyes snapped open wide. Hermione. That was her, wasn't it? Yes, yes of course it was. How did she ever forget? How could she. She turned to the man, but avoided his face. She couldn't look at it. She didn't want to forget again, she couldn't. Her mouth opened, and she tried to speak. But her voice locked in her throat. What could she say to this man? Why couldn't she say it?

"Ah, I see that you do. Hermione, I need you to look around you. Take a deep breath, and gaze into the truth." He held her hands tightly, and he leaned further in. If she could focus at his eyes, she would know that he was giving her a steady gaze. A strong look of determination. An endearing honesty to help her.

So she did as he asked.

And her soul nearly shattered for a second time.

Before her, on the muddy grass, was herself. She started hyperventilating. The feelings, they were coming back. So strong, so many. She could not handle them at once, and yet they did not care. The dam that held them back came crashing down and she let out a strangled sob. Ripping her pale, pale, hands from the mans', she fell forward as she crawled closer to her own body.

Dead. I am dead.

One quick look told her all she needed to know. She simply looked like she was sleeping. Eyes closed softly, lips parted ever so much. Her legs looked as if they had buckled underneath her. As if she had simply fallen asleep whilst standing. She knew that was not true. She had been hit with a deadly, very much unforgiving curse.

Avada Kedavra.

Shaking her head, and biting her bottom lip hard to silence her wails, she stumbled to her feet. She needed to see. To see clearly. It felt like years, like a millennia since she had seen. Truly, correctly seen.

"You see now, Hermione. A lot of things had transpired. A many great, terrible things."

She had forgotten that the man was here. She looked to where he had been sitting beside her, and he was now standing. Hands in his pockets, posture simple perfect. He was regal. He held himself as such. But when she tried once again to gaze upon his face, she felt her eyes blurring. She felt things slipping from her mind as if hands reached in and ripped them from her. She tore her gaze away, gasping. No, she needed to be clear. Crystal clear.

She finally decided to look away from her own body, and take in everything. Having already broken, everything else she saw was no longer as shocking.

Harry Potter is dead.

His body lay sprawled a few feet away. A large gash had opened his chest. Dried, sticky blood glued him to the grass. But his face appeared serene. Like he had finally found his peace. His solitude away from the fans and the ones who expected so much from him. Here, on the ground, he was no longer "The-Boy-Who-Lived". He was just a sad, lonely boy at the end result of a ridiculous war. She swallowed her pain and turned her head away.

Ron Weasley is dead.

Her close, close friend. Her first kiss. The boy she helped finish his homework time and time again. Laughed, and joked, and held so very close. He was on his stomach, gripping his wand a tight as he would have in life. No physical injuries. Just another unforgivable curse laying waste to his solemn life. His family, if they were still alive, we be so sad. So very miserable.

She looked back at the man, resting her gaze on his shoulder so that her mind not be ripped apart again. And then she opened her mouth.

"There is nothing I can do...is there?"

The man shook his head and sighed. "Unfortunately, not. Not here at least. I don't delve in matters of the living. The only thing I can say is that this war of yours has made me very busy. It is rather getting tiring." He leaned down and reached as if he were going to touch her body. Her face. But stopped abruptly. He straightened, and turned to her once again. "I am simply here to guide you to your next life."

She blinked. "Next...life? Are you the grim reaper…?" He shook his head and chuckled.

"I am not here to reap your soul, as you humans call it. But another child is being born soon, and it needs a soul to home inside of it. I believe your kind call it 'reincarnation'. A family in India is where you will be sent this time."

This time…

"Will I remember?"

"No, and you never will."

"I see…"

She looked down at her hands and clasped them together. Her memories, her life. Gone, forever. Her mother and her father. Her schooling. Her teachers, her friends. Her experiences. All that fighting. Gone.

"Although…"

She snapped her eyes open again and looked at him with worry in them.

"I could give you another option."

"And what is that?"

He looked into the battlefield. There were more than just 3 bodies. The dead were laying in silence. Death eaters, and fighters of the light combined.

"Instead of sending you forward. I could send you back. And as a gift, I'll let you keep yourself." He shuffled and looked at the ground. She narrowed her eyes. "And how would this benefit you?" She huffed quite suddenly. She was wary, was remembering the feeling of cautiousness.

"Like I said, this silly war of yours has been tiring."

"I thought you said you don't meddle in lives of the living."

"I don't." He said with a smirk in his voice. "You aren't living. Hermione Granger lies in a puddle on the ground before us. You are no longer that girl. You could be much, much more." He chuckled softly to himself.

"Where would you send me? Who would I be?" She asked him. He sighed, stretching his arms to the sky before resting them onto the back of his head. "I cannot tell you that. You will have to figure it out yourself."

She blinked. And then looked away, biting her lip. Perhaps, if she was sent back, she could change things. Make things better. Make everything better. But she didn't know how far it would go. Although, this option was far better than being sent somewhere in India without her memories. She nodded to herself, making her decision. She turned to him.

"Ok. Send me back."

She could feel him smiling as he turned towards her. "It was an honor to meet you, Ms. Granger." He bowed. She blinked, and then suddenly. there was darkness.

She suddenly felt very very claustrophobic. She opened her eyes, and everything she saw was a vague pinkish light. Within moments, she felt air rush into her lungs.

And then she wailed.

"Congratulations, it's a girl my lady." The doctor handed the wrapped babe to the woman. She smiled up at her husband. "Licorus, she's beautiful."

He smiled. "Of course she is, Magenta. Our little Hermione. Hermione Magenta Black."

Thank you for reading! And please, leave a comment if you want any more. I love to write and hope this spurt stays with me.