DREAMS OF GREY

By Mizuki

Chapter One

The small suburban house hardly looked threatening, but at that moment it filled her heart with dread. She crossed the well-manicured lawn, clasping her hands together, the magnitude of her nervousness burning inside of her chest.

It was one of these lovely, fresh and sunny Sundays when you began the day with a smile and thought the world must be a really wonderful place if it could provide you with such a fine, inspiring weather. The inhabitants of this house fell into that category of people, if the heartfelt laughter coming from the salon was any indication.

Hermione Granger, however, didn't share their enthusiasm for this particular Sunday afternoon. In fact, she really wanted to be anywhere but here, in anytime but now.

This was the house where she'd left her parents before setting off on the mission that was to bring He Who Must Not Be Named down. In the end, despite many close calls, the mission had been a success. Now that Voldemort was dead and his Death Eaters either in Azkaban or following in their master's footsteps, Hermione's parents were no longer in danger.

This was the reason why she stood in front of the entrance door in Muggle clothes, her wand neatly hidden inside of her sleeve. It was time to restore their memories and for Wendell and Monica Wilkins to transform back into Mark and Yvonne Granger.

So she'd Apparated to the outskirts of Canberra, and made her way along the mostly deserted street, drawing curious glances from the few passers-by. She grimaced, thinking that it perhaps hadn't been the brightest idea to wear only a long-sleeved jumper when it was twelve degrees Centigrade outside.

She'd forgotten that it was winter in Australia.

She shivered a bit, but didn't make a move to ring the bell. She stared, unblinking, at the golden, engraved badge with her parents' fake names.

She must have looked quite a sight with her hair flying all around her head and standing foolishly in front of a door. She didn't care – all her attention was on the fact that she was about to open the Pandora's box.

It had taken her some time to realize that bewitching their minds and moving them across the globe hadn't been the best way to ensure their safety. Yes, it was effective in many ways – they were not only removed from England and not available for questioning about her Muggle-born status or whereabouts, but also unable to confirm any connection to her person via various magical methods – but in the end it created a problem of a different nature.

Once the enchantment ended her parents would lose any remaining trust they might have still had for her.

On a logical level, Hermione understood that being Muggle parents to a witch was not the lightest of tasks and that your daughter having possibly dangerous powers you couldn't begin to comprehend would vex even the most loving parent. However, deep down inside she'd always felt hurt by the distrust that showed on their faces whenever she mentioned anything related to Hogwarts or magic. So she had gradually distanced herself from them, which didn't prove to be all that difficult – she did, after all, attend a boarding school – and the rift between them had gotten increasingly larger as Voldemort's second rise to power turned into an outright war.

And now, years later after she'd received her first owl, she was about to prove all of her parents' suspicions to be spot on.

She took a deep breath and knocked.

Her father answered her. He looked just as she remembered him – brown receding hair, reading glasses, dark brown eyes and the beginnings of a pot belly.

He smiled at her politely. 'Hello. Can I help you?'

She felt prickling in her eyes and hastily blinked the tears away. 'Erm, yes. My name is Hermione Granger. I need to speak to you and your wife... May I come in?'

Slightly bewildered, her father let her in, lead her to the living room and seated her across from himself and his wife. Hermione took the sight in and almost collapsed under the wave of sadness that hit her.

'Miss... Granger, was it?' asked her father. 'What did you want to talk about?'

Hermione didn't answer. She focused on her mother, looking at her wavy brown hair, round, slightly lined face and the permanently curious look in her honey-coloured eyes.

'I'm sorry' she said.

Then she took her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it at them, her face screwed in concentration.

'Finite incatatem.'

And all hell broke loose.

'Oi, Hermione!'

She turned around and saw Ron heading towards her with a foolish grin on his face. He stopped in front of her and wordlessly planted a sloppy kiss upon her lips.

'You're back already?'

She nodded, forcing a smile. 'Yes.'

'Good. Mum's just finished making dinner, come on.'

She followed him into the Burrow, their hands clasped. She felt dead inside, but she wasn't about to show it to any of the Weasleys, or Harry, who was also staying temporarily in the house near Ottery St. Catchpole.

The meeting with her parents hadn't gone well at all. It had quickly spiralled into a shouting match and she had been forced to cast a silencing charm on the room. This had only complicated matters, as her mother reacted to her wand-waving with shrinking away and more frightened shouting.

An icy hand squeezed her heart.

Her parents were afraid of her. She didn't blame them, really... Messing with their minds had really been extreme, she should have thought more before doing it, or at least should have asked for their consent... But at the time her parents had been growing even angrier with her and didn't want to listen. They couldn't comprehend that there was a war going on, that it was serious and that they were in danger. They thought that it was some kind of a postponed teenage angst and she wanted to drop out of school just to spite them even more.

And that just proved how much they knew about her. How could she drop out of school just like that? Education was important! Destroying the Horcruxes had been more important, yes, but her parents didn't know anything about them. They didn't want to know.

So she just did what she always did – took the matters in her hands and catapulted them across the world against their will.

'So, how are your parents? Everything all right?' Ron asked suddenly as they went inside. Hermione almost jumped out of her skin.

'What? Oh! Yes, they're fine. Settling back into their life.'

Ron, bless him, remained oblivious to the haunted look that appeared in her eyes. She didn't really know what they were doing, as they had kicked her out of their house and refused to let her help them move back to England. The sick feeling that hadn't left her since an hour ago was just a reminder that she would probably never see them again.

But it wasn't that bad, she told herself firmly. The fallout was inevitable, as she had no intention of pursuing any career in the Muggle world and that was going to be a real blow to her parents' perfect middle-class life.

She forced herself to remain calm and stop being judgemental. It was not their fault that they lived in two different worlds. If one thought more about it, it was clear that it was her own fault for not trying harder, for running away from all the holidays, for lying and keeping the distance from them.

After all she'd done it looked like she was simply the one who was a bad daughter.

Her breath hitched and it took her considerable effort not to betray her inner state by bursting into angry tears. Instead, she smiled brightly, if a bit crookedly, at the people gathered in the kitchen.

'Hermione, dear,' Molly Weasley cooed. 'Quickly, sit down! How was your trip?'

'It was fine, Mrs Weasley,' she answered politely, but didn't elaborate. Better not say anything than get caught up in her little web of untruths.

The Weasley matriarch nodded warmly and placed an overloaded plate in front of her. Ron sat down on her right and winked at her conspiratiously.

'If you can't eat it all,' he muttered. 'Pass it to me. I'm starving.'

She smiled half-heartedly.

Harry and Ginny, who up till now watched the scene in some amusement, leaned over the table so that Mrs Weasley didn't overhear their conversation.

'Mum's taken to heart that you're Ron's girlfriend, Hermione,' Ginny said with a grin. 'You'd better watch out.'

Ron was blushing. 'Ginny, shut up!'

'You shut up, you git, I'm talking to Hermione, not you,' she shot with a glare. 'Anyway, she thinks it's brilliant, so prepare yourself for a lot of coddling.'

Hermione, a bit uncomfortable with the conversation, decided to change the topic. 'And you, Harry? How does Mrs Weasley feel about being your future mother-in-law?'

Harry and Ron looked at her as if she'd just grown a second head, but Ginny just burst into laughter.

'She treats him the same as always,' she answered with a shrug. 'With just a minimal increase of motherly affection. There isn't much difference between an honorary son and a son-in-law in her dictionary, you know.'

Hermione chuckled with appreciation at Harry's lost expression. It was his turn to steer the conversation away from himself.

'By the way, there's a letter for you, Hermione,' he said, turning around and reaching for it for a nearby shelf. 'It's from Professor McGonagall.'

Hermione stopped eating and stared at the offending envelope in surprise. Professor McGonagall? Why would she be writing to her?

She tore it open and set to read.

Dear Miss Granger,

Taking into account the special circumstances concerning the last school year the Board of Governors and the new Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have decided to open an intensive voluntary summer course for all students who had been, due to various reasons, unable to complete their studies during the school term. This includes preparation for and taking of the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests at the end of August.

The course begins on 1 July. We await your owl with your chosen N.E.W.T. level classes by no later than 30 June.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

Her mind had started working in overdrive after the first sentence and by the time she was finished, Hermione was already panicking. How was she supposed to learn the whole seventh year curriculum in less than two months?!

She looked up to see that all three were watching her closely.

'Are you going to go?' Ron asked between bites of his potatoes. She gaped at him.

'What are you talking about?! Of course I'm going!' she snapped. 'But the whole year in two months? Oh, I wish I had my time-turner...'

'You're going to be fine,' her boyfriend said off-handedly. 'I bet you'll get Outstandings in all of your N.E.W.Ts. It'd be just weird if you didn't.'

She stared at him, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. How can he say it so lightly? Didn't he know? Hadn't he seen her work her bum off for all of those years?

'Well, are you going to go, Ronald?' she almost hissed, barely reigning her frustration.

He shrugged. 'Of course not. After being in the real world did you really think I would go back to school? Besides, George has asked me to work at the shop with him.'

Hermione sat rigidly for a moment, watching him shove another overloaded forkful into his mouth. Then, reminding herself that he was her boyfriend and she loved him and shouldn't shout at him at the table in his own house, she turned to Harry.

'And you? Don't you need your N.E.W.Ts to get into the Auror training program?'

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny roll hers towards the ceiling.

'Well,' Harry said uncertainly. 'Kingsley Shacklebolt sent me an owl the other day that if I ever want to, they will take me straight away.'

She felt tears of rightful indignation prickle behind her eyelids, but she managed to suppress them. Why was it that everyone around her got what they wanted without any effort whatsoever? Ron didn't want to go to school, but still needed a job and look – he has a well-paid one just because his brothers had put so much work into estabilishing it for him. And Harry... yes, he had vanquished the Dark Lord and yes, no one would have managed it without him, but how come he was so good and powerful without even trying? And she... she had to work endless hours just to be useful to the two of them and they didn't even appreciate it...

Her eyes were stinging. She tried to think positive thoughts, that it wasn't really their fault, that she was exaggerating, that they were her friends, for goodness' sake, she shouldn't be getting angry at them...

But the combined hurt and anger courtesy of her parents' rejection and her friends' aloofness about their luck was too much for Hermione to keep thinking rationally. Not wanting to break down and embarrass herself in front of them, she stood up.

'I'm not feeling very well,' she announced in a tight voice. 'I'm going to go upstairs to lie down.'

'But you didn't eat anything...' Ron started, bewildered. 'Hermione!'

But she ignored him, stomping upstairs to the room she shared with Ginny, where she finally allowed herself the luxury to cry.

It was half an hour later when, having spent most of her remaining energy on getting as much water out of her eyes as was humanly possible before she became dehydrated, she was lying on her bed, face buried in the pillow, red and blotched, hair in a bigger disarray than it was normally – which was a feat in itself – and her mind completely blank. She felt awful for walking out on her friends like that and for behaving so abominably... It wasn't their fault that she was so messed up.

It wasn't their fault that now she had no one but them. It wasn't their fault that they had no idea that it was so bad. It wasn't their fault that they weren't interested enough to ask why she never spoke of her parents and why she didn't spend her holidays with them anymore.

Or maybe she was just thinking too much. Or expecting too much. Or both.

There was a knock at the door.

'Hermione?' came Ron's voice. 'Can I come in?'

She groaned into the pillow, willing him to go away, but he was persistent.

'Hermione?'

'Come in,' she called weakly, thinking that she owed it to him at least. He wasn't only her best friend – he was her boyfriend now and that gave him certain privileges... They were supposed to be even closer now, weren't they?

She pushed her dark thoughts deep inside of her mind and managed a half-smile when he entered. It wasn't enough to distract him from her puffy eyes, though.

'Were you crying?' he asked incredulously, sitting next to her. 'Whatever for?'

'Oh,' she said, wiping her eyes. 'I'm just having a bad day, that's all...'

She felt him put his arms around her and kiss her on the head.

Her heart swelled. How could she be so mean to him when he was so sweet?

'Is it about me and Harry not going back to Hogwarts?'

She tensed. 'No, it isn't,' she answered, a bit too harshly. But it was a lie, in a sense, because it was, she just didn't want him to feel guilty... 'It's just a bad day, like I said.'

He still looked unconvinced. 'If you're sure...'

'I am,' she assured him with a smile. 'Really. I'm already a bit afraid, you know... I mean, I'll have to learn all of the seventh year material in two months! That's a lot of work! Oh, I just remembered, I should go and send an owl to Professor McGonagall...'

She moved to stand, but Ron's grip on her shoulders was tight. 'Can't it wait?' he asked suddenly.

She frowned. 'Of course it can, why are you - '

She didn't finish, because he leaned over and kissed her. She quickly closed her eyes and kissed him back, but had some trouble keeping up with his tongue and after a moment gave up trying to slow him down.

Was it so difficult to notice that she didn't really enjoy this idiotic wiggling? That a kiss was meant to be sensual and passionate? Not that she had ever experienced a kiss like that, but that was not the point. Getting this through Ron's thick skull would require outright telling him, and that was out of the question. He would just become mortally embarrassed and refuse to kiss her ever again.

She wondered if that would really be such a shame.

No!, her mind screamed. Stop doing this to yourself! This is Ron! The boy you've loved for so many years! Don't let your damn over-analysing brain ruin this!

'Is something wrong?' she heard him ask and quickly came to her senses.

Drat! How could she be so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice that he stopped kissing her?

'No, no, it's nothing,' she said hastily. 'I'm just... I'm sorry... It's a really bad day... In fact,' she grasped for any kind of excuse. 'It's one of those days.'

He stared at her, becoming adorably red. 'Right,' he muttered, mortified. 'Right... Sorry... I'll... I'll just go, then... You'll be all right?'

'Yes, I'll be fine,' she nodded and, on an impulse, kissed him on the cheek. 'Don't worry. I'm just a bit tired. I'll just send the owl to Professor McGonagall and then go and read a book, or something...'

He brightened at the mention of a book. Hermione Granger loved books, so if she wanted to read one then everything was all right with the world.

'All right,' he grinned. 'I'll be downstairs if you need me.'

He left with another sloppy kiss.

Hermione stared darkly at her hands. She was being entirely too angsty and had absolutely no idea how to stop. She supposed that doing exactly what she told Ron she would be doing was as good a start as any, so she reluctantly got off the bed.

Those two months of hard work were not really such a bad thing. At the very least, they would be a distraction, something to postpone the rest of her life. Even if it meant sleep-deprivation and loads of stress.

Sighing, she found a piece of parchment and a quill and began to write.

Dear Professor McGonagall...

A/N: The first chapter. Angsty! Hermione rears her ugly head in here... I hope you like my take on her characterization. And if you liked it... please leave reviews! I would really appreciate them!