Not life, but good life, is to be chiefly valued. ~ Socrates

Chapter 2

Hermione looked down morosely at her breakfast tray.

"What are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked innocently.

"Thinking." She slipped out.

"Well, there's a surprise," said Ron with over-exaggeratedly widened eyes.

"Ha ha." Hermione intoned dully.

Being more senior in school was not without its perks certainly. The lessons were more challenging and the students were given more free rein to what they wanted to do. Being a Prefect entitled Hermione with several liberties as well, along with gaining respect and recognition. Right now, unusually for her, Hermione was wishing she could stretch her legs in the open grounds outside the castle, in the warm sun, if not for…

She glared at the two boys sitting at the edge of the hospital bed she was lying on, her sharp eyes swerving their attention from one to the other till they began squirming.

"It's all your fault again."

"Ah Hermione," Ron sighed philosophically, "Will you stop making us feel more guilty than we already are? How much longer are we going to be hanged for this misfortune, to which I swear once more we had no idea would happen?"

"Much longer," she snapped back with the tiniest hint of humour.

What had happened was that the Trio had found themselves embroiled in another adventure throughout their sixth year, whereby they had stumbled over some secrets among the Death-Eaters. As a result, they knew that there was more than one spy other Professor Snape in their ranks. However, those few wizards' motives were shadier and Headmaster Dumbledore was not inclined to enlighten the students when he had learnt of their activities.

At the end, the three of them were caught in an ambush by a group of Death-Eaters before help had arrived, leaving Hermione wounded seriously and healing in the Hospital Wing for more than two weeks. As Ron observed, it was becoming an unpleasant habit.

"At least the exams are over." She poked restlessly at her bacon with her fork, in an effort to get rid of her excess energy.

Predictably, Ron groaned. "Don't talk to me about work. After all we've been through, sometimes I wonder why we have to slog like… like students in school."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "We are students Ronald Weasley."

"You know what I mean. We've got… what, these duties, damn it. Don't tell me Mum doesn't cry when she thinks no one's listening. When is this going to end?"

"A terrible topic for a sunny day like this Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey appeared before them, "You ought to know you aren't supposed to agitate a patient."

"I'm fine Madam Pomfrey." Hermione said automatically.

"Yes, indeed." The maternal nurse took in the details of how much the girl had eaten, or how little in this case. "What, not touching your food? You are not suffering from that silly 'thin-girl' syndrome are you Miss Granger?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Good. I won't collect that tray until you finish it." Madam Pomfrey promptly left them.

"Bleeah." Hermione moaned.

"To put it very eloquently." Ron said. He turned to Harry, "Why so quiet old friend?"

Harry stirred slightly and looked out of the window. There was a forbidding aura emitting from him.

Oh… Hermione thought, It's that mood again.

"I just wish we could have killed more that time," Harry whispered, finally vocalising his inner thoughts, knowing full well he would unsettle his friends.

Hermione exchanged meaningful glances with Ron.

Ever since their fifth year, Harry was haunted. The burdens he carried were too much for him to bear without resentment and defeatism. He had confided to his friends that since Sirius' death, which had affected him greatly, he felt drained.

Harry continued in that faraway voice of his, "Now they're just in Azkaban, waiting for Voldemort to rescue them. They will escape. And school just isn't important. I can still be a brilliant Auror without lessons. DADA, Charms, I know them! And Potions… Snape's still the fucked up git that he is." The trio had recently undergone a series of Snape's vengeful lessons conducted in the dungeons for daring to interfere with the Death-Eaters. "I tell you, he doesn't want us to find about his chummy relations with those bastards."

It was unlikely that Harry would ever wholly accept Snape as a sort of mentor and a true member of the Order. Snape and righteousness did not sit comfortably in his mind. He hated Snape, despised him for who he was, what he was before. There was a point of time in the fifth year where Hermione had thought that Harry's attitude toward Snape had mellowed. All that changed for the worse when they were attacked in the Ministry at the end of the year. Mostly, Harry had not forgiven Snape for living when his godfather was not.

Not that Snape was helping to improve his reputation or relations with the Gryffindors. There were his malicious attempts to ridicule Harry's experiments and behaviour. Strangely, all three of them had decided on taking Potions as part of their N.E.W.T.s, if for different reasons. Harry possessed his career ambition and Ron had been threatened by his mother.

Shaking her head, Hermione returned her concentration on her uninviting but less than moody breakfast. She picked up her cup, then gurgled loudly into her tea.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked bewildered.

"I recall you asking that before."

"What are you doing Hermione?" It was Harry this time, with an unmistakable tired touch to it.

"Trying to make things more ridiculous than they already are. Although I seem to be failing since none of us are laughing. You've got to end this childish enmity with Professor Snape Harry." She looked to Ron, "Help me convince him. Why aren't you helping?"

"Are you serious?" Ron cried.

"Fine, go sit on the fence until it breaks. Why am I always the one defending Snape? Oh, shut up Ron. You'll have nothing right to say," She spoke to Harry when Ron closed his half-open mouth, "It's not good for the both of you. It's dangerous for the Order. You'll mess it up."

Harry lashed out immediately, "We are in danger already Hermione. When will we get killed huh? People are dying around me. Have you thought about that? And you worry about my relationship with that repulsive jerk! And yeah, why are you always siding him?"

"Because he's on our side. He's saved you so many times! Look how he helps Dumbledore."

"Wasn't Sirius on our side? Hadn't he been mistreated? I know what's it like to be locked in a house all day! Didn't he deserve better?"

"Oh… so you still blame Snape for not saving Sirius, is it? Don't you question yourself?"

It was a low blow. All three knew it. Of course Harry blamed himself for causing Sirius' death.

Harry made a noise of disgust and stood up. "I have to be on my own." He walked rapidly out of the Hospital Wing.

Hermione sniffed, "Off for his regular bout of self-pity."

Ron asked tentatively, "You're not going to apologise, are you?"

"I did nothing wrong except to hammer some sense into him. Obviously it bounced back."

"You shouldn't have Hermione," Ron said sadly, "Harry hasn't recovered yet."

"Yes, that's why. He should have moved on by now. We have. There are important things ahead. We can't coddle him Ron."

"Yes, but, in this instance," Ron drew breath and launched into a startling analysis, "It's hard on him, more than we can comprehend, you know? I've always had a big family. Never appreciated till now. Made me… stronger. He hasn't ever had a real one, until he met Sirius. Godfather and all that. Harry loved him. He was the only adult who paid all his attention on him, like Harry's the centre of his life, which in a way, was true. Harry clings… clung to him, an anchor of sorts."

"Not a very stable anchor," Hermione said, because she could not help it. She sighed. Sirius was gone, dead. She was taught not to speak ill of those who passed away but being the realistic person that she was, she needed to clarify that just because Sirius was dead, he did not have to be glorified. "You know, it's weird that for once you are more rational than Harry is. I always thought he'd mature faster than you."

Ron looked offended and said, "Hermione, Sirius was one of the best guys around, other than Lupin. He was fun, liked to keep things light, daring…"

"Reckless."

"Damn, you don't approve of him."

"No, I don't. Look, I'm fond of Sirius, I really am, but he had lots of flaws and… Harry looks at them but doesn't see them. Sirius' impulsive and… It felt bad when Harry kept fiddling that mirror. I hated it. Dumbledore's been trying so hard… Now, it's more exasperating to see Harry wallow in it. I don't think he's accepted that Sirius' gone yet. Everyone's being supportive and all but it's not Sirius."

"Maybe. I'll prefer Sirius to Snape anytime."

"Now you sound more like the Ron I know." Hermoine chuckled in a resigned manner. "I'm going for a walk today. I deserve it. Will you join me?"

"Sure thing Hermione."

She nodded and picked up her bacon, swallowing it distractedly. She immediately made a face, "Why is it so cold?"

Ron shook his head.

Fickle females.

~***~

Hermione sighed as she returned to her bed in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey had felt it necessary for more supervision before she was allowed to return to the Gryffindor Tower.

The walk had done her a world of good. She had a taste of fresh air and was delighted when Ron had gallantly arranged a picnic at one of the cooler corners of the grounds to cheer her up. It was a pity they could not find Harry.

"Give him time Hermione. It's not like you to be impatient."

"Yes, but he's the one going to fight Lord Voldemort. Not us."

Ron gave her a hug, "He's always managed to win. Don't fret too much."

"You're just trying to make it easier aren't you?"

"Is it working?"

Hermione smiled and leaned into one of her best friends' embrace, "Maybe."

Hermione slipped into the covers but not into sleep. She lay there, doing her utmost to catalogue her muddled thoughts in her brain. She was not lying when she told her friends that she had been thinking that morning.

With the second rise of Lord Voldemort, Hermione's analogy to the Muggle Second World War, the whole atmosphere reeked with the warnings of worse things to come. People were disappearing mysteriously, the Dementors were leaving Azkaban for the promises of the Dark Lord, Hagrid was failing to convince most of the giants to help them, the Order was rendered impotent despite all the information pouring in, the infamous Daily Prophet and the Ministry still maintaining everything was under control as long as everyone cooperated… Hermione could practically tick the items off the list simultaneously, leading her to a very dire scenario.

She proceeded to turn her thoughts to a more immediate problem. Her parents and only family. With the start of the sixth year, the Dark Lord had begun focussing on his original terror besides other priorities, that of Muggleborns in the wizarding circles. The firmly held beliefs of his ancestor still pressed in his mind and he seized what opportunity he had to devastate the Muggleborns' morale. Sometimes, reports came in that told of someone's parents being missing, only to be found without memory or seemingly drained of all sanity. The witches and wizards who knew shuddered at the implication. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was resorting to even darker arts to suck the essence of the innocent to enhance his power.

Like a Dementor, Hermione's heart chilled.

She would not allow that fate to befall her parents. She had to make plans to protect them from harm.

Now Hermione Granger, how do we settle this? She mused.

She could request her parents to go on a long holiday far from England. They had always mentioned about exploring America. America was good. It was a large country across the seas and oceans. Lord Voldemort would not expend that much energy to send his minions there just to spite a Muggleborn.

The problem was, Hermione was certain she wanted to stay in England to help in the fight. She knew she was fully capable to help. She was sixteen. There was no way anyone could force her leave simply because they felt it dangerous. Summer holidays were approaching. She suspected that the Death-Eaters and their master would not be lax in their activities despite that. She decided to tell her parents that she would not spend it with them and urge them to go instead. They were levelheaded, prudent people. Surely they would understand she needed to do this, to be here, supporting the Order and her friends.

Of course, she reflected, she had to get the Headmaster's approval first…

~***~

Dumbldore looked at Hermione thoughtfully.

"Do you know Miss Granger, you are not the first Muggleborn to have proposed staying in Hogwarts during the summer holidays. So, don't feel as uncomfortable as you look now."

Hermione stopped fidgeting in the seat.

Dumbledore continued, "As I have said, there have been other students before you, and I have allowed them to stay, after discussing the details with their families and the staff. I'll be happy to accept you as well, which will make the total number twenty-one, provided that you obtain your parents' permission."

"I have talked to my parents Sir. They don't like it, but they understand the severity of the situation. They recently sent me a message informing me they've booked a flight to New York next week. My aunt lives there."

"Yes, these are uncertain times," Dumbledore nodded, "The school must adjust some of its rules. Whilst we wondered if we should disclose that we were willing to have the students remain during the holidays, we were afraid that there might be some repercussion. Voldemort may then pay more attention to Hogwarts. I can only hope that the students come forward themselves, like you have done."

"Thank you. Does that mean I should be discrete as to my non-departure?"

Dumbledore smiled paternally, "Ah, Miss Granger, I am always impressed by your logical thinking. Very astute, if I may add further. Yes, you have to board the train back with everyone and then return by means of another ride."

"What will that be?"

"I'm afraid you won't enjoy it."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, "Oh no! Not…"

"Broomstick. Yes. It's one of the most careful ways. You won't be detected."

Flying… well, Hermione wailed within, that she did not see coming.

"Isn't there another way? It'll be a long ride. I will fall."

"You can have one of the other students to ride you back," Dumbledore suggested sympathetically.

"But… flying! I was terrified even on the short ride on Buckbeak when I was in the third year."

"I recall that marvellous incident."

"Marvellous, I was compelling myself not to scream. Harry swore he suffered broken ribs after that. I'm sorry sir. I don't think I can survive it."

Dumbledore meditated over it. To Hermione's amusement amidst her distress, he reached out unconsciously for a lemon drop from a crystal bowl on his table. "You have not Apparated before, I presume," he asked shortly after.

"Yes, we haven't learnt that… oh! That'll be excellent. But I'm still an underage witch. I can't use magic outside Hogwarts."

"I know. It was a casual question." Hermione frowned when she saw the professor's eyes twinkle merrily.

"Trying to get my hopes up, sir?" she asked, feeling a little crushed.

Not answering her directly, Dumbledore said blandly, "We will use a Portkey for you."

Hermione immediately felt silly, "Oh, yes." Why didn't I think of that solution?

"Don't look so dejected my dear. Would you like a lemon drop? I find it stimulates one's mental faculties."

"In that case, I'll have a dozen," Hermione mumbled, and was suitably surprised when her request materialised in her hands quite promptly.

"Hope you like them," Dumbledore said cheerily.

~***~

Hermione watched the castle diminish into a speck before looking at her friends. Dumbledore had told her that it was her business whether she wished to inform them of her plans. In the end, she decided not to, due to several reasons. The main one was that she did not want Harry to feel resentful that she was able to stay in the place he considered his real home when he was denied the opportunity due to the protection provided to him by living with his aunt. He was already grieving as it was.

The problem lay in that a permanent cloud of melancholy ostensibly shrouded Harry. He did try, but when he believed himself to be alone, he sank into the blackest moods, and needed Ron and her to drag him out.

Hermione saw Harry looking at Hogwarts with whimsical longing.

"I can't believe it'll be our last year here the next time we come back," he said.

Ron nodded, "Good old Hogwarts. It's given us lots of fond memories."

"And bad ones," Harry whispered. Ron and Hermione stared at him and breathed more easily when he went on, "But yeah, it was good."

"No regrets?" Hermione asked coyly.

Harry shook his head, "No."

It was a couple of weeks before that Hermione had chided him. They had been busy packing their belongings to sit down and just talk. Hermione felt a confrontation was about time.

It was milder than she expected. Anti-climax, but she was grateful. She did not want another shouting fest like that in the summer holidays before fifth year started, where Harry had blamed Ron and her for leaving him behind and not telling him anything.

"You know how pushy you can be Hermione?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Hermione smiled, "You've known me for years. You tell me."

Harry pretended to think. "Hmm… Limitless for you."

He laughed, wholeheartedly for the first time since Sirius' death. And Hermione did not realise how much she had missed it until now. She joined him, and so did Ron.

"That was brill," Ron wiped a tear out while Hermione gasped for air. "Isn't it funny? You and I had a fight in the fourth year, and Hermione was the one patching things up. Then she and I had a quarrel and you placated us a little. Then you and she made things ugly and it was my turn to be middleman."

"So, we've gone through the rounds," Hermione said, pleased.

"Right. But I have to apologise." Harry said seriously, "I've been an ass. Took it out on everyone, even Dumbledore. I forgot everyone had his or her own pain. You really woke me up Hermione. We have to fight together. But it's hard for me. I still miss Sirius."

"Harry, we understand." Ron soothed him.

"I know. It's amazing you two still support me after all that mistreatment from me."

Hermione caught Ron's mischievous glance. Knowing him, she grinned back.

"Well…" Ron said calmly, "If you really feel guilty…"

Hermione chipped in, "There are ways to make up for it…"

"Like buying all the candies in the train on our way back…"

"I noticed a lovely book I've always wanted…"

"That wicked broomstick of yours…"

"The little intricate bottles you rarely use…"

Harry stared at them in disbelief, "Oh, it's extortion now, is it?"

"Extortion?" Ron cried dramatically, "Why Harry, we are merely conveying our heartfelt wishes! Suggesting them!"

"Knock it off Ron Weasley," Harry laughed. "All right, I'll buy us a round of gingerbeer when we reach the train station."

Ron pondered over the compromise, "Well…"

"Splendid." Hermione answered.

"If the lady says so," Ron concluded.

"We have to write letters to each other of course," Harry said.

"Absolutely."

As they chatted merrily, Hermione's spirits lifted, glad their last gathering together for the school-term could end this way.

~***~

The summer holidays were not as dull as Hermione had feared, nor was it as lonesome as she had thought.

She missed her parents, but they kept in regular contact with each other. She was comforted that they were enjoying their holiday. They showed touching consideration as to her safety and what she did in Hogwarts.

There was plenty to do. Finishing her homework in two weeks, she spent the time with the other students. Although she had known them for years, she had not really had the chance because she was usually with Harry and Ron.

They were nice, most of them. Since all Slytherins were pureblood, none of them chose to stay in school. The group of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravanclaws were somewhat relieved that they could avoid any hostility among the houses. With that threat gone, the students were more relaxed and had a wonderful time together both indoors and outdoors together. Those interested in Quidditch indulged themselves. Sometimes, Hermione and the others went down to watch, and brought along refreshments for everyone, like the traditional lemonade to quench their thirst and cookies baked by the girls in the Muggle way. The gesture was comparatively effortless after the persuasion they had to give the House-Elves when they had told them they wanted to use the kitchen. Hermione thought some of the House-Elves had looked fit to faint at the ardent suggestion. She had not wholly given up on their liberation yet, but it was rather discouraging to check the unsatisfying non-progress she was making.

She spent the evenings with the other students lazing in the Great Hall after dinner who talked about everything under the sun. She loved the range of topics spanning from literature to history to chemistry to Muggle politics, which at least made a little sense when contrasted with the Ministry of Magic. The latter, in Hermione's opinion, was a bad pantomime. When the conversation turned to sports, she would self-deprecatingly say she could not contribute anything more substantial than "Huh?". Fortunately, her schoolmates tolerated her "one and only deficiency," as a Hufflepuff jokingly put it. This was unlike Harry and Ron who viewed her askance at her lack of interest. Hermione was especially drawn to the Ravenclaws' intellect which impressed her immensely, making her question the reason to the Sorting Hat's discretion of placing her in Gryffindor.

"But I won't fit into Gryffindor Mr. Hat," Hermione protested in her head, feeling surreal that she was talking to a hat and addressing it as a mister. After all, who was to say what gender a hat was, even if the voice whispering to her sounded deep. It had an ethereal quality that made it hard to grasp.

"Yes, you will think that little one," the Sorting Hat chuckled when Hermione huffed back at it, "And you will do well to remember that I am more than a man or woman. I am a power designed to do much more than you can imagine. Now," it paused, "you are thinking you should be in Ravenclaw, hm? Yes, you possess one of the finest minds I've ever come across, and that is a great compliment mark you. I've existed for centuries. I will put you in Ravenclaw if you desperately wish, but you have in you something you do not know yourself. Great strength. One wonders what you will do if you are put to the test… No matter, what is your wish?"

Hermione thought for several moments, and the Sorting Hat knew her answer.

"Ah, thank you for trusting an old battered hat… GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione remained flattered and perplexed by what the Sorting Hat had said.

Sometimes, the staff joined them in their conversation, benefiting from the insight to actual Muggle life and removing what absurd misconceptions they had. The students had laughed when Mr. Weasley visited once and expounded excitedly of the Muggle world having its own magic since it could rain cats and dogs, as he had overheard in a Muggle bar, only to be informed by a red-faced Gryffindor that the phrase was simply metaphorical. The Muggleborns also introduced varied music to while the nights away: classical, jazz, the golden sixties, rock (but only for a short period because Peeves had thought it was another ghost come to cause mischief and was thrilled at having company) and stage operas, something Dumbledore was particularly partial to.

All in all, her time with the others was both stimulating and illuminating, with all of them exchanging ideas and conveying concerns about the imminent war.

Hermione, being the only student to know of the secret resistance, volunteered to help the Order run errands that were not risky and did not direct attention to her. Other times, she pestered some of the professors to teach her beyond the scope of the school curriculum. McGonagall naturally welcomed her and invited Hermione to do some research on being an Animagus. With Dumbledore's tacit agreement, she started learning Apparition under Flitwick, as a sort of reward for her assistance. As the members of the Order revealed bluntly, if they could dispose mundane, time-consuming tasks into another's hands, albeit small and inexperienced, they would be eternally grateful.

~***~

"Focus Miss Granger," said Flitwick in their first lesson.

Hermione could not open her mouth to retort of how hard she was trying because her mouth was at the opposite corner from where she was standing from.

They were in one of unused spacious classrooms where members of the Order had often practised their skills in secret.

Flitwick waved his wand and Hermione was restored to her normal self.

"That must be unpleasant." Flitwick said dryly.

"An understatement Professor." Hermione touched her lips as reassurance, "Splinching is an experience I won't like to undergo again."

"I'll disappoint you when I say you will undergo it several times to perfect the skill." The training went on.

Hermione was surprised that Flitwick could be extremely demanding when he wanted to. The lessons were intense, but she did not complain.

~***~

In addition to these perks of living in Hogwarts, Hermione had the library to herself, literally. No students bothered to step in there to inhale the scent of wood or soak in the quiet atmosphere. Madam Pince, who trusted Hermione enough to behave when left to her own devices, was travelling in Rome. Hermione was unable to reconcile Madam Pince with frivolity yet. And with the backdrop of a war brewing, she could not see any witch or wizard deliberately vacationing. On the other hand, Pince had never been an active participant in the war. She was an entity who lived but Hermione had never seen her interact with anyone else other than her books. Still, it was strange that a person could exude antipathy under these conditions.

One such day in the library, with the area magically lighted, Hermione became so engrossed in The Ways to test your potential as an Animagus that she failed to notice the skies changing colour from blue to orange to black. By the time she finished the last page, she realised it was one in the morning.

~***~

I'm not going to get a proper night's sleep again. Hermione bemoaned inwardly. Ron's right. It's the holidays. I could be having fun right now. I could be standing atop the Statue of Liberty. There are lots of things I should be doing to balance study life…

But reading was her idea of fun, or at least one of her main sources of enjoyment. She was almost always carried away by a book, even when she were supposed to read just a chapter for preparation.

Face it Granger, you'll never be able to leave books if you tried cutting your hands off. Hmm, not a pretty picture.

So absorbed was Hermione in her rambling thoughts, she did not see where she was walking properly.

Ouch.

Hermione found herself face flat on the ground, with no clue as to how she landed in that cold, uncomfortable and embarrassing position. She felt her forehead and palms aching as well. There would be bumps and bruises next. She had fallen hard.

She hissed sharply when she rubbed her brow. She felt the scratch on it. What on earth had she tripped over?

Hermione was about to flip herself round on the floor to see the reason for her fall when a voice that was all too familiar sliced through the air.

"Gratifying as it doubtlessly is to see you grovelling at my feet Miss Granger, I suggest you move out of my path now."

~***~

Author's Note:

Gee, this chapter turned out long too.

To the reviewers who ask me to hasten my writing, I have to say this is as fast as I can go. University's busier than I thought and I need to do lots of reading. Whoever says uni life is relaxing?! Ah well, that's me ranting.

Headmaster Cromwell: Hello Headmaster. I'm totally flattered at the invite! Yup, I've signed myself up and have been accepted into Sal Salis. I'm afraid I won't be a very dedicated student though. Oops!

Snivellus: Hi there! Most of us fanfic writers are female, and I definitely belong to the majority.

Thanks to abraxis, Taya, AnnabelleElizabeth, Saerelle, Tracey, Serpens Potio, Greenstuff and Meriadoc/Celithrathien for the awesome reviews.

Next up: Severus swims naked. Hang on, that's the Muse on my shoulder butting her mischievous head in. Darn.