Disclaimer: All that you recognize is not Rowling's. Chapter name has been inspired by the name of an album by a band called Mnemic.

A/N: Hey guys. By the reviews I can deduce that the plot is confusing at most, but as again, I assure you it will not turn out bad (trust me) and everything will be crystal clear to every one of my reader by the end of this story. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but c'mon, a girl can dream of appreciation, can't she?

The random bold-italic-underlined lines that you see in between serve as breaks between sections of the chapter. And the italics are dream sequence. Now scroll down and enjoy (and leave a review after that!).

Chapter 2: Liquid Tension Experiment

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted, and thrown a little off guard at the statement as if it had just dropped on earth from midair.

"I said, you...killed...Weasel," Draco Malfoy said, stretching every gap as if he was teaching a Lumos spell to a First Year.

"Oh I apologize," Hermione snorted, "I should never have doubted your insanity."

Draco Malfoy sneered. "Listen Mudblood, you got me killed for something I did not do. And as much as I do not find life a very cheerful prospect, I refuse to regret the fact I got killed by a Mudblood for all the wrong reasons."

"Just shut up Malfoy," Hermione retorted, evidently tired of the meaningless argument.

"Granger...this is exactly what you did on the battlefield. You avoided reason like it would change the truth, you delusional bitch. I know I'm not one for honesty but seriously, you pretended like you didn't do it. But you did, Granger. You killed your own fiancé, the weasel that you claimed you love fervently, thrashing about like the traitor and the Mudblood that you were."

"I DID NOT!" Hermione screamed, shaking her bushy head in the process. "Stop trying to mess with my head."

"You will accept it someday, Granger. I pity your blatant ignorance."

"What—"

"Goodbye, Mudblood," Draco Malfoy raised his hand, dismissing her off mid-sentence. Then, his frowning mouth turned up into a sneer. "Get well soon."

As the shadowy remnants of Draco Malfoy dissolved into the darkness along with the burnt walls of that room, Hermione ran...ran as fast as she could to chase him into the nebulous darkness...

"Ah!" Hermione eyes flew open as she jerked forth from the chair. Trembling fingers searched for water, and when they failed to find it they reached for the summoning bell and rang it repetitively feverishly. She breathed heavily, as if each elongated breath still could not absorb in half the oxygen 

needed for revival. She wiped off the sweat beads from her forehead, and licked her lips that were now deprived of any moisture at all.

Hermione's neck suddenly moved up as she heard a faint knock on the door along with the buzzing sound bumping against the inner walls of her head.

"Come in," she stuttered.

"You asked for me, Ma'am?" Chelsie Woodkin, Hermione's newly employed secretary, chimed in.

"Get me a glass of water, Chelsie," she forced a smile at the slightly nervous employee.

"Right away, Ma'am," Chelsie politely smiled back.

Hatred is not the other side of love; it is the ivy that grows like a parasite on love and feeds on it to grow itself.

Knock knock.

After what seemed like another eternity of Hermione's life gone awry, Hermione had tentatively gulped down the glass of water that had been left on her table, as some of it spilled down the sides of her quivering mouth. Her parched lips gained some moisture, and Hermione tried as best as she could to regain composure.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Just.A.Dream.

Hermione looked up in decelerated motion as there was a knock on her door for the second time that day.

"Come in," she croaked out in a pathetic attempt to sound natural.

"Hey Mione," Harry's emerald eyes glistened at his best friend, then dimmed like a whole neighbourhood drowning in a power cut after a storm as he saw her in such a mess.

"What's wrong, Mione?" Harry asked, taking slow, cautious steps towards her.

"Uh, nothing," Hermione replied, forcing a smile onto her face. It was as hard as trying to mould hardened cement.

"You don't look like it's nothing," Harry said, giving her a sceptical look. His raven hair was combed primly, and Hermione observed that Ginny was definitely doing good to the untidy bloke.

"Oh, it's just these random Ministry cases that keep popping up, that's all."

"I thought the casualties were rounded up, and all the Death Eaters and their families were taken care of."

"Well, not all, if you must ask. I mean, it was huge figures for war statistics." Hermione hoped with all her heart that her bluff worked.

"Hmm," Harry said, suddenly pursing his lips and going pensive.



"It's Ron's death anniversary tomorrow," he said, breaking the silence that lasted as long as winter in the Arctic.

"Mm-hmm." Now Hermione looked she had been thoroughly unwound. Her lips parted, drawing in whiffs of fresh air to clear out her system, and it looked like a chain smoker whiffing in Benson & Hedges in the most obsessed, addicted fashion.

"I know it is hard for you Hermione..."

"Leave, Harry. Just go."

Harry followed her command and walked away, realizing it was not the best time to make merry conversation. Actually, when was a good time to make merry conversation with Hermione?

For a guy who failed Potions like Harry, even he knew the answer.

The answer was never.

As he reached the doorway, he slightly spun on his heels and tilted his head. "Are you gonna be there, Mione?"

"I'll try," Hermione tried to smile faintly, knowing how much it meant to her only remaining friend.

What does an ambitious person and unmotivated person have in common?- They have both got the same ultimate goal—Death.

That night, Hermione faced a complex decision—whether or not to sleep. The part that answered in affirmative held reason that she would be meeting Ron again. The part that answered in negative feared a certain blond tormentor would be back on his business again. But before she could even take that decision herself, all the exhaustion of the day that had preceded the sundown took over her and she collapsed onto her armchair in the bedroom of her huge mansion, and drifted off to sleep, head lopsided awkwardly against the armrest.

"Hello Mudblood. We meet again." The familiar sneer spread across his face as the devil's spawn itself turned its disappointly unrepulsive head towards Hermione.

A/N: I'm really sorry for another short chapter but it just had to end this way! Review!