Disclaimer- I no own. I wish i did. 'Nuff said.
Un'betad

Chapter two

When Hermione had first proposed the idea of staying with her uncle, neither one of her parents had been amused. They'd both stared at her, her father over the newspaper and her mother over a wine glass. Both wore equally confused faces as they'd sat in their small kitchen in Australia.

'What do you want to do that for?' They'd both demanded, her father's eyebrows having disappeared into his hairline, and her mother looking utterly confused as to why her daughter had suddenly changed the subject from her mental health to her whack-a-doodle of a brother-in-law. At the time she'd told them she'd just wanted to see the rest of her family, make sure he was okay. In truth though, she'd just needed a break from her parents fretting. They meant well, she knew this and loved them a great deal for it, but one can only take so many subtle hints to attend psychological therapy; pamphlets at breakfast tables and talks about feelings before she got tired of it. And tire of it she had, rapidly, around three months ago.

Surprisingly, after his initial bout of confusion, it had been her father who'd protested the most about her going. Strange really, considering that her father and his brother had gotten on well for as long as Hermione could remember, her father often going out of his way to make sure they saw uncle Jim at least once a month. But protest he had, with much glaring, whispering, thinking (not sulking He'd argued) and long conversations with her mother. It had taken her mother and her two weeks to convince him to let her go, then another week just to get him to pick up the phone and call. The call itself had been short, quick and basically consisted of "Yes hello, we're alive", "Are you busy in July?", "Can Hermione come stay with you?" and the usual pleasantries that came with family politics. When he'd finished he'd come in, told her it was done then exited the room with all the grace of a man bound for the gallows. Her mother had followed, leaving her alone to stew in her guilt and consider calling off the whole thing. Her father had always been the one to try new things, the 'explorer', so having him react in such a way had left her uncertain as to whether or not leaving was a good idea. According to her mother, the memory wipe and restoration had hit him harder than her, the mere concept of something able to re-scramble his brain in such a way leaving him utterly terrified. Especially of losing his daughter again.

When her mother had heard her muttering to herself about changing the plans one night when she couldn't sleep, she'd walked slowly into her room, given her a narrowed eyed look and told her that if she started living her life based on guilt again she'd disown her. Then she'd poked her in the arm to get the point across before she'd sat down on her daughter's bed and promptly fell asleep. Admittedly, she still felt guilty about leaving. It was her fault after all that her father's mind had gone such a way, that he now held on tighter in terror that she'd leave and never come back again. But, her mother was right. She couldn't let guilt rule her life. Never again. And if she was honest with herself… this was nice.

The kitchen counter was surprisingly comfortable, the cold marble feeling warm compared to the wet snow and howling winds outside. Her toes curled and uncurled as she took a sip of her hot chocolate, enjoying the feeling of the warm liquid as it slid down her throat and set her belly alight. Dear Lord, how long had it been since she'd had any of her uncle's hot chocolate again? Two…Three years? It had definitely been a long time.

"Hermione, can you pass me the salt. On your left, top shelf" Jim asked from his place by the stove, sticking his left hand behind his back as he waited for her to hand him the small jar. Hermione complied, pulling the police man shaped salt pot from its place and putting it in her uncles hand, taking a large breath through her nose as she did. The whole apartment smelt wonderful, the scent of spaghetti Bolognese and freshly baked biscuits blending and creating a delicious scent that had her fighting the urge to start drooling.

"How much longer?" She asked, watching her uncle stir the sauce into the mince with the raptured gaze of a starving wolf, all large eyed and rumbling stomachs.

"No closer than it was five minutes ago" Jim retorted dryly, glancing at her out the corner of his eye, a smirk curling up the side of his lips as he watched her swing her socked feet against the kitchen counter. Hermione pouted, giving him her best beseeching look as she casually glanced over at the tray of cooling biscuits. Jim snorted and leaned over a small potted plant to pick up one of them, Hermione's eyes lighting up when he turned on his heel and plopped it in her hand with a mock glare. Hermione grinned happily as she bit into it.

"That's the last one. What would your mother think of me if she saw me feeding you all these sweets?" He chided, turning back to the bubbling pots with a groan as he started moving pans to the right, off the stove and onto the only available counter on his right- the other two taken up by Hermione and the tray of biscuits.

"She'd do just as she does every other time she's caught you feeding me sweets, glare then make me brush my teeth for the next two hours straight" Hermione replied happily as she hopped off the counter and grabbed two plates from the drying rack, laying them down next to the pans with a clink. Jim quickly scooped the spaghetti onto the plates, pouring the mince and sauce over it with a flick of the ladle, staring proudly at the assembled dish as Hermione rolled her eyes.

As soon as the plates where laid on the table Hermione dug in, eating the food so fast that half of it seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. Jim stared across the table at her in raptured fascination and disgust, his fork half raised to his mouth and his eyes wide. Hermione grimaced when she saw his expression, mentally forcing herself to slow down so she wouldn't look too much like Ron. Again.

Jim's eyebrow was still raised as Hermione gave him a sheepish smile, wiping sauce off her jaw and clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Is it good?" Jim asked after a moment, causing her to break her stare from the table cloth to beam up at him.

"Yes! It's absolutely superb!" As was all homemade food after the war. After having lived off canned goods and soup and bread for the entirety of the war, anything home cooked tasted like gold plated heaven to any one of them. Ron especially. Harry hadn't been as affected by the food changes as her or Ron had been, but when asked about it he gladly admitted to a new hate for soup for as long as he lived. For Hermione, she'd just be happy if she never had to eat or see a can of beans ever again.

"Isn't that fancy school of yours feeding you properly?" Jim teased, taking a bite of his food and chewing slowly as he studied Hermione. Without the heavy coat from before and dressed in a red turtleneck and jeans she appeared a lot smaller than he remembered, her wrist a lot bonier looking as she reached for the pepper shaker. Hermione's eyes followed his to her wrist and she laughed lightly, picking up the little pot and exchanging hands as she sprinkled the pepper gently over what remained of the pasta. Underneath the table she carefully pulled the sleeve lower on her arm. Jim caught the movement, the slight tightening of red fabric by her shoulder that had him fighting back a frown as she answered his question.

"Oh no, no. The school's been feeding me just fine. More than fine actually. The problem though, is the remembering to eat, what with all those great books and everything" Hermione laughed, rotating her right wrist sarcastically as she grinned at her uncle. She should've known he'd pick up on the weight loss, he always had been too perceptive for his own good "It's nothing to really worry about, Harry and Ron made sure I wouldn't starve. The defence lessons didn't really help either".

Ok, so not really defence lessons more fighting for her life, but the basic gist was the same. And it wasn't a lie, all the extra spell-casting combined with the poor diet had rapidly deteriorated any weight she'd managed to gain on the run. She'd gotten better, no longer looking like the large eyed porcelain doll she'd been when she'd arrived on her parent's doorstep last year. But she knew her weight was still under what was considered normal for her age. Her uncles eyebrows furrowed, his lips parting in confusion as he stared at her. He closed then pursued his lips, seeming to decide against pushing the matter further.

"Defence lessons? I take it those are going well then?" He asked instead, twirling his last piece of spaghetti across his fork as he watched Hermione push a leftover meatball through the remaining sauce that had pooled in the dish. She looked almost pensive as she stared at the red liquid.

"Yes, quite well. Professor says I'm near the top of the class" Hermione lied, silently cringing at a little voice in her head that kindly informed her that the only reason for that was because of the breath in her lungs instead of the grave dirt that had covered so many of the Hogwarts students that day.

Jim smiled, "That's my girl. A genius just like her parents" He teased, making Hermione roll her eyes and smile back. The conversation carried on like this for the next half hour, Jim asking questions about school and her lying through her teeth or telling half-truths. It was all "Yes Harry and Ron are fine, still absolute athlete brains" instead of "Well all three of us have crazy PTSD, Harry's still having trouble eating properly and Ron hasn't spoken to me in two months. Not to mention they're both currently going through extensive training to become Auror's and as such are even grouchier then usually, thanks for asking". Throughout all of it her uncle smiled and nodded, occasionally commenting with a story of his own, never once suspecting that he was being lied to. And why should he? She was Hermione, his genius niece who always told the truth and went to a specially gifted school in Scotland. She was nice, she was good. She was his darling niece who was innocent of all crimes in his eyes. Except of course, for her thievery in hot chocolate.

Jim walked over to the couch and stared at the empty mug, a thin rim of foam being the only indication the liquid had ever been. Hermione innocently sipped at her own mug, keeping her eyes glued to the T.V screen as if it held the answer to life. One of the main characters Dave was busy looking for his girlfriend and it was- Holy shit that was a scythe! Did Mia just swing a scythe at his head?! Why on earth was she-

"Hermione. On a scale of one to ten how stupid do you think I am?" Jim asked in a playful tone, wiping his hands with a tea-towel and plopping himself down on the chair with a weary sigh as Hermione raised her eyebrows at him from behind her mug.

"A solid eleven I think" She cheekily retorted, offering him the mug with a smug little smile. Jim shook his head, waving her off as he crossed his ankles on the table top and stared at the screen. And blinked in confusion as he watched Mia mock Dave, fangs having polluted her mouth and her eyes gone an inky black.

"See. This is why I prefer Glee, no crazy plot twists where the chick turns out to be a monster" He drawled, giving her a smug sideways glance. Hermione snorted, leaning her head against her uncle's arm and releasing a loud yawn.
"The shows called Deception, honestly what did you expect?"

Jim nodded sagely. "Humans for one"

Hermione smiled, the colours on the screen beginning to swirl together. She blinked her eyes a few times, snuggling deeper into her jumper and feeling the warmth sink comfortably into her bones. Her blood felt like warm honey in her veins, her limbs starting to feel like limp strands of spaghetti. She yawned again, feeling her uncle rest his head against her own as they both continued staring at the screen. Her eyelids drooped slightly, She scrunched them shut then quickly blinked them, the screen focusing slightly. Oh, they were showing ads again? That was good, Socks were good…one could never have enough socks….

And somewhere between the ad for extra woolly socks and the opening sequence of the next show, Hermione fell asleep, her head cushioned against her uncles shoulder and her eyelids heavy from too much hot chocolate and snow.

….00000000000000….

Her eyes opened. She stared blearily out into darkness, her mind sluggishly moving over itself as she tried to figure out just what had woken her. When the couch back failed to present her with any answers she yawned, blinking her eyes drowsily a few times before she turned onto her back, her legs tangling in the soft fabric of the blanket draped them. The shadows on the ceiling stretched long and foreboding above her, fingers creeping across old plaster and moonlight fighting to follow after from the heavy blinds obscuring the lounge window. She frowned up at it, opening and closing her mouth a few times as she debated the pros and cons of getting a glass of water or going back to sleep. Her head felt so comfy…all floaty and light against the pillow. Dear God her mouth was dry…but the kitchen tap was all the way over there….

Her eyes were just beginning to droop again when she heard it. A light clink that sounded louder then it probably was. It seemed to echo in her head, like glass breaking. Her eyes slid open again, her eyebrows furrowing as she listened, ears straining. There it was again, a whining squeak. Pushing herself up Hermione frowned as she twisted her head to stare down into the hallway, her eyes adjusting in record time as she stared in annoyance at the curtains blowing gently in the mind.

Oh for Merlin's sake….what was this? Give Hermione heart attacks week? Grouchily she pulled herself up off the couch, wobbling slightly as she pulled the blanket up off the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was making her way around the couch when she jabbed her toe and nearly tripped, grabbing her pinky toe with a hissed curse.

"You are supposed to be closer to the damn wall!" She silently seethed at the innocent looking crate, the lampshade hanging crookedly over the edge from her accidental stumble. She hobbled down the rest of the hallway, sighing as she stared out the window at the world below.

It was all black and purple, stars fighting weekly to throw there light through the thick clouds clogging up the night sky. A train rattled somewhere in the distance and Hermione sighed, reaching upwards to grab the window sill and tug it. It slid a few inches before it got stuck, an echoing squeak following after it. Hermione frowned at it, putting her hands flat against the top and pushing all her weight down on the top. It groaned but refused to move anymore, white paint flacking off onto her fingers. A door opening behind her had her grunting, swinging her head around to glare at her uncle's silhouette as he stood in the doorway. Briefly her eyes flicked over him, her frown tilting slightly as she wondered why he seemed to be sleeping in normal clothes but then the window moved slightly and she turned around with a triumphant grin.

"Would you help me with this already? Stop standing there staring!" Hermione chided over her shoulder. A few seconds past before her uncle's hands appeared next to her head, gloved fingers curling around the wood. Hermione stared at the gloves in confusion, her spine slowly stiffening and her mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper as she froze. The hands pulled at the wood a few more times before it slowly slide shut, an identical squeak to the earlier sound echoing in her ears.

Slowly Hermione tilted her head slightly, her perceptual vision picking up a single flash of blonde that confirmed what she already knew. The person behind her was not Jim.

/00000000000000/

A.N- Still can't figure out the break thing. Ugh, why am I such a noob when it comes to technology? Anyway, ITS'S FINALLY DONE! OH GOD, do you have any idea how many times I re-wrote this? This is like the fifth or sixth version of the same chapter, and i'm still not entirely happy with it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks everybody for the support and reviews, hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Constructive criticism greatly appreciated.

Pip

Question- What's the worst nightmare you ever had? I once had this dream about clowns when I was six. Been terrified of the face painted buggers ever since.

(Update- The first file glitched so hopefully this comes out better,sorry if you get two update notifications)