Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

Chapter Three

When There Is No Other Choice But To—

The next few weeks, as Hermione had predicted, was pure and utter chaos. The people had shown their displeasure about the marriage law and had rallied and petitioned for repealing it. However the Ministry had merely stated, in a public declaration led by Kingsley Shacklebot as their acting Minister of Magic, that their protests, while valid, would be unacceptable as they brought upon new order into their society. When they had began snapping wands in front of the rally, the protests had quickly died out and the people chose to submit to the Ministry's wishes with glares and grumbles. The purebloods valued their magic too much to consider becoming a muggle and the half-bloods and muggleborns were trapped in a world of wonder filled with magic to even consider leaving it. As far as Hermione had obrserved, in order to show to the public that the Ministry was no longer controlled by Voldemort's infiltration, the Ministry had become ruthless and merciless.

A week passed since the law had been reinstated and Hermione had already taken residence in the newly restored Hogwarts library, exhausting books about the Marriage Law of 1946 that had been repealed after five years when magical blood began to increase from both the pureblood and muggleborn sides. All her sources hadn't given her much information that she didn't know beforehand. However, she had discovered that their goals at that time had been met with fantastic results, something that still sounded surreal to Hermione. That was until she remembered that it was 1946 and most women likely didn't care about the law as long as they married a rich and/or a handsome husband. They didn't have a problem producing children and heirs for their husband when that was the only thing that had been instilled in them since they were little girls.

It was truly no wonder why the Ministry was expecting the same results as the last time. It wasn't the same as the Triwizard Tournament where people had been recorded to die in the event and where young adults have been blinded by the idea of eternal glory for thinking about joining said event. What they were promoting was rape, simple as that. No matter how much they tried to sugarcoat the truth, no matter how many times they insisted it was for their country, it was still rape and the public knew it. It was too bad that the Ministry were fools for not seeing it.

Just the the other day, Kingsley tried to persuade them to accept and 'see reason', stating that he needed to put the law into effect to appease the other leaders of the Wizarding world because he didn't have a choice. Kingley's visit just proved to them that they weren't exempted from the law despite the efforts they contributed in the war. He wanted them to be examples, to accept the law so that other people could finally stop resenting the Ministry's decisions. After quite a nasty earful from Molly and herself, avoiding a hex from Harry and Ginny, and nearly missing Ron's punch, the acting Minister of Magic never visited the Burrow again. Needless to say, their friendly relationship with Kingsley Shacklebot was blasted into smithereens. Everyone in the Burrow was either seething quietly or ranting loudly since then. Hermione alternated between the two but she was usually the former on most days.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ron shouted at her the moment she stepped out of the Floo Network, barely acknowledging the soot and the mountain of parchment in her arms. He stalked towards her in a brisk and large pace, ears brightening into red as he bristled. "We haven't seen you since this morning! What's going on?"

Hermione eyed him, perplexed. "I was in Hogwarts. I told you that I was researching about the Marriage law this morning."

His ears reddened for a different reason this time. "I didn't... I haven't known." He turned and yelled behind him. "Ginny! Why didn't you tell me that Hermione was in Hogwarts?!"

"Because you were being an ass," was Ginny's answer as she strutted towards them. She addressed Hermione. "So? What did you learn?"

Hermione sighed. "It wasn't much."

"What do you mean?" Ginny demanded, eyebrows raising to her hairline.

"Well, the good news is that half of the rules in the law are outdated," Hermione informed her. "Therefore, it is an unfit law in today's society but the Ministry can always change some rules to make it appear modern and therefore, acceptable." She wanted to put air quotation marks as she spoke the last word but the books and parchments in her arms prevented her.

"Well, that sucks." Ginny looked at her with expectant eyes. "What's the bad news?"

Hermione tugged her hair. "The bad news is that the Marriage law was successful when they implemented it back in the late 1940's. The Ministry are obviously hoping for the same results."

"Well, then we'll give them different results!" Ginny declared, waving her hand wildly around the air.

"It's not that easy, Ginny," she told her whilr shaking her head.

"Well, I'm not just going to sit here and let them dictate my life!" Ginny shrieked. "The Ministry is messing with our lives and we can't just lie down and let them! In a few days time, they're going to match us with someone who's either a Death Eater or someone equally as horrible as that!"

"I'm doing everything that I can, Ginny," Hermione snapped. "Look, I don't like this as much as you do. Do you think that I want to be matched with a Death Eater who hates me because of my blood? I have written to the Ministry every single day, telling them to reconsider and they had already blacklisted me this morning as threatened me that they'd snap my wand. Never mind that I helped win the war, those ungrateful bigots!"

"Oy! Lay off her, Ginny." She heard Ron saying to the youngest Weasley child as she stormed off.

Hermione's blood was boiling as she seethed. She slammed the door shut behind her as she stalked across her's and Ginny's shared room. She unceremoniously dumped the load in her arms at the foot of her bed, plopped down on the mattress, grabbed a pillow and pressed it against her face before letting out a frustrated scream that was muffled by the pillow. Ginny's words echoed in her mind and she hated how her words, as anger-driven as they were, had made her feel as though she was useless.

Contrary to popular belief, she didn't have all the answers in the world and she was tired that the people was expecting that from her. A lot of people had depended on Hermione to solve the problem, to search for the right answers to stop the Ministry's so-called 'good' intentions. It was disappointing, even to herself, that the area she was most experienced and well-known for had failed her. The law was too outdated, too archaic, and too successful that she felt at lost at what to do. Even though she could present them bullet points and graph charts and color coded schemes, it would be a moot point when the Ministry had turned a deaf ear towards the protesters and complaints.

She let out a sigh and massaged her temples, feeling a dull ache pounding in her skull. She hadn't gotten any sleep ever since the announcement broke out and shattered the peace that they were painfully reconstructing. She ran an agitated hand through her frizzy hair, her mind racing through other possible solutions that didn't involve engaging them into a bloody battle. She wanted nothing more than to storm into the Ministry and harass each and every witch and wizard responsible for reinstating the law. But she wasn't Harry: she wasn't impulsive and rash, fueled by passionate emotions. She was just Hermione: she was all work and no play, supported by the facts written inside her books. The fight had left her and all she wanted was peace.

Hermione glanced at the books and parchments on the bed and scowled.

Someone knocked on the door and she snapped her head to find that Harry had already came into the bedroom, frowning at her. His eyebrows shot up at seeing the state that she was in.

"I heard you already came home," he said, crossing the room towards her. "You look..."

"Horrible?" She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know."

Harry smiled slightly although his eyes were listless. "So? What did you find?"

Hermione's smile slowly waned. Telling Ginny had been easy but admitting to Harry the same thing was hard. She knew that one of the people he was counting on her the most to find a solution to end the Ministry's madness. She averted her gaze, rubbing her neck before telling him the same information she imparted to Ginny and Ron. She braced herself when she saw the anger crossing his face.

"So, that's it, then?" He grounded out through gritted teeth. "There's nothing we can do about it?"

Hermione watched her twiddling thumbs. "No," she intoned. "Not unless the Ministry's going to listen to us soon."

She heard him curse under his breath. On another day, she would've reprimanded him but she didn't have the heart to do it now. She was too beaten by the fact that she had failed them. Just like before, her efforts weren't enough. She wasn't good enough.

'I'm doing everything that I can—'

'You're not doing enough!'

"I'm sorry, Harry." Her whispered words carried across the room to him. "I'm sorry that I failed you."

Harry flicked his eyes to her and sighed resignedly. He crossed the room and sat next to her, drawing her close to his chest. She burrowed her face into his neck, eyes squeezed shut as hot tears slid down her face. Her shoulders shook and jumped as she sobbed her frustrations out. Her whole life was going to change and she didn't even have the power to stop it.

"Why can't we just leave?" Harry voiced out quietly, tightening his grip on her shoulder. "Why don't we just go far away from here? Away from the law, where no one can bother us."

"And leave the Weasleys?" Hermione sniffled. "We can't leave them to this state, and if we do, they're going to catch us, Harry, and snap our wands. All the sacrifices we've done for this country will be in vain."

"Then we'll rally the people," Harry stated, determined. "We'll protest against the Ministry. I'm sure that once they see that the Marriage law is not in our favor, they would join us. Together, we'll march to the Ministry and—"

"And let those people fight again when they had already lost so much?" Hermione cut him off, her shoulders slumped. "We've been fighting all of our lives, Harry. I don't doubt that they're going to listen to you but they had already experienced enough terror to last a lifetime."

"So, we're just going to let them, then?" Harry exclaimed, exasperated by her refutes, jostling her as he straightened and waved his hand before slapping his thigh. "What happened to your spirit, Hermione?"

Harry didn't see the bitter smile that engulfed her lips and Hermione didn't voice out that her spirit died alongside their friends.

"I know you're mad, Harry," she told him in a soft voice, trying to soothe him. "Trust me, I don't want this for us. I envisioned a different peace after the war, not this... this orderly chaos." Her lips quivered. "I'm still young. I don't want to get married and I hate this. I hate how helpless I feel because of this. I'm trying... I'm trying so hard to be strong for everyone of you. And I'm just so tired. I'm tired of fighting, Harry." She peered into his eyes. "Is it selfish of me if I let it happen just so I can get the peace that I crave?"

He squeezed her shoulder. "This isn't peace, Hermione," he told her.

"I know," she intoned. "But then again, this is the closest one we can get."

~~ooOOoo~~

"Ouch!" Hermione yelped as Ginny pulled her hair too hard, yanking her head back. Her eyes watered at the sting. "That hurt!"

"Psh. You survived a war, Hermione. A little pulling can't hurt that bad. Just sit still and stop complaining," Ginny said flippantly behind her as she attempted to tame her hair into submission. "Merlin, I don't know how you survive with your hair. Do you even brush it?"

Hermione slumped her shoulders, sulking. "I do," she grumbled and winced she caught her own eye in the mirror. "I can't believe that I'm doing this."

"Well," Ginny clicked her tongue and frowned, "it's not as if they gave us another choice. Stupid law."

Hermione only gave the younger witch a weary smile. Ginny still had a few months to wait before she would receive a match provided by the Ministry. She was still sixteen although the Ministry expected her to abide by their rules, namely attending the medical and magical check up this afternoon that was conducted by the St. Mungo's Hospital. Thus the reason why Ginny was putting pins and trying to braid her hair, saying that she needed to look presentable to the public, especially since she was one of the most famous war heroines in their time. Normally, Hermione would put up a big fight however this time, she had let her, knowing that it kept the redhead occupied. Ginny, for all of her temperamental and indignation, didn't need to voice out that she was afraid the Ministry would give her a match that wasn't Harry.

Hermione winced as Ginny tightened the braid. She wanted nothing more than to use one of Ron's cuss words just to express the pounding pain in her head. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume that Ginny did it on purpose. Finally, the redhead retreated a step, nodding in satisfaction after declaring that she was finished. Hermione glanced at herself in the mirror and unconsciously reached out to tug her hair before stopping as she realized that her normally wild and free hair had been braided and bound by a white ribbon. Her normally color free face was now caked with light make up that Ginny forced to put on her. Her lips looked fuller, her eyes were bigger, and her face was freckled free. For the first time since the Yule Ball and Fleur's wedding, she was actually wearing make up again and just like before, she managed to come out as a swan instead of an ugly duckling.

She stared at her face and gulped down the lump that had formed in her throat. She tried not to show her discomfort to avoid offending Ginny. It was a strange sight to witness: instead of a bushy haired and bucktoothed awkward teenager, she was staring at a beautiful woman, body ripe with her hips sharp, her stomach flat, and her breasts full. She looked healthy and young, not half starved and deathly pale. She didn't look as though she had fought in battle and witnessed colleagues and friends dying; she looked as any other young woman in her own age. In another world, in another time, where she didn't suffer and fight in a war, Hermione could imagine herself looking like the women in the mirror. It saddened her and filled her with longing, seeing what she lost if she had chosen a different path.

"So?" Ginny inquired with an impatient note in her tone, never noticing the dark mood the older witch had taken. "What do you think?"

Hermione licked her lips and eyed herself once again. Somehow, it didn't feel right to see her so beautiful when she was broken inside. Underneath the pretty face and the stunning dress that accented her body was a clever woman torn by war. A woman whose worth was more than the marriage law was providing. When they saw her, they would expect some docile would-be bride who would obey to the whims of her husband. They didn't know the outspoken and passionate woman beneath. They wouldn't want to know her modernistic ideals and radical views, the causes that she desperately fought for and protected. They would be deceived by this illusion that Ginny created. She clenched her hands into fists. She felt like one big lie.

"It's alright," Hemione said, voice catching. She was getting far too emotional over her looks. She cleared her throat and watched as her hands smoothened her skirt that brushed her knees. "I still think that it's unnecessary, though. I'm going to cast a Notice Me Not charm on us as soon as we arrive there."

"Yes, and before you cast the charm, the people would notice you at first and I'm not going to let them see you looking frumpy as usual." Ginny scoffed. "And, Hermione, you think all girly things are unnecessary. Now, come on. The boys are waiting. We don't want to be late for our check up, do we?"

"Well, we both know that it's your fault," Hermione snarked. She pulled her dress up tighter to her chest and made sure for the nth time that it wasn't slipping off anytime soon. She was uncomfortably wearing a gold sleeveless dress with three layers of skirt that flowed whenever she walked. Unlike Ginny's other dresses, it needed to be tied instead of zipped in the back and it exposed her neck, a hint of cleavage, and her collarbones that were jutting out of her skin. She was still regaining the weight she had loss although, thankfully, she wasn't nearly as thin as before. "I can't believe that you're making me wear this. And to think that this is one of your tamer dresses."

Ginny snorted. "Well, you didn't want to wear the pink one and you certainly almost blew up the violet one."

"The pink one was backless and has a slit on the side that ended just an inch below my groin." Hermione glared at her. "Also, don't get me started on that violet one."

"There's nothing wrong in dressing up to feel better about yourself," Ginny defended herself, shrugging and making her temporarily curled hair bounce on her shoulders. "Now, stop complaining and let's go."

Before Hermione could have the last word, the younger witch had already sashayed out of the room, exuding confidence in her gait that the brunette didn't have it in her to possess. Ginny had every reason to be confident about herself: she was beautiful with a rosy skin complexion, heart shaped face, bright red hair, and mischievous hazel eyes. Despite that she was a year younger, she was taller than Hermione with long legs and although her breasts were small, the rest of her body was all curves. The green dress Ginny was wearing brought out all of her fantastic equipments that she had no trouble flaunting. She could only imagine Harry's reaction once he saw the girl he loved looking so beautiful.

Hermione casted a look at herself in the mirror and sighed when she could no longer see one trace of the bushy haired girl anymore before shaking her head and following after the redhead. She took careful steps down the stairs, watching her feet and ignoring her unease at wearing such high heels. At the last three steps, she looked up and promptly faltered, eyebrows rising when she saw that she had garnered more attention than she cared to admit. Molly's eyes were wet, Ginny was positively beaming, George was eyeing her with wide sober eyes, Harry looked as though he was in a deep trance, and Ron was staring at her like she was Merlin reincarnated. It felt the same as the Yule Ball all over again that an uncertain smile curved her lips as she took the last three steps.

"Hi," Hermione said, trying not to feel self conscious. She had no reason to be embarrassed, after all. "What are you all waiting for?"

Ron was the first one who seemed to finally gather his wits. He moved towards her, the blues in his eyes softening as he took her hand and reverently caressed her knuckles. "You look so beautiful, 'Mione," he breathed out in awe.

The sincerity leaking out from his voice was enough for Hermione to ignore the abhorred nickname that her peers insisted to call her and a bright smile lit up her face. "Thank you," she said, squeezing his hand.

They all left to St. Mungo's using the Floo Network. Green flames filled her vision until it dissipated into the wizarding hospital's lobby. Unlike before, it was full of wizards and witches that were of age and even older. Bachelors, bachelorettes, widows, spinsters, and so on and so forth. They weren't exempted from the law as long as the witches could produce children and as long as wizards could father children. This was the first testing that the Ministry insisted upon in order to determine who were fit enough to uphold the law. The test was to ensure the witches' fertility and stability of their magic while the wizards were tested in their capability to father children. If they were unfit, then they would get an exception pass from the Ministry.

She stepped out of the fireplace and walked to the side, waiting for the others to arrive. The amount of people in the room made her wary and she made sure that she kept her back to the wall, eyes darting around for any signs of danger. She sighed in relief when George came out and stood right next to her. Next was Ginny, and then Ron. Other people was starting to notice them so, Hermione immediately casted a Notice Me Not charm around their area. As soon as Harry came out of the fireplace, the fire reflecting his eyes, he immediately drew attention, especially from some witches who wanted nothing more than to become Mrs. Boy Who Lived, much to Ginny's ire. After all, if they couldn't get away from the law, they might as well catch the most sought after wizard in the Wizarding world. She quickly casted a Notice Me Not charm on Harry which he noticed and immediately sent her a grateful look for.

"Come on," Hermione said, opting to take charge when she noticed how uncomfortable Harry looked. She ignored the shiver of unease that went down her spine. "We'll have to make it quick. Arthur and Percy already made an appointment for us."

She strode quickly past the horde of waiting witches and wizards, confident that they would follow behind her. The grip she had around her wand didn't slacken, in case the Notice Me Not charm she casted on them would falter while they were surrounded by power hungry individuals that would whatever it took to have the power they had. She took a right turn, trusting the instructions that Arthur gave to her yesterday and also his assurances that their check ups weren't as public as the ones in the lobby.

"Where are we?" Ron asked as she came into a stop in front of a set of double doors.

Hermione looked at the sign on the door written in bold red: MEDIWITCH QUARTERS. She gave Ron a look that instantly made him red in embarrassment. Without warning, she cancelled the charm around them and knocked on one of the doors. The doors opened to reveal a beautiful busty young witch with bright blue eyes and ruby hair that tumbled in fat curls down her shoulders. She looked as though she was about their age nut she was wearing the standard white Mediwitch robes.

"Susan Bones!" Ginny exclaimed, immediately recognizing their Hufflepuff schoolmate.

"Quickly," the beautiful redhead urged. "Inside."

They darted inside the room and eyed the beds lined up and the odd equipments that were scattered and about. Hermione refrained from slapping Ron's hand away when he grabbed one of the equipments. She chose to sit on the closest bed next to her instead, the adrenaline rush slowly draining from her body. She watched as Susan locked the door behind them after making sure that they weren't followed.

"We must hurry," Susan said, her voice was soft but urgent. "The Ministry officials are going to arrive soon and they would no doubt find you in order to gain some of the public's appreciation."

"So, you're the one who's going to examine us?" Harry questioned, sitting on the bed opposite of Hermione. "Aren't you the same age as us?"

Susan colored when the Boy Who Loved addressed her. "Err, yes, I am. I've been training to become a mediwitch since the war ended so I know what to do. I just took an oath a month ago actually."

"So, that means that you can't tamper with our records then," Hermione said, disappointment lacing her voice. She had been hoping that Susan hadn't taken her oath yet so they could find a loophole around the law. "You can't make it appear as though we're infertile and sterile. Or that our magic aren't stable."

Susan shook her head, cringing. "No, I can't. The oath prohibits me. And even if I could tamper with your records, it's still a magical record and the Ministry would suspect foul play especially since you're all the war heroes and heroines. They would insist on another test, this time with a Ministry offical to monitor it."

Ron scowled. "Stupid law," he muttered.

Susan winced, hearing Ron's statement. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Ginny assured her. "It's all the Ministry's fault. They're the ones who's making us do this."

There was a hint of anxiousness in Susan's smile. "Well, let's begin, shall we?"

The testing was a series of spell casted upon them to determine the state of their magic — "It's not uncommon that the magical core can be erratic after the war due to magical exhaustion." — the boys' capacity to have children — "Wizards usually can produce children even at one hundred so you don't have to worry about anything." — and the girls' fertility — "Your cycles are irregular, Ginny. So, I want you take this potion every week to regulate your cycles. Other than that, you pass." — It was Hermione's turn when a problem occurred.

"Hmm," Susan hummed, frowning as she cancelled the charm. "It seems that you have magical imbued problems in your uterus and your ovaries. It seems a bit old though."

Hermione trained her gaze on the redhead, ignoring the other people in the room. "I was cursed by Antonin Dolohov when I was sixteen," she said. "Nobody really knew what kind of spell it was and I have to maintain ten potions a day for three months to heal my body and to regain my strength, both physical and magical. To this day, I still have to take at least five potions a week under Madame Pomfrey's instructions to prevent fatigue, to heal my uterus, and to regulate my cycles. Is it going to be a problem?"

Susan forced a smile on her plump lips. "Well, as long as you keep on drinking your potions at a regular rate and visit Madame Pomfrey, at least once a month, then I don't see how it's a problem." She patted her knee. "You pass."

Hermione nodded and jumped down the bed as Susan wrote her diagnosis in Hermione's own record files. After a few quick exchange of thank you's, they immediately left the hospital with little to no trouble because of the Notice Me Not charm that Hermione casted on them. Once they got home, however, Ron immediately rounded on Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron demanded.

Hermione paused. "Tell you what?"

"That Dolohov's curse did more damage to you than we thought," Ron spat out. "You told us that you were fine and then we just found out today that you aren't?!"

"I was and still am fine," Hermione snapped, gritting her teeth and fisting her hands. "I don't see why I have to tell you since Madame Pomfrey insisted on my full recovery and there will be nothing wrong with me as long as I drink my potions!"

"You still should've told us!" Ron's face was turning into an ugly shade of red. "We were on a hunt for a year, Hermione! What would've happened if you ran out of potions?! What would Harry and I do if something happened to you during the hunt because you didn't tell us the truth?!"

"But nothing happened!" Hermione exasperatedly pointed out to him. "I was fine! I wasn't irresponsible enough to go on with you without making sure that my potions will last a year at most! Honestly, Ron, if I told you the truth, you two would've coddled me and I'd hate that because I'm not a fragile china doll to be handled with care! I'm a big grown witch and I can take care of myself!"

"That's not the point! The point is you should've told us the truth instead of hiding it for years, Hermione! You were the one who kept on casting the wards the most and you were the one who kept on insisting us to eat even though there's barely enough for yourself! You didn't even get enough sleep because you always took watch! A lot of bad things could've happened that year and something bad could've happened to you!"

"But nothing bad happened!" Hermione scowled. "I don't see why we're arguing about this, Ronald!"

"We're arguing about this because I'm planning to marry you!"

Hermione went rigid, her jaw slackened and her eyes widened, conveying her shock at his declaration. Ron's ears reddened and he ducked down his head, shuffling his feet. She distantly heard the others walking out of the room to give them some semblance of privacy despite that they were aware that they were going to eavesdrop somewhere behind the door. Her heart twinged when his blue eyes darted to her face before looking away when her shocked expression hadn't changed.

"Ron..." She breathed out before halting as words seemed to elude her.

"I want to marry you," Ron rushed out, his gaze on his feet. "And... And I can't take care of you like a proper husband when... when I don't know about this."

Hermione stared at him. This was the reason why Ron had been acting strangely since finding out about the law. Suddenly, it all made sense to her. This was the reason for the shy glances and the long stares and the frantic worry he had on her. He was planning to propose to her, thinking of a future where she would become his wife and he would become her husband. He had thought that they would marry, had hoped it even under the guise of the law. She felt sick to her stomach and her trembling hands pressed down against her torso, trying to prevent herself from vomiting in front of him.

She gulped down the sob threatening to slip past her lips. "Ron," her voice was full of pain, "you can't. We— we can't get married."

Ron wasn't as angry as she suspected he was going to be. He just looked lost. "Why not?"

"Because of the law," she revealed to him slowly as though it would lessen the blow of her words. "It's stated that after the law, every engagement, whether registered or not, would be null and void as long as it's not a Ministry approved match. We can't get married because... because our match isn't made by the Ministry."

His breath hitched and he looked lost and crushed at the same time, as though he was stuck in between the sense of awareness and unconsciousness. He stumbled back, the strength of his feet wavering for a split second before he had the sense to regain his balance and control. She watched him as he reached one of his hands out and planted his palms on the wall. The breaths that came out of his mouth was heavy and harsh and his face contorted into an ugly expression of anguish.

"But— but I thought..." Ron trailed off, whipping his head to the side, bringing his fist to his teeth, and biting down on his knuckles.

Hermione started towards him. "Ron, I'm so sorry."

Ron shook his head. "No," he said, spine straightening as he attempted a stance of confidence but all Hermione could see was a broken man trying to scramble and pick up his shattered pieces. "No, it's okay. It— it was just a thought, anyway. I wanted— wanted to save you from— from getting a horrible match. I didn't think that— that the Ministry would stop it."

Before Hermione could say anything, he fled from the room, his distinctive steps thundering against the floorboards, reaching Hermione's chest and filling it with the echoes of his footsteps. When the steps went distant until not one sound from it could be heard, she felt hollow inside as those echoes receded. She dropped down on a chair, tugging her hair.

In that room, she felt impossibly alone more than ever.