Lots of descriptive bits in this one. I hope you like this chapter. I tried to channel as much inspiration from my LLBean magazines as possible. I'm a bit obsessed.

Feel free to comment -- I really appreciate it, and they definitely serve as a swift kick in the backside to keep writing. Thanks so much!

When Hermione woke, she noticed that the sun had just begun to inch over the brownstones across from her flat. She swiped a hand through her tangled curls, noticing how fuzzy her head felt.

"Harry bleeding Potter," she barely mumbled. "Oh God, it must've been Dreamless Sleep," as she gripped her head to steady herself.

It had taken Hermione longer than expected to get through her morning routine. Dreamless Sleep tended to have that side effect on her, which is why she more often than not refused to ingest the drug.

It was after her shower that she felt a slight bit better, as she focused intently on her bathroom mirror, carefully apply dark brown mascara to her long lashes. After wiping a few flecks of fallen shadow from her cheeks, she decided it was time to go.

She looked quite fetching in the muggle clothes that she still wore on a regular basis. Her dark washed skinnies hugged her curves, while her grey long sleeve and dark green jacket had given her the touch of modesty she preferred. Prior to showering, Hermione had checked the weather, and although it was sunny, Maine was just coming out of a cold snap during its late spring. Just for added measure, she grabbed an off white and black striped scarf and wound it around her neck before placing her brown sunglasses over her eyes. The last items she grabbed were her light grey and beige Toms, and once she had slipped them on, she hesitantly levitated her weekend bag to the middle of her living room. Of course, she was planning on staying longer than just a singular weekend, but she chose to cast an Undetectable Extension Charm to hide the rest of her necessities...including the gorgeously upsetting ring.

"In you go, Draco," she muttered half-heartedly, already feeling the burden on her shoulders all but weighing her down. Taking one last breath, she surveyed her apartment and then reached for her international port key. The irony was not lost on her as she pulled out a black and green dragon replica toy sporting a golden underbelly. It wrapped itself around her wrist as it breathed little puffs of smoke and fire, squeaking out a roar.

"Crookshanks! Come here, kitty!" She called to the haughty kneazel.

Within seconds, Crooks was underfoot and the two zipped out of her tidy home with a WHOOOSH, leaving only the curtains to waft back down to their soldier straight position.

Hermione appeared in an alley way between two shops in Jonesport, Maine. Noticing that the orange furball had begun to wind his away around trash cans and into the open, she decided that she too should start her journey to find her ocean front rental.

"You'll come find me when you're done snooping, yes?" She reminded the cat.

Hermione was rewarded with a grouchy mewl while the feline slinked away, and within seconds she was alone.

Once she had made it out of the ally way, she started down Main Street in search of the tiny rental property she had leased. At only 784 square feet with two bedrooms and one bath, she was hoping to indulge in some much needed respite from the craze of the ministry...she would also be forced in preparing to face Draco's memories for the absolute last time before saying "goodbye". Hermione had hoped that once she had decided to leave Jonesport and head home, the only thing that would remain inside of the little gray shanty would be the ghost of Draco and his past.

Hermione hadn't noticed how far she had walked as she contemplated what she'd do with her time in Jonesport. When she realized she was no longer on the main sidewalk anymore, she stopped to take in her surroundings, with a hand on her hip, one leg popped.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath.

She looked around again. Jonesport wasn't big, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in its picturesque views. There were multiple fire lanes to the surrounding ocean front properties, and Hermione couldn't make heads or tails as to which one would lead her to Englishman Bay Rd.

The wind whipped at her hair, sending it dancing across her face. Fortunately for Hermione, with the help of a charm in conjunction with a generous amount of SleakEasy's, her hair wasn't as hard to control as it had been all throughout her prepubescent years. A candy apple red pumper fire truck hummed past her as she tried in vain to tame her hair back in to place, still searching for the dirt path that would take her to the shake shingled beach house.

"Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed wth a stomp of her foot.

It was then that she saw the pumper ride its brakes, coming to an abrupt stop, and then slowly reversing back to where she stood.

"Need help, miss?" Shouted a ruddy faced firefighter, as he leaned out of the passenger window.

"Uh, um, yes, I think so!" Hermione shouted back over the howl of the wind. "Might you be able to point me in the direction of Englishman Bay Road?"

"Not from around these parts, huh? Well you'll go down this road until you get to that sandy one right there," he pointed, "then that'll take you to a fork, the only road in that fork is Englishman. Not too far from here. Not many people out that way though. You got family 'round here?"

"Oh, me? No, just renting a bit. But thank you ever so! I do appreciate it."

"'Course, no problem, miss!" The driver's hand came into view, gesturing that he had asked the other fireman a question. "Hey, miss! You out there all alone?"

"Yes, just myself and my cat." She said as she tried scraping her hair back out of her eyes.

"Might want to grab as many provisions you can, we're expecting a mighty big storm this weekend. Should be a doozy!" He smiled. "Firehouse is always open, but if you find yourself in a pickle, you can always call." He turned towards the driver, "Ain't that right, Drake?" Hermione saw a thumbs up appear by the steering wheel.

As the pumper pulled away, the fireman leaned out one final time, "Let us know if you need anything! Have a nice day!" A pale arm made its way out of the drivers side window and gave a languid wave before resigning to hang down the outside of the door.

Hermione watched the 6-wheeled vehicle lumber down the road until it was no longer visible, then continued walking until she came across Fire lane 7.

After having turned the key, Hermione walked inside the petite building that she planned to use as her short term home away from home. The air was stale, and there were mounds of beach sand scattered about the floor. The wind had blown it through the bottom crack of the door during the last storm the house had weathered. She also couldn't help but notice the half-inch layer of thick dust that coated most surfaces, as well as the few cob webs that lingered around lights and in corners.

With a huff, she set to work cleaning the muggle way, sweeping sand, washing floors, working the dirt and grime out of the porous surfaces. Many of Hermione's inner circle never understood her penchant for physical cleaning when she could simply use her magic, but Hermione thought of it as a soothing menial task that could anchor her churning emotions.

She focused on scrubbing down the quartz countertops, just as the stretching rays of sun disappeared from the window. When she turned to start on the smudged glass, Hermione noticed that the sky had darkened to a light grey pallor, and the chop from the ocean could be audibly heard through the closed doors and windows. She hurriedly finished up the last few bits of housework so that she could unpack, as well as make up her bedroom.

Pulling the warmed sheets from the dryer in the mud room, she thought to make the bed before getting comfortable for the night. The checkered blue and white pattern looked fetching enough against the antiqued white headboard. A lighter blue comforter topped the bed while a flouncy white dust ruffle hovered just above the slate floorboards. After peeking into the tiny bedroom closet, she also found a wooly maroon blanket that would help in keeping her warm, should the bad weather bring with it the cold and icy rain Maine had previously experienced only weeks before.

Hermione loved the charm that the house seemed to exude. It featured a fireplace in both the living and bedroom, while boasting weathered grey hardwood floors and white washed shiplap walls. Seashells had been pressed into the concrete that held both fireplaces together, while some impressive handyman had fashioned both mantles out of huge planks of driftwood. Luckily, the previous owner had thought to cover all of the navy blue furniture in drop clothes before leaving the house vacant for so long.

After a quick microwaveable dinner (she made a mental note to stock the fridge) Hermione walked barefoot to her room, unpacking her clothes from her enlarged tote, and folding the items into the matching distressed mirrored bureau. Hermione charmed a rope of twinkle lights to hang around the mirror, just as she whispered "incendio", enjoying the glow that came from the roaring blaze in the hearth.

She reached into her tote and pulled out the last item that it had stowed. The black velvet box shook in her hands. Hermione kneeled by the flickering flames, willing her blood not to run cold from the touch. Fingers shaking with trepidation, she breathlessly slipped the cold metal over her knuckle, instantly falling into a curtain of black nothingness, and landing feet first, coughing, in a dark mahogany paneled library.