Life was beginning to return to normal. Ron and Harry had returned to work, while Hermione stayed at home during the day, because her boss insisted she stay at home until she was completely sorted out.

Hermione, of course, completely objected to this injustice, and demanded Ron and Harry to back her up. But her two best friends only agreed with her boss, which sent her into an emotional rage, utterly proving their point.

She had never been this emotional in her whole life, not even during her adolescence. She was told it was a side effect to her godforsaken potion, but she wasn't sure how long she would be able to take it before she chucked the bottle of black troll boogies at the wall. She was going crazy without her job, and all she did all day was sit around and read, and wait for Ron and Harry to return home.

One day, as Hermione read through Hogwarts, a History for the millionth time, her darker thoughts began to consume her.

Why am I sitting here while Ron and Harry go out to fight Death Eaters like a bloody housewife? I don't deserve this!

Because they think you're mad.

Why can't I go back to my job? Why am I being treated like a nutter, do they think I'll go out and attack my coworkers?

Yes, they think you're going mad.

That doesn't give them any right! I'm the same as I've always been; I've just had some emotional pain, that's all. Why are they tiptoeing around me like I'm a bloody bomb?

Because you're going mad.

SHUT UP!

Hermione stood up quickly, her thoughts having brought her to the breaking point. She thrust her book across the room, where it bounced against the wall and fell to the floor. She then looked around once more, finding a picture of herself, Ron and Harry in fourth year and chucking that too. The frame broke against the wall and the glass shattered across the floor.

She screamed with rage and finally collapsed to the floor in tears. She huddled against the wall of the sitting room and cried for what felt like hours.

When she had finally gotten up to look at herself in a mirror, the sun was sinking on the horizon against an inky-colored sky. The clock read five forty-five. Harry and Ron were expected home at six.

She looked in the mirror in the hallway, which showed that her eyes were puffy and it was clear she had been crying. She groaned impatiently and wiped her eyes roughly, but it did no good.

She returned to the sitting room, and picked up the frame and picture, putting them on the table while picking up the rest of the pieces of glass, cutting herself and cursing, until she remembered her wand. She kicked herself internally and muttered "Reparo", returning the frame and picture to its original state.

Hermione picked up the book she had thrown, and immediately regretted her actions. Her favorite book now had a dent in the binding, and some of the pages had been ripped.

A sudden banging on the door made her jump. She stared at the door suspiciously. Harry and Ron usually came through the Floo, or they would Disapparate straight into the flat, so it couldn't be either of them. Could it be a family member…?

The banging continued, loud and harsh. No Weasley or Granger would ever be that impatient, it was as if the person at the door was threatening her: "Open the door now, or else."

Hermione withdrew her wand and approached the door, wand at the ready. Before she could as much as turn the handle, however, the door flew open and three masked men entered her flat.

Before she could react, the tallest of the men pointed his wand at her and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Hermione tried to hang on to her wand, but the spell wrestled it from her fingers, and it flew into the man's hand. She couldn't see their faces, but Hermione was sure that the men's faces were victorious.

Faster than anything she could imagine, the men were suddenly within centimeters of her face, and the man who had her wand closed his fingers around her throat, cutting off her airway. From behind his mask came two harsh words:

"Where's Potter?"