My beta, enchanted4life, is doing such an amazing work. We should all thank her for allowing you to be able to understand me ! I do stupid errors sometimes, English is not my first language but hey, I enjoy translating!

Love and kisses and hugs.

Enjoy this bloody ride.

Feet dangling from the end of the couch. The sighs. Her wildly messy hair splayed over the couch arm. Brown. Tangled. Her eyes that were lost. Her slow breath, the saliva she swallowed. The clock beating away the seconds. A stupidly slow tempo. The face of death spreading its scent through her hair. The shivers that ran down her back, that wouldn't let her go. Her sad gaze that stared at the family frame.

Her brother. He had her features. Messy hair, mischievous eyes, a snub nose. Imperfect. But Samuel was still her brother. She saw his blood-covered face in her mind and shuddered. She shook her head and pushed away the macabre thoughts. How could he have been killed? After the war against Voldemort, she thought she was finally going to lead a normal, quiet life. She had brought back her parents from Australia and gave them back their memories. But as soon as summer began, tragedy struck the Granger family. Samuel Granger, her only and dearest older brother, had been fucking killed in their muggle neighborhood.

Hermione's face was blank, expressionless. She missed her two best friends, Ron and Harry. She knew she would see them the next day when she boarded the train to Hogwarts. When the tragedy had occurred, Hermione had been overwhelmed by the number of sympathy letters and cards her best friends and closest relatives had sent her. She had opened some of them, and shoved the rest in a drawer. She knew that her friends, especially Harry, had been through so much already and also had his share of grief in his life, but she felt disconnected. She didn't want to burden anyone in the post-war peace that everyone was finally experiencing.

But she had to admit, the cards were ridiculous. How could anyone write "He will always be in your heart"? "He's watching over you"? "He's your guardian angel"? Fuck no. That stuff was for muggle drugstore crap. Inside her heart wasn't where she wanted her brother. She wanted him with her, by her actual bloody side. She wanted to hear his teasing, she wanted to feel his hand ruffling her hair because Merlin knew she hated that. His angry slaps on her shoulder when she annoyed him too much. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and many others had been slowly decreasing the owls they sent her, knowing fully well that Hermione's lack of response could only mean that their words did not comfort her. At all.

Her seventh year would begin the next day, or actually it was the eighth if you counted the year she was off hunting Horcruxes. All the previous seventh-year received an invitation to redo their year, which would be called "Eighth Year". The castle had been under reconstruction since the end of the Great War. An owl had brought her a letter a week earlier. McGonagall was congratulating her for being appointed Head Girl, writing on and on about how great of an honor it would be to receive a war hero at Hogwarts, who also happened to be the most brilliant witch the school had ever taught, etc. She would work alongside an eighth-year Slytherin student. Great.

Honor? War hero? Hermione had snorted, taken the badge, and tossed the envelope in the garbage can. Slytherin and honor? Of course she was glad and proud to be given that badge at Hogwarts. She was actually kind of expecting it, but not because she had played an "important" role in the terrible Great War a few months ago. But why, dear God, a Slytherin student?

His perfect and arrogant face with grey eyes came to mind. She gritted her teeth. Not him, please. Parkinson, Zabini, Bullstrode, Greengrass, Nott, but not Malfoy. He was the worst of them all. She was not expecting to see him for a long time anyway, since his family had been put on trial this summer. She didn't even believe he would ever set foot again in Hogwarts, not after what he did. Anyway. Good riddance.

Hermione had skipped her dinner. Her appetite had left her long ago. She locked herself in her room to pack, folding her clothes neatly and arranging them properly in her huge suitcase. She sighed with satisfaction. All I want is to have a nice quiet year... Don't I deserve it?

The next morning, she woke up gently, sun beaming on her face through the window. She groaned, but didn't want to get up. Hermione turned her head to her clock, saw that it was already late morning and jumped out of bed.

"I'm late, dammit!"

Her train was leaving at 11 o'clock sharp... it was a quarter past 10. She got dressed, not paying attention to the outfit she was putting together. She rushed out of her room and stopped. Normally, her brother would open her door, poke his head through the opening and say, "You're always late. Ten points down to Gryffindor!"

She stared at her door. She realized he wasn't coming this time. She shook her head, rolled her eyes as she realized how stupid she was getting. She grabbed her suitcase, looked around one last time to look at her room and turned away, swallowing her sobs. She had never experienced a deeper pain before.

Downstairs, her mother quickly hugged her before she left for King's Cross Station. "Be my big girl, sweetie. You've been through so much already… Stay strong. I love you."

"I love you too Mum, I'll write. I…uh...have to go." She left in a hurry without a look back. She felt bad, but her mother constantly reminded her of what she had been through and she couldn't handle it anymore, nor could she talk to her about it. Sometimes all she wanted was to bloody stop talking about the drama.

She crossed the brick wall and found herself immediately transported on Platform 9 3\4. The train whistled and a wisp of dark smoke rose into the sky. She looked at the train as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Damn, she missed her brother. He always accompanied her to the train, even though he graduated from Hogwarts 4 years ago. He had since been working at the Department of Law Enforcement at the Ministry, serving as an Auror. He had been killed on his way home from work. By the time she had heard the news, it was too late, he was already dead before being brought to St Mungo's.

She wiped away a tear that had rolled down her cheek and sniffled. Stupid Hermione. Stop this nonsense. She shouldn't let her emotions get the better of her; she didn't want to cry anymore. She suddenly saw two familiar faces in the distance. She faked her smile as Ron, before Harry, walked over to her. She was still happy to see them.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" cried Ron. "How I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Ron" she replied, "I really did! Oh...Harry!"

She ran into his arms and hugged him. Seeing them again after the summer she had just lived made her emotional. But she didn't like the way they both looked at her. Just as she had feared, their gaze had changed. They looked at her like she was made of porcelain, like she was about to shatter. No matter that she felt that way, so she just wanted them to move on and stop pitying her.

"Hermione, we are so sorry—"

"It's fine. " she dismissed their comments with a rather piercing look, her voice quite frank and raw. Harry sighed and touched her shoulder. She pulled away and looked away. "Harry, please."

"But, Hermione," Ron began, "you can tell us—"

"What the hell don't you understand!? What language do I need to speak? I don't need your pity, okay, I'm a big girl. I'm sorry! It just happened, that's all. It... that's it, it's…" Silence fell between the three of them.

Hermione could feel her throat tightening and her eyes stinging. She was frustrated, but terribly sad. She knew she was being really rude with them, she could see that she was offending them. Before her tears flowed, she ran a hand over her face, looking exhausted. She left them there. She walked around them, heading for the train without looking back at them, her heart full of guilt.

She sat down in an empty compartment and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and sniffed again. A painful gaping wound tore at her chest. The place Samuel should have taken. People had to stop talking to her about him.

"Hermy!" cried Ron. Hermione turned around. Her best friends were standing in front of the compartment, looking sad. Again. Ron sat down beside her and took her in his arms. He cradled her for a moment and she let him. Harry looked at her, wondering why such a nice girl had to go through such an awful thing. No one said anything. They were not supposed to. The silence was precious, filled with such tension that it could have been cut with a knife.

"I just don't want to think about it anymore," Hermione muttered. "Not for now. Okay?"

They nodded, putting aside their wounded pride. "Of course, but don't you think—"

"Miss Granger?" said a familar voice. "We're happy to have you back. Follow me, please. You must move to the Heads' carriage. And please take your suitcase."

It was Professor McGonagall. Hermione followed her with her suitcase, and entered her designated compartment. She wondered who would be sharing it with her, she couldn't wait to find out. Anything to distract her. She lifted her suitcase, struggling a little, and put it on the grate above the seats. Then finally she sat down and looked out of the window. The compartment door creaked open and a presence entered. Hermione turned her eyes and found her partner.

NO. BLOODY. WAY.

"Well, well, well !" he smirked. The compartment stopped vibrating, the sensations disappeared from the environment as she met his eyes. Hermione's cheeks turned pink with anger and disappointment.

Draco Malfoy, with his usual arrogant smile, was scanning her from head to toe. "Hair as wild as ever, eyes as lifeless as ever. Damn, some people are spoiled with banalities... "

"Tell me I'm dreaming, or were you actually born to ruin my life?" whispered Hermione through her teeth.

"Oh, don't kid yourself Granger," Draco replied, "you're ruining mine."

She closed her eyes. What would Samuel have done? All she wanted was to be happy. She glared at the Slytherin. She had to calm down; she was storing up a lot more anger than before. Her wish was to make McGonagall proud of her choice when she selected her for this position, and she would finish this year as soon as possible. The hunt for Horcruxes and the last war had exhausted many souls, and the Granger tragedy had not left Hermione's heart unscathed.

A glimmer of peace dawned in her mind, even if she wanted to rip his eyes out. She didn't want to create conflict. "Well, maybe we could at least try to get along, Malfoy, if we're gonna work together."

"Don't expect me to be fucking thrilled about sharing a dormitory with a filthy Mudblood!"

"How dare you—"

Draco's face turned dangerous, "Don't you even dare finishing that sentence, Granger!"

"Watch your tongue, you bloody git, or you'll see how insufferable I can be."

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "Come on, move over, you little vermin!"

To hell with this new fucking peace in a new year, Hermione thought. "I haven't been offended nor impressed by your little name-calling for a long time now, Malfoy. And it's our common compartment, so I encourage you to be civil!"

"No? Not even 'Mudblood'? Yeah, you wish…" He continued to mumble, but Hermione had already had enough. Draco put his suitcase on the grate and then sat down as far away from her as possible. He had to admit, she had quite a temper that he didn't recognize before.

"What are you leering at me for, you wanker?" she snarled at him.

Draco, caught off guard, snapped out of his reverie and gave her a nasty look. "Just trying to find more flaws to tease you with, you have so many!"

"Fine, fine, I get it." Hermione mumbled as she lay back on the bench. "Now leave me alone."

"About fucking time," whispered Malfoy.

She sealed her lips and walled herself in. She looked up at the ceiling, at the luggage rack. She counted the little brown spots that dotted the compartment's wood. Staring into space, she first saw the blood again. Then she imagined herself. The dead body. The major wounds all over her.

Leaving. She would give anything to be joining her brother, wherever he was now, if that was bloody heaven, hell, or even walking happily in fucking Narnia.

"And perhaps there is a limit to the grieving that the human heart can do. As when one adds salt to a tumbler of water, there comes a point where simply no more will be absorbed."

Sarah Waters

oOoOoOo

Also, can I apologize for this slow, cliché start ? I know this trope has been used over and over again BUT hopefully you'll see that it's unique along the way!

Love, Axiomea