Part One
Chapter One
It was that dream. She could feel the back of her hand pressed hard against her lips, holding in the scream, the other against her chest, where she could feel her heart pounding. Her breath came short and ragged in her lungs. If there was anything in this world that scared Hermione Granger, it was that dream.
What was so special about that dream? It was more than just a nightmare. It was a memory, a horrible memory. The kind that repeated itself over and over in your head before you went to sleep, then again, with alarming clarity, in your dreams. That was the worst part. Knowing that it wasn't just a nightmare, that it had really happened, and that she couldn't forget about it.
She was at the Christmas ball with Ron. She had been so happy when he asked her, when she knew that he liked her, and that she didn't have to worry. Back when that was her biggest fear. Everyone was happy, laughing, talking, eating the good food, and dancing. She and Ron were laughing at Ginny, as she tried to get up the courage to talk to Harry. She was leaning slightly against Ron, and he against her, both too nervous to do anything more. She smiled as he half put his arm around her and pulled her onto the dance floor. They danced song after son, dance after dance, laughing and talking and having a good time. It was in the middle of a slow song when it happened. Ron had been inches- inches- away from kissing her again, only her second or third real kiss. And then she screamed.
It wasn't Ron who made her scream. No, she much enjoyed being that close to him. But half a second before his lips touched hers, Hermione had felt a surge of evil; cold, dark and rancid. She didn't know what it was or where it came from, but she knew something horrible was going to happen. The minute the scream escaped her lips, everyone panicked. It was utter chaos. Students were running everywhere, knocking into each other and screaming. In the midst of all the confusion, she could hear a cold voice hissing dark incantations and screaming spells. Jets of green light from the Avada Kedrava curse shot out in all directions. Streams of acid-green fire bounced off walls to hit students, burning and killing.
She hadn't moved. She just stood there, somehow avoiding all the flames and curses, but completely still. It wasn't until Ron finally scooped her up and began running with her in his arms that she came back to reality. She slid out of his grasp and ran beside him, feeling his arm still around her waist, pulling her along. Then one of the jets of fire grazed the side of his head, and he stumbled and fell. Hermione was screaming and crying and calling his name all at once, and she barely noticed the hands that pried her away from him, carried her away.
The dream always changed right then. The memory was over, and she was living a new nightmare, watching as Ron, dressed all in white, was led away from her by Ministry of Magic officials, a tortured expression on his pale face. Though he looked the same as he always had, but she somehow knew that he was supposed to be older. She screamed and yelled at the officials to bring him back to her, but her cries went unheard. It was always right when they closed the door behind them that she woke up.
The dance had been the last place Hermione had seen him face to face. The last memory she had of Ron was him crumpling in her arms, his face contorted in pain, yelling at her to keep running. They had taken everyone to various Muggle hospitals, and she had received no word from anyone if Ron was alive. Four weeks, four long, torturous weeks, passed before she received an owl from him, asking if she was all right.
Since then, she, Ron and Harry had exchanged letters, long chatty and generally informative. But over the months, they had gotten vaguer, until she barely noticed when one of them forgot to write her. She hadn't heard from Ron for three weeks, and she had had no word from Harry in over a month.
Hermione sighed and looked at the alarm clock. 5:30 AM. Damn. I may as well get up, she though miserably. She rolled out of bed, gasping as her feet hit cold floor. She pulled a pair of pants and a sweater on and jammed her feet into slippers. Glancing at the calendar, she realized that it was July 31st. Harry's birthday. The day she would usually be getting a letter from Hogwarts containing her supply list and a reminder to be at platform 9¾ on September 1st. She sighed heavily and plodded down the stairs to the kitchen.
One of these days, we need to get a different cereal than Shreddies, Hermione thought. I'm very sick of Shreddies. She dismally poured herself a bowl and spread the paper out in front of her. News, boring. Entertainment, boring. Living, boring. Aha! Comics! But even the comics were dull and silly today. Disgusted, She tossed the paper away and stared gloomily out the window at the rain pounding down. Everything about the day promised to be dark and miserable.
Hermione finally pushed the bowl away from her and stood up. It was days like this that she missed her friends the most. How as she supposed to keep up her magic studies if anything magical reminded her of her friends? She wasn't allowed to see them, only write letters. She swallowed her tears before they could fall and plodded silently back up the stairs to her room and flopped on her bed.
There was that horrible picture of Ron. Well, technically, it wasn't a horrible picture. It was a very good picture, really. But looking at it was hard. Hermione picked it up and stared at it, thinking that it was lucky she had taken it with a Muggle camera. She didn't think she could take it if the picture smiled and waved at her the way magical ones did. The photographic Ron was frozen in the air, caught in mid-leap. She had taken it outside on the Hogwarts grounds, as Ron jumped out of a tree. She smiled at his giddy expression and replaced it on her bedside table.
Of course, he would look different, now. It had been a year and a half since she had seen him, and a person can change a lot in that time. She knew she had. She stood up and stared at her reflection in the mirror above her bookshelf.
About a month after her sixteenth birthday, Hermione's hair had suddenly lost its bushiness, so now it hung luxuriously long and thick over her shoulders. Her front teeth had shrunk, or the rest of her had grown to fit them, and her eyes were slanted and a deep cinnamon. Her mother had once described her as having an "elfish" appearance, and Hermione had to agree. The boys that had once teased her about her hair and teeth now stared bewilderedly after her, transfixed. What she wouldn't give to be plain again. The only person she wanted looking at her like that was Ron, and he was on the other side of the country and banned from contact with her.
Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek as she thought of her friends. When would she ever see them again?
Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Her head flew up. There was an owl sitting outside the window, tapping its beak on the glass. Hermione raced to open the window, surprised. It wasn't Hedwig or Pigwidgeon, Harry's and Ron's owls, but a large grey one she didn't recognize. It flew in importantly and dropped a thick envelope on her desk, then hooted and flew back out, leaving a trail of feathers on his wake.
Is it owl molting season? Hermione thought absently as she tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of heavy parchment. She nearly dropped it. There, at the top of the page, was the Hogwarts crest. She quickly scanned the letter. Sure enough, it was the same summoning letter that she always got on this day, with her supply list and reminder to be on the train to the school. Hardly daring to believe it, she read it again, turned it over and finally placed it on her desk, breathing hard. If she was being asked to return to school, surely everyone else was, too. In a month she could see her friends again. She could see Ron again.
Tap, tap. Another one? Hermione thought, pulling away the curtains. Two letters in one day? She almost fell over when she saw who it was. Pig, Ron's pint-sized owl, somersaulted into her room, fluttering and flipping and running into things. On a normal day, Hermione would have chased him around the room, in a vain effort to retrieve her letter and save her belongings. But today she was so happy top see him there, with a letter from Ron, that she just fell, laughing onto her bed. Pig finally got his bearings straight and landed with a soft plop on chest, dropping the letter in her face. She snatched it and tore it open. Finally!
She didn't know what she was expecting, but what was in the small envelope certainly wasn't it. Ron's letter was barely even a letter, just a note. A memo, even:
Hermione,
We need to talk, face to face. Apparently, we're allowed to see each other again. So, meet me at the Leaky Cauldron on August 15th at 5:00 PM. I don't care how you get there, but make sure you get there.
-Ron
Very abrupt indeed. But it was still from Ron, and he wanted to see her. Hermione's heart sang as she replaced the letter into the envelope and scanned her appointment book. August 15th… August 15th… she was free that day. Thank God! To see Ron again…
Maybe the day wouldn't be so bad, after all.
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