Disclaimer: Okay, first off, if anyone associated with J.K. Rowling or Bloomsbury Publishing actually
READS my stuff, let me know, and I'll keep this up. Otherwise, it's getting old. *sigh* I OWN NAUGHT!

A/N: I have some bad news: I am no longer sick. I no longer need cold medication. I went and read over
the first parts of this story, and I must say, I feel like a complete nutter. Ugh, do you think I used
the word "'Mione" enough? *sigh* Ah, well. Didya know I got a website? Huh? Didya? *looks much too proud
of herself* I did. It's kinda sad, though. And I am rambling. Yes, I most definitely am.

Okay, to the point: I shall continue this, even though I am no longer under the influence of various
decongestiants, but it probably won't be any good, now that the sudafed doesn't have a say in the plot.

Oh, and snitch--your sense of humor isn't that odd. Occasionally, I write random, rambling, nonsensical
notes to my friends during school, and it's a lot like my notes on my fics, and they find them amusing,
if pointless, I think. (Please do correct me if I'm wrong, Ebony.^_^)

And Aleeandra--I'm quite flattered that you love this series, but I think you should seek medical
attention immediately. You've got issues if you actually like this drivel. (j/k...well, sorta...)

Last message; I promise: To Aria--Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promised myself I wouldn't ask
people to nominate me, and I am positively thrilled that you might even CONSIDER it! *does a little
dance around the room, attracting funny glares from the rest of her family, who is currently eating*

Right, to the fic, then. Please do review--I promise not to beg anymore! *crosses fingers*

Lost
Part--what, seven? Jeez...yes--7
by Veralidaine

(I do not feel like coming up with a creative, cutsie little chapter title today. Sowwy.)

Hermione sat on her bed in the Leaky Cauldron, flipping through her new textbooks. Of course, as she had
lost all of her notes and background reading, she was panicked about maintaining her usual standards for
grades. After all, losing parents, a home, a SECOND home, and having a mob of Death Eaters searching for
her for mysterious and frightening reasons was no excuse for not being her usual ahead-of-the-rest-of-
the-class self. Not at all.

"Let's see..." she muttered, running her finger down the page, trying to cram as many facts as possible
into her already over-loaded mind. "Amphisbaena...Only found in Eastern Europe...Skin is a remedy for
cold shivers..."

She was on the verge of slamming the book shut and screaming at the top of her lungs, "I HATE THIS!" but
was prevented from doing so by a soft knock on the door. "Come in?"

Ginny entered and shut the door quietly behind her. "So, how're you feeling?"

Hermione snorted. "Me? 'Scuse me, but I think we're right about on the same level as of now."

Ginny smiled. "Well...That's not the point." Her eyes flicked to the immense pile of books strewn about
her matress. "You're excused from homework, you know. You don't have to--"

"Yes, but I DO have to, is the problem," Hermione said, stacking several books on her bedside cabinet.
"I can't fall behind."

Ginny sighed exasperatedly. "Hermione, you're practically two years ahead of everyone else as is. You
don't have to worry about it."

"No," Hermione said briskly, shaking her head. That need to scream was back. She swallowed it. "I'm...I
dunno. It's important."

Ginny patted her hand and said, quite nicely and with a smile on her face (not at all like Ron), "You're
mental."

"So I've heard," Hermione responded dryly. "So, why'd you originally come in here?"

"Oh, yes," Ginny said, bouncing up from the bed and inspecting her reflection in the mirror across the
room. "Ron and Harry want to go for an ice cream, and want you to come."

"I'm a tad busy."

"Well, they're really quite worried about you. You know...They think you're going to have a nervous
breakdown or something."

Hermione sighed. "Tell Ron not to worry about me; I'm fine."

"Well..."

Hermione sighed. It wasn't as if she was really wanting to put up a fight for staying cooped up in her
room, just asking for loss of sanity. "Do they have chocolate?"

"Yes," Ginny said, grinning broadly and grabbing Hermione's arm and pulling her out the door. "Florean
Fortescue's has everything..."

***

"Right," Ron muttered, cramming a chocolate frog into his mouth as he skimmed through the page. "Harry,
what's an amphisbaena?"

"Ask Hermione."

They had only one more day in the Leaky Cauldron before they were to leave for King's Cross Station, and
Ron, though not really concerned about how much information he knew, didn't want to be left completely
in the dark. And, Hermione had been nagging at the two boys, trying to get them to study. Ron didn't
know why, but he didn't argue with this point. He just nodded, and then did what she asked, much to the
obvious surprise of Harry.

"She'll have a breakdown," Ron said, looking up from his book. "She's trying to memorize the textbooks
between now and Wednesday." Two days ago, at Florean Fortescue's, Hermione had been rambling nonstop
about her nervousness. Apparently, being a full year ahead of all other seventh years was not nearly
satisfactory for her. Ron shook his head. 'That's Hermione for you...'

"She'll have a job, then," Harry replied, scribbling furiously on his parchment. "Uh...What are the
twelve uses of dragon's blood again? I can't remember number seven..."

Ron shrugged and turned his glance to his book. He wasn't even really reading it, but thinking. He had
no home to return to, after school. Where would he go? Where would his entire FAMILY go? He frowned,
thinking and worrying. They obviously didn't have enough money to buy a new house...

And as for Hermione--why were the Death Eaters so interested on getting their hands on her? What had she
ever done? That REALLY worried him. His family would be okay once they left for school--Hermione was
quite obviously the target that was causing the destruction. Whenever she brought that point up, he
denied it, of course, but it was true. And Hogwarts was safe--she'd be safe there. He still worried,
though.

He shook his head, trying to find SOMETHING to distract himself from his worries about his family and
Hermione. Like school. Yeah, school would do. "So, Harry, who d'you suppose'll be the next Defense
teacher?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Hope whoever it is actually knows what they're talking about."

"'S long as it's not Lockhart, I'm happy," Ron muttered. He noticed his friend was smirking. "What?"

"Well, I have to wonder if you weren't just jealous of the git," Harry said carefully. "I mean, I know
he was annoying, but he wasn't THAT bad, and--"

"I was not," Ron said indignantly, feeling his ears turn red. "He was a fraud, Harry, we all know that.
And he was about as stupid as they come."

Harry nodded, holding his hands up defensively. "Right, right...I'll drop it."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I s'pose you think yourself quite funny, then?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Yes."

"Well, I can be funny, too. About certain Ravenclaw chasers. Named Ch--" He was interrupted by a rather
well-aimed pillow. "Fine, have it your way."

"Truce?"

"Temporarily, yes," Ron said. A moment later, all of his worries had returned. Well, at least he'd been
rid of them for a few moments.

***

Harry slumped down in his seat on the Hogwarts Express, glancing first at Hermione, who was muttering
rather vaguely to herself as she skimmed through yet another textbook, to Ron, who was staring rather
absently out the window. He was obviously worried--about everything. And, truthfully, so was Harry.

The Weasleys had been more of a family to him than the Dursleys ever had, that was for sure. And now
they had no house, and Hermione, his best friend, now was an orphan, and she had lost her house as well.
And all because of the one person that constantly haunted his nightmares and caused him so much grief--
Voldemort. Harry hated him, with a passion.

He fiddled with the top of Hedwig's cage, and then glanced at Pig's somewhat smaller one. Then it hit
him that they were certainly missing one of their party: Crookshanks. And Harry wasn't about to bring
it up with Hermione--she was on the verge of a mental and emotional breakdown as it was. It wasn't as
though he really MISSED Crookshanks; more that he missed the familiar routine. He had become used to his
life--survive the summer with the Dursleys, maybe a trip to the Weasley's, shopping with Hermione in
Diagon Alley, and then the ride to Hogwarts on the Express, with the old familiar faces and maybe a
snack from the food cart...

And then, Harry noted, raising his eyes to the ceiling, an appearance by Malfoy. As if cued by his
thoughts, the compartment door slid open, and the three Slytherins were revealed behind it, standing in
the hallway. Malfoy sneered, and it occurred to Harry that it must be hard to keep his face in that
expression as much as he did. "Potter."

"Yes, that's his name," Hermione said from behind her book.

"I didn't ask you, Granger," Malfoy said icily, turning back to Harry. But before he could say anything,
Hermione interrupted again:

"Look, we all KNOW the routine by now. You come and threaten us with the wrath of the Dark Lord, throw
a few insults at each of us, and then leave, either because an adult intervenes, or because you've been
cursed. We're all TIRED of it, and personally, I'm not that scared anymore." She stood up, and Harry got
the distinct impression that she had finally had that long-anticipated mental breakdown.

"My parents are dead. My house is gone. You people were even low enough to kill my CAT, for that matter.
If you think I'm still scared of your silly threats, MALFOY," she spat the words and glared at him,
"then you are gravely mistaken. I've got NOTHING to lose now. So why don't you drag your sorry carcass
back out into the aisle and torment someone who is a tad less jaded than I am?"

Malfoy just stared at Hermione for a moment, tried and failed to sneer, and instead backed into the
aisle again, sliding the door shut behind him. Harry couldn't really blame him--he wouldn't have wanted
to be on the receiving end of the glare Hermione was sending.

***

"Wow," Ron muttered as Hermione sat down.

"'Wow' what, exactly?" Hermione asked mildly, opening her book again. She was quite red in the face, and
Ron was sure she was a tad embarrassed by her sudden loss of composure.

"That was...That was right up there with the whole ferret thing. Did you see the look on his face?"

"I did," Hermione muttered. "I'm just glad he left."

Ron shrugged. Part of her little speech had disturbed him. "So you really feel that you've got nothing
to lose?"

Hermione looked up, eyes wide. "Oh, no, Ron, don't take it that way. I just...I wanted him to leave us
alone this year. I know he won't," she added quickly, "but I thought I'd have a go at making him. I
didn't mean that I don't care about you two...Not at all..."

He shrugged. "So, who d'you s'pose will be the next Defense teacher?"

"Well, we never do know, do we?" Hermione said softly, closing her book. "We've had various teachers,
all of whom seem to last up to a year."

"Ron was just saying a few days ago that as long as it isn't Lockhart, he's happy," Harry muttered, as
Ron shot him an annoyed look.

"Well, I agree," Hermione said. "Lockhart was a fraud."

Harry snickered, but said nothing. Hermione gave him a rather sour look and picked up her book again,
muttering something in which the words "silly crush" and "only twelve" were audible.

Ron knew his ears were a bit red, but he didn't say anything after that, though he was dying to. To make
a sarcastic remark right now, after seeing Hermione scare Malfoy away, was not a wise decision. Instead
he simply turned and stared out the window, watching the foliage outside growing gradually wilder and
less farmed.

A few rather silent hours later, lanterns flickered to life in all of the compartments, and the sky
outside of the small window became a rather inky blue-black color. Ron settled down into his seat,
sighing deeply. Their last year. Another thing to add to his long list of worries--what in the world was
he going to do after graduation? What would he be good at...Well, good enough to make a living at? Snide
remarks and chess weren't exactly common in job descriptions.

Everyone in the compartment looked up as the train began to slow. Hermione slipped a ribbon into her
book, which was now nearing the last few pages, and glanced at her watch. "It's not nearly time yet,"
she murmured nervously. "Harry, d'you think--"

"No," Harry said quickly. "It's not Death Eaters, and it's CERTAINLY not Dementors." He shrugged. "My
scar isn't hurting at all."

Ron glanced out the window, but it was too dark by now to see anything. "Well, the only place I can
think that we'd stop is that one small station--you know, where we picked up the Dementors last time."
He grimaced as Harry and Hermione shuddered involuntarily. "It's usually the station where they pick up
people coming from farther away."

"Why d'you suppose we're stopping, though?" Hermione asked nervously. "I mean, I can't think why in the
world--"

She was cut off by the sound of the pistons starting up, and with a jerk the train began moving again,
gathering speed. Ron's attention was dragged from Hermione's confused expression to the rather quiet
sound of footsteps outside in the aisle. And then the door slid open.

***

Hermione had half expected a Death Eater to come barrelling into the compartment, shooting the Avada
Kedavra in every possible direction, cackling madly, So the short, round-faced, rather kind-looking
woman standing there had come as a bit of a shock. She was dressed in long black robes that contrasted
with her pale skin, and round, blue-gray eyes took in her surroundings. She brushed a stray lock of
wavy brown hair from her face and set down the rather heavy-looking bag she was carrying. "I seem to
recall the Express being a tad less crowded. Maybe it's just me."

Hermione was a bit taken aback. The woman had a rather strong Irish accent, and was certainly no taller
than her. "Emm..."

"Oh, sorry." The woman held out a small hand. "I'm Professor McLellan. The other compartments are quite
crowded, and I was wond'ring if you'd mind sharing?"


A/N: Heh...Uh, any of you who keep up with my various drivel know who Professor McLellan is. She's just
there because...Well, the Sudafed put her there. There is a reason. You don't have to read my other
stuff to get it--that would be shameless plugging on my part. No, she's just there. *shrugs* Anyway,
more excitement next chapter; I promise. ^_^ I know, I know...This was fluff.

So do you people actually like this story? I'm honestly starting to wonder, what with all the good
reviews I've gotten...

And here's something new: I ACTUALLY HAVE A PLOTLINE! A REAL ONE! Aren't you all so proud? I wrote it
down while still under the influence of medicine.

~ Veralidaine