Hermione lay on her back staring at the ceiling, because it was something different from constantly watching the calendar, desperately wishing the days would go faster. A fortnight. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Endless hours, minutes, seconds ticking slowly away on her clock. Her breathing was slow and even. Why had she suddenly noticed that? Why was it that you never noticed the most amazing things in life?

She had once been taught about God. Omniscient, omnipotent, good. She had listened avidly, learning eagerly, as she always had done. But then she learnt the truth about what her father was doing to her family, and she had begun to doubt. It didn't add up anymore. You could have any of those two things, but not all three – it just didn't make sense. Because as it is – as they believed it; as she had once believed it – omniscient God knew she was getting hurt; her mother was getting hurt; hundreds and thousands were getting hurt like that, or are going to. They were going to feel the same pain, hear the same thuds as their helpless bodies fell to the floor, and screw up their eyes against the hurt of a heavy boot connecting with their ribs. And He didn't lift a finger to stop it. Even though He could have, if He's omnipotent. So those two things ruled out the third – if He exists at all he can't be good. And that was only one example. The same applied to earthquakes that destructed cities; destructed millions of lives, floods, avalanches. Acts of God, their called. What kind of God would deliberately do that?

People had views, of course. God chooses not to interfere; disasters are made by man; we don't know the true reason, we can only believe in Him, and know He will help us through.

But she couldn't just believe. She had to have a reason, something that proved to her that there was a God, someone who would care for her and help her through. God was just people's complicated way of explaining away problems – a way that could never be described by reason, logic, arguing. No, God was just filler, something people needed to continue living. He will help you find your way back.

She turned over roughly, her nightclothes rumpling and her hair fanning out over the pillow. Merula mewed indignantly as she leant on her tail. A present from Harry and Ron for her sixteenth birthday, a month ago, a year after Crookshanks…that stupid knight bus. Roaring around corners without looking. She could still hear the screeching of brakes…Merula mewed again, and her luminous green eyes flicked on, like a light. Such a contrast to her blackbird colour coat.

 He would be down there; she could hear his booming bark of laughter now and again, punctuated by her mother's high, nervous giggles. She wondered suddenly how much wine they had drunk now. The second bottle had already been uncorked and half-emptied when she got down there.

She had been determined to ask her mother about the information she had found in her book, inquire about whether she had known, and why she hadn't said anything. But she hadn't got further than the threshold of the living room. He was back, sitting next to her mother on the sofa, a glass of red wine clutched in one of his hand's, and the other wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She was his again, and he wasn't planning on letting her go.

She stood in the doorway for fully five minutes, until her mother shifted underneath his arm, and he was forced to look up. Spotting her, his eyes widened with shock – as if he had forgotten she had existed; wanted to forget she existed, anger that she was disturbing his process of take-over. She would not be just his now, she would be hers as well. It was quickly masked under a layer of surprised happiness.

"Why don't you come and sit down?" He asked, in a low voice, jerking his head slightly to the vacant space next to him. Her mouth had twitched at the corners quickly; only for him to know she had been listening. It was now or never.

"Mum, I found-"

"Not now love." He had said, in the same low voice, "She's asleep." And indeed, her eyes were shut, and an expression of contentment playing delicately with her features. How could she look like that when she was so close to him? How could she want to be near him, to touch him, to look at him, to sigh into his neck and feel wisps of hair brushing against her nose, irritating it slightly? How could she?

"Come and sit down." He motioned again to the space.

"No thanks, Dad, I-"

"Sit." One word, but the real him had come through. She had been entangled quickly into his plan now, and he wasn't going to let her get away quickly. A shiver ran involuntarily down her back, remembering the commanding tone his voice held from before. Her mother shifted again under his arm, and her eyelids flicked upwards quickly, panic written all over her face.

"Hermione, love, what's going on?" She asked sleepily.

"Oh nothing Mum. I was just going to bed." She smiled fleetingly to reassure her, and turned to flee back to the safety of her room. She could almost see the scowl of annoyance on his face as he watched her retreating back. She was going to be more difficult to convince than her mother.

Hermione sighed as she went over it again in her mind, turning over again. Restlessness. Boredom. They plagued her – her worst enemies.

Rain pounded against the windows and a gust of wind whistled around the house again and again. She shivered and pulled the duvet up and over her face to stop the icy tingling feeling, but at an indignant mew from Merula, she picked her up and pulled her close to her body, her deep purrs strangely comforting against her chest. The laughing had stopped now, and the sounds of them walking up the stairs had been left long behind. Merula stuck out a warm, rough tongue and rasped it across her hand. A small condolence.

*

Disclaimer: Surprising though it may be, I am not JKR and I did not write Harry Potter and I am not richer than the Queen. I am flat broke.

So, what did you think? It was kind of a pointless chapter, but needed anyway. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed – I love you all – but special thanks must go to:

Li-Chan: I was very impressed that you left two reviews. I agree. Stress is so stressful. I took a test yesterday in a meeting, and found out that I was 89% stress and that I should put out the nearest fire to make myself feel better. Funnily enough the fire alarm went off then…weird.

Fyrechild – Do not try it, I beg you! Especially if you have five boys that are exactly the same age – two born at 12:03 and three born at 12:05, that all look exactly the same, all cry at exactly the same time, and all need feeding in one go. Incidentally, two of them are named William and two of them are named Charlie! Sooo confuzzling. It is not advisable to get fired at the same time either. Cool name btw.

Opal Koboi – Sorry, your right, I did not mention you. I can't really say what part Snape has in this, but it will be more important than just the simple SS/HG thingy.

Gemz – Yes, I have noticed that actually. That her parents always seem to be arguing, I mean. I hate clichés, but it gives such good images and makes more of an interesting story. Anyway, can you imagine Hermione's parents not rowing in this fic? A little too strange I thought.

Eurgh. I got fired yesterday. That's why I'm writing this. Coz I have nothing better to do. So, on the good side, you can expect more chapters sooner. On the bad side, most chapters will be depressing, I expect. I'm not feeling especially happy. Not since I bought a new keyboard. I don't believe how expensive they are.

Also, btw, I am a catholic, okay. None of my opinions are actually in this fic, but I want to make her question God for a bit, because it's part of the story. Not that I should have said that…

Thanks to whoever gave me the grammar tips. Haven't fixed it yet, but I will. I'm just a lazy sod really.

Elliot: No, I'm not JKR. Shame really. I would have got the book out faster for you. Anyways, a Blue Moon is the second full moon in a month. And that doesn't often happen. That's why there's a saying, 'Once in a blue moon'. I think I've experienced…three? And if you think how many full moons there are…And yes, you may have a marshmallow. *throws the bag* I've gone off them.

Review! Review!

Berry.