Hermione trudged back to the corridoor, knowing it wasn't the first time she dreaded returning to her homebase. Even the library had lost some of its spectacular appeal (albeit because she had a great volume of it already).


And now, even Snape had trumped her. The only person left on her all time humilation list would be if Draco Malfoy would catch in her moment of weakness. She could just imagine his smug, gleaming little face as he taunted her. And it wouldn't help her resolve of non violence and house unity if he was aided by those two trolls.


Everything was rubbing off nowadays. Her prefect badge was serving more as a burden between she and Harry, rather than an advantageous way to garner housepoints. The thing was like a sore thumb folded in her robes, and though Hermione had always known she would recieve it, she had never known that it would cause this much heart ache.


She couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen the sullen expression of shock and anger when Ron had recieved his prefect reward. And she couldn't pretend that everyone else had been just as surprised as he, considering that Harry was hailed as such a hero. His grudging happiness for his friend disallowed him to say anything to anyone else, but Hermione, who radar for people's emotions was not particularly super sensitive, saw that there was an instant wall built between them.


And, the more she dwelled on it, as she walked through the corridoors where the late afternoon light was swelling, the more of a recluse Harry had become. In fact, his resembelance of Sirius had grown to surprise her. Even the shaggy mane had grown grizzled on his head, and the dark circles of his eyes looked frenetic and gaunt. She knew that something had transpired in those Occulmency lessons, something that he had not yet confided in her. She wondered whether it was Harry who had upset Snape, or Snape who had upset Harry.


The allies within Hogwarts, which Dumbledore had always promised would be safe, were thinning. Even the Headmaster himself seemed intolerably distant. The spectacles which were usually just perched above his nose, to give full scope of his eyes, now seemed resolutely shoved up to his eyebrows, as a warden against other prying gazes. She wanted to badly to tug on his robes as a child would, and cry into his quicksilver hair.


McGonagall, who fondly reminded Hermione as a rather matronly fairy god mother, was often harshly silenced by Umbridge. She let another sigh escape her.


Just the name of the woman could usher goosepimples of hatred beneath her
skin. The sight of her enormously greedy eyes, and unsympathetic way in which she punished were reason enough to flee the school. And the voice which she used.....Hermione would rather blast herself in the stomach with Ron's defective wand than listen to her speak for longer than each class delegated.


She mumbled the password to the fat lady, and stepped warily inside the small tunnel leading to the common room. A fifth year girl named Ramona looked up lazily from her reading.


Hullo Hermione, she said softly. Hermione, suddenly sapped of energy, found that she could only nod in a friendly matter. She sat down heavily in one of the arm chairs. The girl began to read again.


, she offered, gesturing towards a steaming pot. Hermione accepted, only because it would fill the portentous, and awful emptiness in her stomach. As soon as she sipped, a terrific drowsiness began to fill her. Her thoughts began, and ended abruptly; her head was lethargic, her vision swimming. She had never known such exhaustion.


I'm going to have a lie down, she told Ramona, who nodded without glancing at her. Hermione attempted to grip one of the arm rests and rise, but without blinking an eye, crashed heavily to the floor, landing squarely on her cup.















A/N: Uh...this was a diversion......methinks I may know the way back to the path.....