Summary: An unexpected visit brings unexpected and unwanted memories back to Hermione. Will she go back to the world that she swore to stay away from, or will she face her past and heal old wounds?

Disclaimer: Although I am obsessed with Harry Potter and Co., I do not own them. Although I wish I could have just one pay check from JK Rowling, I don't get any money from them. I promise to be nice and play gently with them, since they are not mine.

A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. I really appreciate you taking the time to read my story. I hope it doesn't move to slowly for you. The first several chapters will be close introspection by Hermione and Severus (in chapter 4).

Where We Live

Chapter 3

She had passed this chapel on her way to her cottage everyday for a year, and everyday she promised herself that she would stop and look. Day after day, she made excuses for why she shouldn't, couldn't do it. She certainly didn't believe in God, because no God could allow the evil that she had seen, that she had fought, to exist. No, she didn't want to become associated to an ideal that seemed so simplistic and emotional. So everyday, she would pass it by, admiring the unrefined building, telling herself that she didn't deal in emotion, but in facts, and the facts told her that this building could do nothing for her.

She was curious, though. It wasn't beautiful to the outside world. It was plain, with small stained glass windows depicting the suffering Christ, but it touched her deep within her soul, calling out to her, laying claim on her desperation. When she first entered this place, she knew that she was home. This place, this was her Eden. This was where she belonged, with its ebony pews and time worn books and Bibles; its candle lit alter and agony stricken Jesus on the Crucifix. Suffering was something she could relate to. But she didn't feel the pain in this place; she could become Hermione again, without the sadness, guilt and worry that had plagued her for so long. Its stillness had been the first thing to captivate her, then its innate beauty. Thoughts of what she had become melted away as she knelt and prayed to this god or to any that would hear her, to make her whole again.

"Miss Granger, Hermione...it's time you do what you think is right. You are not a child anymore. You have fought in a great war; you are the lone survivor of your house. This is your decision to make. Not anybody else's, and certainly not mine. Yours." Those words were never far from her mind as she remembered the certainty of her decision. If she had remained in the wizarding world, she would have been hounded, asked to relive the nightmare over and over again, receiving no compassion for her torment. She would have been forced to stand by and play the role of heroine, placate to the crowd, celebrate, when she felt no desire, had no strength to do anything but cry. The ache was too fresh, carried so deeply within her, that participating in a charade of cheer would have destroyed her. She was reminded of what she had read from the books about the soldiers returning from World War II after they liberated the Jews. They were numb, shocked by what they had seen and been through, that when it was finally over, and celebrations spread through the world, they could only stand and stare, reliving each battle, trauma, nightmare that they had faced. No, she needed to be away from there, she couldn't stand to be an observer in what was supposed to be her life. She knew now that she had done the right thing. She was surviving and doing it the best way she knew. She was getting her life back slowly, putting the memories of her past behind her. She was a woman of her own volition now, not the girl forced into adulthood by the atrocities of war.

Coming to the chapel, the Chapel of Incarnation, the Chapel of Life, became a daily custom for her. She found that she was usually the only visitor and felt this chapel was built just for her, to suit her needs, and provide for her nourishment. It was the only time she could rest, as sleep was never easy and she didn't believe in idleness. Yes, she was going to be okay; she would get better.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wind was becoming more fierce as autumn neared, changing the temperature from the mild heat of summer to the damp coolness of fall. Living near the sea had always been a dream for Hermione, and she jumped at the chance to purchase this small cottage near Brighton. It was everything she had imagined; she had the privacy and tranquility that she desired. It was perfect.

Setting her bag on the table, she hastily prepared a sandwich and tea and settled into her reading chair with her favorite periodical Neos Emfytos Chimeia, which had very interesting articles on how the human body reacts under the influence of powerful natural stimulants. It was her one tie back to the wizarding world and her secret favorite subject, Potions. She had begun her university study at University of Brighton and was studying Biomolecular Chemistry. It was enough to keep her busy most nights and keep her thoughts occupied with constructive endeavors.

Silence was the most welcome, but also most frightening attribute of living in the country. It had taken months for her to welcome the combination of dark and peace. It reminded her too much of the last battle, where the air had been so thick with ash and dust that she felt like she were blind, and the silence of it all had been unnerving. The silence on that day had been deafening. She had needed to play music on a constant basis, so that she would know that she was indeed not deaf at all. But she had come to love the peace and the anonymity of the night. It sheltered her from herself, the dark wrapping her in a quilt of security.