Chapter Two

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

Warning: A Couple of Naughty Words in this Chapter

Hermione curled her legs underneath her as she lost herself in a book entailing archaic potions. This was by no means an unusual way to find the Head Girl, however over the past two years it had leapt out of the habit box and seemed to be approaching the compulsion box instead. While the overall purpose behind the reading never really changed, the mechanisms associated with it had. Hermione always read, but more recently it had taken on the additional function of escapism. With her thoughts lost in the words on the pages, existence ceased to be a challenge. She simply disappeared into the ancient and potent smelling pages. The truth was reality hurt too much.

Harry and Ron increasingly left Hermione to her own devices. They had tried initially to return her to some semblance of a life, but she had resisted. It didn't seem appropriate to go on as if nothing had ever happened. So Hermione did the best to adopt herself in a way she saw suitable and gradually attempted to fit herself into her new skin. Her new skin didn't fit her at all well, wrinkly and saggy, she often felt prematurely old, like she had been granted a Senior Citizen's discount and couldn't comprehend why. But Hermione accepted this unblinkingly and treated it as her penance for still being alive.

Buddhists believe that life is suffering and Hermione had adopted that mantra ever since she had been ushered into Dumbeldore's office and told the news which had initiated the hollow ache in her chest that had become her constant parasite. Books had become a temporary relief from that existence. Hermione completely emersed herself in the world between the pages, projecting her thoughts to times long before her own. This night she was Sofanisba, painter and Potions Mistress extraordinaire. Each Brushstroke represented a thousand emotions, thoughts, lifetimes. The rhythmical dance of paint on canvas an encompassing beat of a heart of pain swallowed by grief. This is reflected in the content and lighting. This is reflected in the suicidal amethyst light bouncing off Sofanisba's last ever-concocted potion...

A large masculine hand rested itself familiarly on Hermione's shoulder. She didn't even notice. "Hermione, come out of it." He shook her shoulder roughly. He had watched his friend emerse herself further and further into the world in her head and had decided it had to stop. He knew it had to stop.

Hermione's bushy head shook slowly, willing away the clinging claws of that last dark though. Her strong eyes looked up at Harry coldly. "What?"

Ron visibly winced in the background. The tension was so tangible that it could almost be grasped and clenched like a rubber remembrall. It had been building slowly, but steadily like a pyramid Khufu would be proud to present to the Gods. Now it seemed to fill every space and further itself by trying to fit where it could not.

"Hermione, you have to stop this. I'm worried about you, we both are. I understand that it hurts, but you can't do this any more. It's not good for you and it is not what your parents would want. Surely you must sense that." Harry knew his approach was disjointed, but he hadn't really known what to say. All he knew was that Hermione had changed, becoming excessively introverted and it seemed to engulf her in a distant sadness that surrounded her like an aura.

"What would you know about it Harry? How can you understand? My only constant companion in a ache where it feels like my heart has been ripped out and fed to fluffy." Her words were tossed at Harry like darts of ice. Hermione was sick of people saying that they understand. There was no way it was understood by any of her peers. Her parents had been such a significant part of her life; they had practically been her life. They were the friends that didn't turn their backs on you because you had beaten them in a test or dared to wear the same sneakers two years running. They were her greatest allies and best confidants. They were the only family she had ever known or wanted to know. They were killed on a warm Friday evening. It had rained all week leaving the world feeling muggy, but Friday had awoken in a crown of sunlight. To celebrate such simple things was Granger tradition and her parents had decided to spoil themselves and eat out. Walking home in the silvery starlight a drunk driver hadn't seen or cared about the red traffic light and had run it, destroying Hermione's family in the process. He never even stopped. Her mother died instantly, looking simply as though she had fallen asleep in the middle of the road. Her father had in his last moments grabbed his wife, kissed her forehead and whispered "Be with you in a sec." Before sighing gently and joining his wife, lover and soulmate in the Netherworld.

"In what way wouldn't I understand Hermione? You're not the only one to lose your parents. At least you had the opportunity to have actual memories of your parents. You can remember them telling you that they love you and are proud of you. I never had any of that. I am in every way an orphan." Harry had grown quite fed up with Hermione's attitude. He realised that it must hurt a lot, but Hermione had to stop wallowing in self-pity and start living again.

"It's different." Hermione was trying to brush him off. She didn't want any of this. She wanted to hide in her personal room with Crookshanks purring in her ear, drowning out all other sounds of existence.

"How?" Harry Grabbed Hermione's slender wrists. Several other Gryffindors watched from various parts of the common room. "Explain to me how it is different. We both have no parents. We both lost them. I am an orphan, I know nothing else. Your difference cannot be worse than that."

Hermione's head jolted up fiercely, she freed herself of his hand roughly. Her eyes blazed with a fire that rivalled the flames keeping the Gryffindors warm. "Harry you can be so insolent. Don't you dare play the I'm a poor little orphan card on me, because I won't take it. You don't understand and you never will. Your parents died for a greater purpose, there was a reason; mine were taken out by some FUCKING DRUNK ARSEHOLE IN A CAR!" Softly she added, "When you lose both your parents you still become an orphan despite of your age."

The Gryffindors watched, morbidly interested in this argument before them. Hermione had undoubtedly changed since her parents had passed away, but none of them had ever heard her use the language or the tone she was violently throwing at Harry.

"How can you possibly understand Harry? You never had parents; you never had what I did. You have no recollection of moments that make you laugh or arguments that now make you cry more than ever. You don't have these vivid memories that chew away at your soul and slice up your heart with every beat. It is most certainly not the same Harry and you are showing your immaturity by assuming that it is. Just leave me be." Tears now welled freely, diluting her anger to the more familiar encompassing grief.

But she had stirred the anger pot of Harry's emotions so effectively that he had risen above levels generally considered normal, his eyes blazing like copper thrust into the flame of a Bunsen burner. His magic crackled around him, forcing the other Gryffindors to unwittingly take a step backwards. He blocked Hermione's escape and she stared at him incredulously.

"I can't believe you just said that Hermione. The way you have carried on these past two years is pathetic. You would think that you were the only person in the world who has lost their parents. Hermione you need to deal and move on."

Hermione, blinded by her pain could not see that Harry, in his strange male adolescent way was actually trying to get her past the rut she had been stuck in for far too long. The emotions she had been denying for two years were now pumping like blood through her body.

Hermione's frigidity fractured spectacularly.

"DEAL WITH IT?" she roared at Harry, her own magic now crackling as well. "I should just DEAL with it? Do you think about the words that gurgle out of your mouth? Do you just DEAL with the fact that your parents were blown up by Voldemort? Your actions over the years would suggest otherwise. I am terribly sorry that my pathetic little existence has impeded so much on your life of late. Now get the hell out of my way."

Hermione moved to step passed him, but Harry mirrored her.

"No." He tried to use his height advantage as an intimidation tactic. "You have been on a pedestal too long and it hasn't helped you learn to mourn, to move on. I think you need to hear some home truths."

"Harry, I'm asking you to move."

"No."

Their respective magic power engulfed the room, most of the younger Gryffindors had left in fear and lack of understanding, but the others watched in bewilderment at this unique and strange display of power they instinctively knew that they themselves did not possess. You could feel the waves of power and anger like magnets attracting and blocking energy, a couple of students were anticipating a bolt of lightning to tear apart the common room.

"Harry," Hermione sighed resignedly "as a friend I am asking you to move."

"No." He repeated louder.

The witnesses to this argument would never really be able to explain the unravelling of the outcome, because they hadn't really seen it as such. One minute Harry was virtually yelling 'NO' at Hermione; and the next he was on the floor thrashing with angry eyes blazing, stuck in a bind that had not resulted from controlled power with a wand. In fact Hermione's hands had never left her sides. What they could say is that Hermione pulled up the hood of her cloak, stepped calmly over Harry's body and slammed the portrait shut as she left a completely dumbfounded room.

Hermione had been well aware of their audience and hated it. By breakfast it would be the talk of the school. What had made it worse was the extent of the fault line that had now developed in her and Harry's friendship.

Hermione walked, not really paying much attention to her surroundings or where her feet were taking her. She allowed the tears to flow and the thoughts to swirl wildly. Everything hurt so much. The ache in her chest seemed to have inexplicably grown and now what was her life at Hogwarts was rapidly disintegrating into a mess. She no longer felt like anywhere was home.

Hermione hadn't realised she had been heading for the dungeon until she found herself staring at the closed and ancient wooden door. She wondered what had brought her there and then figured that perhaps that part of the brain where she had become Sofanisba had decided to make itself prominent again. Hermione did not wish to see Professor Snape at that point in time. While she believed that a one-on -one conversation with him would probably be intellectually stimulating, she did not feel that he would currently appreciate the intrusion nor be sympathetic to her plight.

She decided to go to the library instead.

As Hermione started to walk off the horrible way Harry had spoken to her re-emersed itself and she felt fresh tears pattern her face. Just as she rounded the first corner toward the library she bumped into blackness. An involuntary sob escaped her lips. "Sorry." She croaked in a voice that did not sound like her own. She didn't want to look up.

"Well I should think so..." The smooth baritone reply a perfect example of darkness and silk. Hermione winced and her cloak fell away from her head as she anticipated a lecture and loss of house points.

"Miss Grang...Hermione, are you quite alright?"

Hermione looked at him, blurry as he was through her tears and regarded him sadly. Part of her brain acknowledged that it was the first time he had addressed her informally, but the anger that was still rolling waves within her made her wish to retaliate with a biting remark more characteristic of the man she was staring at.

Instead Hermione opted for the flight reflex.

"Not really." She replied sadly and bolted away from the Slytherin Head of House.

Authors Comments:

I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who reviews this story, as well as everyone who reads it and doesn't leave a comment. I realise how annoying it can be anticipating the next chapter that seems to take forever to be posted. Unfortunately life away from the keyboard usually prevails, but I will try to not be too horrible and make those who are still reading wait too long. The next few chapters have already be written and are just awaiting my time to edit them again. Sigh

Reviews from Chapter One:

Snapecake I hope you like this direction; GrangerThankyou and here it is.; DeliahSerpent: Sorry to have kept you waiting so long.; Gabriella Black: Thank you so much for that enthusiastic review! RC: Sorry I can't write any faster, I have life to contend with.