A/N.... I know the last chapter was vague... it was meant to be. Perhaps
not a good idea for a new author, but I'm taking a chance. This chapter
might shed some more light on the subject... and for those looking for some
"snogging".. you aren't going to find it here....
Chapter 2. Reflections
As she wound her way down into the bowels of the school, she scanned the faces of the students for any familiarity. Many of her classmates should have had their children there as students, at least in the first three years. There may have been a couple she ought to have recognized, but as she had kept to herself holed up in the school for the first nine years since she graduated, she had lost touch with most of them.
Harry had married Ginny four years after he had graduated, and they had two beautiful little red headed girls with bright green eyes. The older one, Beatrice, had shown some extreme power from the start, but the younger, Genie, was somewhat befuddled. She reminded Hermione of Neville in her manner: sweet, but slow. Both were likely to be invited to Hogwarts, but Beatrice had another couple of years before she was old enough.
Ron had waited patiently for her, and was still waiting. He followed his father's footsteps into the Ministry of Magic, after trying to help Hermione for a year after the attack. He had decided that he needed to move on with his life, but his heart had been given to her since before the Winter Ball during their fourth year, whether he had been aware of it or not. Improbably romantic as it seemed, he actually hadn't seen anyone else until six years ago.. when he begged her to give up her research. He had noticed it was wearing her away, and he was afraid that she would die before he could ever get her to rejoin the real world. She compromised, reluctantly, and moved in with him; however, her research continued, just not so diligently.
She strolled through the halls as her mind worked over the details of the spell she had memorized. Her encounters came fewer and far between as the hour approached curfew, when the students should be in their House towers. Those that she did see were scampering madly to their Common Rooms as none had any desire to run into Filch with that mangy cat, Mrs. Norris the Third. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how he could find cats that looked and acted worse than the previous one he owned.
Before she knew it, she found herself in the Battle of Hogwarts Hall. As she glanced up, she caught sight of yet another student barrelling his way towards the end of the corridor. She felt her breath catch for he actually looked frightened, which reminded Hermione vividly of the day of the attack.
Hermione closed her eyes as the memories of screaming panicked students rushed past her into the night. She felt the wind of their passing and heard their echoes ringing against the vaulted ceilings. She smelled the stench of sulfur and frying flesh, and found herself clutching the wall beside her. She opened her eyes. *Too much thinking... Must move on... Get this over with* she panted to herself. She glanced about tentatively, hoping noone had seen her.
Such spells had plagued her often during the first few years after the attack. She knew she wasn't the only one who experienced them as the attack had occurred just a few days before the Graduation Ceremonies. Many of the students had had their parents there to visit the school along with several dignitaries who had decided that, since the Boy Who Lived was graduating that year, it was a momentous occasion. Voldemort had planned his attack well, killing and maiming as many people as he could while he did his best to get to Harry.
She straightened herself, brushing up against the soot blackened stone behind her. They had named this particular part of the school after the battle, since the brunt of it took place here. There were even still a couple of holes in the walls as a reminder to the students of the historic events that occurred there.
Hermione reflected that most of the students in the school probably didn't even remember a time when Voldemort was alive, or even half-live. It was partly the reason she didn't want to be seen during one of her spells. It just wouldn't do for some unknowing youngster to find her passed out. When she was still living here six years prior, it wouldn't have been too unusual a sight, but these children didn't even know her.
She pulled her hair back from her face and straightened her robes. She paused for a moment to check to see if she still had the amulet, and noticed it lying on the floor in front of her. She bent over to pick it up.
"I should be deducting points from Gryffindor, since, once again, I have caught you out of bed, Miss Granger," came an oily voice out of the darkness.
Chapter 2. Reflections
As she wound her way down into the bowels of the school, she scanned the faces of the students for any familiarity. Many of her classmates should have had their children there as students, at least in the first three years. There may have been a couple she ought to have recognized, but as she had kept to herself holed up in the school for the first nine years since she graduated, she had lost touch with most of them.
Harry had married Ginny four years after he had graduated, and they had two beautiful little red headed girls with bright green eyes. The older one, Beatrice, had shown some extreme power from the start, but the younger, Genie, was somewhat befuddled. She reminded Hermione of Neville in her manner: sweet, but slow. Both were likely to be invited to Hogwarts, but Beatrice had another couple of years before she was old enough.
Ron had waited patiently for her, and was still waiting. He followed his father's footsteps into the Ministry of Magic, after trying to help Hermione for a year after the attack. He had decided that he needed to move on with his life, but his heart had been given to her since before the Winter Ball during their fourth year, whether he had been aware of it or not. Improbably romantic as it seemed, he actually hadn't seen anyone else until six years ago.. when he begged her to give up her research. He had noticed it was wearing her away, and he was afraid that she would die before he could ever get her to rejoin the real world. She compromised, reluctantly, and moved in with him; however, her research continued, just not so diligently.
She strolled through the halls as her mind worked over the details of the spell she had memorized. Her encounters came fewer and far between as the hour approached curfew, when the students should be in their House towers. Those that she did see were scampering madly to their Common Rooms as none had any desire to run into Filch with that mangy cat, Mrs. Norris the Third. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how he could find cats that looked and acted worse than the previous one he owned.
Before she knew it, she found herself in the Battle of Hogwarts Hall. As she glanced up, she caught sight of yet another student barrelling his way towards the end of the corridor. She felt her breath catch for he actually looked frightened, which reminded Hermione vividly of the day of the attack.
Hermione closed her eyes as the memories of screaming panicked students rushed past her into the night. She felt the wind of their passing and heard their echoes ringing against the vaulted ceilings. She smelled the stench of sulfur and frying flesh, and found herself clutching the wall beside her. She opened her eyes. *Too much thinking... Must move on... Get this over with* she panted to herself. She glanced about tentatively, hoping noone had seen her.
Such spells had plagued her often during the first few years after the attack. She knew she wasn't the only one who experienced them as the attack had occurred just a few days before the Graduation Ceremonies. Many of the students had had their parents there to visit the school along with several dignitaries who had decided that, since the Boy Who Lived was graduating that year, it was a momentous occasion. Voldemort had planned his attack well, killing and maiming as many people as he could while he did his best to get to Harry.
She straightened herself, brushing up against the soot blackened stone behind her. They had named this particular part of the school after the battle, since the brunt of it took place here. There were even still a couple of holes in the walls as a reminder to the students of the historic events that occurred there.
Hermione reflected that most of the students in the school probably didn't even remember a time when Voldemort was alive, or even half-live. It was partly the reason she didn't want to be seen during one of her spells. It just wouldn't do for some unknowing youngster to find her passed out. When she was still living here six years prior, it wouldn't have been too unusual a sight, but these children didn't even know her.
She pulled her hair back from her face and straightened her robes. She paused for a moment to check to see if she still had the amulet, and noticed it lying on the floor in front of her. She bent over to pick it up.
"I should be deducting points from Gryffindor, since, once again, I have caught you out of bed, Miss Granger," came an oily voice out of the darkness.
