Hermione pulled her knees closer to her chest, hugging them as the rain fell and soaked into her hair. The strands seemed to be fighting the spell she'd placed on them, as small curls began to form around her face. She cried into her knees as the rain became a downpour, though she made no movements to find shelter.

She'd been sitting in this alley the entire day, unable to stand or move. She must have missed something when she read about apparating- she didn't think it was supposed to hurt so bad when you reappeared. She felt the bruise that was forming on her side and the large gash that covered her cheek. The blood had clotted, but the rain formed red streaks down her cheek.

Tears and raindrops soaked into her jeans, and soon she was shivering. Her sweatshirt was still tied about her waist, and her bag rest behind her against the wall. She tried once more to stand, but a sharp pain in her back prevented her from moving.

"I hate this," she whispered, pushing the curls behind her ears. "I hate this I hate this."

Hermione didn't notice as moments became minutes, and minutes became hours. Darkness was upon her when she finally tried to move again. The rain was still falling, but this time her back did not ache as badly when she straightened it and her head did not swim when she stood. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, releaved that the part she had been sitting on was dry and warm. She hung her bag over he shoulder and walked out into the street.

The street was familiar, and she realized that she'd only appareted an alley away. She searched the street for any sign of her pursuer, and, finding none, ventured out into the street.

She wandered the rest of the night, finally finding a small set old stairs she could sit beneath when the sun was beginning to rise about the worn buildings. She crawled under the stairs, pushing away the spider webs and leaning against the cement wall. She was asleep before she could think over the events of the day.

"So, what do we do?"

Harry watched his friend Ron stand as Dumbledore finished his story. The search parties out looking for Hermione were all gathered around the table at number 12 Grimmauld Place. Ron and Harry sat at opposite ends of the table, agreeing to watch each members expression as they reported in.

"Well, Mr. Weasly, we keep looking," said Dumbledore, seeming not to have noticed that he was interrupted mid-sentence. "We know she's been in the city for the past several weeks and..."

"She could be anywhere, Albus," said Mr. Weasly, sitting next to Ginny and absentmindedly playing with a strand of his daughter' hair. "She may know how to apparate, but I doubt she has much control over where she ends up."

"I have considered this, and Fawkes is doing a fly over of the parks and fields on the outskirts of London. Dedalus is keeping an eye on the Underground. The rest of us..."

"So we're just going to wait for her to show up again?" asked Harry, also standing with Ron. "You tracked her too long last time. You should have just grabbed her and brought her back."

"Harry, we wanted to find out the reason she was running..." Dumbledore stopped, rethinking his words. "She'll turn up again. We have wizards keeping watch for her all over the city."

"I'm sorry, but that's not good enough, Headmaster."

"What do you propose, Harry," asked Dumbledore, though there was no irritation in his voice, only curiosity.

Harry shook his head as his gaze fell to his hands, which were clutching each other in his impatience. He saw that his knuckles were growing white in the effort.

"I'll find her myself." With that, he walked out of the kitchen.