1It had taken three days to get to Bombay, but Hermione was at the Bollywood capitol. This place was nothing like she could describe, the colors were bright and blurring. The smells were both putrid and sweet at the same time. The constant sounds assaulted her ears in soothing way. It was fresh, it was far from drab London, and that watching feeling didn't nag at the back of her mind and make the hairs on her arms stand up.

The hotel she was staying at was far more exciting then any bed and breakfast she'd been to. A merchant was in the room next to her. They'd wake up at the same time, leave their rooms at the same time and always in the same fashion. She'd bow her head just slightly and utter a greeting, usually "Namaskar", and he'd spin around in grand fashion, without anything but a grunt. She kept doing it anyway. Across the hall was a young woman, Jessie, who had been there for awhile. She was from America, and was rather friendly which was a nice relief. She'd leave early in the morning, before Hermione was even awake and then return around dinner time. Hermione accessed that from the huge camera that Jessie had with her all the time that she was a photographer and took pictures of the daily going ons in the market. The place seemed more like an apartment building in a way, as the occupants stayed for such a long time indeed. It only seemed more so that the care taker and his family lived on the first floor. He was a man no older then 35 with a girl who looked like she could have been an Indian Shirley Temple and a little boy who clung to his mother's Sari. Their mother couldn't have been more then five years older then Hermione, but seemed so calm and patient. She spoke rather good English, as Hermione soon learned many Indians did, and they became very close.

She spent breakfast, lunch, and dinner there. It was always loud and filled with laughter. The only one who rarely sad anything, if he even showed up, was the merchant, but Hermione found him comforting and apart of the house hold. Hermione felt comfortable around these people because they didn't judge her or want to know about her past. They just joked and ate and laughed and ate and sang and ate and drank. It was a great little gathering of people, and it made her relax.

When Hermione wasn't in the boarding house, she'd wonder around the market place, content to take it all in to the point that her senses overloaded and she went into auto drive. The routine lasted for a week or two, when it met with a bit of an odd disturbance. She had been examining melons at a stall when she heard a rasping voice behind her call to her.

"Girl who looks like rodent!"

An old man, his head shaved and a beard close to his waist beckoned to her. His face was almost free of all signs of age, and the only thing that made you believe he was over 40 was the snow white of bushy eyebrows and facial hair. Hesitant, Hermione slowly walked, too curious to be mad of what he called her, towards him, careful to look for anybody on the road that may run her over before she finally got to where only three feet stood between them.

"You've suffered a great loss, yes?" He asked concerned, but knowing the answer.

Hermione nodded, her brow creased with contemplation and curiosity.

"Such a young and beautiful lady as yourself, it is strange that your aura is so troubled," he explained, as if he was talking about why it rained.

Hermione had to hold back an eye roll. It looks like she had found herself another Professor Trelawney. Of course she didn't show her annoyance, as it would have been rude and the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was hurt someone's feelings. The old man smiled knowingly, as if he was apart of a joke with Hermione, yet she didn't know what joke it was.

"I would like to help," he reminded her almost of Professor Dumbledore when he spoke, "Follow me, please."

He turned on his heel and began weaving in and out of the crowd, with curious little Hermione trailing behind him. For such an old man, he sure was quick. He turned down a narrow opening between two tall buildings. So narrow that Hermione had to walk behind him instead of beside so that she could fit. She was glad that Crookshanks stayed at the hotel, playing chase with the children, because at this opportune time the cat would have tripped her and the old man without a second thought. Hermione glimpsed over the shoulder of the old man who was about 6 inches taller then her. They were headed towards a dead end. Of course, living many years in the magical world taught Hermione never to judge based on appearances alone. She kept walking, but stopped as she bumped into the back of the old man who did not take any notice of it. They had stopped at least two yards from the end, but the man turned to a moth eaten cloth that once had some kind of print on it that had faded over many years to a dull yellow brown. He pulled it aside and revealed a doorway that was a few inches even more narrow then the alley they had been in. He lead her along a hallway that seemed to go on for miles, and felt as if they were actually walking on a slight slope downward.

"My name, it is Rahu," breaking the silence but not turning to look at her.

Hermione responded quietly, "I am Hermione."

She began to wish that she hadn't followed him. Her feet were sore, the air was getting cold and smelled more and more like mold as they walked along, she could see nothing but black now, and she didn't know if she should have trusted a stranger. But she felt like she could. She felt like she could trust him almost as much as Harry or Ron. She became away that it no longer felt as if she were walking downward but more like she was walking up. In fact, it was a rather steep hike, and she nearly had to stop along the way to catch her breath. Light seemed to be up ahead and she could make out the silhouette of the old man. The air was hotter now, and she began to sweat. They were at the exit, and the sudden brightness nearly blinded Hermione. They had come out on a cliff, at least 30 feet high from the tops of the trees in the jungle below. She winced as the sun met her eyes and then noticed that Rahu was holding out a canteen.

"Drink," he command gently, "you've walked such a long way and have not had anything to drink in many hours."

It was true. Hermione looked at her watch and saw that they had started that hike three hours ago. She reached for the canteen and drank two gulps before she remembered it wasn't hers and she had company. She handed it back, looking a little sheepish. Rahu laughed, a deep hearty laugh that rose from his stomach and reminded her of how king's laughed in the movies she use to watch as a kid.

"It is alright," he said with a little chuckle, "I have all that I need. Now come, sit down."

She complied and sat down crossed-legged on the hard stone, looking at him questioningly.

"You have come looking for help, yes, and you have found it?"

"N...no," she stammered, "You've found me and offered help."

"Ah, yes," his voice took on a mystic quality as he spoke, "That is what you believe. I did not offer help, I am showing you how to get it. You are the one who came to find it. You just do not consciously realize it."

This weird little man had his eyes shut, as if he were stuck in mid blink or sleeping. Hermione was intrigued. He spoke in riddles and seemed to understand her better then she did.

"Close your eyes," he instructed, softly as if talking to a crying child.

With one final look at his face, she let her eyelids sink down and block the images around her out.

"What you must learn, is that emotions are all around us. We open ourselves to them. When we want to feel a certain way subconsciously, when we expect to feel a certain way consciously, we let those emotions in. We call to what we want. You expect to feel sad, you feel sad. You want to feel hate, you feel hate. It takes more then strong want to change what you feel when something changes your life on a large scale. It takes need. People's aura's show what emotion they have let in"

He turned and faced Hermione. Feeling his eyes on her face she opened her own. He looked very serious, but not grave in the normal sense.

"You're aura shows that you have grief, confusion, and hate."

He shut his eyes once more and turned his face towards the setting sun.

"They are strong emotions. They are hard to get out."

Hermione stared at him a moment longer as he paused then shut her eyes again.

"I can not make them leave. It is your body. It is your soul. You must do that on your own. I can only show you the way to the best of my ability."

After a minute or an hour, maybe it was a day, he began to chant, "Ah...I...Ee...Oo...Uuuu."

It went on for three days but Hermione didn't notice. The world was spinning beneath her, slowly but she could feel it. The air around her was moving, too, and it had an electric tingle against her skin. Suddenly Hermione began to wonder if it were the chant or his words or the place that did it. Maybe it had been that way the whole time and she hadn't noticed. Maybe she it had been that way forever and she had just rushed through life that way. She didn't understand exactly what he had said, but she was becoming more aware of this sensation of moving water, of lava, of air, of fire dancing in her veins all at once. When she opened her eyes he was still sitting as if nothing had ever happened. But that sensation wouldn't leave. She didn't think she wanted it to, either.

Not saying a word she stood up and turned to leave but his voice stopped her.

"Pain works in almost the same way. People think we are in the body, but really the body is in us. You can stop the nerves from sending signals to your brain and you can even change the signal. But you must have the will to do it. Remember that."

"Thank you,"Hermione said as she turned, smiling to herself.

She knew she wouldn't spend nights talking to him about her problems, and she wouldn't go shopping with him or play games in a common room, but she knew he was her friend now and she'd be able to find him, should she need him.

As she was walking back down the tunnel, she didn't see the small smile on his lips. She didn't hear him say, "You're welcome, little rabbit."

A/N: Longer yes. Better? Thats up to you to decide. I've never been to India so I don't know what it looks like or anything. I'm just making it up as I go, but Namaskar really means Hello.

Thanks to CareBearErin: She's going to do more then mature. Wow! You're going to be happy about this. I'm not even at the tip of the iceberg just yet.

Thanks to Nadia: I didn't plan on her being that way really. I guess I was trying to show how level headed she is, and how much she keeps on the inside. I'll try to keep her from turning out so cold from now on.