AUTHORS NOTES: Summary: Hermione recalls her sixth year at Hogwarts, hoping the events do not recur. This fic is a contest for The Hideaway. It is a prologue to reminisce the sixth year of our beloved trio, to be continued as if Book Six never occurred. If well received will continue.
Prologue:
She walked over to the sink, dunking the dirty dishes into the eight inch deep soapy water. It took her an hour to wash the dishes, dry them, and put them away. It usually takes her fifteen minutes. She looked out the window above the kitchen nook. He was playing with the usual friends. He was fine. She found it difficult to keep from checking on him every so often. Her paranoia got the best of her too often. She sat at the table and began to read the cover of the Daily Prophet. It was a tradition she kept all these years. She remembered when she would catch the paper and a few rogue feathers to read about the latest attacks. This time there was only news of the Gringott's bank opening in muggle London. There was an engagement announcement in the left corner. She didn't know them. She stood and walked to the window again. He was still there.
"Get a grip, Hermione," she thought to herself. "It was over with years ago. It's over."
But today wasn't just another day. It was one of those days. Every year it came and went. Every year she held her breath until she woke the next morning. Every year her nightmares came back to flood her memory and send her screaming in the night.
She walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the sports drink. He would be coming in soon and he would be thirsty. Nothing else could quench his thirst after practicing Quidditch for hours. She filled the glass she took down from the cabinet and sat down in the chair at the table after checking on his whereabouts again. She ran her slightly trembling fingers through her curls and sighed heavily.
It loomed over her. It mocked her sadness. It dangled on the wall like a ghost ready to scare her to death. If she didn't look at it, it would only force her pain. If she didn't come to terms with its contents by the time the sun set, her nightmares would be worse. She sighed again and forced her head to turn. The rectangular paper hanging on the wall. The grid that numbered her days. The calendar was white washed, except for one black box. She blackened it. She blackened the day on every calendar she had ever owned since it happened. She didn't want to see the number. She didn't want it to exist. She wanted it to be devoid and empty, like her soul and her heart. But that black pupil set amongst the white stared at her. She couldn't take it. She stood and stomped over to the wall, wrenching the folded mass from its nail. She could only tear it. Make it feel her pain. She ripped. She twisted. She shredded.
Quidditch Match 5pm; Dentist 8:30: Dr. Appt 9:15...little pieces of reminders of a life that she thought was worth living were now floating haphazardly to the floor.
"Not another one? Why don't you go see the doctor?" He walked over to the table and drunk from his glass. "I think you would feel better."
"I probably would, but I don't have the time," she replied. She knew he was concerned for her. He had to be concerned. There was no one else to worry.
"I'm going back outside. Please don't rip up my Chudley Cannons calendar upstairs, okay? I really like it," he said with a sly smirk and giggle. He always made her smile, and this time was no different.
She remembered when he first stepped onto the platform for his first day at Hogwarts. She was so proud, and yet so cautious. She wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing instead of putting him a muggle school, but she knew he would discover what he was sooner or later. That's when she started telling him stories of her days at Hogwarts. She told him stories of her friends and how they met. How they had been through so much in those years. She sat back and reminisced at how exciting it was to become part of the battle. To use the magic she had been taught. She could see all the places she went in her mind flashing before her eyes. The Burrow, Hogsmeade, and Grimmauld Place.
"Grimmauld Place." She muttered silently to herself. The memory of it brought her to tears. The day she walked into the house after Sirius fell into the veil. The day she found Harry crying.
"Harry?"
"Hermione? Hermione, he's gone. He's really gone." She walked over to her friend, gently urging his head into her shoulder so he could grieve comfortably.
"Shh! It will be okay. Things will be okay. We have a new year to start at Hogwarts. OWLs are over. I wish those results would get here already. A new year, a new beginning?" She ended in a hopeful manner as if to get an affirmative answer. All he did was sob. His godfather was dead. He had no one. This year was going to be the worst ever.