SUMMARY: Hermione looses her two best friends in the war against Voldemort. Because of this, she becomes depressed and flees from the world she loves. To London she goes and chooses to live as a muggle. Six years pass. Hermione slowly begins to forget how to use magic. Will the staff of Hogwarts be able to teach her again before the damage becomes permanent?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
PAIRINGS: Hermione Granger, Severus Snape (eventually); Rated M
CHAPTER ONE
Hermione Granger lived in a small apartment, not too far from the heart of London. Her flat was surprisingly peaceful, which worked to her advantage. She desired peace and quiet to do her job.
Hermione became a novelist. A very famous novelist actually. Her writing was very successful in both England, America, France, and Germany. Her books focused on the world of magic, much like the earlier part of her life. For know, it was just a dream among her thoughts. That part of Hermione's life was over.
The day the war against Voldemort concluded, Hermione was given the most painful news of her life. When she was told that her beloved comrades were no longer among the living, grief and pain overtook her senses. Though she was lucky enough to feel the wind on her skin, a part of her died that day along with her two best friends Harry and Ron.
Hermione spent days in bed. The healing of her wounds were gradual and torturous. She hardly spoke. The day she gained the strength to walk, Hermione left without a word. She had no reason to stay. That was six years ago.
Currently, Hermione lives a perfectly normal life. Normal meaning no magic. Not one swish and flick is aloud in her life. She put a stop to it when she locked up her wand. She blamed the death of Harry and Ron on magic. It was magic that killed them. Magic would have killed her, but she was one of the lucky ones. The only magic in her life is that of which she writes. And to her, that is only fiction.
For four years, Hermione's life was simple. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
But then it started. Hermione began to feel sick and sluggish. She became very lazy and tired. Now a days, she often awoke late in the mornings and hardly had the energy to do anything. She became frail and fragile, just like a piece of glass.
Naturally, Hermione became worried. Something was obviously wrong with her. She went to see a doctor. An hour and one hundred dollars later, the doctors medicine turned out to be a couple days bed rest. Hermione was expecting something a little more solid. She was expecting a prescription. She got no prescription. And she got no relief either. Hermione refused to go back to a doctor who's only answer would be a good nights sleep.
Despite her attempts to stay away from magic, Hermione began to ponder the possibility of a magical sickness. She was a witch and magical diseases were very common. If she did have some sort of disease, how would she have gotten it? Hermione had secluded herself from witches and wizards for years. There was no possible way she could have caught anything. Though, on the other hand, these things always have a way of sneaking up on you.
"Maybe I should take a trip to St. Mungos..."
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