Hello lovelies,

Just have to make a shoutout to my new beta dracosalive and my new alpha Angelina who's helping me making this story better! Still a big shoutout to my first beta enchanted4life.

Consider leaving a review if you like it! Or even if you don't, what can be better?

Axiomea

Flashback.

She glanced around, arms clutched to her chest. She was cold. They were in a field, right behind the backyard of a Muggle house she didn't know. Apparently, not all Muggle houses in the neighbourhood were protected by motion detector systems. The tall grass stung her legs and the night sky blew a chill wind through her hair.

"Sam!" she whispered, looking at her brother who was walking ahead of her. "Sam, are you done with your dirty trick!"

"Shut up, Herm!" he urged her. "Let me do it. You're being loud."

He walked briskly, looking straight ahead. His imposing frame shielded Hermione from the wind as his stealthy steps barely grazed the grass. Samuel Granger had bushy chestnut-brown hair, just like her, and bright brown eyes. He held in his hand what he could only call 'Muggle fun that glows'.

"You shouldn't do that, silly!" Hermione lectured as she held him by the arm, a smile on her face.

Her older brother turned back to her and stared at her, amused. They understood each other. He smiled slightly. "You have the soul of a Prefect, little sis'!"

"I thought Ravenclaws were a bunch of smarty pants."

"And I thought Gryffindors were braver than that!"

She sighed and followed him. Finally when they were far away from their house, Sam knelt down in the tall grass and put the firecrackers and fireworks on the ground. Hermione crouched down beside him and pushed her hair back over her shoulders. With a smile on her face, she unwrapped the packages one by one before handing them to her brother, who placed them on the ground, pointing to the sky. The houses were close by and the light from the landings and terraces were far enough away but strong enough to illuminate their faces.

Her wide, sparkling brown eyes lit up when her brother grabbed matches from the pocket of his jeans. He liked to do things the "Muggle way," even though he was now old enough to practice Magic outside of Hogwarts. He had been out of school for two years already.

"This is gonna be fun," he said, cracking the small piece of wood on the side of the box.

The fire ignited, and Samuel quickly set fire to the firecracker's threads. He shook the match until it went out, grabbed his sister's hand and stepped back, laughing. They lay down in the tall grass as the first firecracker exploded in the sky in a shower of glowing ash. The others exploded and the noise was so loud that a few complaints could be heard from the houses behind.

They laughed as people came out onto their porches to see where the noise was coming from. They saw nothing but flaming sparks in the darkness of the field. They saw no wizards bent over laughing in the grass. They grumbled, swore and slammed the door behind them, disappearing into their houses.

"That was funny," laughed Hermione after the firecrackers had all exploded.

"I think we're very bad people, Herm," smiled Samuel as he helped her up. "It doesn't matter how you try to be, you're the same as me, deep down. You want to have fun."

Hermione laughed. "Dad will be furious."

"Dad's asleep," her brother corrected.

She looked up to the sky and turned around as grey smoke billowed from the ashes. The sky was inky black and thousands of twinkling stars pinched its dark cloak. She was freezing. Even June nights in London were chilly.

Samuel caught up with her and walked beside her. He gave her a sidelong glance, pressed his lips together to hold back a laugh. But when his sister looked at him, she had the same grin. They burst out laughing as they started to run across the field.

When she tripped over a root, her brother stopped. "Are you okay, Herm?

She laughed and got to her feet to hit her brother on the shoulder, but he quickly blocked her blow with a simple arm movement. They continued to walk into the tall grass, side by side and silent. The wind rustled through the treetops, the nocturnal insects rattled.

"It's so quiet," Hermione murmured, looking up at the sky.

"Main Street was never very noisy."

The neighbourhood streets were all crowded with trees, and the town was surrounded by shimmering forests that lined the northeast and northwest. They walked for a few moments in perfect silence.

"I'm already starting my sixth year next month," Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "Time flies..."

"You're sixteen, Herm," Samuel squeezed her shoulder. "Time will pass faster than you can imagine. Before you even close your eyes, your life will be over. And you'll learn that life is far too short to enjoy it fully."

She glared at him and sighed a second time. He was often philosophical and wise in this way. Her brother knew how to be straightforward with her, without sparing her. In the Granger family, they all had a certain philosophical side. Sam was 20 years old and had become a man with a good at Hogwarts, he was a hit with all the Houses. He had been Prefect in Ravenclaw, just as Hermione was. Unlike many families, the Grangers had an excellent relationship with each other and almost never quarreled. Samuel was very affectionate and protective of his sister and never missed an opportunity to worry.

"I can't believe You-Know-Who is back..." Hermione huffed.

"The Ministry has the situation under control. For now."

Hermione did not look up and remained silent. In the distance, farther in the field, a bonfire was visible. Teenagers were standing around it, swearing like slobs, spouting laughter. They reeked of beer. Muggles. When they saw Hermione and Samuel, they whistled. The two Grangers passed by them on their walk. The boys undressed Hermione with their eyes as they whistled again.

"Hey, gorgeous," one of them shouted, "come here!"

Quickly, Samuel grabbed his sister's hand and squeezed it before hurrying on. "Stay close to me. Don't look at them," he ordered firmly.

Hermione lowered her head and continued walking, ignoring them, obeying her brother.

"Come on!" sighed another party-goer behind them. "Get off that boyfriend of yours and come have some fun!"

Samuel Granger was known for his ability to keep his cool without showing it. Hermione felt her brother press down on her hand, his fingers tensing and she saw his jaw tighten as he clenched his other fist.

"It's all right, Sam," she whispered. "Calm down."

Soon the shouting behind their backs became imperceptible and their house came into view. They passed through the back yard and her big brother let go of her hand. They quietly walked around and climbed up the front porch. Without a word, Samuel pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. He held it wide open as Hermione slipped inside, followed by her brother.

"How much do you want to bet you'll be Head Girl?" her brother whispered once the door was closed behind them.

A hard, blank mask formed the features of Hermione Granger. Despite her 'pact' with Draco, she had vowed not to show her weakness to anyone again. She had used up too much of her tear tank in a short time. Those around her, and herself, needed to see something other than a soul in pain and on the verge of despair. It was better for her to keep her emotions to herself, when they resurfaced. Or not have any emotions at all. Find a way to eliminate them before they even formed. Nip them in the bud. She would have liked to forget everything about who she was, what had happened, but she knew deep down that she could never bring herself to erase Samuel from her memory.

It was the day after she had vanished. She had been told that McGonagall had wanted to see her. Her head hung low as she knocked on the door of the Headmistress' office, which happened to be Dumbledore's old office.

McGonagall opened the door with a wave of her wand. "Come in, Miss Granger."

Hermione complied and went to stand directly in front of the large desk, without taking a seat. McGonagall looked up at her and crossed her hands under her chin, looking serious.

"Where have you been?" the Headmistress asked.

"I…uhh—" the girl stammered, feeling her cheeks turn pink.

"Please, look at me, Miss Granger. My job as headmistress is to ensure discipline, respect and protection for my students. I would have thought that you of all people would understand that."

Hermione nodded silently. She had not expected any special treatment because of her badge.

"No right was given to you to miss a full day of class. Not only did your other two teachers of the day came to me to report your absence, but it was also unjustified. Even your partner Mr. Malfoy and your friends did not know where you were. You have missed important lessons. The success of your N.E.W.T.s depends on them, Miss Granger. Your Head Girl's badge does not give you permission under any circumstances to disregard your education."

She paused again and her face softened. "So, Miss Granger... where have you been?"

"I...I'm very sorry, Professor," the Gryffindor apologized, lowering her eyes once more. "Something happened and I had to deal with some... issues."

"What kind of issues?" asked the Headmistress.

"Well...personally, I don't think I could—"

"So it was a personal matter."

Hermione nodded.

"Then your absence was uncalled for, I'm sorry," McGonagall said, grabbing a parchment from the corner of her desk. She wrote something down and reluctantly handed the parchment and a quill to Hermione. "You must sign your name here. For your consent to receive extra work. I'm not giving you detention, but you understand that I'm obliged to treat everyone fairly."

Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it again. She couldn't say anything back. These were the consequences of her actions and she had to take responsibility for what she had done. She signed her name on the parchment that the Headmistress had put back on the corner of the desk.

"Now," McGonagall said softly, "I'm talking to you as a friend, Hermione."

She fell silent.

"I wish I could help you," she sighed sadly. "I know about the sad incident that happened in your family this summer. But if you don't tell me what happened yesterday—" The headmistress shook her head and continued, looking sad. "I won't be able to help you."

"I'm really sorry," sighed the brunette. "I don't think I can tell you..."

"I'm the one who's truly sorry about your brother, Hermione," McGonagall admitted. "He was a remarkable student, clever and bright, just like you."

Hermione swallowed hard. "How did you find out?"

"The Daily Prophet..."

The room fell silent. Then McGonagall spoke again, faced with the silence of the Head Girl she had carefully selected. "Miss Granger, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Are you satisfied with your current position?"

"Of course I am."

"How are you... dealing… with Mr. Malfoy?"

Hermione cleared her throat, giving herself a few seconds to think. She wasn't sure what answer she should give. A half-truth? A lie? The whole truth? "It's alright, Professor," the Gryffindor admitted. "I'm sure you know it was never... simple, between us. I think things are getting a bit better."

Except that he still calls me Mudblood sometimes, and he just pisses me off at almost every opportunity, she thought.

"I trust you, and I also trust Mr. Malfoy to take his responsibilities seriously," the Headmistress said.

Hermione couldn't help but ask the question that had been nagging at her. "Professor, may I ask why you chose Draco as Head Boy? Isn't he... in a bit of a predicament, given the role he's played in recent years?"

McGonagall nodded and smiled slightly. "Mr. Malfoy has indeed had his share of experiences that could be described as wrong. It is very easy for us, who were on the 'Light' side, to judge the choices of those who were on the 'Dark' side. In fact, I don't know if he told you this himself, but Mr. Malfoy never chose to become a Death Eater. He was just an unfortunate victim of his family and was sucked into the chaos of Voldemort's regime."

She paused, placed some items back on her desk, and continued. "Mr. Malfoy has always demonstrated academic excellence in every class. I can admit that he has not been the most agreeable or polite classmate, but he has a dedicated sense of responsibility and deep down he wants to do this school as much good as you do. There was no better Slytherin candidate than Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione felt herself blush, realizing that McGonagall's words confirmed what she had been refusing to see all along.

"I understand, Professor," breathed Hermione. "I will try to fulfill my responsibilities with flying colours as well."

"I know you will, Miss Granger," smiled the old lady. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to marking these parchments."

"Yes, Professor." Hermione left the office without another word.

When Hermione arrived at the door of Potions class, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were waiting on opposite sides of the corridor. Loud voices were heard, as if a quarrel was occurring. At last Hermione noticed that Ron and Pansy Parkinson were shouting at each other, her friend's ears were red and his face was contorted.

She looked around for Draco. She saw him, further away, leaning against the wall talking to Blaise. The quarrel didn't seem to attract his attention in the least, and even if Hermione wanted to do her duty as Head Girl, she didn't have the energy to intervene. No one else did, either.

"—after the number of times it happens in the same place, haven't you figured it out yet? Look the hell up when you walk!"

"I've told you a hundred times I'm sorry! You haven't broken anything, anyway!"

"BUT YOU'RE DAMAGING MY BOOKS!"

"SO ASK YOUR RICH PARENTS TO BUY YOU MORE!" shouted Ron.

"Now that's a fantasy of yours, isn't it?" Pansy sneered.

Outraged, Hermione almost choked. Ron's face turned purple with the rage and shame he was probably feeling. Hermione knew him well enough to know that he hated being reminded that his family wasn't that rich...

"Leave him alone," Hermione cut in dryly, directed at Pansy.

The Slytherin girl looked at the Head Girl, as if she had just realized her presence. "Hey, depressive, who asked you?" she spat.

The beautiful brunette shook her head and ignored her.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" shouted Pansy.

"I thought I hadn't been asked."

Ron smiled. She thought she even saw a few eyebrows rise around her. Several students had stopped their movements or conversation to watch the scene.

"Oh, please," began Pansy, "drop the fucking act! It's fine, we all know you're sick!"

"What does some sickness has to do with this?" retorted Hermione carelessly, already exhausted by this loud discussion.

"Miss-know-it-all never had enough attention, did she? That's why she puts on a depressed face, so that someone, anybody, will pay attention to her. It's Miss Distress now!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because Miss Distress never seems to understand anything," Pansy hissed. "You don't do anything anymore. You always look like a ghost walking around the castle, Granger! I wonder when you'll replace the Bloody Baron!"

Quickly, harshly, Hermione flashed her Head Girl's badge at Pansy, who frowned. She had obviously expected something else. "If I never understand anything, how did I got that?" the Gryffindor grumbled. "Did you manage to get the job? At least, that's what 'Miss Distress' has already figured out and is capable of doing."

"Oh, the Mudblood got sassy!"

"You're being childish if anything," Hermione told her. "Please make everyone comfortable and stop shouting in the corridor. You too, Ron," she added to her friend to appear fair.

Ron and Harry looked at her blankly, half impressed and half frightened. Soon the conversations resumed, but Hermione could feel several glances on the back of her neck. She even thought she saw a pair of mysterious grey eyes probing her from afar.

-:.:.:.:.:.:-

After class Harry caught up with her. They hadn't really spoken since the episode in the Owlery the day before. Hermione was heading to her dormitory to drop off her books before going to get her lunch.

"May I?" asked Harry. "Come with you, I mean."

"Of course you can."

"Don't you think it's time we clear the air," he said after a moment.

She looked at him without understanding. He seemed to be searching for words, his gaze elusive and embarrassed.

"Perhaps we should forget what happened. At the Owlery."

Hermione turned her head away.

"Please," he continued, "we miss you already."

She didn't answer.

"If you only knew how miserable I felt afterwards," Harry sighed.

"It's not your fault," she huffed, shrugging her shoulders. "You just happened to show up at the wrong time."

"But I did and said something that was wrong and—"

"That's okay. You weren't the first, and you won't be the last either. It happens a lot, this kind of thing, with grief and all. We misunderstood each other, and we were both emotional up there. I can't always be treated as if I'm porcelain."

"Hermione, I'm sorry. Let me say it."

"I don't blame you, Harry."

He seemed relieved, as he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "I understand that you don't want to talk about it right now. But you're not the only one in the world who's been through this pain. I've been through a lot too, with grief..."

She gritted her teeth and shook her head. She loved Harry deeply, and she didn't want to attribute any bad intentions to him, but sometimes he expressed himself badly.

"If you believe that I think the world revolves around my pain, you can just leave," she grumbled.

"No!" he said. "Sorry, I misspoke. Argh. I mean... there are people who can understand you. Because some people have already been through what you have been through. I have. Ron and Ginny with their brother..."

"But I don''t know anyone in my situation yet," she replied with a sigh. "With a brother who was murdered like Samuel."

"When you think about it, Hermione, the people who have left us have all been murdered," Harry said, very softly. "Whether by magic or not, death has the same… result for everyone. But Sam absolutely did not deserve that death, and I'm so sorry that he had to go through this… "

Hermione remained silent and lowered her head for a moment. She looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye and her heart sank. She missed Harry very much. Her throat tightened. Harry might not be deep and fresh in grief anymore, but his pain was still there. He had lost Lupin. Tonks. Countless students who had fought for him in the Battle.

Slowly, she lifted her trembling free hand and reached out to gently squeeze Harry's arm. He took her hand, delighted to finally receive a touch from her, and held it in his. It had a long time since there was any awkwardness between them for this kind of gesture, not after all they had experienced together. But since her recent loss, physical contact had made her tense. She did nothing, however, so as not to hurt him. They soon reached the Heads' floor.

"Hermione," he breathed softly as he pulled her to a stop.

They stopped walking and faced each other, their hands still in each others. "Please try to tell me about it. Try to tell me everything I should have known, back at the Owlery..."

The pretty brunette inhaled slowly and then exhaled. She felt she had to say it. He would understand her. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, could. She looked at the scar on his forehead, remembering all that her best friend had lost, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Hermione looked into his eyes. He didn't feel sorry for her, no, it wasn't like Draco. Harry understood her. It was her and him in that singular moment.

Her eyes were beginning to sting more and more but she swallowed her tears. You're not doing the crying thing again, Hermione! Have some self respect, please! Then she told him everything. She began even before the death : she spoke of Samuel, his abilities, his qualities, his protective instinct towards her. She told Harry the whole story of the evening of July 3rd. She struggled to tell him how she had learned the news, how she had reacted afterwards. She told him that she had broken a mirror with her bare hands and that all that remained was a scar to remind her of the rage that was brewing inside her. That her parents were taking some time off for themselves. Because they needed it. That she could no longer bear her own sadness, her anger, her hatred. That since his death, she was tense to physical contact.

"I'm even making a terrible effort to keep my hand there," she gasped, her eyes cloudy, pointing with her chin to their clenched hands.

Harry had listened to her. His eyes had darkened. Perhaps he understood her too well. The pain she could feel was as sharp as the pain he'd felt when he had lost Sirius.

"And since then I feel like I'm missing out on my life," she finished, massaging her eyes, tired.

Her best friend did not open his mouth and remained silent. Seeing her like this troubled him. Watching her eyes fill with tears made him uncomfortable, sad. To actually see her scar on his palm made his stomach churn and gave him an unlikely image of a violent Hermione.

Hermione took some step backs towards the stairs, leaving Harry behind. She was trying to control her tears. Speaking about the whole thing had made her heart swell with sadness and relief. She could do nothing about the bloody tears. She felt so stupid for always crying: it was all she was good for now.

She heard Harry approaching. He put down his books, faced her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"You'll hear people say that you have to move on," he said quietly. "And you're thinking to yourself 'I can't' but deep down, you're already doing it. You can and will get through it. You're the strongest witch I know."

She buried her face in her hands so that he would not see her tears. Her best friends had witnessed her crying a number of times, but never ugly crying. Never hiccuping-gasping-for-breath-with-snot-under-the-nose-crying. And this was gonna turn into this type of crying.

Harry stood still, his heart heavy and his lips closed. He kept his hands on her shoulders. He didn't want her to feel alone. He didn't want to let her down like he had the day before.

"Ron and Ginny still have siblings," she squeaked, ignoring the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "There's a word for a spouse who loses their husband or wife! It's a widow! There's a word for a child who loses his or her parents! It's an orphan! But what's the word for a person who loses a brother or a sister?"

"Don't think about that," he whispered, his heart heavy and on the verge of tears.

Aware that she might tense up under his gesture, he took a hesitant step and embraced her warmly. Instinctively, she recoiled and tried to pull away. But his arms held her and she let herself go, exhausted. Her weapons were lowered, her shell was broken, at least for the moment, until she decided to rebuild her defences.

For once since July 3rd, she let her guard down and let her books tumble to the ground to embrace her best friend like she had never embraced anyone before. And she let herself cry. Ugly cry. She was sure she was smearing snot across Harry's robe.

She had another brother figure in her arms for the first time since July 3rd, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that it was really Samuel.

A brother. She had a brother. Now she had someone to hold on to. And that feeling shaped itself into a word in her mind.

Beloved.

"The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart."

Elisabeth Foley