Chapter I
She couldn't recall when she first sensed the change in herself. Hermione had always been the first to master a new charm, no matter how complex. She had always been the first to raise her hand, excitement shining from her face and an answer waiting to burst from her lips. That seemed ages ago from now, a dim memory flecked with dust and apathy.
Hermione had always been the brightest witch her age, and not just when it came to skills in the classroom. She had managed to remain close to Harry and Ron despite the numerous periods of not talking to one of them because of argument.
Hermione had always been the first with fresh innovative ideas when conflict with Voldemort was imminent. She was the one who got Harry past most of the protections of the Sorcerer's Stone back in their first year. She was the first to identify the horror residing in the Chamber of Secrets rising stealthily to petrify the enemies of the Heir. Hermione was wholly responsible for saving the lives of Sirius and Buckbeak. She had done her best to help Harry though the Triwizard Tournament. She had organized Dumbledore's Army, tried to protect Harry from falling into Voldemort's trap last year, and had fought alongside him at the Ministry. That seemed ages ago, a dim memory frosted with rumor and secrecy.
Here and now, in her sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione was slipping. She was losing touch with her friends, her studies, herself.
Harry was slowly distancing himself from Ron and Hermione. She didn't take it personally, she understood his reasoning. Not only was Harry occupied with his school work, but the grim threat of Voldemort hung on his neck like a noose shrinking around his throat. Harry's latest title hung heavily on him as well. The Chosen One? Hermione had no doubt Harry had been chosen by Voldemort, that much was evident just by looking at the circle of destruction enclosing Harry and steadily getting closer to him.
Voldemort had destroyed nearly everyone Harry was close to, almost all the people who cared for him as Harry, not as the Boy Who Lived. The first to fall were his parents. James and Lily were murdered as they tried to protect their son. Their sacrifice is what made Voldemort crumble into a mere shadow of what he had been before, but that did nothing to stop his goal to destroy Harry. The next to die was Cedric Diggory. While not the best of friends, or even from the same house, Cedric and Harry's shared role as Hogwarts' Champion created a bond between them. When they had escaped the maze and its myriad of deadly citizens they shared in the victory, but Harry was the only one to escape Voldemort. The last death so far had certainly been the hardest for Harry to cope with. His parents having died when Harry was only a baby, Sirius had become the father Harry never knew. Only knowing each other for a few short years, Harry and Sirius were so close it was as though Harry had grown up in his care. When Sirius fell through the veil at the Ministry, Harry was crushed. With his acknowledgment of the pattern forming, Harry was determined not to let the few remaining people he was close to fall in the battle against Voldemort. Hermione grasped all this at a level it is probable Harry couldn't, but that didn't change the fact that his cold detachment towards her stung. Harry didn't even want to talk to her anymore. With the Half Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making, Harry no longer needed Hermione's constant nurturing to pass Potions. Desperate to regain the friend she could tell she was starting to lose, Hermione even checked out several books on Quidditch from the Library in an attempt to get a conversation going, but all her varied strategies inevitably failed. The only thing Harry seemed to talk about anymore was Draco Malfoy. Trying to test out his arguments that Malfoy was a Death Eater before taking his evidence to Dumbledore seemed to be the only reason he sought Hermione's company anymore. He already had Ron convinced, and the two of them kept badgering away at her in a constant attempt to convert her.
Ron was hardly any better than Harry, if not worse. Hermione wasted no time in picking up on his affection for her, even if the ways he displayed it were often infuriating. When he wasn't making side comments trying to attract her attention, he was giving her hell over Krum. When he wasn't snogging Lavender, he was being as rude and as inconsiderate as possible for a Gryffindor. Bu when he wasn't fully aware, he would be as sweet as is desirable. These moments of genuine demonstrations of his crush on Hermione were few and far in-between.
Hermione's two closest friends had morphed into two blokes she hardly recognized; a detached and depressed Malfoy-maniac and a confused and pigheaded not-so-secret admirer. She received no support or interest in her well-being from either of them, just a lot of silence or sarcasm. Often after a meal or even a few shared moments in the Common Room she would sneak away to her dormitory to cry in a silent solitude as thick as her companions' heads.
The tension and despair flooding her life did little to stem or at least manage the inundation of work her professors immediately unleashed. Snape's biting tongue showed even less mercy than Vector's course work. Hermione was wearing thin. Her eyes seemed to have gone dormant, their inquisitive and excited glint vaporized and lost within a mist left behind by the frequent tears.
