Hermione's bit- right before the first chapter.

Sorry it took so long. I already had AisF written out- and everytime I started writing this my computer would shut down on me. Sorry!

Don't own HP, do own Rulea.


6:50 The Burrow

I could feel my cell-phone vibrating in my pocket. I knew that dinner was in a few minutes, so I wasn't sure I wanted to pick up.

If it were an emergency the phone would have had that piercing, shrieking, annoying BBBBEEEEEERRRIIIIING thing going on. Bitch phone.

Or they would have just contacted my Super Armband Thang, as I like to call it. I can't remember it's real name…because I'm brilliant like that. And like hell am I going to ask my sister what- but I'm getting off track.

So I pick up my phone to see who's calling- just in case you know? Like, if it was Mel I would have picked up, told her I couldn't talk now, and went downstairs. If it was Tera I would have been like, "HIIIIIII TERA! Uh Tera, gotta go. Call you later," and hung up.

If it was Scicilia…pfft. Fuck that.

But no. It was…

Damn... It's him.

I knew I should pick it up. I mean, he was the love of my life and everything but…

I was just so fucking pissed off at him. I mean, the asshole. Just running away like that.

How fucking could he?

And I mean, he's kinda just disappeared before, but this was different. Before I knew where I could find him. I could always sense him- it's part of my job. And part of his job! And, fuck, he…he…with the…

But I guess he didn't know about that.

But I couldn't sense him. Our bond was fucking stronger than ever and he closed off all feelings, emotions, thoughts, sounds, everyfuckingthing from me!

He also somehow made it impossible to trace his phone. I somehow think that Zoeidina had something to do with my whole predicament here.

So I picked up.

"Hey, um, can you call back in a second?"

"Sure, why?"

"Dinner."

"Gotcha." Click.

Trust me, it was more awkward than I made it seem. I'm not exactly one for description.

Truthfully, I like beating the shit out of things more than I like writing.

Which…actually isn't saying much as I love beating the shit out of things. I hope that didn't come out sarcastic.

But it really is true. It's like, my passion. I mean, not like beating the shit out of humans. Or really any other actual animal. Or plants.

But things. Stupid, sadistic, fatal things. Demons. My passion, and my job, is brutally killing demons.

Yeah I'm sadistic, so what? You would be too in my shoes.

I'm getting off-track again, aren't I? See, that's one thing I like about Hermione Granger- she stays on track. She's smart, she's witty, and people look up to her.

It's a wonder how I manage to do it. No wonder my entire family mocks me.

So anyway, I walked down to the kitchen, using my simply amazing acting skills to look dreadfully ill.

I'm lucky Mrs. Weasley fell for it. But, then again, she is very protective. She's definitely one of the sweetest women I know. My top 7 easily.

"Oh dear! You look frightful. Are you feeling okay?" She put her hand to my forehead to check.

Yeah, like I've had a fever…ever. I've been in a coma, but fuck it if I've ever had a fever.

I made sure I had my British lilt going for me.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm fine- just a bad stomach ache. But if you wouldn't mind, I'd really prefer to skip dinner and just…lie down for a bit."

Yeah, lie. Exactly. Stupid guilt. Stupid moral implications. Scicilia told me not to

Okay, well I tried. I mean, I hate getting attached. Before I met my husband I didn't get attached to anyone, barring my little-adopted sister.

Damn mission.

"Of course dear! Would you like me to bring you up some food later?"

"That's okay. I'm not very hungry. Thank you, though." I walked up the stairs again before she could say anything else.

And of course, as is my luck, I ran into Harry half way up. I love Harry 'n all but, shit, he has the worst timing.

"Hermione? Where're you goin?"

"My room, why?" He studied me. I hate being studied. Mainly because most people suck at it.

"Because dinner's now. Do you need to get something from your room or something?" Why is he being so inquisitive? He isn't one to be-

Oh wait. That's Ron. Harry's the inquisitive little bastard. He must get that from Scicilia. Even though he never met her…and I never did figure out which side of the family she gets that from.

Mia's probably. That Asshole always was…eh, nevermind.

"I don't feel too well, actually." I hoped to god he'd believe me.

"Hermione…are you sick?" Shitpissfuck- that look. That little 'yeah sure, uh-huh' look. Oh, I know it just too well.

"Just…not feeling well." Believe my lie. You've been doing it for six years, now- give or take.

"That's weird. I don't think I ever remember you feeling ill." I didn't understand where he got so smart.

I would have said Bella if I hadn't known that she was acting like a French idiot here. Not that the French are idiots, just that she was…nevermind.

"I know, it's weird, but I really-"

"Why are you lying?" GAH.

"When the hell did you get so…so…" And since when did he raise his eyebrows? God, had he been hanging out with Mikey or something!

"You're just a bad liar. Now what's going on?" He wanted to know? Fine.

I took away my stupid British accent.

"Okay, here's the deal Harry. I'm in a real fucking bad mood, I'm about to get a call from my ass-hole husband who kind of just up and left me, and you're in my way. So just piss the fuck off would ya?"

Blunt, and I didn't quite mean to actually seem like I hated him, but hey- whatever. He'd have to get used to it eventually.

Although he did seem mortified. Mortified enough to move out of the way and let me in the room.

I know he was about to say something, but the door slammed in his face before he could.

Yeah I'm a bitch. Learn to deal, hun- everyone else has.