"Time for Cleaning up!" Oh, how Hermione hated that phrase. And Grimmauld Place made the whole job worse. Not only was it dusty, full of traps and poisons, but there was the risk of dark magic around every ottoman. And, this being an 19th century place, there were a lot of ottomans. Harry was with Ron today, so Hermione tried not to think. Tried not to feel isolated. She had taken the attic, because it was less convenient, and thus meant less chance of running into Ron. Ginny was downstairs, but that hardly mattered. She'd stick with Harry no matter what, which was fine for Harry, but Hermione - didn't miss Ron, no, not in particular. But she did miss having someone. Anyone, sort of. That lad in the tavern's face swam before her eyes. Alright, him. Why hadn't she asked him his name? Or Address? Hermione didn't believe in love at first sight - and a good thing too, or she might be wondering if she'd lost her chance at love before it even had a chance. Hermione sat in her skirt on the floor, glad there were no boys to watch her splaylegged and ungainly form. A huge puff of dust came up from behind her, and as she turned about, she saw photo albums. She couldn't help but look through them, mildly shocked to see that even Sirius' mother had once smiled. Oh, Hermione knew that it was a statistical probability, but it was still different seeing it.

Hermione was well aware of the Black Reputation... Sirius had almost seemed proud of it - and, from her readings, most of it was truthful. But it was another thing to look through these books, finding quiet poignant moments at Hogwarts. Reminscing about things that she'd never seen. Hermione frowned, briefly, not wanting to believe that the hopeful boy in these pictures had gone on to become a Death Eater. Or that the lad there - wait, was that Snape? He seemed - rather quiet, peaceful. Words that Hermione would never have associated with him.

War makes fools of us all, Hermione thought, reminded, suddenly of the American Civil War - brother against brother. For how many of these inbred boys were closely related?

Sirius' pictures were wild, and Hermione thought briefly that Harry would like to see - before shuttering her face against a rising tide of tears. No, maybe he wouldn't. He's been so quiet...

Hermione found herself looking at that picture of Snape and Regulus, in the Library at Hogwarts. They seemed intent and content at the same time. Not a trace of ... evil, malice, anything of that sort.

A phrase rose in Hermione's mind: "The banality of evil."

Tears geysered out of Hermione's eyes, thinking of these shades of people she'd never know, the red strings that would pull them towards being Death Eaters and Azkaban. She pictured Draco Malfoy drawling at her, "Someone needs to turn the gas on." And, for a wonder, there wasn't a smirk on his face - perfectly expressionless, as if every bit of meaning could be drawn straight from the words.

And perhaps it could.

Hermione was pathetically grateful that Harry hadn't been around to see her crying fit - and especially Ronald! Why, they wouldn't trust her to do anything ever again! And Harry would walk away thinking she was devastated by being dumped by Ronald Weasley, or something completely offbase like that. And then she'd have to set him straight for anything to be right ever again.

[a/n: We, the audience, know that Snape was an arrogant bloke with a wicked sense of humor. Hermione's just got a few photos.

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I hereby promise that I won't do a chapter a day for the rest of the summer.]