Author's Note: I have been so bad about writing. I know people that have been around for a long time with this story are use to my excuses but I have been trying not to post until I have the next chapter written and I have just hit a major writer's block during part two of this story. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters and plots associated with it. This is all for fun, no money is being made off this twisted little story.

Warning: This is a very dark story, there are mature themes and triggers throughout. I have had warnings in every chapter that this story is rated M for a reason. It is not for the faint o heart and that act will not change at any point in the story.

"Travel brings power and love back into your life." ~Rumi

July 15th 2000

The sun was no longer her friend. It felt like a lifetime ago she had given her friend a funeral before starting out on her trip. It had rained three of the days giving her a good chance to get hydrated but also delaying her progress towards the cottage. While water had been provided through rain food had been impossible to find along the shore. Land creatures had all scattered in hopes of finding better shelter from the rain. And the waters were crawling with seafood but none close enough to shore for her to catch.

It hadn't taken long for Hermione to feel her body begin to shut down. The lack of protein was slowly eating away at her and no amount of water would make up for it. It had been a different lifetime the last time she was fed properly. Bill and Fleur's wedding had been the last real meal she'd eaten. After that she'd gone on the run with the boys eating whenever they could find something –or snacking occasionally on things she had packed away in her bag. Then after the Battle they'd had no food again –suffered off of a diet of forest animals and that time she hadn't had her beaded bag to help. The Town wasn't any better with its mush. Hermione couldn't understand how she was alive when the last real meal she'd eaten had been in 1997.

The trip was slow and painful as each step she took felt more like a step towards death than safety. There had been a few days when she'd run into muggles at the shore with their families, doing her best to blend in and not look like a war victim. But overall most towns had been destroyed, or appeared to be completely emptied. Hermione blamed it on Voldemort even though she had no real reason to justify such a thing somewhere in the back of her mind she just knew he was the only explanation for the devastation she had witnessed along the south of England.

Tinsworth itself looked like a warzone. She could only imagine the Death Eaters knew about the safe house somewhere in the area and had tried to eliminate it, but Shell Cottage was safely tucked on the outskirts of town. The Order had done a good job of hiding the secure location away from anyone who didn't know about it. It was the only thing that kept her going –other than someone turncoating, there was no way the Death Eaters could have found out about Shell Cottage. She just needed to get there and she knew she would be safe.

She wished she had gotten more news while in the Town. The world was crumbling on the outside of the disgusting prisons and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Voldemort was no longer taking over he was destroying. Perhaps it had been some ridiculous optimism held secretly deep within her but she had hoped more people would still be fighting –that Voldemort wouldn't have had complete control. Where had all the opposition gone, the fighters, the Order –why were they hiding out as the world around them crumbled like pastries?

The thought occurred to her that maybe Harry really was the key. He was the figurehead for the light side and with no one knowing what happened to him there was nothing they felt they could do. The wizarding world knew Harry had escaped from the Town but he hadn't started fighting Voldemort again, nor had she heard any news about him making any appearance anywhere. So perhaps people were too frightened to do anything because the 'great' Harry Potter was also hiding out.

If Harry wasn't hiding out at Shell Cottage Hermione wasn't sure what her next move would be. No matter what she would need to stay still for a month or two just to give her body a chance to recover. She could feel her leg screaming out in pain but during the days she had been walking she'd become used to the agony. Now the pain was more of a daily annoyance than anything that slowed her down but she knew if she got to safety she should take the time to have it be looked at and maybe eat properly if they had the supplies.

It felt strange to be so within reach of something positive. For too long the world had been grim around her and finally there was a little light shining her way. A light that led her directly to Shell Cottage. She climbed to the top of a hill and sitting next to the shore was safety. Dobby's grave was still intact off towards the side of the house and that alone told Hermione they hadn't been taken over.

Only a little further and she would be fine. But the last few yards were the hardest to walk. Knowing she was so close took away the danger factor that had pushed her through on the journey from the train tracks. The closer she got to Shell Cottage the more her legs would wobble under her or her eyesight would blur for moments making it hard to see her way. Being close to safety was different from having her body safely shut down to recoup, but it wasn't like that was something she could tell her body.

She felt cold as she approached the beach home. It made no sense to be so chilled in the middle of summer. But with one hand on her forehead Hermione realized it wasn't cold –it was a clammy sweat that had overcome her. Just three more yards and she'd be fine, two more yards, one more.

Hermione leaned against the doorframe of the house thankful for a small bit of shade and support. There was no good way to get someone's attention during war time. She could hardly just walk inside the house and ringing the bell could end in being jumped by the Order members within. Knocking on the door seemed too simple but was most likely her best option. She wrapped her fingers into a fist and carefully banged at the door. As thankful as she was to have made it to the house she couldn't help but wish she could hold onto her strength for just a little while longer. Swaying in place, the only thing that kept her from falling down was the doorframe her head was still pressed against.

"Hermione?" a small voice asked when the door opened. "What did you say to me when I complained about Harry not wanting to be with me because of the war?"

Hermione looked over to see Ginny hovering in the doorway. She was wandless, just as Hermione was, but she was posed to fight at a moment's notice.

"I told you, he loves you and when he was ready he'd do anything to have you in his arms again." The answer seemed to satisfy Ginny, "What did you and I talk about during the World Cup that we swore never tell the boys?"

Ginny laughed, "That Cedric Diggory was male perfection, I believe your exact words were something along the lines of wanting to take a bite out of him."

Hermione wanted to laugh but all that happened was a coughing fit. Ginny wrapped her arm behind Hermione and helped support her as she pulled her into the house shutting the door firmly behind them.

"George!" the red head called out just before Hermione's eyesight blurred to black.

When she woke Hermione was unsure where she could be. For nearly two weeks she'd been sleeping outside, and the Town had been no better but it felt like she was in a real bed. Then it came to her, the cottage, Ginny, and George. She was in a real bedroom in a safe house with people she knew.

Her eyes fluttered open and it only took a few minutes for her eyesight to clear up. Ginny was sitting in a chair at her bedside and at the first sign of movement jumped even closer to Hermione's side.

"Thank, Merlin! You had us running scared. You'd already looked like you might keel over at any moment and then you passed out. George had to carry you up here, and I've been trying my best to figure out what's wrong with you."

"Old injuries and malnutrition." Hermione croaked her voice hoarse.

"From what I can tell your leg is healed but not properly, I don't think there's anything we can do without magic or a real Healer, or I guess one of those muggle Healers."

"A doctor would have to re-break the bone, not very conducive to being on the run."

"Well George took a look at your head and got it cleaned up pretty well. There was this cut that started bleeding when you hit the floor –sorry 'bout that by the way I wasn't strong enough to hold onto you."

"It's fine, who all is here –how?"

"It's kind of a long story. After you guys left the battle everyone got rounded up or ran off. George, Percy, and I got sent to Traitor Town –it's where they sent any Purebloods who didn't believe in the cause. But I guess they didn't have enough space cause a lot of Halfbloods were there too. After you guys got caught Harry and Ron found us there. We made an escape attempt but Percy wasn't fast enough and was killed. Ron stopped to try and help, George stopped to get Ron to keep moving, and Harry stopped to tell them to stop bickering and we all ended up being rounded back up.

"Harry was tortured really badly, Ron was sent into isolation for a month, George was roughed up a bit, and I… well that doesn't matter. Once Ron was back we knew we needed to do something. Harry was barely hanging on and I'll admit I was a mess, so Ron and George kind of became our rocks. They broke into the Death Eaters barracks and stole three wands that were laying about, they got a sack of food, and just blew a wall of the fence to pieces.

"The chaos was so extreme that the Death Eaters couldn't trace the magic quick enough. George had Harry over his shoulder and we just ran. Traitor Town is in Bristol so we knew it wasn't too far away. Bill and Fleur left but they never named a new Secret Keeper so we were sure the place was safe. The Death Eaters nearly destroyed everything in their path trying to find us but we made it safe. We've mostly just been trying to take care of Harry cause we can't go anywhere until he's better. I think seeing you would make him feel loads better."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Ginny had never been one of her closest friends but she cared a great deal for the girl, she was like a little sister. Her own experience in the Town had been terrible she couldn't imagine being stuck there since the Battle. Despite being July Ginny had sleeves covering her arms, covering the tattoo Hermione was sure she had received when she entered the Town.

There was a soft knock at the door and Hermione looked up to see George standing in the doorframe. He didn't look the same as she remembered him, carefree and fun loving –his eyes were dark and spoke of the horrors he had seen. It was no surprise to her after having lost his twin during the Battle. Even then in the midst of fighting she had seen a shift in him.

"Hey there, Granger you're looking better."

"I feel better. Can I go see Harry now?"

"Ron's helping him with the bathroom stuff right now but in a few minutes, yeah.'

"Ron's helping… how badly hurt is he?" Hermione asked feeling like Ginny hadn't painted an accurate picture of how bad off Harry still was.

"It just hurts him to walk still. I swear he's healed up fine. But it's helpful to have someone to lean on when he's supposed to be standing to take a piss."

Hermione grimaced at the crude language but she couldn't help but think how something so trivial shouldn't bother her anymore. She'd been tortured within an inch of death, she'd been the cause of Anna's death, poor language should be the least of her troubles.

Ten minutes later George reappeared to tell her Harry was waiting for her. Ginny insisted on being a human crutch so Hermione wouldn't put any more weight on her bad leg. Harry was two rooms over –the room that had once been Bill and Fleur's. When she walked in Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of her.

Hermione pushed herself away from Ginny and flung her weight onto Harry's bed. Tears bubbled up to the surface as Harry wrapped his arms around her. It had been a year since she'd seen his face, a year since she had known if he was okay, and for one moment despite their injuries she felt safe because she was back in her makeshift brother's arms again.