Hermione slowly and cautiously entered into her 'new' room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Her mouth formed a silent 'O' as she continued to stare wide-eyed at the objects that surround her. Everything was so oddly familiar. A mixture of pure joy, coupled with a twinge of sadness enveloped her, as she reminisced about her old home.

Her living room was the same as she remembered it. The wooden floors to the smell of lemon furniture polish – it was all how it was before. Hermione continued walking ever so carefully into the next room. She poked her head in the doorway to find a small, quaint kitchen area. Even her favorite teacup was sitting out on the counter. She found the bathroom, complete with her ever-familiar soft bathrobe, and finally the bedroom. Her bed, her comforter, her clock – all were complete replicas of the ones she had at her old home. The young woman smiled and closed her eyes. Gently, she sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning the entire bedroom. Looking down at the clock, Hermione noticed something behind the clock – a picture frame poking out. With her left hand, Hermione carefully took hold of the heavy, pewter frame, and gazed upon the picture. It was a photograph of the three of them – Harry, Ron, and Hermione, upon their graduation day at Hogwarts. Standing perfectly together, smiling happily, as if they hadn't a care in the world.

Hermione closed her eyes and put the frame to her chest. She bent her torso forward, ever so slightly, and all of a sudden felt a wave of sadness that she had not felt in a very, very long time.

Her heart hurt.

She was jealous of the 'old' Hermione in the picture – the young woman who was so lively, energetic, full of knowledge and care. And here she was: an awfully confused twenty-something year old woman, with no husband, no family, no home. What did she do to deserve this? How was all of this even the least bit fair?

The young woman closed her eyes tightly, and while still bent over, felt the sadness consume her. Hermione's sobs were ones of sadness, not anger. Her heart filled with sorrow, as all of a sudden it dawned on her how her life had panned out to present day. Hermione laid down on her left side, her head softly hitting the pillow, as she continued to tightly hold onto the picture frame. Her cries eventually soothed her, as she fell into a deep sleep, purely exhausted both physically and emotionally.

It was the sweet sound of a Brahms symphony that initially woke Hermione. She stayed still, listening to the beautiful melodic phrases of one of the movements, as she carefully peeked at the clock on her nightstand with her right eye. The clock had a little 'alarm' sign lit up – Hermione figured that the clock had been purposefully set to wake her in time for supper. Much better than that annoying beeping sound I was used to, she thought to herself.

The young woman stretched in bed, and though she was just a tad disoriented from her slumber, Hermione noted that by the clock's reading it was indeed time for supper. For the slightest moment, she was disillusioned into thinking that she was actually home; that this was her actual bedroom. But few seconds later, it hit her in the pit of her stomach.

She frowned.

Cruel, she thought to herself, just cruel…

Hermione stretched her neck to look out at a window that was located on one side of the bedroom. The sun was beginning to set, just ever so slightly. She had a clear view of the dense and dark forbidden forest. And interestingly enough, of the aged-looking womping willow, which clearly kept up its haggard appearance after all these years.

Hermione sat up in bed, and scratched the top of her head. She absentmindedly plopped the photograph next to her on the bed, as she yawned and stretched out the upper portion of her body. She looked down, examining her attire. Her clothes were a littlewrinkled. Hermione frowned in obvious displeasure and sat up off the bed. Looking towards the one side of the bedroom, she walked over to her dresser, and out of pure curiosity opened one of the drawers. Again, it was just like home. Her same clothes were here, in the same order, folded in the same fashion. Hermione had no idea who had done all of this, but she made a mental note to find out. She would have to politely thank them later.

The young woman walked into her living room, and surveyed the area. Just like home, she thought to herself, …but it's not, she quickly reminded herself. Hermione subconsciously gritted her teeth behind closed lips. She could feel herself getting frustrated, but willed herself to keep calm. At least for now.

Hermione slowly walked towards her door, and opened it with a slight creaking sound courtesy of the rusty hinges. She peeked her head out of the door, surveyed the area, and breathed a sigh of relief. Good, she thought to herself. An empty hallway.

She crept out from the doorway, and slowly closed her door with a soft click, grimacing at the creaking noise, hoping and praying inquiring ears would not come her way. Hermione walked slowly down the hallway, making her way into the main staircase area. She took a moment to stick her head and half top of her torso over the marble edge of the railing, gazing at the steps below. Naturally, they were moving. No surprise there, the young woman thought to herself. Trying to swallow a lump in her now dry throat, Hermione turned towards the nearest set of steps and quietly began her descent towards the Great Hall.

Step after step, she took note of her cotton-like mouth. Her palms were becoming sweaty, and she could feel her heart beat within her chest. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Paintings alongside the staircases continued to greet her. She stared at her feet, at each single step in front of her, not uttering a single sound.

Finally, Hermione reached level ground. The young woman took a few steps, before she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A slit of light was coming from her right hand side. She turned her body to face the light, and felt her heart quicken a tad bit faster.

It was the door to the castle. One was slightly ajar, swinging softly in the wind, letting a peak of warm sunlight into the castle. It was as if the door was taunting her as it blew in the breeze ever so slightly.

Hermione's eyes opened wider.

She took one step towards the door…

And then another.

It was a bit of freedom, that slightest bit of hope glistening beyond the door. Hermione's heart raced, as she imagined even for the briefest moment, bolting through those doors and escaping. Running. Running as fast as she could from-

…Suddenly, the door flew shut with a resounding bang. Hermione, abruptly pulled from her thoughts of fleeing, inhaled sharply, obviously surprised by the loud noise echoing in the castle. After taking a few moments to remind herself to breathe and take control of her heart rate, she exhaled in defeat. Her mouth formed a tight line, and she felt her jaw clench. It was clear that at least for tonight, there would be no escape.

As Hermione turned towards the steps leading to the Great Hall, she was unaware of the cloaked figure that was hiding in the shadows. Watching her. A figure that eyed her gawking at the opened door. The very same figure that closed the door with a single swift motion of his hand, making sure she would not have a chance to run. He watched her mind working, plotting; saw her taking steps towards what she would consider freedom…

Severus Snape's lips formed a tight line as he watched Hermione ascended the cold marble steps. Waiting until she just about reached the top, he steadily made his way towards the Great Hall using another passage.

Hermione was one step away from the top when suddenly a figure with tussled black hair and black-rimmed glasses shot out in front of her.

"Hermione!"

Hermione gasped, obviously lost in thought, as she began to quickly lose her balance on the step. A hand shot out and grabbed the woman by the wrist, pulling her forward. Hermione's eyes widened, as she struggled to regain her balance.

"Harry! Dear God -would you please watch where you are going?!" she yelled at the man in front of her, obviously upset that she almost toppled down a giant flight of unpleasantly cool and hard marble steps.

Harry smiled and looked at the ground.

"Sorry, 'Mione. Just…just wanted to say 'Hi,' that's all…," Harry said sheepishly. He continued to hold her wrist as he looked down at the ground, then back up into the large deep brown eyes of the woman in front of him.

Hermione's heart felt as though it was going to beat through her chest. After all, it's not every day that one is scared out of their wits. She looked down at the limb held by the person in front of her. Wiggling it a bit was a sign for Harry to let go. He did without question.

With a disproving look towards the figure in front of her, Hermione began walking down the short hallway that led to the Great Hall. Harry quickly caught up with her step.

"You know," Harry began, "…I really am glad you're here. That you're still here. You know, glad you didn't jump out a window or run out the door or anything of the sort," he commented with a straight face. He meant what he said. There was no telling what Hermione was capable of.

The woman stopped in her tracks.

"And what would happen if I did? If I did run out the doors? Would you hunt me down? Like an animal?" she inquired, looking directly into Harry's green eyes.

Harry stopped walking as well. He looked at Hermione, and then his eyes looked up to the ceiling as he scratched his head.

"Yeah," he said finally, "…we would most likely find you. Again. Or 'hunt you down' as you would put it," he added, a smirk on his gentle face.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

Without another word, she walked a few feet towards the wooden doors to the Great Hall. She stood in front of the door and swallowed the lump in her throat. Just as she grabbed the handle in front of her, with all the courage she had mustered up, Hermione heard Harry's voice from in back of her.

"I hope you're hungry…"

The door opened, and Hermione's look of annoyance from said comment turned into sheer terror.

So many faces. So many smiling faces. And there were streamers, and balloons, and food. She looked up at the ceiling to see a giant sign read "Welcome Home Hermione" lit up by twinkling stars. Hermione did not breathe. Did not blink. Did not smile.

She turned to Harry, her eyes narrowing, and growled in the deadliest of tones:

"Well, Harry – how are your hunting skills…"