There was a week until Christmas. A week to buy presents from Hogsmead, a week of dining casually with her teacher, a week to decide what to wear, and a week to realize that the tabby was still visiting her. It had been a while since she had starting thinking about it as hers, but now it was clear that it mustn't have belonged to any of the students, all of whom had left the school. Either it was a teacher's pet, or travelled from Hogsmead every time it visited. She asked the cat where it came from, but as expected, it didn't answer.
She was technically free to go to Hogsmead at any time now that she was eighteen, but it still made Hermione nervous to leave the school grounds without being escorted by a teacher. It occurred to her that this was ridiculous considering all the bizarre field trips she had made with Harry and Ron, and even the year travelling all over Britain while hunting horcruxes. But this wasn't sneaking through a secret tunnel or under the invisibility cloak with a couple of friends. She was just strolling through the front gate and apparating, expecting a siren to go off or for someone to point her out as a student by herself. When she popped into the Three Broomsticks, no one did, of course, but she couldn't help but feel as though people were watching her with scrutinizing eyes. Did they know who she was? What she had done? Were some of them death eaters just last year? She didn't have any answers, even though a nagging voice in the back of her mind (the same one that told her she wasn't good enough, and that she was going to fail at leading an ordinary life) tormented her with the thought that yes, they were waiting to catch her off guard.
Hermione politely greeted the several people who stopped her to say hello. She only knew a few of them, but since the war she had become relatively known alongside her friends. It made her anxious when they wanted her to stay and talk because she didn't like turning them down, but she excused herself and scurried away. Later she would have to ask Harry if she could borrow his invisibility cloak to make things less nerve-racking.
Tugging her thick coat around her body to shield against the cold weather, she trudged through the mushy snow and peered into each shop window. For Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna she got some little things from Honeydukes and Zonko's but she didn't know what to get for Professor McGonagall. Truly she didn't know whether she should buy anything at all, but she had grown very fond of the woman and wanted to show her appreciation.
After a couple of miserable hours Hermione slumped into a seat in the darkest corner of the Three Broomsticks. A steamy mug of butterbeer warmed her hands, but she hadn't lifted the free drink to her lips. A paper bag with her gifts sat in the other chair and she stared at it with annoyance. Why couldn't she find anything suitable? There was a book on the history of quidditch, but she thought the teacher would already have it. She could buy some candy, but she didn't know if the professor even liked it. Jewelry would be too personal, and nothing else was nice enough. She sighed in frustration, sliding down her chair. Why did this mean so much to her? She didn't know.
Once her mug grew cold Hermione made another quick tour of Hogsmead. This time she stopped when she saw a beautiful collar that she just had to buy. It was white like a pearl but shone gold in certain light, reminding Hermione of sun sets over icy mountains. It was a little pricy (because it would perfectly fit any animal from a mouse to a dragon according to the label) but she wanted it badly.
She apparated back to the castle gates and wandered through the school's grounds, kicking the snow-mush and catching flakes on her tongue. Hogwarts was beautiful in the winter but eerily quiet with no one around. Getting weary, she sat on a cold bench by the partially frozen lake and wondered how the merpeople dealt with the cold. The cool air kissed her cheeks and her jumper hugged her, urging her thoughts to turn to dreams and she quickly dozed off.
Hermione woke with a jolt, not knowing where she was for a moment. She was freezing cold and it was very dark. Her body shivered violently and as she groped for her wand her hand brushed over a warm lump beside her. Lumos lit her immediate surroundings, casting shadows all around her. Her familiar feline companion had bitten her left hand which had startled her awake. "Oh, kitty. What are you doing out here?" She asked as she scratched behind its ear. The cat looked up at her with its forest green eyes and meowed loudly. It leaped down from its seat and shook off the white fluff that had settled on its silver-black fur and gave a long, urging look in Hermione's direction before skittering off in the direction of the castle. It was late and Hermione gathered her things before following the cat, keeping an eye out for it as she hurried.
By the time she had dropped the bag of gifts off in her room and rushed to the headmistress's office it was almost 7:40 but she hoped that her teacher wouldn't be angry. She was still shivering when she entered the low lit chamber. The fireplace had a hearty flame in the hearth that drew her forward with its welcoming warmth. Professor McGonagall was just getting up from the armchair she had been sitting in, a book now replacing her body.
"I was beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten, Miss Granger." If she was annoyed or disappointed her voice didn't show it.
"I'm sorry I'm late. I fell asleep." Hermione was embarrassed by her tardiness and kept her eyes on the floor.
"Well, you're here now, so come and sit down so we can eat."
Hermione sat near the fire and as they ate hot pumpkin soup she told the professor about her day, leaving out the dilemma she faced over the one gift. McGonagall listened like always and when her student was done she raised her plan for Christmas. In three days they would apparate to McGonagall Manor and stay until New Year's Eve before returning to the school. It would be a mini-vacation in Scotland.
Outwardly Hermione was excited about the prospect of spending Christmas with her teacher, but at the same time she felt as if she were betraying her parents by being happy. After what she had done to them she shouldn't be able to enjoy herself, she ought to be devoting every spare moment she had to finding them. But what if they're happier without me? The idea shooting through her like the crucius curse. Would it be wrong to force herself back into their lives after she sent them halfway around the world? The contradiction tore at her heart and mind and Minerva perceived distress in her student and friend.
"Hermione, is there something wrong?" The woman put her spoon down and peered through her spectacles.
"I'm fine. It's nothing."
"Miss Granger, I don't appreciate being lied to."
"Nor do I appreciate being called a liar," Hermione retorted harshly to both of their surprise. The professor banished her plate and folded her hands before her, waiting patiently for an explanation. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just worried about my parents."
"The holidays will be hard, but you'll find them again. I'm certain of your capabilities."
Hermione sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I have school, but I should be out there, but then again they might be better off without me. It's so confusing." She was exhausted. It took so much energy for her just to get out of bed in the mornings, courage to walk through the streets, and strength to hold her body up and with the thoughts and worries piling on top of her she felt as if she was going to break. "I just need rest."
"We'll work something out. We have all the time in the world, and I won't make you do this on your own, and neither will your friends. It will work out in the end."
The younger witch felt the need to argue that she couldn't know it would be fine, that it wasn't anyone's responsibility but hers, but after the day she'd had all of her energy was reserved for getting back to bed.
"Would you mind if I went to be early tonight? I've had a rough day."
"Of course."
McGonagall stood and walked the girl to the door, a hand placed reassuringly on her back. They said goodbye before Hermione left, trudging sullenly to her room with those thoughts dragging behind her like weights. It seemed like forever before she reached her bed and she collapsed into it, kicking only her shoes off and laying an arm over her face. Tears breached the limits of her eyes and fell, not because she was sad or angry, just because she needed to give in a little and stop fighting.
She felt a weight bounce beside her on the bed and the familiar warm body of the cat curled beside her, purring softly. With a relieved sob she turned onto her side and wrapped her arms around it before falling quickly into a shallow sleep.
Hermione dreamed she was running. Her feet slammed into a ground that grabbed at her at her ankles with the hands of Grindilow. She was trying to find the horcrux, but the sword of Gryffindor was too large, too cumbersome for her to carry and it grew heavier with each sucking step until she realized that the horcrux she was chasing was behind her. It slithered with the speed of a racing, trackless train. The hissing was like the sound of a train whistle and when she finally had the courage to face what she feared… her hands were empty. She looked around for it desperately, but knew with every ounce in her body that she wasn't brave enough to truly wield the sword of Gryffindor. Only true heroes had that right and she was nothing in the shadow of Harry and Ron. She could hear them laughing at her as the serpent raised its ugly face and she looked into its horrid, gleaming eyes. It was the basilisk from her second year and she was paralyzed. Nobody knew of the terror of not being able to move, speak or even indicate that you are alive. Nobody knew of the nightmares that plagued you when you were stuck half way between sleep and consciousness. She fell backward and landed on the floor of the Malfoys' mansion and struggled to fight the snake-turned-woman towering over her. The knife glinted in her hand before piercing Hermione with a burning intensity that matched the penetrating, gleeful masochism of Belatrix Lestrange.
Hermione awoke in a cold sweat only a few hours after she had fallen into the seemingly unending nightmare. The cat was still nestled on a pillow and she pulled the tabby to her and held the dozing creature in her arms. She couldn't sleep with the horrors lurking in the depths of her subconscious.
