Chapter One

She was tired of it. She was tired of the fake smiles, of acting happy when there was nothing left of me inside to be cheerful. There was no reason to be cheerful. The war was over, but there were not many left.

Someone spoke of rebuilding, but she glared at him in contempt. He had not fought beside them, he had no right to the worship of the people.

But he did. He had been a coward, always staying behind the lines. But now, he was a hero. He was on of Dumbledore's Army.

One of the few left standing.

They had asked her if she wanted the job. If she wanted to be Minister and to rebuild the broken world the war had left behind. She didn't answer. She merely stood and walked from the room. So they chose the next best thing. She didn't even remember his name.

She spent a lot of time with her thoughts. People tended to avoid her now, only Ginny would come close anymore. Mrs. Weasley had become a shell after the death of her husband. Charlie blamed himself for Bills death. Fred was confined to Saint Mungo's after George's death. He would never come home. Ron had been at Harry's side, ever faithful, even to the end. Lupin was also on that battlefield, Tonks had gone early on. Mad-Eye had survived, though no one was sure how. Neville was a ghost of the man he had become over those seven years. Ginny still clung to him, trying to save him with the part of her heart that hadn't died on the battlefield with Harry that day.

Of what would have been her graduating class, ten people survived.

She hated herself for being one of them. She was supposed to have been on that battlefield as well. If she had….

If again. The world haunted her dreams and her waking reality.

She had to get away. She couldn't handle the stares, the whispers any longer.

'There she goes' they say, 'the one who lived.'

No one knew why she had survived. She refused to say. Refused to admit that she was going to be meeting Him. The thought haunted her dreams. He had never come, but when she heard the blast, she knew He had saved her again.

She still did not know why.

He no longer wrote to her.

She stood and picked up the small bag she had packed. It wouldn't do to bring anything else. There wasn't anything to take. There was only one picture left.

The four of them as they had been. When they were young, happy and completely carefree. Waving out of the frame, they horsed around. Harry would kiss Ginny and Ron would go red. Hermione would laugh. Then they would all come together again, holding each other tightly as if they would never let go.

The dream was broken now.

There was no reason to stay.

She left.

The frame remained on the table.

This world was completely different. Stepping off the plane, she was struck by the light that struck her eyes. The people were bright and happy, they talked fast, but their manners were slow. The barrage of sound was too much. She escaped into the bathroom, but she could not stay there forever. She stared at herself in the mirror until her color returned and she knew she would not break down. The memories had been locked away and she would not touch them until it was her time. It was another world, one she would never return to. Ginny had known this when they said goodbye.

At least she had gotten to say goodbye instead of-

No.

She picked up her small bag and walked out of the bathroom. She had gone as far away as she could. When she told her parents, they were happy. They had been in America for years. They knew nothing of what she had become.

They never would.

She would not go to them. She couldn't. They would want to know and she could never talk about it. Instead she moved across the country from them too. California. The sun always shone here, they said. The earthquakes were a small matter. She bought a house in a city that was nothing like the city she had left behind. This one was much brighter, things moved differently. She was a novelty with her accent. She got a job with a potions developing lab.

She could not give up magic too. That would have killed her even more thoroughly. Then she would have ended it all. Her co-workers thought her strange. She didn't speak, and when they spoke to her, the darkness of her eyes stopped the words in their throats and they left her alone.

She was good at what she did. Snape would have been proud, had he not been murdered in front of her eyes as a traitor and a turncoat by Voldemort.

He had not been happy about that either.

She still had the letters. Every one of them. She could not give them up either because it was her sanity wrapped up in them too.

It was her proof that her pain was real. That it was justified.

Proof that she did still hate Him.

She knew her sanity was slipping, but still no more letters came. She knew that He was alive, but still He did not write. He had been cleared, how she did not know. Then He had disappeared, as she had.

She had to find a way to escape herself.

The second week she found it. As she passed the club, the music beckoned. She remembered a happier summer, a summer that seemed so far away. A summer of music, flashing lights and the joy of escaping it all. She walked in, receiving an odd look from the bouncer. It was full of men, and inwardly she laughed. She checked her coat, bought a drink she didn't touch. She waited to leave.

The lights turned on. The music stopped. She was alone on the dance floor. She left, but she felt light. Lighter than she had in years.

The pain was back the next morning. She went to a different club that night and left when they closed. The next night she did it again. She didn't need to sleep. The movement was her rest. She began to change her appearance. Each night she was a different woman. It was easier that way. She would apparate across the country some nights. Go somewhere new. It was her release. Her freedom. Her sanity.

Then one night, she found she had a partner. One who moved the same way she did, one whose eyes were as haunted as hers. She refused to believe it until three weeks later and the partner appeared again. She told herself it wasn't possible. It happened again, a few nights later.

The next morning, there was an owl at her window.

A big, black eagle owl.

Authors Note: Well, the muse hasn't let go, so I'm going to write until I pass out from exhaustion or she leaves, whichever comes first. This is going to be a fairly dark piece. I don't know how it will end until I get there and feel that it is finished. If this tale could ever be finished. I know it's very disjointed and may be hard to understand. Hermione is not thinking clearly, she is not a whole person any longer. Any critics are welcome. Flames are not. Reviews will be loved.

Thank you for reading.

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, the words and ideas are. I promise to give the characters back when I'm through, I don't think you'll want the ideas.