A.N.- Okay, up to chapter 2. I'm having absolutely no problems keeping on writing this story, which is a first for me. I always get blocks. crosses fingers Sorry about not updating yesterday. I went shopping. Also, thank you to the people who reviewed. And all the people that are reading. Reviews are realllly cool though. Just saying. Okie, so more Hermione sadness. It's gonna get worse before it gets better though, just saying. But not for awhile. I'm going to draw this out as long as possible. :-) Expect none of the sexiness that is Sirius for the next few chapters, however. Okay, so I can think of nothing else to say, other than, I may go back and edit any mistakes that my beta and I find, because she has yet to read this. I cause I was anxious to see what you guys think. On to the story!

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Minerva McGonagall made her way up to her ex-student's room. Harry had told her of how Hermione had been secluded, and withdrawn. She didn't like it, not one bit. So she made up her mind, she would find something useful for Hermione to do. And she had come up blank. What could one teach a woman in her early twenties that was grieving? It needed to be something therapeutic. Then her mind fell to a house elf's story of the young Miss Granger's escapades to try and set the house elves of Hogwarts free. What had she done, hadn't she sewn dresses and put them under rubbish so the elves would pick them up unknowingly? No, no, no, she had kitted hats. That was it! She would get Hermione knitting again. Knitting was supposed to be soothing. Now how could she convince her to start again? Ah, she would tell her of a young first year, who was... interested in elvish welfare. Or some other crock and bull story. That part didn't matter.

"Miss Granger, kindly unlock the door. It's Professor McGonagall. I wish to speak with you," she said, in a quiet tone. However, she heard no response, so she muttered a spell to unlock the door, and let herself in. Hermione was in the same position Harry had left her in. She was on the bed, facing up. Her eyes were closed, however, but she didn't seem to be asleep. McGonagall tried to hold back tears when she saw the state Miss Granger was in. Tinier than she had been as a first year, her hair was tangled, and long, and she was in a man's t-shirt and a soft pair of pants. They had to help her, and McGonagall was going to set her plan in action. She hoped it would be enough.

Hermione thought of Ron's quidditch skills, and how she had Confounded the boy who might have beaten him at tryouts. And then her mind drifted to that blasted song the scum Malfoy had come up with. And how he'd had to eat his words after Ron won the game when she and Harry were in the Forbidden Forest. If only she had seen him play. If only she could see him play. Just one last time.

She needed a pain pill. She needed to forget. She couldn't live with thinking about him anymore. She didn't want to remember. She opened her eyes and was about to reach for that pretty little orange bottle when she saw her old Transfiguration professor watching her, with a sad look in her eyes. Damn people and their pity! She tried to stop from being enraged, but it was no use. So much for unfeeling.

The old woman noticed Hermione didn't have her eyes closed anymore, and any look of sadness, or pity she might have had dissapeared. A stern look she normally reserved for misbehaving students was put into action. Hermione faced the ceiling, eyes opened this time. She didn't even spare another glance in her old teacher's direction.

"Miss Granger, you were the one who started SPELL, or something like that in your years at Hogwarts, were you not? Something about setting house elves free..."

Hermione thought about the ridiculous club SPEW she had started. She would never admit to anyone that it was ridiculous, but now that she thought about it... House elves should be treated better, but Hermione thought about all the hats she had made...

"As I was saying, one of our younger students, has shown interest in this matter, and I was wondering if you would like to help her with her hat making efforts? Someone put the ridiculous notion in her head that if the house elves picked up hats and scarves from under rubbish, they would be free..."

Hermione had no interest in doing anything of the sort. She was all for the poor house elves receiving better treatment, but she didn't care. Not now. It was stupid. Ron thought it was stupid. Not gonna happen... She closed her eyes again, and waited for her old teacher to leave so she could go ahead and take a painkiller.

McGonagall noticed that Hermione's eyes had closed and she wasn't listening anymore. She sighed. Poor girl. If helping house elves didn't interest her...

"Look, Miss Granger, I know you're grieving, but you can't stay here all day. I refuse to let you deteriorate. Madame Pince was telling was me of a massive reorganization of the library she was planning on doing in a few weeks, and I'm sure she would love your help. Now, you can lie here all you want, but I expect to see you at Hogwarts in a week and a half's time. Good day, Miss Granger," said the Transfiguration teacher. She left the room without another word.

Hermione sat thinking. Did everyone think she was deteriorating? Was she that scary? She carefully lifted herself off the bed and went to the mirror hanging on the wall over her dresser. The reflection didn't look any different to her. She saw the bushy haired girl. Still scrawny. Any woman's curves she might have acquired had dissapeared when she stopped eating. Food was tasteless.

So this is what she had come to. Had she intended to be this? Was it normal to feel so much hurt you were numb? Did it not kill her to see what she had become whenever she caught a glimpse?

Whenever she was with Ron, he had always made her feel loved. He had known her since she had been a gawky eleven year old. Looks didn't matter. He was a jerk sometimes, but he always came through for her in the end. Except for the one last time. Hermione was still looking in the mirror. Could she still cry? She had managed it before, but it was never when she wanted to. Only when she couldn't control it.

Not one tear fell down her cheek. No matter how much she wished it. A dry sob racked her body. She felt like ripping her hair out.

Hermione stumbled to the bathroom, all thoughts of a pain pill forgotten. She wanted a shower. Hot water. Cleanliness. She couldn't remember the last time she enjoyed a bath. It was always taken for granted in the past.

Her hands slowly turned on the shower, and she stripped herself of all her clothes, slowly stepping in. She let the warm water cascade down her back, enjoying the heat. She had missed the warmth of another human being.

Hermione washed her hair, and her body, savoring how nice it felt to be clean. After turning the shower off, she pulled back the shower curtain, and reached for a towel hanging on the rack. She dried herself off and wrapped herself in the towel carefully. Her wand was lying on the counter, and she reached for it, blowing cool air on the mirror to remove the steam. She cautiously looked up, observing her reflection. A shower had done her good, she supposed.

Her thoughts fell to all the beauty charms she would normally perform, and she decided to forgo those for once. She applied moisturizer muggle style, and left her hair alone.

Hermione walked back into her bedroom, having changed into a clean pair of blue jeans, and another of Ron's old t-shirts. She was shocked to see Harry sitting in a chair beside her bed looking at the picture of Hermione, Ron, and himself. He seemed to be lost in memories, and his eyes held the ghosts of tears. Hermione knew there wasn't anyone else who could understand her as well as Harry could right now. But she wasn't ready to talk. She still hurt too much.

She walked over and sat beside him. He didn't look startled.

"You know, if there's one thing I miss the most, it's having my best mate around. He is- ...it's hard to talk about him like he's not here anymore, because it doesn't seem possible that he could be, you know? I would give all the gold in my Gringotts vault for him to be back here with us. To be happy living with you. To keep kicking Death Eater ass with me. I just miss him. A lot," said Harry.

Hermione tried not to freeze up at the onslaught of feeling that poured forward. She missed him too. She missed his hands, that would soothe hers, and cup her face ever so gently. She missed the way she would make a sarcastic remark and it would take him ages to understand. How his chest felt when she would lay her head against.

It was the small things she missed.

Hermione put her arms around Harry's shoulders. She supposed he hurt as much as she did. He just had a different way of showing it. And it didn't affect him in as many ways as it did her.

Harry leaned his head back and sighed. "I... miss you too Hermione. I don't feel like I have you here with me anymore. I've found Ginny, but that's beside the point. I miss the old you," and with that, he stood up, shrugging off Hermione's arms.

He looked down at her from where he was standing. His face was unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak. "I don't expect you at dinner. Remus gave me a book he thought you might be interested in. I left it on your nightstand." Harry left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Hermione still sat, lost in her own thoughts. Harry was angry with her. He missed her. He wanted the old her back. He hurt just as much as she did. Her head was trying to comprehend all these thoughts.

What could she do about any of it? She didn't want to be the way she was. But she still hurt so much...

She remembered reading once that only time heals a loss. Maybe that was true. Maybe she needed to get away from all these familiar places. Hogwarts was just as familiar, but maybe if she could revisit her younger self, she might find some peace. Maybe she should ask McGonagall if the offer was serious.

That was a lot of maybes'.

She could consider it. She would consider it. But not right now. Not this soon. The idea had seemed ridiculous a couple of hours earlier. Her mind needed to absorb it all.

Her old werewolf professor had given her a book that he hoped she would be interested in. Hermione's eyes had been glued. It had been a long period since she had picked up a book. It wasn't really the subject that interested her, but the thrill of flipping through pages, and looking at the ink, spelling out words and making the story.

She read for a long time. Her eyes drooped after awhile, and she fell asleep on top of the covers, with the lamp on. Harry came in to talk to her later that night, but was surprised when he found her asleep with a book in her hands. It made him think of the old Hermione.

He wondered if he would ever get her back.

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