2005

Hermione sat down the book she had been reading and ran her hands over her eyes. Glancing over at the clock, she cringed slightly as she realized how late it truly was.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called from the doorway. "You're still awake?"

"Hmm, so it would seem," Hermione said with a yawn.

"What were you reading?" Ginny asked as she came in and sat down in the armchair that was situated next to Hermione's own.

"A new book I picked up at Flourish and Blotts today. It's a modern history," Hermione explained as she handed the book over to Ginny. "Harry, me and Ron were interviewed for it a few months back."

"Ah, I remember that," Ginny said as she examined the cover. "Is it any good?"

"They got most things right. Of course the bit about me at the end is left mostly a mystery," Hermione explained matter-of-factly as she stretched out in her chair. It was a sticking point for her most days. When she had been younger, Hermione would have said she would love a good mystery. These days, she would give just about anything to figure out the curse that tormented her thoughts daily.

When she had first returned, almost all of her actions had been the product of pure panic. She stayed in the house as much as possible, buried herself in research and correspondences with the unspeakables. A year had past, she had lost weight, and she had realized that she had stopped living her life because she feared losing it. The new year had come around and she had promised herself to try and relax a bit more, have more fun, and take time to just enjoy the time that she had with her friends.

That of course had not stopped her from researching the curse as much as she could when they were not around. With gold she had received as a reward for her services during the war, Hermione was able to live comfortably enough without working. She had commandeered the library at Grimmauld (not that the other tenants much minded) and spent at least a few hours every day researching, even going as far as trying to replicate the curse on some unfortunate rats. (It had not worked out very well in the end, and Hermione had more dead rats than missing rats).

The first few weeks she had been back had been both the hardest and the easiest. It was easy, because almost all of the materials had been collected for her already. All she had to do was read. It was the hardest because she had to come to terms with the fact that it was also happening to her.

What Harry, Ron and Ginny had told her the first night, was mostly true, if leaving out a few of the details. The curse was, in fact, an old curse, but it had not been created by the Dolohov family. They had simply found it and had adopted it as a family curse. With their family being the only ones that had knowledge of it, there were few recorded instances of it actually being used.

They had, in fact, six confirmed reports, all written by either the victim or the victim's family or friend. The most recent one was from over one-hundred years ago. In each case an individual had been cursed by a vengeful member of the Dolohov family, and in each case the individual would disappear. After that, the six different cases varied slightly, but they all ended the same. The record would just stop, or in some cases a family member or friend would indicated that they had never, to that point, seen the victim again.

It was disheartening to say the least. None of them had found a counter-curse, and Hermione feared her own fate would be much the same.

There was however one thing that the other cases had not mentioned. At the small of her back in thin black lines there was a marking. She barely noticed the mysterious tattoo of the gem these days, but she remembered that she had let out a small squeak of surprise when she had first noticed it in the mirror.

The marking of the gem was small, but Hermione yearned to know what in the world it meant.

She let out a small sigh and glanced over at Ginny. "Is James asleep now?"

"Mmm, for now," she replied sleepily.

Having been able to be present throughout her friend's pregnancy and then birth of her son, was one thing that Hermione considered herself blessed in. Some of the others that had been hit by the spell had spent as little as a year at home with their loved ones before being carried off again by the spell. It was now getting close to three years for Hermione, and a small part of her brain hoped that the spell would never rear its ugly head again. She knew it was wishful thinking however.

She tried not to dwell too much on it though, and she usually succeed. James had been born six months ago, and Hermione could not have been more delighted that her friends had decided that rather than moving into a house of their own (or simply kicking Hermione and Ron out of Grimmauld as it was technically Harry and Ginny's house) they had decided to stay.

Ron had gotten a place of his own two years ago, but still spent almost half of his nights here at Grimmauld. Hermione had never considered moving out, and Harry and Ginny never pressured her to consider it.

"How was your dinner tonight," Ginny was asking. "You didn't get in until late."

Hermione mentally cringed. While she had, two years ago, made a pact with herself to live her life to the best of her abilities. Ginny had taken that to mean that it was also perfectly fine to try and set Hermione up on dates.

"It was fine," Hermione replied noncommittally, hoping that Ginny would drop it.

"That is what you said about the last one," Ginny sighed, unimpressed.

"The last one was fine, too. We just didn't really click."

"He was handsome though, wasn't he?" Ginny asked, throwing a glance over at Hermione to no doubt gauge her reaction.

"He was handsome." Hermione agreed with an exasperated sigh.

"Not as handsome as your dwarf friend though," Ginny teased.

At this, Hermione could feel herself blush. If there was one thing that she had regretted from her retelling of her adventure it was that she had somehow given Ginny the idea that she had a ridiculous crush on Thorin.

Well… maybe she did. Just a little bit.

But it wasn't something she wanted Ginny to continue to bring up!

"I thought we agreed not to discuss that anymore," Hermione said snippily.

"You agreed, I did not," Ginny said with a small smile. "How did you describe him? Oh yes, I remember. 'A bit dark and brooding, but with a great deal of sex appeal. Solidly built, with crystal blue eyes, a fine stubble, and a mane of dark hair that I could sink my hands into,'" Ginny finished in a sing-song voice.

"I was drunk when I said that," Hermione rebutted, but her blush felt ten times stronger.

"All the more truth behind it then," Ginny bantered back.

"You'll never give this up will you?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"Never," Ginny agreed.

"Ginny, we don't even know if I will ever see him again."

Ginny snorted. "The others always seemed to meet the same people again."

"Yes, but maybe I will most likely be drawn back to either of the two towns we stopped in. He was a traveling blacksmith for goodness sakes!"

It was an old argument that they were having. Of the six accounts that they had of this, all of them indicated that they returned to generally the same area and thus became acquainted with the individuals that lived there. Ginny argued that maybe it was not so much the location, but the people that the victim of the curse was drawn to. Hermione argued that it was more likely the location they were drawn back to.

The two of them had frequently bickered back and forth about it, and because there was no way to prove anything until Hermione actually went back again, they often ended up frustrating one another.

"I still say that you will end back up there with him," Ginny said matter of factly before she dumped Hermione's book onto the coffee table that sat between their chairs.

"Ginny," Hermione moaned in frustration.

"I know, I know. I am going back to bed," she said as she stood up with a stretch. "Try not to stay up too late."

"Yes, mother," Hermione snipped, although her words held little bite. "Good night, Ginny."

"Night."

It was one month later when Hermione found herself ripping into the packaging of a small black leather bound journal. The letter that had been with it lay discarded on the table, and Hermione could feel her hands trembling with excitement. The book had been mailed to her by a distant relative of one of their better case subjects, a Miss. Francesca Adami.

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry had taken the time to visit each of the remaining family of the six victims that they knew of. They had asked the family members for any information they had in regards to the victim of the curse, and for any written records they might have had. Most of them had little knowledge of the individual in question and unfortunately could provide little help.

However, the package that Hermione was currently in the process of ripping open was from Anetta Adami, the great niece of Francesca Adami. She had recently inherited the family estate, and had been cleaning out some of the storage areas. She had come across the journal of her great aunt and had recalled them visiting with her father. Anetta had read the journal before sending it, and insisted that she did not know if it would be of much help, but Hermione could not wait to go through it.

Hermione's feet carried her back to her favorite reading chair and she sat down rather ungracefully as she flipped open to the first page and began to read.

This was how Harry found her hours later.

"Hermione?" He asked uncertainly as he stepped into the room.

"Oh, Harry. Hi," she said as she looked up from the entry she had been staring at. He was standing in his auror robes, a sack of groceries hanging from his hands.

Hermione glanced at the bag and she could hear her stomach growl at the mere thought of food. Harry must have heard it too because he let out a small chuckle.

"Been at it long?" he asked.

Hermione glanced up at the face of the grandfather clock that stood in the corner. "Yes," she admitted as she closed the journal and stood up.

"Come on, then. Ginny should be back from the Burrow soon." He lead the way back towards the kitchen and Hermione followed. Harry shrugged out of his robes leaving him in just a pair of plain wool pants and crisp white shirt. Setting the groceries on the counter and rolling up his sleeves he began to prep for dinner. "So what are you reading today," he asked.

Hermione plopped down at the kitchen table and picked up the letter she had left there earlier in the afternoon. "You remember when we went to see the Adami family?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, the old man was less than thrilled to see us," Harry supplied as he began slicing away at some carrots.

"Yes, well, his daughter recently inherited the estate. She sent me Francesca Adami's journal," Hermione said with bated breath, waiting to see the reaction from Harry.

As she predicted he nearly dropped the knife he was holding and turned to look at her, just as excited as she had been when she had originally torn into the package.

"Well?" Harry asked, his voice eager. "You obviously have read it by now, otherwise you would not be sitting here with me!"

"It is more than we had before, but not much," Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice light.

"Not enough to really go off of?" Harry asked, seeming to deflate a little bit.

"No, not really," Hermione admitted as she ran her thumb across the cover of the journal. "It's just...," she trailed off as she stared down at the book.

"Just what?" Harry asked, his voice soft as he left the carrots and sat down across from her.

"They all just seem to give in, in the end," Hermione said softly, before she looked up at Harry, unable to hide her frown.

Harry's hands were suddenly around hers. "You are the smartest witch I know, Hermione. If anyone is going to figure this out it will be you."

Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't a defeated resignation," Hermione said as flipped through the pages of the journal.. "This is the most personal account we have, and in the end she seemed, well, happy to go. Here, you read it," Hermione explained as she flipped to the page she had been staring at earlier.

"The June 20th entry?" Harry asked as he took the small leather book from Hermione. He glanced down at it and then back up at Hermione. "This isn't going to try and eat my soul is it?" he asked coyly.

"Ha, ha," Hermione said dryly. "Just read it."

Clearing his throat Harry held the journal up in front of him. "I know that the day on which the curse will flare again is getting nearer. It has been almost six months since I returned home. It is a strange thing though. Knowing I have lost seven years, home no longer feels so much like home. Ma and Pa, and little baby Piero, who isn't much of a baby anymore, are all still here, but we have grown distant.

In all truth, the other place is starting to feel more like home than here ever has, and I am actually looking forward to returning. The curse, if I can even really call it that anymore, has given me a fuller life than I had ever anticipated to find here. It has been a blessing in disguise and if I were a bit more brave I might even send a thank you note to the Dolohovs."

Harry paused and looked up at her.

"The other accounts indicate similar sentiments, although in not so many words," Hermione said softly.

"Really? I never really picked up on that," Harry said.

"Yes, well that is the 'not so many words' part," Hermione replied sarcastically. "The accounts of both Goldstein and Bramstan's family members indicated that they thought that maybe their relatives were better off on the other side."

"Hermione, we are not going to give up on you," Harry said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"I know that!" Hermione said, her voice rising in frustration. "But what happens when I give up!" she nearly yelled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. "What happens when you are all, ten, twenty, thirty years older than I am, and I decide I am better off there than I am here."

"Are you going to?" Harry asked, his voice calm.

"I don't know!" Hermione cried out, before turning her head quickly away from Harry's penetrating gaze. "I am scared," she admitted, her voice sounds small in her own ears. "I don't want to lose all of you."

"You aren't going to lose us. And what I know is that whatever happens down the road, whether it be ten, twenty or thirty years from now, me and Ginny and Ron will always stand-by you regardless of what choice you decide to make."

"God, Harry," Hermione sniffed as she brought her hand up to rub at her eyes. "When did you get so wise."

Harry let out a snort. "Who knows, but if you could tell Ginny I would appreciate it."

Hermione felt herself smile at that. "She already knows that,"

"Good," Harry said with a nod. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, and I will finish getting dinner prepped."

"Thanks, Harry."

The next morning when Hermione didn't make it to breakfast, Harry and Ginny didn't think much of it, putting it down to her exhausting herself the night before.

When she was not downstairs when they both had gotten home from work, and Ginny had picked James up from the Burrow, they checked her room together. It was empty.

When she was not home when they checked her room the next morning, they knew what had happened.

"She's gone," Ginny whispered sadly as they took in the empty room.

"She will be back," Harry said resolutely, as he rubbed small comforting circles on his wife's back.

"Yes, but when?"

Note: (╯︵╰,) Poor 'Mione.

Hope you guys liked the chapter. Thank you for all of the responses you sent to the previous one! I got lots of good responses in regards to my questions and am looking forward to sharing with everyone what I have planned for the next leg of the story!

((Also, a big thanks to theundyinglands who made three awesome banners for the story! You can find links to them on her FF profile page!))