Disclaimer: Never was mine. Still not mine. All Harry Potter belongs to Rowling.

Now let me start out by saying that I do not intend to preach through fiction. Hermione Granger is a practicing Catholic in this fic and I have woven it into the story. I am not Catholic myself, but am Christian (by denomination) and would not appreciate flames regarding my use of this content. The majority of this is in the first chapter.

As it is, I hope that those of you who notice any particular errors on my part regarding Catholic rituals or prayers will bring them to my attention. I will not be weaving and religious rituals and prayers together.

Eventually this fiction will have adult content, hence the R rating. Reviews are appreciated.

The Twenty

Chapter One: Prayer for Intercession

Sister Mary Josephine Barrone was a light soul, a bright light which radiated joy to those around her. Her insightful ways, sharp mind, and creative musical genius was well known though the Catholic Church and indeed throughout the musical community. The devout nun prepared tirelessly for the upcoming concert. Music was often her method of worship and she used it to call people to action, to renew their spirit as the parishioners faced challenges and temptation everyday. Sister Mary was following her calling.

Hermione Granger was a promising student of hers who had always sung in the church choir, enjoying the musical lessons from Sister Mary since she was a child. Her voice was clear and her range wide.

The child had said she felt the butterflies in her stomach— this would be her first church performance in front of a crowd so large. She had been requested specifically for this elite choir.

Recently Hermione had been away at school, resulting in missed practices until two weeks ago. This opportunity was a welcome distraction from the recent sad death of Sirius Black. She pushed down the ache in her heart with each passing chord. Praying after practices, she had turned to God to ask for guidance, protection for her friends, and for peace.

Upon returning from school, Sister Mary had requested her to sing a duet with a gifted student. The accomplished conductor had told Hermione that this pupil wasn't a member of the church, but had hopes that the music would minister to her privately.

'Perhaps you could be friends,' she had added. 'We are God's disciples you know.'

To her surprise, she was referring to Pansy Parkinson.

Sister Mary had been correct about Pansy— she was a gifted singer. Her melodic voice stunned Hermione with her rich deep vibrato.

Being from houses at different poles of the political spectrum so to speak, they had never been friends in school. She and Pansy had been on friendly terms these last days, but didn't dally around after practices to socialize.

They saw each other almost daily in practices as they caught up with the skill and rehearsed expertise of their fellow peers. Hermione could see the emotion in Pansy's eyes as they practiced the Requiem. It was a moving piece, and difficult to sing well.

Hermione was shocked beyond measure that a pureblooded witch would set foot inside a church whose history was responsible for the persecution of witches. But music was a compelling master and Pansy had perfect pitch. They needed her.

It was not uncommon for Sister Mary to obtain help in the choir from outside the church. They frequently paid section leaders who were often students of music at a nearby college. She wondered how long Pansy had been a private student of hers.

Therefore it came that on a day in late May—they stood facing the enormous congregation of St. Peter's Catholic Church where over 700 people had gathered to hear the summer concert of sacred music.

Pansy was a second alto and Hermione a first soprano among fifty women who stood atop the front steps of the beautiful and historic cathedral.

All dressed in long white flowing robes, their hair pulled back in similar fashion— most all women resembled one another in their respectful reverent pose. The dress code was strict and they wore little or no jewelry to distract from the performance. The beautiful skylight that the cathedral window offered gave the women an almost spiritual glow, possibly the intended effect of its design.

They now sang the angelic and powerful piece, moving many in the audience to tears. Fortunately the excited crowd opted for a reverent attitude of worship. Many in past performances felt compelled to clap after each piece and for a concert such as this it was inappropriate and a disruption of worship. Each piece was carefully sung as Sister Mary Josephine conducted the large choir.

About halfway through the piece, their moment had come. Hermione and Pansy stepped forward assuming their places in front of the crowd. The setting sun was bright and Hermione was grateful for the glare which helped her to avoid the distracting eyes of the audience.

She was careful not to make eye contact and instead focused on Sister Mary or on a spot at the back of the cathedral. Once the first few notes escaped her lips she knew she'd be fine. They sang in perfect unison and then their voices divided harmoniously carrying along the halls and columns of the church. The acoustics amplified and carried their sweet melodies throughout the congregation.

As the last note was sung it hung as if suspended by a thread— Sister Mary's hand held high in the air with her cutoff signal. The choir remained motionless, perfectly focused on their conductor. Hermione only released her breath when Sister Mary relaxed and turned to face the audience. Only then was there a thunderous applause.

The crowd was in awe, once again of the superior performance of one of the finest choirs in England. People traveled to hear these performances. Sister Barrone had quite a following and was well known for her original works in circles regarding sacred music.

Now Hermione could breathe again, she glanced quickly to Pansy with a comforting smile: 'We did it! Good job!' Murmurs of approvals and subtle pats on the back from her neighbors bolstered her ego a bit as she finally relaxed to look at the audience.

Then she saw them.

Pansy's parents were seated beside none other than Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape. Her parents were thankfully seated in the upper balcony.

God! What are they doing here! And what was Lucius Malfoy doing out of Azkaban prison!

As the applause died down, Hermione tried to fade into the backdrop. Too late Hermione, you sang a duet in front of 700 people and your name is in the program! As they filed out down the back steps into the choir room to change, Hermione quickly tore off her robes and ran up the side steps.

Pansy grabbed her arm, "Hey, before you run off, you did a great job up there. I think that was the best we ever sounded don't you?" She had a big smile on her face and Hermione felt badly that all she could think about was fleeing after one of the most powerful experiences of her spiritual walk.

"You sang beautifully Pansy. It was wonderful wasn't it?" She tried to put on a happy face, but a grimace showed through.

"It's so beautiful to sing here. Hey, what's wrong?"

The look of fear was a little too plain on her face as she asked Pansy why the Malfoy's would attend.

Pansy was startled at the change in conversation, "My parents are close friends of the Malfoy's, Granger." Her tone became harsh. "I imagine they came to support me. They aren't Catholic but it's a free country."

"I'm sorry Pansy. I'm just… I'm cautious where Lucius Malfoy is concerned, that's all." There was an awkward silence. "I enjoyed singing with you Pansy. Maybe we can do this again sometime— I mean, if Sister Mary asks you to join us again. She really speaks so highly of you."

"Thanks. See you." Pansy's face was long and her last comment was terse at best. Hermione realized she may have dashed her chances at improving her fragile relationship with Pansy.

Hermione tried to take some deep breaths as she ascended the steps up to the rear chapel. Parents, spouses, and friends were walking toward the front to greet the members of the choir while the remaining audience bottlenecked near the cathedral foyer to greet the priest and Sister Mary as they left.

This is a church filled with Muggles, they wouldn't try anything, she tried to convince herself. Yet she couldn't get past the fact there were three Death Eaters and their wives seated there in the audience. She would really prefer to gather her parents and leave out the side door, but they were lost in the crowd. She decided she would not let it affect her and walked silently toward the rear benches where she could pray in discreet solitude.

This was her routine. After each practice, after each service she would kneel here and say the rosary and pray for her individual friends, family, for the Ministry, for the Pope and leaders of the church. And she prayed, as she had since the end of her fourth year, for Severus Snape. The sarcastic potions master had lived a double life as both her teacher and Death Eater. He put his life on the line time and time again for the Order, a courageous and selfless trait which Hermione could only admire. He lived such a dark and thankless life, she made sure to pray for him by name everyday. He needed her prayers and thanks.

Hermione believed in magic. But she also believed in the power of prayer.

Severus Snape carefully toured the cathedral. His boots clicked on the stone floor as he looked up at each stained glass panel and stone relief. There were brass mountings below describing each scene, both saints and depictions of Jesus' life as a teacher. Professor Snape was not a churchgoing man, but a man always in study and fascinated by all types of history. He considered nothing beneath him to learn. The cathedral was deep and he walked to the back admiring the architecture. He turned to explore further when he caught sight of the individual who had so startled him before, Hermione Granger.

The insufferable Gryffindor had blossomed into a fine young woman and was showing great promise in her studies. She was one who went beyond her assigned work, and not to show off as he had reprimanded her publicly for in class, but for the sake of learning. He knew she spent countless hours in the library. She had frequently been caught after hours there and he suspected she borrowed Potter's invisibility cloak to aid in this pursuit. Although he wouldn't admit it, she was showing incredible promise in potions suggesting original solutions of her own not found in books. Her theories and ideas were a result of absorbing concepts from multiple texts and authors. He knew he'd have to find a way to secretly tutor her. He could not publicly challenge a Gryffindor in front of the Slytherin crowd. The elite potions world needed new blood like her. Many potions masters were becoming elderly and Granger possessed a rare talent.

He could hardly believe it as he saw her step forward. Before the duet, he hadn't noticed. He didn't look at the program— he was there to listen to the music of which he was particularly fond, despite his non-belief. Her voice was that of a clear high soprano. She sang beautifully, the rich tones echoed in his head.

There she was, quietly kneeling, obedient before God. He watched her light candles in succession, muttering prayers. He wondered to himself what the candles signified. He suspected they represented people she prayed for, but he couldn't be certain. He saw her pull a rosary from her pockets and pull the beads through her fingertips. Her words were nearly silent.

She began to say her Hail Marys, but changed her mind with the events which preoccupied her.

"Remember O most Gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help or sought out your intercession was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to you, O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother. To you I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but your mercy hear and answer me. Amen."

She clutched her rosary and returned it to her pocket, then gripped the kneeler and raised herself to her feet. He turned to leave, still a bit moved to witness the passionate muttering of a prayer. It appeared a desperate plea to him, and he wondered what she had prayed for.

When she walked to the main area, Hermione noticed the retreating figure of Severus Snape. How long he had been there? He was far from the crowd and Lucius Malfoy was no where in sight. She felt a sigh of relief and her eyes searched the balcony above and below for her parents. She desperately wanted to avoid meeting the Malfoy's. That would be a disaster. Could she duck out? Her cell phone was in her purse— maybe her mum would've remembered to turn hers back on.

Just when she thought she spotted her parents, she turned and found herself face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

"Miss Granger, what a delightful surprise." His flowery, snobbish, insincere drawl was a bit much for Hermione. He was a dangerous man.

"Mr. Malfoy, imagine my surprise seeing you attend such a function. I hope you enjoyed it," she managed as politely as she could. The last time she had seen him was in the Department of Mysteries.

Pansy and the Parkinson's approached behind and Hermione could see Severus Snape approaching quickly from her back right. Oh no, not my parents…no, no, no… There they were hurrying and proud coming to greet their daughter.

"Hermione, these are my parents Patricia and Patrick Parkinson."

"How do you do?" She shook their hands politely while noticing her parents continued approach from the corner of her vision.

"You have a lovely voice, Miss Granger. Pansy was just telling me you are a classmate of hers." Patricia Parkinson at least appeared to be genuine while her husband held a steely gaze in her direction.

Wendy Granger was an excellent judge of character. One could cut the tension with a knife and Hermione hoped her mother noted the dynamics of this situation.

"Thank you Mrs. Parkinson. We are in the same year."

"Hermione! There you are, that was wonderful!" Her mother gave her a half hug as she regarded the gathering before them.

Hermione tried to look as natural as possible, but she felt completely surrounded. Breathe, Hermione. Breathe.

Introductions went all around as her parents shook the hands of wizard and witches Hermione knew to be terribly dangerous.

"Miss Parkinson, you have an incredible instrument in your voice. Congratulations on a wonderful performance," Wendy Granger said. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, the praise from Hermione's parents might have exceeded her own.

"Mum, Pansy is a classmate of mine from school."

"Really? How great that you got to see each other over the summer." Her father added.

Hermione winced inwardly. Living among the magical community, she was sure Pansy got to see many of her wizarding friends during the summer. She would prefer her parents not go on in this direction.

"And did you say you were Professor Snape? You teach potions, do you not?"

Oh God, Mum no! She could vaguely hear the conversation as she continued her plea for help. Gracious Virgin Mary hear my prayer...

At that moment Sister Mary Josephine, a woman who radiated love and peace about her approached the gathering. She cleared her throat and they parted for her.

"Hello. My name is Sister Mary Josephine Barrone. I am so glad you could all join us for today's performance. You should all be so proud of Pansy and Hermione. They gave an awe inspiring performance today. I have been so blessed to work with them both," she said acknowledging both sets of parents.

Both sets of parents agreed and the tension dissipated. Severus found himself impressed with Sister Mary's gifts. She reminded him of Professor Dumbledore gentle but firm way.

Hermione's mother gave an extra tight squeeze of Hermione's hand. Lucius appeared a bit uncomfortable. Sister Mary smiled knowingly and addressed the group. "We are closing the church in about 10 minutes, but I must invite you all to Mass on Sunday. We have services at nine, eleven, and five thirty. Peace be with you."

"Good to meet you all," her parents closed. The Grangers turned to follow Sister Mary out of the hall, with Hermione close behind. She sighed a relief of thanks to God and both Marys as they left for home.

In the large chair at her parents' home, she sat down for the inevitable conversation to come. She wished to spend the summer at 12 Grimmauld Place. They had an excellent library and her Newts were next year (Never too soon to study!), however she had to admit to herself that the real reason had more to do with her fears regarding the upcoming battle, the history of which she had never fully disclosed to her parents.

With the time turner her third year, she was nearing her 18th birthday. Though she didn't feel the extra year and a half would have any real bearing on her parents honoring her right to choose. Over previous summers she studied as much as possible, and now was taking up additional activities to brighten up her summer.

She had gone to Flourish and Blotts and Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions to offer her services as a summer job she could pursue easily through owl post. She left a sample of her various scripts and a listing of fees which were negotiable. So far she'd only penned invitations for one wedding, a mere 40 invitations. The praise from the client had been high however, and she hoped it would bring her more business. She wanted to earn her own money, especially in the wizarding world. She wasn't permitted to practice magic, but the headquarters would be as close as she could get.

It had been only two weeks since the end of the school year, since she Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna, and Ginny had fled to the Department of Ministries to rescue Sirius. It had failed and they painfully felt more than ever that Harry needed friendship and family to see him through it. It always seemed to take him a few weeks to settle into the year. Life at the Dursley's offered no emotional support. And Hermione felt he was still too isolated in spite of mail and the post. Occasional phone calls were a poor way to make up for the lack of contact.

She had owled a plea to Dumbledore, explaining her understanding that living at the Dursley's offered him some magical protection, but that the Order could protect him quite well at the Headquarters. The Black's old family home was left to Harry in his will anyway and he would likely live there after graduation. "How long does he have to stay at the Dursley's per year and still call it home?" she had written.

Her mum walked in the door, an attractive woman who resembled Hermione very much. Her hair was shorter and soft brown curls framed a youthful face that defied her years. Her father, older than Wendy Granger by 15 years, followed closely behind, dropping his briefcase gently by the door.

"Hello sweet girl! How have you been today?" Her father always called her sweet girl or girlie-girl. That term of endearment had remained throughout her childhood and hoped it forever would be.

She smiled weakly, trying to muster up the courage to speak. "Okay. Just reading."

"Always reading, you should think about getting out of the house more dear," Wendy added.

"How was work?" Way to stall by making small talk. Hermione looked around her house as she imagined she may not see it again soon. She felt paralyzed as she wanted to find a way to tell them about her wanting to relocate them. Would they agree? The Daily Prophet reported attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns daily. The war was escalating, and she felt the Ministry wasn't nearly taking an offensive enough approach.

It was clear that she had not paid attention to her parents' responses to her question as her mother knelt in front of her worried daughter and asked, "What is troubling you dear? You haven't heard a word we said."

The young witch looked at her mother with hollow eyes, the red eyes which had cried a million tears for Sirius and her friends as she dreaded the upcoming year. She needed to do something.

"Mum, Dad? Please sit. We need to talk."

The parents looked at one another and then to their daughter who had always been a serious soul, but still they had not seen her in such a state since the death of her grandfather.

"I need you both to hear me out. No interruptions. This is a long story and I've debated telling you the whole of it for a while. Muggles aren't supposed to know of the magical world so I've mentioned very little."

True she had talked about school and fascinating magical items and charms, but nothing of significant import. They knew of Harry and Ron, and they had even met Ron's parents. Politics and history were not discussed.

"Alright, Hermione. You know that you've always been free to speak with us," her father said somberly.

"We're listening dear," her mother added. The way Hermione had been crying left Mrs. Granger with the impression that there was a schoolboy crush or something. Now she wished that was all it was, but by the sound of things…

"There is a war going on in the magical world currently. There is a wizard who believes himself to be above all others and despises the non-magical community. He leads a group of people called Death Eaters. These other wizards, these Death Eaters, I can only define by saying they are organized terrorists. He attempted to kill my best friend shortly after his birth 16 years ago and failed. There have been other attempts as well. A year ago he has returned to power to finish the job."

Her parents' faces were ghostly pale as they heard with some measure of disbelief the words coming from her lips. Her parents tended toward support of non-violence and kept up with world politics, in favor of diplomacy over fighting. This was simply something they could scarcely comprehend, especially coming from their daughter.

"It's a long story, but my friend Harry Potter—you have met him," they nodded. "He was the one You-Know-Who tried to kill using an Unforgivable curse which rebounded on him and weakened him. Harry is incredibly famous in the wizarding world for surviving this curse and it is believed that he will be the one to defeat this monster. Being his closest friend, I am quite in the middle of this."

"Well get out of the middle!" Her mother gasped, tears in her eyes as her mind raced with the horrible possibilities.

Hermione held a hand up begging them to let her finish. "I can't. I'm here whether I like it or not and the magical community needs us to fight this. I'm a target not just because I'm friends with Harry but also because I'm a witch born of non-magical parents and therefore a threat to pureblood wizards who value heritage over magical skill. My grades at school and performance have already earned some dangerous glances from pureblooded wizards I know to be terrorists." Like the ones you met today for example… She didn't dare bring that up.

"Can't they be arrested?" Her father interjected.

Merlin, I could go one for hours… how can I go into Azkaban prison and the dementors and on and on? She rolled her eyes, and tried to continue. "No they can't. If they even get placed in our wizarding prison, they can escape. It's complicated. In short we are in danger. All of us. I would much prefer for you both to relocate and hide somewhere where no one, not even I know how to find you."

"What about the practice, our patients?"

"Didn't you mention you were thinking over early retirement anyway? And your partner could handle the summer cases. I don't know how long this will go on, but it's necessary. There are spells which Headmaster Dumbledore can place on your new residence to make it undetectable to wizards. It will be exceedingly difficult for people to find you."

"What do you mean find us? You're coming with us! Aren't you?" Her mother's voice was panicky now.

Hermione's eyes welled with tears seeing her parents in pain. Seeing the terror on their faces made it brutally aware how much danger they were indeed facing, something Hermione had only been able to minimize when she resided inside Hogwarts walls. Indeed she had been unable to sleep, feeling naked and unprotected at home.

"Mum, I know this is hard. There is so much more to tell you. Quite a bit happened two weeks ago. Harry's godfather was killed. He had a secret home where I intend to stay. It will be safe, utterly secret and well guarded. I will likely be unable to leave there during my entire summer. I'll be able to send you messages secretly, I've found a way. Professor Dumbledore has agreed to meet us here in two hours to relocate us, if you agree."

Her mum cried out and flew to Hermione's side pulling her into a protective hug. "Oh my God, oh my God." She shook her head back and forth in disbelief. Her father sat unmoving.

"There are no other solutions? I can stay here with her and defend the house…" He thought about purchasing weapons.

"Dad." Hermione reached out to him. "Wizards have ways of avoiding the complications of everyday difficulties. They could apparate in this house right now and execute us on sight." Her voice was quiet and low as her mother wept. The truth was better than a lie and her parents needed to know. "Wands can be used to kill or torture. There are curses called Unforgivables which can be used in horrible ways. I cannot allow us to stay here with that uncertainty. I'm so sorry…" Hermione cried openly and her father embraced her. "This is all my fault. If I wasn't a witch…"

"But you are Hermione and we are proud of you. We are so afraid for you, but we are proud. This isn't your fault. I know God gave you these gifts for a reason. I don't want you to go, but if Professor Dumbledore tells us he will protect you then you may go." Her parents hugged her long, and she rose to help them pack.

Several hours later Dumbledore appeared in the Floo and when the smoke cleared he faced the end of Hermione's wand.

"Miss Granger, it is only I." Dumbledore said peacefully. "Good of you to be cautious though. I am disconnecting your Floo from the network after we depart. Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Good to see you again, though I'd prefer it be under different circumstances."

Hermione's parents had only met Dumbledore once before during Muggle parent orientation before her first year. Despite their limited interaction, anyone who had met the Headmaster could tell he was a man of honor. A twinkle in his eye gave off a sincere kindness about the man, but his height and voice rang with power, one that Wendy had pointed out to her husband right away. Hermione had spoken highly of him on many occasions, extremely proud that she had the opportunity to attend one of the finest wizarding institutions in the world.

"I wish we could take more belongings, but I wasn't sure…" Her mother choked a bit. "We just packed our clothes.

"That's fine Dr. Granger, that's fine. If you show me which pieces of furniture or items you'd like to bring, I'll gladly pack them for you." He looked her in the eye and she wondered about the kitchen.

Pointing his wand at the kitchen he said clearly, "Pack!" And with a crack, all of the dishes, pots, cleaning supplies and appliances zoomed neatly into boxes he had drawn from thin air. Mr. and Mrs. Granger's eyes were wide with the sight of this. The only magical things they had been exposed to was the Floo, the owls, the pictures on the front of the Daily Prophet and their trip to Diagon Alley.

"Next?" Dumbledore inquired with a smile and Wendy took him to the other rooms.

Several minutes later he had packed and shrunk most of their belongings, leaving most furniture behind giving the appearance of a household still in use. With a swish and flick all items shrank into a small suitcase.

"Where are you taking us?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Someplace quite safe I assure you. Effectively, you will be on holiday. I apologize but you will have few people to speak with for the time being. This is for your safety of course. Hermione, owls to me will reach them. Once I get them settled, I will notify you. Professor Snape will escort you to the Headquarters. Are your bags packed? He should be here momentarily."

"Of c-course Professor." She stammered and blushed a bit, she didn't know Professor Snape would come. Why not Tonks or Lupin? Not that she minded. She had been spending a good deal of time thinking on Professor Snape of late, recovering from what she tried to convince herself was a school girl crush.

She gave her parents a big hug and kiss. She sighed as they disapparated, and while she missed them she was immediately feeling better knowing they would be safe. Then she ran upstairs to change her clothes and look more presentable for travel.

She threw on a v-neck shirt with tailored detailing along the neckline and hips. It flared over low–rise jeans and she wore sling back heels to finish it off. She had given up tennis shoes for mule backs most days and found them more comfortable. She ran to her desk and packed up her calligraphy set, quills, ink, nubs, and glass writing utensil her mother had purchased for her. She put all of the items on her bed and heard a pop downstairs. Her heart leapt in her chest and she immediately had her wand out. Backing against the wall, she opened her door and called out, "Who's there?"

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and called out again, "I asked who's there!" Her voice was shaky. Professor Snape was supposed to be coming but there were no guarantees. She turned off the light in her room and stood in the shadow. There was a knock on her bedroom door, and an entrance.

The saw the telltale black swirl of a cloak and a famous turn. That smell. Cedar and sandalwood… "Professor Snape." She came out of the shadows. "Why didn't you identify yourself?"

"Miss Granger, didn't Professor Dumbledore notify you of my arrival? Who else would it be?"

Her answer was a cold fearful stare as he realized his poor choice of words.

"I am ready. These are my belongings. Can you shrink them for me?"

Right, no magic. It was a shame students weren't permitted to perform simple household spells, but then again there were students like the Weasley twins and Neville Longbottom who could always manage to make innocent things dangerous, he mused. A flick of his wand and all items shrunk to miniature which Hermione placed in her purse.

"We'll disapparate from here. Is there anything else you require?" He asked in his customary silky tones.

"No sir."

He held out a hand and pulled her close to his side before disapparating. With a loud crack, they landed in the dark park across from Grimmauld Place. The trees hid them well. Looking around first, they carefully approached the dimly lit brownstone. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she followed closely behind Snape who stood between two doors. No sooner had she thought about the address then out popped the door.

"Ladies first."

With such a venomous drawl which narrowly walked the line between disdain and sexy, Hermione could hardly dub his comment as gentlemanly.

When they entered Remus Lupin and Molly Weasley greeted her warmly with a maternal hug.

"Remus! So good to see you! Hi, Mrs. Weasley. Are Ron and Ginny here?"

"Not yet dear, but they will be for supper. I know you're staying here for summer, but I don't want you to get too bored without much company."

Clearly Harry wasn't joining her yet. No matter, the library still provided a lot of entertainment. "Thank you professor for escorting me."

"You're welcome, Miss Granger." It was her idea to come here, and while he'd initially frowned on it, lately he was spending a lot of time here for the Order, and after seeing the display at St. Peter's he knew it was for the best.

Molly accompanied Hermione upstairs to her room where she returned her considerable belongings to normal size.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. What time is dinner? I think I'll settle in here first."

"Very well, we eat in 30 minutes."

"Do you need some help?" Hermione volunteered.

"No, no, dear. I've got it all set. Don't you worry." Molly said with a wink and a comforting smile.

As the plump colorful figure of Molly Weasley shut the bedroom door behind her, tears sprang from Hermione's eyes. All Hermione had in the world sat on the strange bed that was not her own. She couldn't see her parents, but yet she felt safe for the first time in two weeks. She cried at the conflicting emotions and let it out.

Author's Notes:

Please review! More soon. I'll try to put up chapters quickly.