Dislcaimer: I don't own Harry Potter


Sweet

Sweet. Sweet as butterbeer. Ask anyone and that is how they would describe Hermione Granger. A little bossy, sure. But none the less sweet. She lived a life on the top of a mountain. Sure it was a little rocky on the way there, but she was there, and living large. She had the best friends she could ever ask for. The brave and noble Harry Potter, and the kind, funny Ron Weasley. These three made quite a bunch. They'd been through heaven and hell together. They'd been to balls together, classes together; they'd even had to face death together. Not a force in the world could tear this trio apart (and plenty had tried.) But now it is summer break and the group of friends is now habbitating the dark and dusty house of Black (Number 12 Grimmuald Place.).

Hermione Granger stretched her hands to the ceiling as she leaned back in her comfy armchair, soaking in the information she had just read in her newest book "Dark Spells and How to Counter Them: Artumes Kingfield Jr."

"There are some pretty interesting spells in here, Harry," Hermione said in an excited tone. She waved the book around in her enthusiasm. "It would be fascinating to go over them in D.A."

Harry Potter let out a sigh as he threw down his quill and flopped back in his own armchair.

"I'm already having to struggle with my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, Hermione. I don't even want to think about planning a D.A. lesson today," Harry said in an exhausted voice as he curled up with every intention to fall asleep right there on his chair.

Hermione rolled her eyes. They had started the group D.A. (Dumbldore's Army) last year when the ministry felt obligated to enroll their own teacher in the roll as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts as a spy. When their teacher had refused to actually show them how to do the spells they were taught, Harry and a group people formed a group and, Harry as their leader, they learned complicated spells that would help them defend themselves against Voldemort. Even though the issue with the professor had been resolved (thanks to Hermione's clever thinking), Dumbledore encouraged them to continue this small group.

"Yeah," said Ron weakly as he clutched his head. "I don't know how much of a help I'll be, mate. I'm too busy trying to force out some decent words for this Potions essay to do something that involves standing."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh as she stood up and made her way to the kitchen, leaving her two best friends to complain amongst themselves. She didn't know why they complained. She absolutely loved to do essays. They stretched her mind in so many directions that she was surprised she didn't have an oddly shaped head.

Strolling into the kitchen Hermione was overwhelmed by the sudden rush of smell. Chicken, potatoes, corn, carrots, bread, freshly churned butter, stew, everything. Mrs. Weasley had defiantly out done herself. Turning to the table Hermione could see Fred and George talking animatedly to Lupin. Curious, Hermione walked towards them.

"Ah. Hermione. Finish your book?" Lupin asked, noticing Hermione's presence in the room.

"Yes Professor. It was quite fascinating. I think it will come in handy for D.A." Hermione said proudly.

"Excellent," Lupin said excitedly. "You should tell Harry. He said he had no idea what he was going to do for your next D.A. lesson. That was a really good idea you kids came up with. Dumbledore was quite pleased to hear of all of you putting such an effort up for the Resistance."

The war against Voldemort had quickly earned the name that everyone affectionately called the Resistance. And, indeed, they were a resistance. They resisted to fall the the hands of Voldemort, and there for resisted reason. They resisted government, law and power to keep the balance of life where it belonged. Thus the name "Resistance" had been born.

Hermione sighed as she shook her head. "I already have. He didn't really jump at the idea, though. He's still working on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay."

"Perhaps I'll give him a hand with it when dinner's over," Lupin suggested.

Hermione nodded happily. "Oh yes, sir! I'm sure Harry would love that. You're better off helping him than I am. Defense Against the Dark Arts was never my strongest subject."

Just then, Harry and Ron came bursting through the kitchen door. Pulling up a seat next to Hermione, Ron threw himself down in the chair with an overabundant eagar style. Greedily grabbing both his fork and his spoon and looked about expectantly.

"So," He said anxiously reminding Hermione an awful lot of a dog that knows it's feeding time, "when do we eat?"

Harry gave a rather large snort and Lupin looked at Ron as though he wasn't sure what to say in a response. Hermione scowled.

"I'm sure it won't be long, Ron," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"I hope so. I'm starved," Ron said, tucking his napkin into the collar of his shirt, completely oblivious to Hermione's embarrasment. He could be completely thick sometimes.

Seconds later Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the kitchen followed closely by Mr. Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody and Mundungus.

"Okay everyone. We eat as soon as we get the food on the table," Mrs. Weasley said.

Ron gave an enthusiastic leap from his chair as he raced to help his mother. In his haste knocked over a chair which crashed into a cabinet that had been holding spare dishware. Several plates and mugs came crashing to the ground. Crockshanks, Hermione's cat, bolted from the room as the house was suddenly filled with a loud shrieking voice.

Filthy Mudbloods, Blood traitors, Half-breeds. Even though my son is dead you still linger. Be gone with your filthy souls…

"I'll do it," Lupin yelled in an exasperated voice above the racket while Hermione and Harry set forth to the task of reparing the dishes

Everyone, taking a dish of food, sat down at the table. Just as Mrs. Weasley was setting down the last dish Lupin came back into the room .

"Well," he said, "Let's eat."

Everyone started grabbing food. Everyone, that is, except Harry. He was staring at the empty chair beside him. Hermione bit her lip. Harry was thinking of Sirius. Lupin must have noticed too because he patted Harry reassuringly on the back. Harry gave him a weary smile and turned to gather food to his plate. Hermione couldn't help but worry about Harry. He hadn't been to right since the incident at the Ministry. Hermione still had nightmares from her own adventure there. She hadn't even witnessed the death of Harry's godfather.

Harry must have noticed Hermione's troubled look, because he forced a smile at her. Hermione tried to smile back, but she couldn't. Images of the others struggling with the death eaters swarmed into her head, clotting out every piece of reality. Suddenly, a stream of sparks passed before her eyes, and she fell to a lump on the ground. Yet, everything didn't go black as it had when she had been hit by a spell in the Department of Mysteries. Instead, she lie on the floor watching everything. She could see Harry, his handsome face torn and tattered. He was holding his wand out to Voldemort. Harry's chest fell and rose in a dangerous manner, suggesting he was about to collapse. Suddenly, Voldemort turned from Harry. A sinister, Malfoy-like expression played wickedly across his face. He rose his wand and pointed it at a figure in the background. A green light shone from Voldemort's wand, piercing the darkness. The light reveiled Sirius's face, full of horror. Her fell limply to the ground…

"Hermione?"

As the fog cleared, Hermione could see Harry's troubled face.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said uneasily. "Yeah, I am."

Hermione shook head.

Atleast, I think so.'