A Winter's Day

Hermione shivered and pulled her cloak closer to her chin. The wind was rushing through the streets around her; it was snowy, wet and cold. She was late to meet Harry and Ron, again. She had lost track of time studying in the library. Really, this shouldn't surprise them. Yet she knew they worried about her. No, they all worried about each other. Harry had managed to defeat Voldemort in what would have been their seventh year of Hogwarts, if they had attended. Instead of finishing school, they had tracked down all the remaining pieces of Voldemort's soul and destroyed them; finally defeating him about the time they would have graduated.

They were awarded degrees with the rest of their class. Apparently the skills they had shown in destroying all the Horcruxes were considered in lieu of actual coursework. That was enough for Harry and Ron. Ron had begun Auror training. Harry was taking some time to figure out what he wanted to do. He had always assumed he would be an Auror, but after finally defeating Voldemort, he was reconsidering his options. Hermione, however, was not going to accept that she had graduated without taking her NEWTS. She was insistent that she sit her NEWTS during Hogwarts' winter break. The faculty was placating her request - she assumed at the strong insistence of Minerva McGonagall.

Hermione was enjoying the academic work that revising for NEWTS brought. She had always done well on schoolwork, and truthfully it was a welcome distraction from the dangers they had faced in the last year. Well...she should say she was enjoying everything except revising for potions. There were just a few concepts that were troubling her. It had never been her best subject, but she always enjoyed it nonetheless. Hermione had consulted all the libraries - muggle and magical - in a two-hour radius of her flat and she simply was stuck. She had even consulted the new potions instructor at Hogwarts, who seemed just as baffled by her questions as she was (perhaps more so; it seemed to Hermione that he was just as perplexed as to why she would be asking such questions, as he was bewildered by not knowing the answer). It was potions she had been studying tonight as she lost track of time.

So, here she was, scurrying from the library to her weekly dinner with her two best friends. She knew they would be upset with her when she arrived. They were all still in danger. Many of Voldemort’s followers would like nothing more than to torture a member of the golden trio, as the Daily Prophet had begun to call them last year. But she knew how to be cautious while going about her daily business. She knew she probably would have to be vigilant the rest of her life, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her from pursuing her goals.

She frowned, doubling back around the corner and walking the same direction that she had just come from. This certainly was not helping her lateness this evening, but Hermione had felt as if she was being followed for about two months now. She never could figure out who, or what, was following her. She had verified that it was none of the Aurors by threatening the poor Ministry official that had been sent to talk with her a few weeks ago. She had confirmed it wasn't any of the Order members. She had investigated it enough to know it wasn't any of the remaining Death Eaters.

Still, she just couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. This would have alarmed her greatly, but she had noticed that she did not feel unsafe being followed. On the contrary, she could tell her protection charms had been externally fortified for about the same period of time. Once she had even gotten up unexpectedly at night and realized there were a complete second set of wards on her flat, much more complex than any she knew. She felt safer, like someone was shielding her - but she still wanted to know who it was. Still seeing no one and knowing she would probably not be able to catch the person no matter how much she tried, she shook her head and trudged toward the Muggle restaurant in which Harry and Ron were waiting. As she entered, stomping her boots, she heard three relieved sighs coming from a booth on her left.

Hermione smiled widely, greeting Ron and Harry first with hugs, and breaking into an even bigger grin as she saw the third member of their dinner party. "Ginny, you didn't tell me you were going to be here tonight! How are you?"

"Mum arranged for me to go to the Burrow a bit early for break this year, what with Fleur's little one due any minute now. But I’d rather be at school than wait on Phlegm hand and foot all day. It's gotten all right to deal with her on a regular basis, but now that she was ordered on bed rest she seems to think we’re her personal wait staff... But you don't want to hear about that, now do you." Ginny smiled at Hermione while pulling her into the booth next to her.

"Nonsense, Ginny, I haven't seen you in months. You've been gone to Hogsmeade when I've stopped around to question the teachers about NEWTS."

Ron looked like he was about to burst as he was watching Hermione and Ginny converse as though they had not just been worrying about her safety. "WHERE were you?!? And PLEASE don't tell me you were studying again!"

Hermione slowly shifted her attention to Ron. "Yes, Ronald, I was studying. Potions to be exact. I know you were worried about me. I just wish I could get some decent answers about these native Chinese root properties and their interactions with certain vapors. You know..."

"We know, we know, Hermione – if Snape was around he would be able to help you. Please don't make us talk about him again," Ron interrupted.

"Fine." She replied icily, but quickly she retuned to her cheery mood. "Well – you tell me then, how's training going this week?" Hermione was content to just sit around and catch up with her best friends for a few hours. All too soon, their dinner was over and it was time to part again. Harry and Ron both offered to walk her home, but she simply preferred the quiet time to think. It was amazing how many ideas suddenly came to her when she was walking about. So, Hermione reassured everyone she would be fine, and yes, she'd floo them to assure everyone she made it home safe.

With one last hug she reclaimed her cloak and ducked out into the howling wind. As she trudged through the snow her mind began to wander back to her potions questions. She went round and round on where she could find more information. When she looked up, she realized she was already at her building. She had come up with a few good ideas on where to look for her answers and so it was with excitement that she ran up to her flat without looking around to check for her shadow.

Too bad, for her shadow was just a bit too slow hiding himself that time. If Hermione had turned around as she entered her building she would have seen a familiar looking silhouette of a tall, thin, bat-like man clad in black robes hiding in the darkness. He berated himself for his mistake and stealthily positioned himself to be her unknown sentry once again. He knew there were two yet un-captured Death Eaters that would try to attack her. He wanted to be there, he wanted to make sure she was safe.

He refused to focus on his motivation for doing so. He feared it would reveal far more than he was willing to admit, especially to himself. He just knew she had to stay alive and well, and it didn't appear anyone else was going to protect her. So here he was, again, doing a task no one else was willing to do. It wasn't that he was interested in the chit. No, most definitely not. But he was interested in her staying safe. He was interested in her getting to use the knowledge that had been carefully cultivated in her. The only thing he would admit to himself was that he was confident that the future was better - whatever that meant - if she remained in it.

Thus, here he was, preparing to spend another cold evening- watching over her. He knew he couldn't, and wouldn't, remain doing this forever. But he had heard the rumors; he knew an attack on her would come soon. After that, he may leave the country or he may retire to the remains of his old house in Spinner's End. He didn't like to think about that either, the future. He still couldn't believe he'd made it through the final battle alive; he just didn't know what to do with himself. But he'd worry about that later, now he just wiped his mind of thoughts and prepared to stay alert for the coming night.