Facade

"I'm okay..."

She was dead. Every thought, every plan, everything she had ever learned, was gone. She was only an empty shell of her old self, cradling only dark memories of the fatal night when she lost the two people that mattered most in her life. Quite often the only thought that ran through her head as she lay in bed was: "Why? Why couldn't they have just let the curse hit me?" Clutching these thoughts to her, trying to stay within sanity, she grew to near hatred for her two late best friends. Why had they abandoned her? Surely they knew she would have nothing left without them.

During the summer after her sixth year, she stayed at her parent's house, trying to reconstruct her life. Most of this time was spent on her bed, staring at a mirror, looking at her crumpled image, so different from the person she once was. She looked like a person who didn't care.

And she didn't. She had no one to impress. On this particular day, she was staring at the mirror again, trying to figure out exactly how she had lived before Harry and Ron were there, attempting to recollect everything she had done before she had ever learned she was a witch. She was having absolutely no luck; it felt like everything that mattered had been centered around them.

That's when she heard it. An obnoxious beating on the door of her parent's house. She jumped up quickly, trying to clear her mind. Wait, what was it that Dumbledore had told them all at the end of the year speech last year? Her mind vaguely recalled a message about revenge...revenge. The word sent her spinning back to her senses. The death eaters were on a hunt for revenge, ravaging families and demolishing entire muggle towns in hopes of Dumbledore's Army, or what was left of it, surrendering.

She ran downstairs, seeming not even to touch the ground in her haste to stop her parents from opening the door. As she rounded a corner she barely had time to see an arm reach out before she had been caught by a crushing blow to her stomach. As her eyesight went dizzyingly blurry she managed to make out a faint shadow...but something didn't seem right. Her mind fumbled around trying to figure out what was happening. The figure, which she realized to be a woman, wasn't trying to hurt her, but was rushing her through the house at a breakneck speed. The woman, which was slowly becoming more clear, quickly shoved her into what she realized was the hall closet and somehow managed to cram herself in behind Hermione before closing the door quietly and muttering a short prayer.

As Hermione's eyes slowly came fully into focus and accustomed to the darkness, she barely even registered that it was her mother that had managed to drag her struggling, full-grown daughter through the entire house and into a packed closet. She might have been shocked if she could have ignored the wave of nausea that passed over her from fear, feeling as though someone had dumped an entire cauldron of Polyjuice potion down her throat. She tried not to think of what might be going on outside: the thought alone made her stomach tumble over sickeningly, and she was already fighting bile coming into her throat. She was grateful when her mother started speaking. It gave her something to concentrate on, so her mind couldn't wander to terrible thoughts about what may be going on just beyond the door.

Her mother explained that her father had noticed something wrong about the visitors while he was watching through the window, and had told her what to do while he tried to distract them away from the house. Hermione could tell, even though her mother's voice was still strong, that she was actually terrified. Suddenly, a strange thought occurred to Hermione about what her mother was doing. She was doing exactly as her daughter had always done. Putting up a false front. Pretended that everything was all right, even though she knew it wasn't. It was worth a try, Hermione thought, to soothe her mother.

"I'm okay, Mum."

Hermione ignored her mother's feeble attempts at persuading her daughter that everything would be all right. She barely heard her apologizing repeatedly for having had to catch her so hard, but she had known that Hermione would have gone straight for the door. She quieted her mum, trying to listen for any sound outside the closet.

The hair on Hermione's neck rose as, with a shudder, she heard boots meandering languidly through the home where she had grown up. Her father had never worn boots. She knew, immediately, that the Death Eaters were raiding her house, looking for anyone else, or anything of value. She jumped as something heavy landed on her back, and realized that her mother was hiding her with blankets and clothes. When she was entirely hidden, her mother warned her not to move, no matter what the circumstances, until she was sure that there was no one in the house. Before Hermione could protest, she heard the door open, and her mother stepping out. Then the door quietly clicked shut.

"I'm okay..."

She whispered it to herself, even though she knew that she was about to die.

Suddenly, death seemed much scarier than it used to, much more real. More real, even, than when she, Harry, and Ron had been standing in front of the man they believed to have killed Harry's parents. More real than when they had been in the Ministry of Magic, surrounded by death eaters. More real than when she had seen her two best friends in the world die in front of her very eyes for her. Now death was inevitably right inside the very house where she had felt safe during storms, where she could run to her parents and they could make everything better,. Now that it was staring her in the face, it seemed that death was almost tangible, hanging above her head in the closet where she knew eventually she would be found. Almost as though she could reach up and touch it, take it in her hand, and throw it at whoever wished to kill her.

But she couldn't. All she could do was wait.

Through the door, she heard a sound, just a few rooms away. A man, whose languid voice she would remember all her life, saying with particular hatred, "Avada Kedavra!" Just before she fainted from fear, Hermione heard her mother's piercing scream.

<><><><><>

*3 years earlier*

"I'm okay."

" Are you sure you don't want my cloak? You look cold." Harry still held the cloak out towards her, waiting for her to take it.

"No, no, I'm fine." He shrugged and put the cloak over both of them like a blanket anyway. "It's just...well, Harry, I... I've been wondering..."

Harry and Hermione were sitting under a tree together, talking by the frozen lake. The grounds were almost empty, as it was Christmas break. It was the winter of their third year, the year when Harry had first met the dementors. The two stared at the frozen lake, a scene Hermione thought she would never forget. Harry looked over at her, and she knew it was because she was stammering. She was hardly ever nervous enough to stammer like this in front of him. She continued, forcing herself to ask.

"What exactly happens when you see a dementor? I... I just don't understand. Why does it affect you so much more than it does Ron or myself?" Hermione waited for a long while, not sure whether Harry would want to answer her question or not. After all, it was rather personal. She was surprised when Harry answered as though he had been pondering it before she ever spoke. Still, he was rather hesitant as he spoke.

"I... I asked Professor Lupin the same thing, just earlier today. He said that it wasn't because I'm weak, but...because the fact that I've had such a horrid past. Does that make sense?"

Hermione nodded.

"So, every time I'm near a dementor, I can feel those memories, replaying in my head. It's always... just the one.."

"What is it, Harry?" She looked at him, ready for anything.

"I can hear her...my mother. Screaming. Begging for my life."

<><><><><>

"I'm okay."

When Hermione woke up, she had absolutely no idea where she was, so she said it instinctively. She could see nothing, and silence loomed around her, broken only by her own ragged breathing. It was very hot and there wasn't much oxygen wherever she was, and she struggled to move. She quickly found out the she was still wrapped in blankets, and as she struggled out of them, she remembered what had happened. She wondered how much time had passed, and remembered her mother telling her not to move until she was sure there was no one in the house.

Slowly, she pushed open the door so that a tiny streak of light peeked through, and she looked out. There was no one in the hallway, and she could still hear no sound anywhere in the house. Her heart was pounding; it felt as if someone was rhythmically hitting her ribcage. She slowly stepped out, fearful as to where she went. She had no idea what room her mother had been in when she had heard...no, she couldn't think about it. She stealthily made her way up to her room.

As she sat on her bed, she slowly became frantic. What should she do? Where could she go? She quickly started to write a letter to Harry to ask for advice. Then realization slammed into her chest like a branch from the whomping willow. She had absolutely no one anymore. Her best friends, her parents, everyone she loved was dead.

She lost control of her breathing as she thought about it, and lay down for a moment, then realized that she could not stay here any longer. She had to get away, go somewhere she could forget about everything and start a new life. She had no idea whether she could go back to the wizarding world or not. She had no way to get to the Leaky Cauldron...she remembered Harry saying something about the Knight Bus, but she had no idea how to get it here.

No, even the wizarding world wasn't safe anymore; the Death Eaters had taken over. If only Lucius Malfoy hadn't been appointed as Minister of Magic after Fudge had been murdered...Lucius Malfoy. The name struck a chord with her that it hadn't before...the voice... she had known the drawling tone that had killed her mother. She had heard it just in her fifth year at the Ministry of Magic. How had she not recognized it before?

Lucius Malfoy had killed her mother. Not that it was any use knowing. No. She would not return to the wizarding world. But still, she had nowhere to go. She picked up her wand and looked around at her room. It was so cheerful, still decorated the way it had been when she was a child. She took one last look at the smiling pink walls, porcelain figurines, lacy white curtains and the powder blue bed. Then she walked out of the door.

She walked downstairs, not quite knowing what she was going to do. As she passed through her living room, she saw her mother's dead body, eyes fearful yet determined, one hand over her heart and the other clutching a picture of herself, her husband, and Hermione. Hermione almost smiled as she picked it up, remembering the day they had gotten the pictures taken perfectly. It had been the day after Hermione had gotten her Hogwarts letter, so her parents had wanted a picture they could look at while she was away. They had taken one every year since, but her mother had always seemed to prize this one the most. Hermione had smiled as widely as she could, showing off her quite overlarge front teeth, and her mother had let her wear makeup for the picture. Holding the picture in her hand, she plucked a rose out of the vase on the kitchen table, and placed it into her mother's hand that had been holding the picture.

She kneeled down next to her mother's corpse and cradled her head, as her mother had done to her years ago. She remembered the song that had always sung been to her, and whispered it softly into the soft brown hair... so much like her own.

"Sweetly singing by the dawnlight

Bluebirds fly up in the sky

If you sing just like a bluebird

Maybe someday you will fly.

In the sky the clouds are moving

The stars at night light up the sky

If you spread love all around you

Maybe someday you will fly

When the world around you crumbles

When all those around you die

If you keep hope and continue

Maybe someday you will fly

Magic happens in all places

Magic happens at all times

If you find your inner magic

Maybe someday you will fly...

Maybe someday you will fly...

She choked on the last lines of the lullaby, tears welling up behind her eyes. She clutched tightly to her mother for a few more moments, and said goodbye for one last time. Then she left, clutching her wand in one hand and the photo in the other.