Blood Magic

Living with Ghosts

Four months later...

Tucked away in a quiet, quaint neighborhood just outside of London was a cream colored house, whose rooms remained totally empty. All with the exception of one in particular.

This room had remained locked from the inside like a secret vault. Piles of books climbed the walls and empty bowls and discarded dinner plates lined the floors. Crumpled up notes of paper were thrown about the room along with numerous articles of clothing that were in deep need of a good wash.

Upon first glance, one would expect this room to belong to an adolescent teenager. However, based on the contents of those thick paged books and hand knitted jumpers, the place belonged to none other than one Hermione Granger.  

Yes. The Hermione Granger- the Gryffindor Princess herself- had ultimately slipped into a state of utter reclusion.

Having walked away from the conclusion of the final battle in one piece, she made it her sole purpose to locate her parents and restore their memories. It had become her number one priority in her life since she returned to her family home in Hampstead. Of course, Harry and Ron were anxious to just let their closest friend travel such a distance away and by herself, nonetheless. But Hermione was insistent.

She desperately needed that time away. And although she loved both Harry and Ron dearly, this was something she needed to deal with on her own. After she packed a proper suitcase, she booked the earliest flight to Australia and successfully located her parents. She carefully and very intricately introduced herself to them and fought back the overwhelming emotions of what she had done to them.

Watching their dubious expression as she tried her best to talk about herself, and not accidentally let the word 'mom' or 'dad' slip out, was one of the hardest challenges she had ever faced. But, regardless, Hermione was persistent in her pursuit...that is until it had proven to be obsolete.

Everything she had tried only seemed to have backfired on her. And each time she tried to fix their memories, it brought on a whole new wave of pain that would knock her down to her knees. Counterspells. Charms. Ancient texts. And enough reading to put her own self in a coma. None of it worked in her favor.

Heaven to Merlin, a coma sounded really nice right about now to Hermione as she laid in her bed, unmoving. Yet, still wide awake.

With what little will power she had left, Hermione threw herself on the first plane back to London. She kept her head tucked to her chest and her tears well hidden from the public eye. That is until she finally got home and dropped her bags and proceeded to climb into bed.

For the first time in her life, Hermione wanted to stop thinking. She wanted to just let her body melt into the mattress where she hoped to just dissolve into nothing. Because that was all that she felt.

The world had become just a busy nuisance, and she wanted nothing more than to fade into the background. But Harry would not hear of it. While she was away in Australia, he and Ron kept busy with the much needed renovations at 12 Grimmauld Place. The two boys truly missed their best friend and hoped that all would go well once she came face to face with her parents again.

Unfortunately, amongst all the letters that Harry and Ron had sent to Hermione, neither one of them had received a reply. Amidst the various stacks of books were small piles of unopened letters. Hermione had stopped reading them after the third owl was sent to her.

But this hadn't kept the boys from trying to reach out to her.

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

A loud sound banged against her bedroom window. Hermione let out a long, harsh groan as she dragged herself out from under her covers. Her eyes squinted from the unwarranted brightness of the early afternoon. She opened her window and reluctantly accepted the letter that was attached to the little owl's leg.