Heathens

Chapter 2

"Just because we check the guns at the door

Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades"

Save for the soft clicking of her heels, not a sound was to be heard on Hermione Jean Granger's cold empty street. She took her steps carefully, making sure to make as little sound as possible whilst also avoiding the pools of water that were dotted along the road. The night was an eerie one and Hermione could feel the shift in the air the moment she stepped foot out of the Burrow.

Since the few months after the war the world has been quiet, slowly but surely fixing its wounds and healing its pain. With You-Know-Who gone the Death Eaters dispersed at surprising rates making it essential for the new Aurors of the Ministry Of Magic to be trained and ready to head out as soon as humanly possible.

Harry was leaving for his first mission tomorrow, so a celebratory dinner was held at the Burrow. Though the occasion was seemingly a good one, the acidic aura in the air was near chocking. Everyone was scared.

The Burrow had been warm and homely, much like it used to be before the war. Hermione had only been to the Burrow a few times but she knew its homeliness very well even though somethings were lost in the rubble.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had moved to an apartment closer to the Ministry saying that it was so that Mr Weasley could be available at all times, when everyone knew that neither of them could stand the house anymore now that Fred was gone. George had also moved out, living temporarily with his older brother Charlie and helping out with the dragons. Ron barely ever went home, training as hard as he possibly could. He had been assigned the same mission as Harry until he broke his leg from a flying incident.

Hermione and Ron had been standing on the large span of the empty Hogwarts Quidditch field, some while after the Battle of Hogwarts, trying to repair the burnt skeletons of the bleachers. It was when searching through the locker rooms that Ron found some old brooms.

Bringing them out he had asked Hermione if she wanted to try flying. Hermione was quick to say no, knowing fairly well that she was a terrible flyer. Ron had simply smirked and tried to get on the broom without testing it out first. And with a flicker of surprise in his eyes Ron was dragged into the sky.

The broom had been visibly traumatized during the burning that had happened during the battle and the enchantments on it were no longer holding as stably as they used to.

Hermione tried desperately casting spell after spell at the broom but it was far too quick for her to stop until she finally hit it with a stupefy just as she turned to call out to Harry who was fixing the bridge. She knew the broom had stopped in its tracks but what she didn't realize was that the force of the sudden halt was enough to send Ron flying off and crashing into a towering pile of rubble.

A shiver ran down Hermione's back as she remembered that day. He hadn't been able to do very much since then, just a lot of waiting around for the skele gro to work. So much for being the 'brightest witch of her age'. She knew that as much as Ron tried to show that he didn't blame her, inwardly he hated her for not doing a thing to help him when he fell.

For a while it seemed as if it was just the incident that left him in the terrible mood, but soon enough the truth came tumbling out as Ron broke. He hated her. Absolutely detested her and her smart assery and her has-to-be-better-than-everyone demeanour. Hermione knew they'd grown apart after the war, but she hadn't realized to what extent. Finding no other way to calm the situation, she stopped her interactions with her once best friend and with that she bought down all the friends she'd made along the way.

Since then she'd seen much less of Ron. To be entirely honest, since then she'd seen much less of everyone. The dinner at the Burrow was a rare occasion. Harry and Ginny had cleaned the place up and made it their home again, trying their best to fill the gaping holes and not just those in the ceiling.

Dinner with them was nice. It was nice to see that they were still in love and happy together. It was good to see anyone happy at this point in time. The war had torn so many hearts, grieving was just the beginning of a long winding process of self-healing.

Hermione felt the brisk wind on her cheeks, weaving their long spindly fingers through her hair. She held her coat close to her as if it were her life line. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, had a right to feel scared.

She passed over another puddle, watching the ripples of the wind prancing over it, when she heard the crack of an apparition. That was not good. Hermione halted her walk and cast an almost frantic look around her, the fear in her eyes bordering insanity. Gripping her wand in her hand she continued her steps, even quieter this time.

Within the first 3 steps Hermione heard the shuffle just off to her right and knew that there was no escaping now. It was either fight or flight, and the Gryffindor inside her would not let her run.