Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 1

A/N: "Not Yet" will pretty much follow canon from the books, picking up four years from the end of the War. The two biggest exceptions will be the reappearance of Severus (yay!) and a huge disregard for the Epilogue. Of course, changes for these two will cause a whole bunch of little exceptions, which is good because otherwise I wouldn't have this story (squee!!).

I'll explain everything when there's a deviation. Don't worry!

There will be no Ron bashing. I love Ron. I would've been friends with him.

***Disclaimer: I really think everyone knows that I'm not JK, and that I didn't invent Harry or his world. I'm just using them to have a little fun, and as an excuse to put off my own regular writing for a while and stretch my creative muscles.***

Rating note: This story is rated M for the first chapter and then possible later chapters. In other words, this FIRST chapter contains a scene of violence that could be disturbing to some. You have been warned. Now, I know you're ready for me to get on with it, so here it is... :)

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Hermione breezes through the front doors of Hogwarts. Up the grand staircase. Turn left. Behind a tapestry. Up a secret staircase onto the third floor. Then right down the passage. The steps to the Defense Against the Dark Arts rooms are seared into her memory, like a burn caused by a hot iron. And she would never be rid of the scar.

Does she want to? Oh yes. Sometimes. But happy things happened here, too. She mustn't forget . . .

But today she wants to. Only a little farther. Then the visit will be over. Then she can get out.

"Hey Hermione, your robes billow out around you just like . . . " Ron stops mid-sentence, laughing a little. He's walking right behind her.

She cringes, slowing her pace. Not because she knows Ron is thinking of Professor Snape, but because she forgot her fiancé was even there with her. Today she feels like being alone, more so than usual.

"You can slow down, you know," he says.

"Oh Ron! Your legs are longer than mine! Keep up."

Ron gives a howl of joy and runs ahead of her, practically skipping down the hall. "We can't get points taken away anymore, Hermione!" he shouts.

Hermione smiles, her amusement temporarily overcoming her foul mood. That's why she loves Ron so much. He always brings her out of her slumps, even if just for a few moments. When Ron stops and turns at the end of the hall, she straightens her face. More out of a desire to maintain her focus than to hurt his feelings.

"Aww . . . Hermione," he says when she reaches him. "There's good things here, too."

Echoing her earlier thoughts.

He's stronger than she'd ever thought anyone could be. The humor and boy-like tendencies keep the despair at bay. She hopes he never gives that up. Hermione puts a hand on his arm, kisses his cheek. "I know."

They avoid certain areas on purpose. No need to go looking for bad memories, especially the hall where Fred . . . Returning to Hogwarts always results in a heady mix of emotions that leave her dizzy and at a loss about how to feel about . . . everything.

At the door to the old DADA rooms, they pause. A silent nod. Hermione casts a nonverbal Alohomora, and the door clicks open. The school, again run by the aging Minerva McGonagall, and its trustees have finally set up the old classroom as a memorial to the fallen teachers and students who had died at Hogwarts as a result of Voldemort's reign of terror. The room hasn't been touched since the Restoration of the castle. The door remains locked only to serve as a reminder that the room should not be entered carelessly.