Chapter 1
Hermione Granger was angry. This anger had been pending up within her for the better (or worse) of a decade.
She was utterly consumed by rage. It had blinded her, gnarling itself upon her very veins and distorted the essence of who she had once been.
She had just finished training with the latest batch of Order Fighters. One of the younger ones had cried when she had placed her under a curse - refusing to let her out - until she learnt to fight it.
She had no intentions to stop the curse - it had been Lavender who had stepped in, not daring to look Hermione in the eyes, but instead casting the correct shield against it.
In that moment, Hermione wanted nothing more than to snap Lavender’s neck from stopping her training. Lavender didn’t get it.
There is no mercy in war, Hermione Granger had learnt that the hard way. These fighters needed to be the best of the best - but of course no one understood her.
She’d boiled in a fit of rage and apparated away. Kingsley had warned Hermione that she needed to fix that anger that was ticking inside of her.
He was the only one these days who even spoke to her. It had bothered her endlessly in the beginning, when her angry episodes would be very quick, she would suddenly feel empty and go back to being herself again.
But over time, her angry became uncomfortable for those around her - she snapped at her dearest of friends - not caring at all for all the abuses she hurled in their faces.
But it had never been that bad.. Not until Christmas Morning of around two years ago.
She’d never forgive herself for what she had done that day, it had been the first and only time she had psychically hurt someone.
She hadn’t meant to but in the moment he was just in the way and she…
She was broken from her stream of thoughts when her charmed galleon burned in her pocket - informing her of a meeting the she needed to be getting too.
She tried to go to her happy place. She tried to imagine her mother and father, laughing around the sofa over something she had said, trying to catch a glimpse of the the warmness, the taste of her mothers Sunday Roasts or the buzzing of the radio (which could always be heard).
She really had tried,
But all she could have were figures of ghosts that roamed around her imagination, she was even sure what exact expressions her mother was making.
Hermione opened her eyes.
She realised in that moment, almost as a sad reality check that there is no such thing as a ‘happy place’ in war.
You’re just always haunted by the dull ache in your heart and the nightmares that you try to run away from even whilst being awake.
What a cruel fate.
Hermione looked at the scene infront of her. The ocean seemed so serene compared to the fire that was raging in her mind.
She sighed.
There really is no happy ending to war. She had once believed that freedom was worth fighting for. That felt like a lifetime ago.
The thought of silver eyes sliced through Hermione.
She froze up for a second, anger returning once more. She couldn’t for the life of her remember her mothers sweet look it her fathers admiration, but she could remember him.
She breathed heavily, he continued to plague her mind to date. and she hated him for it, hated him for having such an imprint on her.
The galleon once more burned through her jean pocket.
And with that that she apparated away.
Completely burying the boy who she had once believed was worth living and dying for.