Crisp
The air was unnaturally crisp, almost to the point of pain. Hermione was startled by the briskness of it as she exited the ministry. The sky was a blazing blue, it was a rare day of beauty in the fall, yet it hid the cruelness of the cold. Is this how the world worked? Showcasing beauty to distract you from the darkness that lingered? Surely not, surely everything was okay. They had won, they were rebuilding. But today reminded her that nothing was ever as it seemed. She knew what was coming, and she couldn’t stop it. Her cold hand gripped her bag tighter as she followed the familiar path to the apparition point. All she wanted was to go home, to check on Harry, to enjoy some tea with Ron. To forget what was lying underneath, to ignore it all.
Just before she apparated she heard a blood curdling scream, but the scene in front of her spun away before she could have time to react. The time of false hope was slipping away. The in-between time of peace ending around them.