Chapter 1: Winter in Her Heart

"It's hopeless! Utterly hopeless!" Neville groaned as he dropped his Advanced Potions textbook loudly onto the table and fell back into his chair.

"Neville! Shhhh!" Hermione hissed from behind a massive tome. "Madam Pince will revoke our library privileges if you keep carrying on like this!"

Neville paled.

"Ugh," he whispered, "That woman terrifies me."

"Says the bloke who killed Voldemort's big bloody snake. That's rich, Neville," Hermione shot back, her eyes growing sympathetic when her friend flinched at her usage of the dark wizard's name. "Oh, Neville, it's fine to say it now he's dead."

"That's what everyone said last time," Neville replied, looking worriedly out into the stacks as though the Dark Lord was about to appear and Crucio them both for Hermione's flippant manner. "Contrary to what you all might think, I'm not a coward. I just know that most of the time, when someone says that it's all over, it is usually just the beginning of something else."

Hermione placed her hand over her friend's quivering fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"We got them all, Neville. Every last Horcrux. Merlin himself wouldn't be able to come back from that."

Neville ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. He was no longer the portly child with permanently puffy red cheeks, but there was still an underlying softness about him that made him seem so vulnerable, even though he was now more than a head taller than Hermione.

"I know, I know, it's just...I was born into a world where You-Know-er-V-Voldemort was this huge, terrifying presence," Neville said softly, avoiding Hermione's piercing gaze and staring at his hated Potions textbook as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. "I'm not sure I know how to get rid of that fear in the back of my head."

"Do what I always do," Hermione replied. "Focus on something more pressing... like your Potions homework."

"Argh! Did you really have to remind me?" Neville groaned. "I'm doomed, doomed, I tell you! Why did I ever think that pursuing an apprenticeship in Herbology was a good idea?"

"It is a good idea! I did some research, and did you know that Professor Sprout hasn't taken on an apprentice in over a decade? You have to be remarkable if she's willing to vouch for you, especially since you're not even in her House!" Hermione exclaimed, wincing as the dreaded Madam Pince burst forth, seemingly out of nowhere, and swooped down on them. The librarian wore her familiar sour, pinched expression as she silently pointed a gnarled finger in the direction of the exit.

"C'mon Neville," Hermione pouted, stuffing everything into her rucksack, "We need to get down to the Forbidden Forest to gather ingredients for our Sundown Potion anyway."

"Ugh, why did we get stuck with the potion that requires freshly gathered ingredients that can only be picked during sunset?" Neville whined as he followed her with his book slung under one arm.

"Silence!" Madam Pince hissed, causing him to squeak loudly and drop his book.

Hermione groaned inwardly. Now they'd be banned for a month, and that's if they were lucky. If it weren't for Professor McGonagall giving her brightest Transfiguration Apprentice access to her personal library, Hermione would have likely broken down at being denied access to her favorite place at Hogwarts.

It hadn't been easy coming back to Hogwarts to make up her last year without her two best friends. Harry and Ron still had trouble visiting the school after all that had happened; there were just too many painful memories. Hermione had helped rebuild after the War had finally been won, and in some ways, Hogwarts was now her home more than ever before, especially with her parents still in Australia and no other family living nearby.

Neville was a good friend, but he was a terrible study partner and absolute pants at anything more adventurous than taking tea an hour late. Though the war had changed him, as it had changed them all, Neville Longbottom was still the kind, soft hearted person he'd always been. The fact that he'd risen to the occasion under duress had brought him more than a little fame, but he still balked at heights and shared Ron's phobia of spiders. Despite his occasional nightmare (which, to be honest, had been fairly regular even before the War), Neville was moving on. He was even assisting Professor Sprout in developing a new treatment to reverse spell damage, one that had already been showing promising results in tests on spell-damaged mice. Though he was still shy and easily intimidated, there was an ease in the way he carried himself and a gentle warmth that emanated from his smile.

Sometimes, Hermione wondered when her nightmares would finally end, and if she too would ever be able to smile without reservation once more.

"Come on, Neville!" Hermione protested irritably as she refreshed her Warming Charm. "The Forbidden Forest isn't forbidden to Seventh Year students, you know. The sooner we gather the ingredients, the sooner we can get back inside where it's warm."

"It sure does get dark early around this time of the year," Neville replied uneasily, his teeth chattering together as he tightened his scarf. "Merlin, it's cold out here."

"Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed, casting a Warming Charm on her friend as well. "For that you're going to gather the wild Spotted Snapdragons in addition to the Scandinavian Red-Capped Mushrooms. There should be some in the clearing ahead. Remember, you're going to need at least four full-flowering heads and be sure to fill the vials if you can, just in case there are...er...accidents. I'll be over here taking bark shavings from each of these dogwood trees."

Hermione stomped over to the trees she'd scouted out and rubbed her hands together. She refreshed her Warming Charm again and swore. Nothing she seemed to be doing was working. Her breath poured from her mouth in great clouds of musky heat, and she could practically see small bits of frost spreading through her hair. And if that wasn't bad enough, she felt herself being slowly filled with a great emptiness and endless despair.

"Oh god," she said, whirling around just in time to see the dark, awful thing descending from where it had been hiding above the treeline towards her. Drawing her wand, she shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

Her heart swooped terribly when nothing happened, not even a tiny burst of mist from the tip of her wand.

"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted more loudly, summoning up the same thought she'd used ever since that fateful day in the Room of Requirement when she'd finally summoned her otter Patronus.

Nothing happened.

"Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted, more and more hysterically as her wand fizzled and spat but did not produce anything more than a couple of glowing, silvery sparks.

And then, suddenly, a giant roar came from behind her and a massive silver lion charged through her body and beat back the Dementor, which screamed horribly as it fled.

"Hermione! Are you ok?" Neville shouted, crashing through the underbrush towards the startled witch.

"You never told me that your Patronus was a lion, Neville!" Hermione replied, agape.

"Well, it wasn't...er...I mean, I've never actually produced a corporeal Patronus before," he replied sheepishly, "It just sort of...happened…"

"Neville! These things don't just happen. What memory did you use?" Hermione demanded. "I seem to be having the exact opposite problem. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to cast a Patronus at all."

"Well..um...it's kind of embarrassing," Neville said, turning red.

"Neville, I've seen you in all manner of embarrassing situations, and you know I've never laughed at you," Hermione retorted. "Please? I promise, I won't say a word."

"Well, you see… last week, my hat flew into the lake again, and the giant squid was playing with it and... well, Luna appeared and... then she asked the squid nicely and it gave her the hat back... and I told her that in exchange for helping me, I'd do anything she wanted as thanks."

"And?" Hermione said, unimpressed, her arms crossed.

Neville's hat had fallen into the Black Lake at least twenty times throughout his time at Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't surprised that the Giant Squid had developed a fondness for it.

"Well, Luna... she... she asked for a kiss, you see…" Neville trailed off and grinned nervously, his cheeks scarlet.

"I see," Hermione replied, grinning back at him. "Neville, that's nothing to be embarrassed about! In fact, you should be proud!"

"So," Neville continued, "I just thought of how it felt when I... when we... and…"

"You know, I read that Godric Gryffindor's Patronus was also a lion, Neville!" Hermione said thoughtfully as she finished grabbing the strips of bark from the tree as she'd originally intended, "It's really quite rare!"

Neville just grinned sheepishly and ran his hand through his hair out of nervous habit.

With the Dementor gone, Hermione's Warming Charm was enough to keep them both toasty until they'd finished gathering ingredients and headed back towards the castle.

"Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Can you think of any place in the castle that's out of the way where I could practice on my Patronus?" Hermione asked. Her eyes widened as it suddenly came to her. "No, actually, I think I have the perfect place in mind."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Neville asked, his voice full of the hope that Hermione would not take him up on his offer.

"No, I think I should probably do this on my own," Hermione replied with a small smile.

"Well, Luna said she'd meet me over near the Great Hall," Neville replied. "I don't want to keep her waiting…"

"Well, before you get ahead of yourself, give me those ingredients," Hermione said, holding out her hand.

Neville hurriedly handed her the surprisingly full vials. Hermione smirked as he jogged off towards the large double doors leading into the Great Hall with a noticeable spring in his step.

She pulled out her wand and waved it back and forth like a conductor as she climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower to drop off her bag. Her heart surged with relief when colored sparks erupted from the end just as it had the day it had chosen her. She tucked it securely in her robes and focused on the moving staircase. They seemed to be in a particularly mischievous mood, joyfully shifting to the wrong landing every time Hermione tried to switch staircases to get to her destination. Finally, she just stood on one step and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Ok, ok, you've had your fun," she said, crossing her arms, "but unless you really wish to be Stupefied, I suggest you allow me to go on my way."

The stairs creaked in a decidedly disappointed manner before moving to give her a clear path up to Gryffindor tower.

"Thank you," she whispered, stroking the banister like a dog's head. "I'll let you play with me on the weekend when I'm not so busy, ok?"

The stair under her feet creaked excitedly, and Hermione smiled at how easily she could bring joy, or, at least as much joy that an inanimate object could feel, to others.

It seemed that the only one to whom such positive feelings were elusive was herself. The thought that she might never be able to watch her silver otter gambol through the air made her heart ache with sadness. It only doubled her resolve to figure out how to overcome it.

"Wow!" tittered a couple of incredibly tiny First Years that Hermione hadn't noticed from behind her, "We didn't know that the stairs did what you said!"

Hermione turned and smiled uncertainly, wondering for the hundredth time if she had really ever been so small.

"They don't, though," Hermione replied with a small smile, "I just asked nicely, that's all. And they like it when you let them toy with you a bit from time to time. I imagine that being a magically mobile staircase can get downright boring at times."

"Wow, none of that was in Hogwarts: A History, and I should know because I read it twice from cover to cover!" a somewhat willowy blonde girl squeaked.

"I've been telling the Headmistress that it is sorely in need of revision. Sadly, she is still very busy with the absolute beastly amount of paperwork that the Ministry has required in order to reimburse the school for all of the damage it received last year," Hermione replied, wincing a bit at the Know-it-All tone in her voice. "Your name, Miss-?"

The First Year flushed bright pink and beamed nervously, her wide eyes artificially huge behind round glasses.

"The name's Penny. Penny Pennyweather," the girl said excitedly as she pushed her book awkwardly under one arm and thrust out a hand for Hermione to shake.

Hermione took the girl's hand, marveling at how much this girl reminded her of herself in her first year, though, to be honest, she would have killed to have such satiny smooth hair.

"Well, then, Miss Pennyweather, it looks like you may indeed be a good candidate to catalogue the discrepancies, that is, if you're up to the challenge!"

"Y-yes, Miss! I would be honored!" Penny squeaked, looking all the world as though she was about to faint from the utterly jubilant energy that had filled her at being asked to help the legendary Hermione Granger.

Hermione smiled back gently, trying to put the girl at ease, but this only seemed to excite her further.

"You'll want to hurry and drop off your school bags," she said finally, "The Great Hall will be opening for the evening meal soon."

"Yes, Miss!" The three children chorused together, running past her and chattering excitedly.

Hermione gave them space and was glad that there was no sign of hyperactive First Years when she entered the common room. She dropped her things off in the Head Girl's room and hurried out to the blank stretch of wall on the fifth floor across from the trolls in tutus.

"Come on, come on," she muttered nervously, pacing in front of the smooth stone.

I need a place where I can produce a Patronus. I need a place where I can produce a Patronus. I need a place where I can produce a Patronus.

It took her nearly fifteen minutes of fervently thinking this singular thought over and over again before a large, black door materialized where none had been before. Hermione frowned. This door looked very different than the one that had been there before. She reached into her robes and felt for the tiny beaded handbag that she'd taken to carrying everywhere under her clothing. It had taken some time to track it down after she'd dropped it in the woods, but it was like a part of her after all she'd been through. It was filled with books on fighting, healing and various lore that might come handy in a conflict. It also contained food that had been carefully preserved using Stasis spells and hundreds of unbreakable vials of potions she'd made or purchased. There were four vials of an extra-potent form of Dittany.

She'd helplessly watched a man bleed to death once and had vowed that it would never happen again if she could help it.

Hermione liked to think that she was over the fear and paranoia that had plagued her for the year they'd lived out of the tent, but if she was honest with herself she had to admit that it had never really gone away. She still slept with her wand under her pillow and kept the handbag fastened around her waist at all times.

"Oh, I'm sure I'm just being silly!" She scolded herself, pressing a hand tentatively against the door and stifling a cry when she felt how cold it was.

Something felt horribly wrong. A little voice in her head was screaming that she should leave, should join Neville and Luna in the Great Hall and wait until later to worry about her inability to summon a Patronus.

It wasn't that she was sad or couldn't summon the proper memories. However, when she really thought about it, she couldn't actually remember the last time any of those memories brought her joy when she thought about them. Even that first dawn, after they'd emerged victorious against Voldemort, had held no levity for her when she'd beheld its gorgeous spectrum of colors bursting through the wide expanse of the clear morning sky.

Her stomach churned as she entertained the thought that maybe this was permanent. Maybe this was her new normal. That she would be doomed to a life without the ability to feel any positive emotions deeper than a fleeting sense of satisfaction when she achieved a goal.

The thought was even more terrifying than anything she could imagine waiting for her on the other side of the door. She knew, then, that she would do anything to feel the warmth and safety fill her with a surety and satisfaction, secure in the thought that all was right with the world.

Anything, anything at all to still the sickening fear that encircled her heart.

Gritting her teeth together with determination, Hermione turned the freezing iron door knob with all of her strength and disappeared inside.