!Very Important Author's Note!:

It has been a while since I've been able to actively work on this story and I want to apologize right up front for seemingly abandoning it. To be honest, things have been very rough for me over the last two years. I've spent much of that time battling severe depression, anxiety and PTSD from MST (I'll define that if you need me to but…). I also have a little girl of my own now. I've transitioned from military to civilian life as well as started school and a new job. Needless to say, I've got a lot of balls in the air right now.

Additionally, if you've read this story before, you'll notice that I have gone through and made some edits and cleaned up the story a bit. I should warn you, also, that this story is being used as a form of Therapy for me and some of my issues. While Hermione's story isn't mine and mine isn't hers, there are a lot of elements within her story that I am, unfortunately, intimately familiar with. Because this is a therapeutic type writing, it may sometimes be very slow to update. It's all a matter as to whether or not I can handle reading/writing this type of material on any given day. I will do my best to keep consistent on my writing but I might not always have that ability. This is a work in progress story and I am more than willing to take suggestions and requests if I can work it into the story line. If you do offer a suggestion, I will PM you or at very least annotate your response on the next chapter.

I don't have a beta so I rely on my own ability to read and reread my work to improve it as I go. That being said, I very much appreciate any and all constructive critiques and criticisms. I strive to use each of them to improve my writing ability, so keep them up!

This will be a very gradual H/Hr story. There will be a few OC Characters, one of which will have a significant, albeit very temporary role in the story. My reasoning for this is simple. Part of the story must fit with a very specific criteria (of which you'll learn in this first chapter). With that being said, there's not a single cannon character that I felt fit that specific role properly without going too far OOC. I've been told previously that the one OC character is similar to the way Ron is portrayed in many Fics. Let me set this straight. I think Ron Weasley is obnoxiously adorable. You'll not find much Weasley Bashing in my writing. There'll be conflict and obnoxiousness in some bits but I try to stay mostly within the normal personality realm. This first chapter will be dark and the things that Hermione is going through make it very impractical to have her jump into romantic relationships straight away.

Finally, I began writing this story shortly after the release of OotP and I'm pretty happy with where it stands currently. Therefore, it will be considered AU after that point. Unfortunately, as much as I hate it, Sirius is still beyond the veil.

My Trigger Warnings will ALWAYS be very well marked because I know exactly what it feels like to stumble into something that you're not mentally prepared to read. It can be very painful so here is my warning now:

********TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: This chapter does involve physical abuse and hints at sexual abuse!***********

Disclaimer: Anything that you recognize, I don't own. I write purely for fun/personal therapy and not for profit of any kind!

Now that I've put my words out there, I'll free you from my annoying chatter and get on with the story!

UPDATE: I have gone through all the chapters and made some corrections so if you have read this before you might find some better details here.

Prologue

20 December 2001
Gordon/Granger Residence
Colorado Springs, CO USA

The fireplace.

That was the one thing she'd loved the most when she decided to move into this place that was so far away from the home she knew. So warm and inviting. That was the biggest selling point for Hermione Granger. It wasn't England. It wasn't even Europe. But it was where she'd begun to call home. She loved being able to curl up on her couch in front of a warm fire with a warm mug of hot chocolate in her hands and a good book opened on the arm of the couch so she could read with ease. Just as she had been doing before her mind began wandering down a different path.

It had been almost three years since the downfall of Voldemort at the hands of her best friend, Harry Potter. The now 20-year old witch stared into the fire as her mind relived that final battle.

It'd begun the day that they were due to graduate their final year at Hogwarts. It was the warmest day they'd had so far in the middle of June. It should have been a day of excitement, happiness, and celebration, but instead everyone who prepared to cross the stage and accept their certificate of graduation was also prepared to fight a war to defend everything and everyone that they knew and loved. Rather than being armed with smiles and friendship, they were armed with wands and determination to defend the ones they loved.

That was a lot of weight on the shoulders of a group of 17 year old witches and wizards. A group that had seen far more in their young years than many of their parents would have cared to admit. They were young, but innocent they no longer were.

The aptly nicknamed 'Golden Trio', consisting of Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood at the head of the group. Their senses had been so alert and instead of the excitement they should have been feeling, they were more anxious than anything else.

Outside the tent that held the graduates, members of the Order of the Phoenix had scattered themselves amongst the crowd. Despite the terrifying number of battles that scarred the heart of each individual involved, their numbers had held strong and multiplied as people sought vengeance of their lost loved ones and sought a final end to the war that had ripped their lives to pieces, not once but twice.

The procession started exactly at noon, exactly as it had been scheduled. Impending battle did not throw Hogwarts off its precise schedule. Names were called in alphabetical order and everyone waited on bated breath as each graduate crossed the stage and accepted their certificates, exhaling heavily when their feet were back on the ground.

"Hermione Granger, Class Valedictorian, Acceptance to St. Mungo's Apprenticeship Program."

She'd gathered herself and climbed the stage to accept her own certificate as well as the acknowledgement of her accomplishments. She was shaking the hands of her Head of House, Professor McGonagall when said witch knocked her, now former, student to the ground as a red jet of light narrowly missed the pair of witches.

And so it began.

The final battle that they'd all been waiting for began then as they'd attempted to take out one of Harry Potter's right hand people. Everything was immediately in an uproar. Wands appeared out of apparently nowhere. The stage and the seats disappeared. Professors and senior students ushered the younger students back to the safety of the castle while the graduates and Order members gathered for what would be an eventful but fulfilling day.

Mad-Eye Moody, even with his unfailing belief in constant vigilance was the first to fall that fateful day. Others fell shortly behind him, including Cho Chang, Padma Patil, everyone's beloved Tonks, and Dennis Creevy.

Towards the end, Hermione stood back to back with Ron, each throwing curse after curse in the direction of the never ending numbers of Death Eaters. It wasn't until an outcry drew her attention, did Hermione realize that Harry had finally come to the final confrontation with his Dark wizard counterpart. Hermione shuddered at the sight of the dark wizard that had been the cause of so much death and destruction.

She grabbed Luna, who stood next to her, and put her behind Ron, not wanting to leave either of her friends without cover. As soon as that was done she'd darted across the grounds, jumping over limp and still bodies. Whether they were dead or just unconscious she didn't know, nor did she care, her only concern at the current moment was to get to her best friend's side, where she belonged.

She skidded to a halt just feet from where the battle was brewing between the two wizards. Harry's energy and strength were already waning and whatever spell Voldemort had sent to him was not meant to kill, only to play. The bastard was only toying with him until the younger man had no more strength or will to fight. Hermione watched as Harry fell backwards onto the ground.

With a surge of energy of her own, she rushed forward behind her best friend and scooped him up to where he was leaning his back against her chest.

"Hermione, get out of here," he'd said trying to push her away, "I can't hold him back from you I can't win this."

"Harry, be strong, we all have faith in you, even if you don't have faith in yourself. I've got you, as I always have," she's whispered urgently into his ear, grasping his hand tightly and letting him brace himself off of her. "You're not alone."

She'd felt him tense in determination and she helped him to his feet. When they were both standing again, she stood at his back, giving him whatever strength she could. Carefully, she pried his wand from his tensed fingers and at his worried and curious gaze, "You can't win with your wand, Harry. Not if he's carrying his," she whispered as she pressed her own wand into his hands. "Take mine, end this Harry. I'm right here behind you."

Something she couldn't explain crossed through his green eyes as he gave her a grateful smile, "Thank you, 'Mione." It was only a matter of a half hour later and the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself, lay dead at Harry's feet. As soon as the Dark Wizard had fallen to the ground, angry cries were heard around the grounds, as Death Eaters came to the realization that their leader was gone.

How do you kill a snake? Cut off the head and the rest will follow.

The remainder of the Order members rounded up what remained of the Death Eaters who hadn't managed to apparate as soon as they learned of their leader's demise. Everyone had already begun celebrating. And mourning.

But Hermione stayed where she was, with Harry. He'd moved to lean against her as she took her wand back and flicked it briefly, setting the remains of the dark wizard to flames. Burning whatever darkness was left in the empty, soulless, body.

As soon as the remains started to burn, Harry collapsed and Hermione caught him, lowering him slowly to the ground and holding on to him. "Are you alright?"

He smiled faintly, "Never better."

"Good," she'd smiled, giving him a hug that he returned. "Go ahead and rest for now, everyone's going to want to talk your ear off later, so take what you can get."

Hermione blinked back to the present. She'd left her place defending Ron's back to cover Harry's. Why? She couldn't let him face his nightmare alone. Granted, he'd always told them that it was his fight and that he, alone, should bear the burden. But that'd never stopped her before? Why should she have let it stop her from being at his side when it mattered most?

"Hermione?"

The sudden voice in her quiet home made her jump. She hadn't even heard the front door open, she must have really been deep in thought. Hermione shook herself mentally as her gaze lifted to meet the eyes of the speaker. A warm smile crossed her face, "Good morning, Daniel."

The wizard smiled brightly at her and took his seat next to her on the couch. She'd actually met him a few days after that final battle. He'd been an Order member who'd been sent abroad, working with Charlie Weasley at the dragon reserve in Romania. He had returned upon hearing of the battles probable end. They'd talked through letters and chance meetings for two years and had begun dating for almost nine months before he'd convinced her to move to Colorado with him. That was back in April. It was now just days before Christmas. She'd already been here for seven months. Had it really been that long?

Since she left she hadn't heard from anyone. Not from Ron. Not from Ginny. Not even from Harry. It stung. But she knew none of them had ever really liked Daniel. They couldn't explain why, they all just said that he gave them an 'odd feeling'. She figured the fact that she left everything for the person that they didn't like, left them with a bitter taste towards her. That, however, did little to ease the sting of their silence.

"How's your day going?" the wizard asked looking from her to her books, to the fire and back again. He too was a muggleborn, making his transition to the hustle and bustle of the American west that much easier. There was still a faint tint of his English accent in his voice but his accent had mostly become as Americanized as his home and his ways.

"It was good, I just read for the most part," Hermione smiled. "I sent a few letters out to Harry and the Weasleys, wishing them a Happy Christmas. I know they haven't shown desire to speak to me, but I still have to try to keep conversation going."

He nodded slightly, "I hope they don't disappoint you like they did on your birthday. If they do, you still got me, right?"

"Right," she said with a smile that only barely covered the sting that the thought of her forgotten birthday brought.

Their conversations had grown light and casual, but not so much uncomfortable, during the few months that they'd lived together. He knew she missed her home, no matter how hard she tried to hide it behind a smile. She knew he knew, and she knew that's why he'd started changing. They were happy though. So she kept her smile and kept her memories in check and lived a normal life in the American West. Just what she wanted right? A warm home with a man who loved her and nothing more of the war to worry about?

31 March 2002
Gordon/Granger Residence
Colorado Springs, CO USA

"Hermione!" his voice was no longer warm and loving but cold and demanding. His actions had lost their tender and caring touch and turned harmful and controlling as it bellowed through their home-turned-prison. "Hermione, where are you!"

They're neighbors were gone for trips with their children on spring break from school. From what she noticed they were the only one's not leaving for the holiday. They wouldn't hear the commotion. Even if they had and they called the Police, he always managed to find a way to convince them that all was well and send them on their way.

Hermione kept herself hidden, huddled beneath the long, flowing table cloth that covered they're three legged corner table in they're bedroom. Her mouth was clamped shut to keep her whimper from drawing his attention.

She couldn't pinpoint when things had taken this turn. Everything was great and then one day, as though someone had flipped a switch, things changed. He changed. It started with just sharp and cruel words and it grew to this. Her hiding from his dangerous and painful hands.

A squeak of fear slipped from her lips as the curtain was lifted and a hand knotted in her long curly hair, dragging her from her hiding place. "Now, what good did that do you, huh? What did I tell you about hiding from me? It doesn't help you, bitch. It only makes me that much more pissed off," he growled as he wrenched her head back.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, eyes opened wide in fear.

"I don't think you are, but I know that you will be," He said, simply but darkly. "I'm going out. When I come back, we'll discuss what your punishment will be. You and I both know this isn't the worst thing you've done this week. You and I both know that I've let you get away with way too much this week." Hermione trembled in fear and swallowed thickly. "What will be done by the time I get home, Hermione?"

"Laundry will be washed, dried, and folded a-and, dinner w-will be ready," she said quietly.

"Exactly. Don't disappoint me, Hermione, you've already got a lot coming to you tonight, don't make it worse on yourself," Daniel stated. With that he let go of her knotted hair and left the room, closing the door with a 'click'. The woman in question collapsing to her knees with muffled sobs escaping from behind the trembling hand that was pressed firmly to her mouth.

3 October 2002
Gordon/Granger Residence
Colorado Springs, CO USA

Things hadn't gotten any better. Hermione reflected back on that day that things started going downhill faster than any day previous to it. She hadn't gotten laundry done. She'd burnt dinner. Work had gotten him so worked up, he was on the verge of being laid off at only a moment's notice. He'd very nearly killed her that night.

Six months had passed since then. He'd not gotten laid off. She'd tried to leave him twice. It only lasted as far as the front door before he had her pinned to the wall. He'd made it up to her well enough though. He'd bought her enough pretty things to make even the most high-maintenance British Pureblood happy. He always made her look like a princess when they went out among his friends.

She knew it was no real way to live but…after two years, where else did she have to go? She couldn't just leave and expect to be welcomed back by those she'd abandoned. So she accepted the gifts along with the pain and she just lived as she knew.

There were days when, for no apparent reason, he'd come in from the other room in such a fury. She never knew what sparked his anger on those days, but she found out quickly not to ask either. The one time that she did, she had heard muttered words about "magic" and "owls". Her wand had been taken from her back in March, she'd not been allowed to perform magic in at least that long, so she wasn't sure what any of that had to do with her. But it didn't seem to matter. It never did.

One night, after she'd finished dinner and dishes and the rest of the normal cleaning routine, she curled on the floor in front of the fire, drawing comfort and warmth from the dancing flames. She heard the door to his office slam open and she cringed, but knowing what was coming, she knew better than to move.

It wasn't until hands tangled in her knotted mass of curls and jerked her upright that she lifted her gaze to him. He had four envelopes in his hands and glowered darkly at her, "When have you been writing them?" He barked.

"W-write who?" she asked, eyes wide. Who did he think she'd been writing? She jerked sharply when the back of his hand collided with her face sending her one direction while his other hand held her by her hair.

"Now is not a time to play stupid with me, Hermione. Your 'friends'. When did you write them? When did you write Potter? I thought I told you to stay out of my office," he said, his grip on her hair became extremely painful.

"I…I haven't. I haven't heard from or spoken to Harry or anyone else in over a year," Hermione cried out. He jerked her head again trying to draw the truth from her. "I swear I haven't."

Daniel's eyes narrowed and he studied her before throwing the envelopes into the flickering flames, which engulfed them immediately, "See those, Hermione? Eventually, they're going to forget you exist. Better yet, they're going to hate you for abandoning them."

She blinked back tears as she stared at the burning letters. Harry had tried to contact her? Four times? They still thought about her! Her heart swelled as tears streamed down her face. To Daniel, it would look as though she were finally giving up the last broken piece of her. To Hermione, it was solidifying her resolve to at least try and find a way out of this mess.

She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as the second, third and fourth blow shook her to her core. She cried out and moaned and groaned in all the right times and places but, truthfully, her body was numb, she no longer felt the pain that he caused her. The crack of each broken bone rattled her ears, the blow that caused each heavy and deep bruise shook her frame but none of the pain registered in her mind. Six months or more of this brought her to a point where she just…was. She didn't exist. She didn't feel. She just was.

When her body would finally have enough of the battery, all would fade to black and she would be in peace at last. He always stopped one she passed out. He'd stop and usually leave for the rest of the night. Probably to the homes of one of his many mistresses. Hermione didn't care where he left to, only that he was gone.

It was only about a half an hour after the most recent rounds of assault that she regained consciousness. She shifted to sit up and whimpered. She may not feel the attack, but she always felt the aftermath. She let out a breath sharply and clenched her jaw as she slowly got to her feet. A streak of determination that she'd not felt since that last battle struck her deep in her core and she straightened her shoulders as she'd not done in years.

She hesitated as she reached the door to his office. She'd always abided by his rules about the office, but right now she didn't care. She'd already taken the beating for something she'd not done, so she may as well do it now. With a burst of courage she pushed the door open and entered. She stood motionless in the middle of the room for a moment, halfway expecting him to rush in and finish what he'd started earlier.

After a few quiet moments, she looked around curiously. She paced around for a moment before stopping at a closet. She paused momentarily before pulling the door open. It was filled with a few boxes, each with her own handwriting labeling the contents. The one on the top shelf was simply labeled "Hermione's".

She reached up and pulled the box from its resting place and slowly lowered herself to the floor next to it and opened the flaps. Immediately she gasped, right at the top was her wand, which she'd thought he'd destroyed months ago. She closed her hand around it and felt heat warm her from the inside out. Tucking the once lost article into her pocket, she pulled out an old photo album.

Resting it in her lap she began to turn the pages. A small smile appeared as she looked over moving pictures from her time at Hogwarts and stills from her time with her family. There was one that she hadn't remembered being taken, it had her clinging to a box with S.P.E.W. written across the top in fancy letters and Harry and Ron standing on either side of her. From her expression, she knew that the two were teasing her about her stance on Elf rights.

A soft chuckle escaped, followed by a hiss of pain, as she thought of everything she'd gone through with them over that movement she tried to start. Merlin she'd put those boys through some times over that mess. Where had that Hermione gone? The Hermione that stood beside her best friend for each and every task at the Triwizard Tournament and through the death of Sirius and everything else that'd happened during their school years. What happened to the Hermione that threw caution to the wind just to stand behind Harry at the final battle and give whatever of her own strength she could? That Hermione would have never put up with what she'd been putting up with for so long now.

Hermione turned another page in the album and had to pause as a photo of Harry and Ron caught her eye. Harry had paused mid-motion and gave her his usual small smile and a wave before hurrying to catch up with Ron. She exhaled heavily and closed the album and sorted through the rest of the box. All of them were memories of Hogwarts and home, including the newspaper article from the day of the final battle. The front picture was of a haggard looking Harry leaning on her with a relieved smile.

With a new surge of determination to get out of the mess she'd gotten herself into, Hermione climbed slowly to her feet and went to investigate the rest of the office. She curiously dug through the drawers of his desk, wondering if she'd find anymore letters from her friends that he'd obviously been hiding from her for all this time. It made her wonder if they'd actually forgotten her birthday all that time ago or if he'd just intercepted the owls that brought their greetings.

She found a stack of letters with her name in the 'To:' line and various senders. She frowned slightly and set them aside and dug searched through the next drawer down. The next two drawers seemed to be nothing more than things for his work. She shrugged and sat down in the chair moving to the drawers on the opposite side of the desk. The top drawer held another, smaller stack of letters with her name. Her frustration grew to tempered anger. He'd hid all these from her for so long. How could he? How could he leave her to believe that they'd just given up on her?

Silly question, of course, but it still amazed her how badly things had changed and how quickly.

Hermione shook her head and started to dig through the bottom drawer she'd pulled most the contents out before her hand bumped something cold and metal. She withdrew her hand and set everything that she'd pulled from the drawer down on the desk top. With a hesitant glance towards the door, she reached her hand back into the drawer and pulled out a heavy .9mm Beretta. She frowned slightly as she examined the weapon. She only knew faintly about the details of the gun from what she'd heard Daniel talking with Harry years ago after the battle.

Glancing over her shoulder again, Hermione checked the safety before pulling the magazine from the gun. She pulled the slide back to where it locked, pulling the spare round from the chamber before setting the completely empty weapon on the desktop. Slowly she unloaded each round from the clip, studying each of the rounds individually. It was one thing, as a muggle, that her father insisted that she know. Simply because guns were not quite as legal as they were here in the States, hardy meant that everyone had the integrity to follow those laws. If she recalled, she was also gifted many books on the subject over the years.

Her mind whirled for a few moments as she held a handful of bullets in her cupped hand. After a moment, her shoulders squared and she quickly reloaded the clip and put the magazine back into the gun, letting the slide snap forward. She ran her fingers over the barrel, smiling a grim smile when she was assured that there was a round in the chamber. With a flick of her finger the safety switch was flipped back to SAFE and Hermione tucked the weapon into the back waistband of her jeans. A small smile rose unbidden to her features at Alistair Moody's probable (and predictable) reaction to such placement of a weapon.

Quickly she took the box of things from her past and all her undelivered letters, into their bedroom and hid them beneath the bed before returning and putting everything else, save for the gun, back where it belonged. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed that it was already nearly four in the morning. She closed the office door behind her and walked slowly into the kitchen and began her usual routine for breakfast. Whenever he left, he was always back by six for breakfast, and breakfast was still expected to be made.

Pulling her sweatshirt down to cover the pistol, just in case, Hermione started on breakfast. At Five forty-five, everything was ready. A plate of food sat in front of both they're places and a hot cup of coffee sat above the silverware. Hermione sat in her chair, a napkin covered the gun that was settled on her lap. She held her own coffee cup in her hands to keep her trembling from revealing how frightened she really was.

Sure enough, six o'clock on the dot, the front door opened and slammed shut and Daniel stumbled in, she could smell the pungent scent of whiskey from where she sat. She kept her expression as neutral as she could, considering the smell and sight of him was enough to make her stomach curl in both fear and disgust.

"At least you've finally done something right," He grumbled, she couldn't help but notice the look of utter hatred in his eyes that wasn't conveyed in his drunken voice. "You know, I don't know why I keep you around aside from the fact you can cook. You're worthless and an eyesore to even look at otherwise."

Hermione clenched her jaw but lowered her gaze to the coffee mug. She used to be fairly pretty, she'd give him that. By the time they'd started dating, her bushy hair had settled and she'd finally grown into her body. She'd actually been quite an attractive girl even if a little on the plain side. Now though, she was pretty much a shell of what she'd been before. Broken and bruised. Her hair was stringy and limp. Her once bright hazel eyes were now dull, they held a look that reminded her of how Sirius's had looked like the first time they'd seen him after Azkaban. It was his fault too. He'd done this to her. He's the one who broke her down to this.

"So pathetic," he spat, his hatred finally seeping into the words he spoke. "I don't see why those worthless sons of a bitches keep trying to get back in touch with you. Even Weasley's clueless ass is above you." He stepped forward and cupped her chin in his hand, eyes studying her for a moment before striking her with his other hand.

As he opened his mouth to make another comment Hermione stood, the pistol pointed at his chest, the safety was off before the gun was aimed. "Don't. I'm done, Daniel. I'm done being your punching bag. I'm just…I'm done."

He seemed to sober up almost immediately and an amused smirk crossed his expression, "You wouldn't. You don't have it in you to kill me, Hermione. I don't think you even know how to shoot one of those."

"I've killed before, Daniel. It was self-defense then it's self-defense now," Hermione said. "And my dad taught me how to shoot a gun years ago." Perhaps a minor lie there but he certainly didn't need to know that.

"How'll you play this off as self-defense? You planned it. It's premeditated, Hermione," he taunted.

"The proof of my self-defense story is written all over my face and body, Daniel. Thanks to your temper tantrum last night," she said, keeping the gun pointed at his heart.

"Then do it, shoot me," he said, taking a step forward to where the nose of the gun was pushing into his chest. "Shoot me, Hermione." She hesitated for a moment too long and his hand grasped hers and he tried to pull the gun from her hands.

A tug-of-war match pursued and Hermione knew she'd only last so long, she knew he was stronger than her. She felt the pistol being turned inward, being turned in towards herself. With nothing other than a surge of panic she pushed out and pulled the trigger at the same time.

BANG!

The sound shook her to her core and she froze, eyes wide in terror. His grip on the pistol slackened as he collapsed to the ground his face contorted in pain. Blood poured from the exit wound in his back, spilling out over the kitchen floor.

"Bitch," he hissed as he pressed his hands to his chest. With one burst of energy he reached up and snagged her hands, "My bloods on your hands Hermione. How's that make you feel?" With that his last breath escaped his body and he was gone.

Hermione dropped the gun onto the ground next to him and looked down at her blood covered hands. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she rushed towards the phone, dialing 911. It seemed like a life time of sitting in her chair next to his lifeless body, staring at the now-dried blood on her hands, before the police finally arrived on the scene.

"Christ," one officer swore as he entered the kitchen taking in the sight of the body. Another curse escaped his lips as he took in the condition of his apparent assailant. "Miss? Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up at him, eyes dull and flat, "With a-all due respect officer, I've put up with over six months of this a-and this is what it comes down to? No, sir, I'm not alright."

The officer nodded and touched her shoulder gently, not sure how badly she was hurt, "It looks like you came out to be one of the more lucky ones than I've seen before. You're still alive."

Another officer, a female this time, entered the room and escorted her from the kitchen. "May I-I change clothes and wash up, please?" She asked quietly.

With a small nod, the officer led her to her room, "Miss Granger, is there someone we can get a hold of for you? Someone to come get you?"

Hermione looked at the woman blankly, "Everyone I have is in England, and I've not spoken to them in two years…thanks to the man lying dead in my kitchen."

"Give me a name Miss, and I'll do my best to pass the word on to them that you're now safe," the officer said sympathetically.

With a soft sigh, Hermione gave the officer her parents' names and telephone numbers before going into her room and grabbing a clean change of clothes and her wand from the box under the bed, then returning to the hallway on her way to the shower.

20 November 2002
(Present Day)
Leaky Cauldron
London

A month and a half had passed since that fateful day. It took the police nearly a month to settle everything and it turned out that her parents had moved, having no way to get a hold of her, had been unable to pass on that information. Two days after the final interview with the police and lawyers, they gave her the closure she needed. She wasn't going to be tried for murder. She wasn't even going to court as there was no one willing to press charges after they got the full extent of the damage to her body at his hands.

Four freshly broken ribs, two more that had been broken and had healed improperly.

Numerous hairline fractures throughout her body.

Huge bruises covering most of her body that would normally be covered by clothing.

A concussion.

Among other things the mental and sexual trauma that the man had put her through.

Two days after that, everything in the house had been packed, all of his things in a pile to be sold or given away to charities. The house itself, much to the surprise of the receiving organization, she chose to donate to the local Women's Crisis center. Everything she owned and cared to bring with her was in a single suit case and in a box of memories. With that, she stepped on an airplane bound for London. Home. Away from the core of her nightmares.

Exactly three weeks from the time she left Colorado, Hermione had started to set her life back on the right track. She'd found a flat, not too far from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron on the muggle side. The place was small but it suited her just fine. It was somewhere of her own, it was away from every memory of him. She could finally breathe again.

She had spent the first week filling her flat up with the furniture and food that she'd need. She even bought a television and paid for cable. Anything to keep her mind from straying to traitorous thoughts. The second week she spent doing nothing but watching the television, reading the stacks of old letters that she'd never received, and doing whatever she could to keep her nightmares at bay. She barely left her flat, almost afraid to run into her old friends. Afraid of what they'd think if they saw her now.

By the third week, Hermione was just plain bored. Her boredom drew her out of her cave and into Diagon Alley for the first time in over two years. The place had been rebuilt to its former glory since the last time she'd been there. When she'd left for Colorado, they were still working on reconstruction from the devastation caused by the war. She kept her gaze low as she entered her old favorite store: Flourish & Botts. The bookstore. It was only a matter of about fifteen minutes before she had an arm full of books that'd caught her attention. It was only a few moments after that all of them were bought and paid for and she found herself back outside in the blistery November sun.

Without a glance around she made her way back towards the Leaky Cauldron and home. It was only a spur of the moment decision that had Hermione take a seat in one of the booths at the pub and start looking over the menu. She was tired of cooking and tired of locking herself up in her flat. It was just one meal, it wasn't like it'd hurt.

She kept to herself and quietly pulled out one of her books, one of her old favorites Hogwarts: A History. A small smile peered on her face as she opened the pages of the book and started reading. It was a book that brought her back to a time before all that mess. A time when things were wrong, but the same time, more right than they'd ever been since.

Hermione had become so enveloped in her reading and in her book that she didn't hear anyone walk up. She didn't hear the disbelieving whispers. She didn't even take note that someone was standing right next to her, staring at her in lost disbelief. That is until she heard the all-too familiar voice that drew her gaze upwards to equally familiar eyes.

"Hermione?"