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More Than A Change In Hair Colour by SlytherinBeetle
Chapter 1 : Thinking.
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 1

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I stared into the fire, boredom being the sole purpose. The Burrow smelt as gloomy as it had yesterday, and the day before that. Smelt like wet grass and shameful self-wallowing pity, mixed in with depression. I tapped my foot impatiently, trying to make a pattern to meld time together. Didn't work.

I clenched my hands together and stood up. I had energy that had nowhere to go but in my own thoughts. I paced the floor. I hated this. Being confined in the Burrow with people filled with tears and sadness. This sadness being completely and utterly unreasonable. It's all anyone has been thinking of since the war ended. Didn't they have brains?! I get they were mourning for the deaths in the war, but we expected that! I expected that! It's like jumping off a roof and wondering why your legs hurt. All this unnecessary stupid sadness, distracting us from the big picture. Stopping us from moving on with our lives. Sure, I was sad. I jumped off the roof. But I get why I did. I understand why it hurts. I'm not going to cry about it. I'm going to get back up, dust myself off and walk away. I didn't break a leg, I didn't die! I'm alive and well. For that in the least, I am grateful.

I shifted my neck, moving it around. It cracked loudly and I sighed. Needed to get out of that house. I made a beeline for the door.

"'Mione," a voice murmured quietly, sadness dripping from its core.

I turned and met Harry's eyes, who sat next to a just-as-dreary Ron. They both looked at me slightly confused.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked slowly.

I paused. "For a walk," I said.

Molly Weasley stood up, and came over to me. Her face as soft as ever, though affected terribly. Her eyes were a shade of purple, swollen. Her entire face was red from crying. I'd bet she hadn't slept in days.

"Dear" she said carefully, her voice cracking though her dry lips, "I think it's best we all just stay here for now."

I shook my head softly, as to not offend her.

"Molly, I'm sorry but I need to clear my head" I said quietly, meeting her eyes.

She swallowed and looked at me solemnly.

"Be careful, Hermione" she said, tears brimming her eyes yet again.

I pretended not to notice, nodded and walked out of the depressing house.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, the pointless walk began. The fresh air helped me clear my head. The environment- less gloomy- was certainly an advantage.

"Hermione?" a voice, clearly Ron's asked, behind me.

I sighed. My mood drooping down as his mood invaded my air.

"Yes?" I asked, turning. I avoided his eyes, they'd make me sadder.

Our relationship had been iffy lately. He hadn't touched me, or looked at me since the war ended. I haven't been more than a shoulder to cry on in what seems like too long. If this kept up, our relationship might not last the year.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

Wow. He cared.

"I'm fine, Ron," I responded.

"Maybe that's what's wrong," he said, worried.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, Ronald," I said, a little confused.

"Aren't you.. I don't know.. meant to be upset? Everyone else is.. you seem like you almost don't care," he said slowly.

"I do care. But I don't see any point in wallowing about in it," I spat, slightly annoyed. His voice was slurred a little. He had been sleeping too much.

He looked hurt, and I felt a pang of guilt. I  should be less harsh.

"But how can you not cry? I don't even think that's normal.." he said, his voice a little sterner and meaner than before.

"Everyone seems to forget the fact I lost my family too. Before the war. I'm used to loss, Ronald. It's not that hard to deal with when you've gone through it before." I said, exasperated.

"Hermione your parents didn't die. Getting your memory wiped and dying are two different things completely." he spat.

"Yes, they are." she felt her anger take over, and her voice turned mean and angry.

"But tell me Ronald, do you think it would be better to lose someone, them still themselves, loving you endlessly, or to have someone taken away from you, not know who you are.” My voice raised; anger boiling, “Not remember what I remember. I could die tomorrow, and it could come to their attention. They would not shed a tear over my death. They don't know me. My own parents don't know me." I screamed.

Tears brimmed on the edge of my eyes.

"You lose friends, a bit of your family. You have a big family, Ronald. But a majority of my life was spent with my small muggle family. Which I no longer have."

I was spent. He was speechless.

"Stop thinking about only yourself." I left him with that and walked away.

He wouldn't come after me. He was too much of a coward to follow and stand up for himself. I suppose all of the 'good' side are cowards. What was up with that? Why does being good mean you have to be a coward? Or lose all of your dignity while you win? Ever notice, on all of those movies, the good guys are all dirty and worked up, while all the evil guys remain clean and calm?

The bad, while doing ruthless and unforgivable things hold their dignity. Those who die, die laughing. Why can't we laugh? Why does everything have to be so serious.

Similar dark thoughts clouded my mind, my hands in my pockets. Feet walking rhythmically forward.

I needed change. The people I called my friends are nothing like what I imagined them to be. I had pictured parties, celebrating Voldemorts death. Or perhaps, a wake, where we laughed over that life that Fred had. Sitting on a couch, listening to the clock tick was not what I had wanted.

Change in events called for a change in me.



I walked into the Burrow, sad that my special time was over. My eyes skimmed the room, and everyone sat where they were before. Ron had returned to his chair, beside Harry. Ginny had now taken a seat on the other side of Harry, their hands twined.

"You're back" Molly said from the corner. I nodded absently, and walked up the stairs.

I couldn't look at them. Any of them. Their sorrow disgusted me.

I walked into the room Ginny and I shared, and heard a tap on the window.

Approaching it, I saw a small pitch black owl sitting outside, an envelope hanging from its beak. It was quite a comical sight. The owl being so small, and the envelope oversized. I ushered it inside, and it hopped onto the desk silently, dropping the letter onto my open palm.

Glancing at the paper, I ripped it open, and pulled out the aged parchment.

I read through it slowly.

Dear Miss Granger,

I am pleased to announce the reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to the events that occurred last year, none of the seventh year students were able to complete their education. For this reason, I invite all students back to Hogwarts to resume, and finish their last year.

Please notify the school as soon as you can as to your decision of attendance.

Headmaster McGonogall.

P.S, The bird is now yours. I do hope you like him.


This made me smile. I looked at the bird, and it looked up at me, its head turned to the side.

My finger gently stroked the top of it’s head as my mind ran through the memories of Hogwarts.


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