A/N: This is a story that I had already written, but I didn't get any hits really and I didn't really like where it was going so I just kinda gave up on it . . . Well I found a new way to approach it and I wrote a new opening paragraph . . . hope you like it!

For every war, there is a hero. For every hero, there is an enemy. And for every enemy, there is a weakness. Sometimes the weakness may be obvious, but in most cases, there is always something hidden. Something someone must find in order to defeat that enemy. The problem, however, almost always lies in that item, or in Harry Potter's case, the last of those items. There is only one thing he needs to defeat his ultimate foe: the last Horcrux.

Hermione gazed out of the Three Broomstick's window sadly. She had remembered not too long ago sitting in that very spot and attending the finest school in London. The snow outside covered the ground in a thick layer too deep to walk through. Harry, Ron, and her had taken shelter in the old bar, hoping to keep their feet warm and have a few Butterbeers. She wished so much that she was back in school, under the heavy protection it cast over all of it's students, but Hermione knew that hoping and wishing would get her nowhere in the world outside of Hogwarts.

Looking back at her two counterparts, she smiled to herself. At least she did not lose her closest friends. She did not know what she would do if Harry and Ron were not at her side, watching over her as she watched over them. She hoped they would never separate; never go different paths into the unknown world where she could not follow. Suddenly a cold fear rushed into her as she remembered what they were doing in Hogsmeade in the first place.

"When do you suppose we should set off again?" she asked Harry, who always seemed to be on top of things. He gazed at his watch and sighed.

"Probably in a half hour," he said dismally. Apparently, he was feeling just as gloomy as Hermione was herself. Ron seemed to be depressed at first, but one sip of the fire whiskey that lay in front of him and he perked up again. Hermione propped up her head with her hands and stared at her faint reflection in the exceptionally polished tabletop.

For more than five minutes, they sat in silence as they had before. Hermione took to looking out of the window again, just watching the snow fall and the lack of people in the streets. They would have to go out in that soon, but while Hermione was safe inside, she made sure she was warmed.

"I'm going to sit in front of the fire for a while," she told her friends as she rose from her window seat and made her way to the center of the room. There was a large cushiony couch across from the blazing fireplace, and Hermione sat herself down on it and balled herself up, grasping her Butterbeer in both hands to warm them. It was not much warmer than where she sat before (Madam Rosmerta must have set a charm on the room to make it warm), but it felt a little more comfortable.

The fire danced throughout the fireplace, and Hermione felt captivated. Occasionally, it would change from red to green, or green to purple, but somehow, it seemed so normal to Hermione. She felt at home in the large bar; felt at home with the mystical things that went on in it. She could not understand why, but she had become quite accustomed to leaving her parents every summer. She loved her parents, but this world, a world full of magic and surprise, seemed to excite her in a way nothing else could. The old bookworm Hermione had disappeared with her leaving Hogwarts, and the new excited Hermione had appeared when becoming an Auror.

For that is why Harry, Ron, and her were here. They were searching for the Death Eater Alysia Commelgrum, the woman who was said to disappear as the day fades. They had followed her all the way from Paris in just a few days. She seemed to apparate everywhere she went, jumping from here to there along her unknown trail. They were having a hard time tracking her in the snow, but at least they had somewhat of a lead to where she was going.

What surprised Hermione the most though, was how the Order just let them go off and do their own thing just coming out of school. She wondered if Harry had anything to do with it but forced that thought down every time it came to her. That thought held too many sorrows and inconveniences for her friend. Hermione even sometimes thought that they were assigned Alysia Commelgrum because she was probably the hardest Death Eater to catch, and they were not expected to have a run in with her. Not that she was terribly powerful; only terribly clever.

Hermione shoved all of these thoughts from her head. Relaxing a little more into the soft couch, she took a sip of her Butterbeer, and her whole body seemed to warm. If only she could carry a little bottle of Butterbeer with her always, just to drink if she needed a little pick-me-up. She seemed to need that a lot lately.

After a while had past, Harry and Ron came over and sat on either side of her. They slumped back and began to chat.

"So what do you think they are doing at Hogwarts right now?" Harry asked. That was his favorite subject: his home away from home. Hermione liked it as well, and Ron seemed to. She was not exactly sure if he did though; Ron seemed somewhat distant to her ever since leaving the wondrous place. She wondered if that had anything to do with it. She would have to ask Harry sometime if he noticed anything strange.

"I'll wager they are gathering in the Great Hall for dinner. It should have started a couple of minutes ago," Hermione said, gazing out the distant window. The snow was beginning to desist, but the sun was slowly making its way to the horizon also. They would need to find a place to stay before night fell. As joyful and cheery it was in the daytime, Hogsmeade was not a place she wanted to wander after dark. Street bandits walked the dark alleys, and even without magic, they could be on someone before they ever knew they were there.

"So where do you think we should stay for the night?" Ron asked sullenly as if reading Hermione's mind.

"Why don't we ask McGonagall if she'll let us stay at Hogwarts tonight?" Hermione said anxiously. Unfortunately, Harry shook his head in remorse.

"McGonagall already has enough on her mind. We shouldn't bother her," he said, and Hermione sank down once more unto the couch. Harry was right; McGonagall did not need the burden of tending to them tonight, even if it was an easy job. "A job is a job," her father used to tell her, "and even the littlest thing can distract you from what needs to be done."

"We could apparate back to Grimmauld Place," Ron suggested hopefully.

"No," Hermione said sorrowfully. "Going back there would probably mean staying up late talking about old times, having your mother cook us a feast for breakfast, and starting late the next day." Ron groaned. That was probably the reason why he wanted to stay there in the first place. Harry groaned also, but for another reason Hermione suspected.

"Why don't we just find some place here," Harry finally said after a moment of silence. "Somewhere inexpensive. We can't rely on sleeping in a comfortable bed all the time." Hermione only wished Harry was not right. She had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in large comfortable beds, but lately they had had to sleep in small beds with lumpy mattresses and such.

"Let's ask Madam Rosmerta if she knows of any place," Hermione said placing her Butterbeer on the coffee table in front of her and getting up from the comfort of the couch. "Madam Rosmerta?" she called as she strode over to the bar area. The aging yet still stunning bartender appeared out from the back of the large building, wrapping the shawl she wore tighter around her shoulders. She had obviously just stepped outside for she had snow in her graying brown hair and muddy shoes. She uttered a small, "Yes dear?" in a voice very melodic. "We were wondering if you knew of any place where we could stay for the night. Somewhere not to dodgy, but inexpensive."

Madam Rosmerta thought for a moment, fingering the fringes on her long shawl. "There is a place about a half mile from here," she said finally. "Many Aurors, such as yourselves, seem to frequent it. It's called The Headmaster's Study I believe."

"Thank you," Hermione said before returning back to the couch. Her friends looked at her expectantly. "She said that there is one called The Headmaster's Study about a half mile from here. It's frequented by Aurors," she told them and they somewhat relaxed.

Finishing up their Butterbeers – and Ron's fire whiskey – they wrapped their cloaks around them tightly, put on their gloves, scarves, and hats, and stepped out into the freezing streets. The sun had not quite gone down yet, but they would have to hurry if they wanted to get to The Headmaster's Study.

A/N: Well there's the first chapter . . . I'll see if there is going to be a second . . . I already have an idea for it . . . REVIEW PLEASE!

annapooh

P.S. "Christmas! Christmas eve, last year. I could a night so frozen be so scalding hot? How can a morning this mild be so raw? Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory as single frames of one magic night forever flicker in close up on the 3-D Imax of my mind. Thats poetic- that's pathetic. Why did Mimi knock on Roger's door? and Collins choose that phone booth back where Angel set up his drums. Why did Maureen's equiptment break down? Why am I the witness and when I capture it on film does it mean that its the end and I'm alone."

RENT IS DUE NOVEMBER 23! I'M SOOO EXCITED!