People often said that in times of turbulence, you learned to appreciate the little things. Poetic and whimsical notions like sunsets, the sounds of birds and the varying colours of dainty flowers.

Well, Hermione could safely tell those people that it was all bollocks.

Bollocks. Bollocks. Bollocks.

Sunsets were pretty much the same everyday, squawking birds were actually very annoying and gave her a headache, and she could really care less about the hues and shades of flowers. They all died anyway; all wilted into ugly, shrivelled shapes. Especially when winter was starting to strangle life out of the world.

No, when times were bad, and they really were, it pretty much distracted you from everything else. Everything else was irrelevant and distorted, clouded by the gravity of the darkness. Hermione had noticed that even her classes had become meaningless, and the worst thing was everyone seemed to feel the same.

The students of Hogwarts were drowning in melancholy. All of them.

Well, the ones that had been allowed to return.

She'd worked out there were just over a quarter of the usual number of pupils, and all of them were scared; moving around the lonely corridors with glum faces and whispered tones. But the classes were still held, as were the Quidditch matches and other events, even though it was glaringly obvious that most of the students had lost the will to compete, socialise and even learn.

McGonagall was doing her best to keep things consistent and familiar, but it was pointless. Hogwarts was pseudo-school now; just a shell with ancient walls that people had once thought were safe. But, of course, that was all bollocks too.

It was the 1st of October, meaning Hermione had only been back at school for a couple of weeks, but it felt longer. It also meant that Dumbledore had been dead for exactly five months. No, Hogwarts was definitely not safe, and everyone knew it. The Death Eaters had breached their school, all thanks to Draco fucking Malfoy, and then Snape had murdered the most brilliant man she would ever know.

Voldemort was back. Well, he'd been back for a few years now, but the curse of his return was becoming louder and more threatening with each day that passed. She was petrified. That's right. Screw the stereotypes that came were her Gryffindor colours, sometimes it was rational to be frightened.

It certainly didn't help that her two supposed best friends had left her here all alone. Yes, Harry and Ron were currently traipsing all over the country searching for Horcruxes. Without her. She wasn't sure where the reasoning had been in that decision but it had been Lupin's suggestion. She loved her friends dearly, but if she was right Harry was probably having a mental breakdown every hour, and Ron would most likely be tripping over his own feet.

She knew it hadn't been their decision, but she couldn't help the resentment that had burrowed into her brain. At least they had each other.

She had been left here to assist McGonagall with turning Hogwarts into a shelter. A safe place. There were a few other Order members here such as Seamus and Dean, and Ginny was helping along with the rest of the professors. The youngest Weasley was nice enough, but she didn't come close to filling the gap the boys had left her with. For the most part, Hermione felt significantly alone.

She'd been given the title of Head Girl of course, possibly so she could have her own room to help with the Order's plans. Or perhaps it was so she could have some freedom to lock herself in the library at night with the hopes assisting the cause. Or maybe it was because she was the infamous best friend of Harry Potter, and was supposed to provide some symbol of hope to the miserable souls that were haunting Hogwarts. Whichever it was, she was glad she could help, but she'd have rather stayed with Ron and Harry.

Michael Corner was Head Boy, but she'd never really found out why he'd been chosen. It was probably just because he'd been a prefect and a member of Dumbledore's Army, but she doubted he was doing much in the way of preparation for the Order. She could have asked him, of course, or even attempted to make conversation with any of the other students, but the only person she really spoke to these days was McGonagall. She was too busy...too immersed in her desperation to help.

Her Head Girl dorm felt empty. Hollow.

Near the Gryffindor Tower, there was her bedroom, a little kitchenette, a small living space, the bathroom, and another bedroom. The bedroom that Harry would have probably occupied if he'd been chosen as Head Boy. Corner had his own Head dormitory near the Ravenclaw Tower, and for that she was grateful. If she was going to be angry and anxious about the state of the world, she didn't want anyone but Harry and Ron to know about it.

But, as she had noted so many times, they weren't here. They sent her one letter every fortnight, careful not to owl any more in case it alerted Voldemort to their Horcrux-hunt.

So, yes. Things were bad. Remarkably bad.

So bad that the words in front of her were just sliding over her brain and escaping her attention. It had just passed midnight when she'd made her way to the library to research Horcruxes again, spurred on by her passionate insomnia.

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