It was a warm day in the spring with white puffy clouds lazily drifting across the cerulean sky. All across the country people were enjoying the sunshine after what had seemed like a year of constant mist and fog. Everyone seemed to have congregated in the nearest park or a neighbor’s yard, everybody but Hermione Granger that is.

In fact Hermione was doing the opposite of what every one else was doing. Instead of going outside to feel the sun’s warmth on her skin and have a breeze blow through her hair she had remained inside her small apartment cleaning with great vehemence. She had on old ratty clothes that gave her great mobility to reach the dirty nooks and crannies that only she could see. Her face was flushed and her hair was falling out of the loose bun but she took no notice.

Although she was a witch, and a great one at that, she had resorted to the Muggle cleaning methods she’d learned as a child. Brushes, harsh chemicals, assorted towels and several brooms and mops littered the floor and flat surfaces of the apartment. Yet despite the abundance of materials and the pace that Hermione was working at there seemed to be no difference between what was clean and what was dirty.

Half of the apartment seemed to be thoroughly dusted but a quick turn to the left showed a growing layer of dust accumulating on the bookshelves. The kitchen floor was swept clean but only a small portion had been mopped and waxed while the rest had a dull sheen to it. Magazines and books were open to seemingly random pages and scattered across the span of tables and chairs not occupied by the cleaning items. Dishes were piled high in the sink but a look in the cupboards showed just as many washed and in their proper place. The only exception seemed to be the various photographs around the apartment, every single one of them was covered in a thick layer of grime making it hard to see who was in them.

Hermione paid no attention to her surroundings and was beginning a new project. Her fridge was overcrowded and had a lingering smell of overcooked cabbage about it. She figured it was high time to throw out the old leftovers and scrub until the shelves were no longer sticky. All around her were containers of meals she had made too much of, but she didn’t worry about wasting food because someone would come to eat it soon.

A fair portion of the day Hermione spent in front of her fridge but only a small amount of that time involved actual cleaning. She would stop to look into the different containers to see what they held or what they were growing or just sit staring into the depths of the cold box in front of her. When the sun had completely set she realized that she had yet to eat anything. Gingerly picking herself up she put all the containers back in the fridge and pulled out ingredients to make another meal that would be too big for only her and would ultimately end up in the fridge with all the others.

Sitting at the only clear spot on her kitchen table she went back to staring at the fridge while picking at her food. ‘Tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘Tomorrow I’ll finish with the fridge and the floors and everything else and I’ll visit Harry and Ginny like I promised.’

After she finished eating she put her dishes on the tottering pile and washed some she had used the previous week but neglected to clean. For an hour or two she walked aimlessly around her apartment picking up a random book and reading a few pages and then setting it down in a completely different spot. She made her way to her bedroom where the half-finished theme continued. Clothes were in piles on the floor and only one side of the bed was made. After getting into her nightgown she crawled into the too large bed and picking up her wand for the first time that day she put out the lights.

Tomorrow came and went and Hermione had found new things to start cleaning, putting them off until the next day along with all her other unfinished projects. Day after day she found herself in a routine, the same one she had been in for weeks before she had started the fridge. Every once in a while someone would stop by to visit but Hermione always shooed them away within an hour stating that she had cleaning to finish.

One ordinary day in the middle of July Hermione was once again seated in front of her fridge looking in the containers of what had been edible food at one point. A gentle rush of air and the sound of someone tripping over a broom jerked her out of her reverie. As she got up to investigate she heard the voice of Harry Potter coming from her living room.

“Hermione do you think you could keep your fireplace free of obstacles? I nearly broke my glasses, again, coming out.”

Hermione walked into the room and found a very disheveled Harry sprawled out on the floor with his legs wrapped around the handle of her broom. A small grin spread across her face as she held out her hand to help up her friend.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of sweeping the hearth and I must have left it there.”

Harry straightened his glasses and glanced around the apartment. “You always seem to be in the middle of cleaning something. Have you actually finished cleaning anything?”

Hermione stiffened slightly at the question and seemingly hesitated before answering. “Well, things get done in a way. I’m just so busy with one thing or another that I don’t have time to finish it all at once.”

“You’ve been busy doing what, may I ask? You owl your work to the ministry and I know for a fact you haven’t gone to visit anyone like you promised. Hermione, we’re all worried about you holed up in here.”

“You don’t have to worry about me Harry. I’m doing perfectly fine and who’s to say I haven’t gone out to other places that you don’t know about?” Hermione avoided Harry’s gaze and started to walk back into the kitchen. She knew Harry would call her on her bluff but she had to try all the same. “I’m cleaning my fridge right now so maybe you should come back later when the room isn’t filled with fumes.”

“No, you’re not getting rid of me that easily this time Hermione. I know that you don’t leave this apartment except to buy food or more cleaning stuff. It’s been six months, you need to stop.”

“Stop what Harry, worrying about the general appearance of my home? Stop eating, because that’s just stupid.”

“Hermione nothing in this apartment is close to being clean no matter how you spin the truth. I obviously don’t want you to stop eating because I also know you only eat when you remember to, which is not that often.” Harry wasn’t angry but there was a serious tone to his voice that made her stop and listen. “You need to stop beating yourself up over it and move on with your life.”

“Harry, I really need to finish cleaning my fridge before all this food goes bad.”

“I think all the food in there has already gone bad.”

Hermione ignored Harry and turned back to the fridge. Picking up a sponge she started scrubbing one of the vegetable bins with lesser amounts of mouldy celery and carrots. Harry sighed in frustration and walked behind Hermione and grabbed her wrist.

“Hermione just stop it!”

“I can’t.” She said it barely above a whisper but Harry still heard her.

“Yes you can, I know it.”

“No I can’t stop Harry!” She was yelling but she didn’t care.

“Why not?” Harry kept his voice calm and it helped to pacify her a little.

“Because,” her voice broke. “Because if I stop then there’s time for me to think and I can’t do that either.”

“Why?”

“I’ll think about how I had it perfect for a moment and now I don’t. I’ll think about how my life ended in a single second but I’m still here.” Hermione started crying and suddenly it was as though an invisible dam broke. “He’s gone, he’s gone and he left me here! Why didn’t he take me with him? He promised he’d never leave me alone. Why was it him and not me? Harry I can’t do this anymore, I can’t live without him. How do you expect me to move on with my life when I don’t have one anymore?”

Hermione collapsed into Harry’s arms sobbing uncontrollably. Harry pulled her close and stayed that way until her sobs turned to slight hiccups. He slowly pulled away from her and lifted her chin so she was looking into his eyes.

“Hermione, you’re the strongest person I know and one day it’ll be okay. But you can’t stay here alone anymore. Come on you’re going to stay with me for a while.”

Harry picked himself up and pulled Hermione up after him. He went into her bedroom and with a wave of his wand packed her clothes and other small belongings in an overnight bag. He then walked over to the nightstand and stowed her wand in his robes. She would undoubtedly want it back when she was ready.

When he returned to the kitchen he found that Hermione was no where to be seen and so he continued to the living room. There standing at the mantle of the fireplace was Hermione looking at one of the photos placed there. Harry stood back and watched her, she was crying but not a sound escaped her. After a few minutes Harry cleared his throat and Hermione turned to look at him.

“Oh, I didn’t notice you standing there. I just had to clean one more thing before we left. I hope you don’t mind.” She gave him a watery smile and turned back to the photo.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’ve got all the things I think you’ll need for the time being. If I forgot anything I can always come back and get it later.”

“Thank you Harry, for everything.”

Hermione walked over to her coffee table and grabbed a small box from under a magazine. Opening it she put her hand inside and pulled out a fair amount of glittering powder. She handed the box to Harry who lit a fire in the grate. Throwing the powder into the flames they turned a brilliant shade of green and Hermione stepped into them.

“Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” She quickly revolved out of sight and the flames returned to their crimson and orange colors.

Harry walked over to the fireplace and looked at the photograph Hermione had been looking at. He smiled to himself but had a sorrowful look haunting his eyes. Placing the bag on the floor he opened the box and pulled out a handful of powder for himself. As he closed the box he placed it next to the photo and then bent down and picked up Hermione’s bag.

“We miss you mate.” Harry tossed the powder into the fire and stepped into the dancing green flames. “Number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

Harry spun out of view from the half dirty and half clean apartment. There was a layer of dust on everything and the containers left on the kitchen floor were filled with fuzzy meals. The only thing that was clean in the entire apartment was a single photo on the mantle above the fireplace.

The people in the photo were moving around but paid no attention to anything outside their frame. A young woman with bushy hair was being spun around in the air by a lanky young man of approximately the same age. Every so often they would stop spinning and wave to whoever was behind the camera but they never let go of each other.

At one point the girl seemed to be trying to hide something behind her back but the boy kept tugging at her hand and laughing. After several seconds of protesting the girl finally brought her hand out from behind her blushing. There on the third finger of the left hand was a ring with a small diamond. The boy was grinning widely and took the girl into his arms, spinning her in the air once again.