The weather grew colder and colder. Christmas was coming. Hermione spent most of her evenings flying, talking to the magical creatures, convincing them to stay neutral when many were going to take sides. When she flew she could avoid the upcoming war. She could just exist. Hermione had spent nearly an hour crying her tears into vials for Madame Pomfrey to use in rare healing potions, and for Professor Slughorn and Headmaster Snape.