Hermione felt alone as she sat in the Weasleys' living room. She felt like she was intruding on their grief.

"Do you need anything, dear?" Mrs. Weasley would ask and Hermione would just shake her head and politley decline.

Harry had said something about wanting to be alone for a few days and left.

Hermione would have stayed at her house, but it felt so empty. She wanted her parents back. Sure, they were still alive but they had no idea who she was. The spell she had use was irreversible. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She reminded her self that is was for her family's protection and that she couldn't beat herself up over it.

Harry walked into the living room and awkwardly sat down next to here. The usually bustling Weasley house was veiled in a mournful silence.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered.

"Nothing," Hermione muttered, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

"Let's go talk somewhere else," Harry suggested and Hermione followed him all the way to a vacant field. "Now, what's wrong."

"I miss my parents," Hermione said. "And they don't even know who I am."

Harry motioned for her to sit down and she did.

"I can't tell you it's okay," Harry told her. "Because I'd be lying , but, I can tell you it'll get easier."

"Does it ever go away?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Harry said. "But, it hasn't yet. And I've had sixteen years to handle it."

Hermione looked at him.

"I feel so incomplete without them."

"Nothing will feel that hole completely," Harry told her. "Except time."

A/N: I liked the promt and who wouldn't feel awful after that? Thanks for reading.

Jola recideka.(Please review.)

Now, who can guess what language I am signing off on.

Hint: *Google translate won't help you.*

Jean, Mi, Nina, and Faliara, you are not allowed to guess mainly because you know and understand some. By the way, if you do understand: Quanti Cuki to you.