A Song without Words

Disclaimer: Not mine- except the story line. If it's similar to anyone else's story, I'm sorry, but I haven't seen it and did not write this with the intent of using it. Characters are not mine even though I would die with happiness if Ms. JK Rowling would let me have Draco. I'd even settle with a cute looking Blaise. But sigh they're not mine…

On with the story:

Chapter 1

Christmas Eve. Everyone in the castle was fast asleep, waiting for the next morning to come quickly. There was one pair of quiet feet through the cold stone hallways of Hogwarts School. The Head Girl could not sleep. Not now, not ever. Ever since that day in October Hermione Granger couldn't sleep. It was a horrible black letter that contained such poison in its words.

It came like any other mail. It was attached to the most beautiful barn owl she had ever laid her eyes on. Perhaps they chose that one to ease the pain. Maybe. She read the letter. Once, twice, thrice. She cried silently out there in the middle of the Great Hall where anyone and everyone could notice. But no one did. No one asked, "What's wrong, Hermione? You ok?" No worried looks, no looks at all.

Angry with herself and angry at everyone else, Hermione went up to the Head table and spoke quietly with Professor Dumbledore. He noticed that she was sad. Maybe the red eyes and red nose gave it away. Maybe it was the hitched voice or the teary eyes. Maybe.

She showed the letter to the old man. She waited for him to reach the end of the page before quietly asking, "May I be excused from classes today, Professor?" He gave a nod. That was it. No sympathy, no sad smile. There was just a nod and a return of the parchment. Murmuring a quiet thanks, Hermione turned and walked back to her seat, hoisted up her three times too heavy bag and tromped through the double doors.

Standing in front of a painting of a pine forest, Hermione whispered the password: Eternity. A path appeared and she stepped through. Alone in the common room she shared with the Head Boy, Hermione dropped her bag next to her cherry wood desk in a corner and curled up her cream and emerald sofa. The letter was still clutched within the confinements of her hand. She threw it onto the low oak table in front of her. She knew what poisonous words it held.

Dear Miss Granger,

I am terribly sorry to have to inform you of your parent's death. Early this morning your house was broken into and your parents attacked. We do not know what creature has done this, but there are long parallel slash marks in patterns of three. Currently we are searching for the whereabouts of the creature and will bring your parents some peace. We are terribly sorry for your loss. Please inform us via owl when you plan on coming to the Ministry to attend to the matters of your parent's funeral.

Sylvia Oldsen
Grief committee

Hermione glared at the blaring piece of paper. Almost as if she was willing it to be wrong. But Hermione knew that what it said was true. Her parents were gone; she hadn't gotten the letter that she always gets in the morning. They are dead. Tears welled up in her chocolate swirled eyes. They were gone. Never would they be able to go skiing in the Alps, swimming in the Bahamas, having dinner in Paris, she would not be able to share any of that with her parents again.

She stood alone in the room. She stood alone in the world. No one was there to comfort her and she was surrounded in black. Turning, she pulled her suddenly weary body up her flight of stairs and into her fluffy bed. That day she cried herself to sleep.

Weeks have gone by and still no one noticed how withdrawn their Gryffindor Princess had become. Her friends didn't notice the lack of excitement that was normally present when they traveled from class to class. They didn't even realize when she stopped nagging them to do their homework. Even if they had girlfriends, one would expect that they would notice the drastic change in their best friend. But in the weeks that went by Harry and Ron didn't see their happy friend stay quiet in their free time. The only thing they did notice was the abrupt stop in her eagerness to answer the questions on her first day back.

And even then they only said, "Why didn't you answer that one, Hermione?" They didn't wonder why she missed an entire day of classes or her lack of eating during meals. Or the disappearance of her that lasted for three days.

Everyday was the same as the one before. She would watch the sun come up from her perch on her wide windowsill, take a hot shower and head to the hall. There she would take a sip of pumpkin juice and a nibble of food here and there before getting up early and leaving the hall alone. From there she would go to her classes and mechanically write notes and answer questions in a dull voice. All these changes happened and yet no one noticed. She didn't really care. If they weren't there before, they wouldn't help her now.

After dinner, Hermione would walk to the tower and do her homework quietly in her corner. Sometimes she would vaguely register that Malfoy's quill was scratching away on the other side of the room. He would still call her spiteful names, taunting her to snap back like she always did. But she would just stare up at him with her dim eyes and nod, whispering, "Sure, whatever you say, Malfoy." He would scowl and walk away. But that means nothing to her. Nothing matters anymore.

At night, after packing her book bag, things varied. Sometimes she would sit dangerously close to the fire. Other times she would walk the castle halls and grounds, but no matter what, they all ended with her sitting by her open bedroom window, waiting for the sun and the next day to arrive.

Christmas Eve. Everyone in the castle was fast asleep, waiting for the next morning to come quickly. Everyone except one, the Head Girl, Hermione Granger was walking quietly through the Halls. She reached her painting and vanished within.

The fire was low, so Hermione prodded it back to life. That night was one night she did not want to end. If she didn't see the sun then Christmas morning will never happen. So she wished. She sat; she was so close to the fire that night that she was almost kissing the hot flames. She leaned forward ever so slowly, mesmerized by the dance of the fire. A hand was on her shoulder and she was pulled away from the flames. Her concentration was broken and she looked at the hand, then its owner.

Draco Malfoy stood there with his hand clamped on her small shoulder. His grey blue eyes pierced into her chocolate one, analyzing her broken soul. Hermione held his gaze then blinked slowly once before turning back to the fire. Once again the tug of his hand brought her back. He shook hi head once, platinum hair falling around his face.

"Don't."

He pulled her up by her upper arm and pushed her onto her couch. After covering her with a blanket he retreated to his black and silver sofa, watching her as she continued to stare at the fireplace. Her mouth opened and she spoke softly.

"Don't what, Malfoy?" Her gaze didn't waver from the orange light.

"Just don't. Whatever you were planning, whatever you weren't planning. What ever is happening, just don't." He stared, his voice only a hair louder than her whisper.

For the first time, Hermione looked at Draco on her own accord. "No one notices me, Malfoy. They wouldn't notice if I flung myself out the astronomy tower or if I went swimming in the lake in the middle of winter. They didn't notice, didn't ask, didn't wonder, didn't worry. They don't even know that I have nothing to return to. No home, no family-"

"You don't have a house?" His voice was too loud. She shook her chestnut tresses.

"House, yes. HOME. No." She watched his confused face. She decided to explain. "A house, Malfoy, is nothing but a building. I have one of those. But I have no place to call a home anymore. Some place where I have happiness and protection. It violated that protection the day my parents were killed." At the word 'killed', Draco's face darkened.

"Do you know what…?"

"No. Parallel cuts in threes. That's all." He fell quiet and his face became passive.

"You say no on notices, Granger." She nodded, "You're wrong." Her head snapped up and there was a spark of her old self in her half-glare.

"I noticed."