For Em.

For the Piñata Challenge (Hermione)

Word Count: 782


Hermione grips the newspaper in her hand as they approach. Though it's there in print, she still can't bring herself to believe the words.

Hand trembling, Hermione wipes the tears from her eyes, taking a deep breath that fails to steady her nerves. When she left for Australia a week ago, she'd expected to find her parents happy and safe, living an ordinary life. Instead, their journey has lead them to a graveyard, and the names etched into the marble match the aliases she'd given her parents nearly a year ago.

"They were supposed to come back," she whispers.

"Hermione, I…" Ron lets the sentence dangle, and she's grateful. She doesn't know how to accept pity or comfort right now.

"They were supposed to be safe here."

Though the newspaper is folded, obscuring the article, she can still see the headline, as though it's been permanently embedded in her eyes. Two Dead In Fiery Crash.

Ron wraps a gentle arm around her, letting the silence hang between them. Hermione sniffles, turning her head to wipe her eyes on his shoulder.

"It's not right," she says. "The names… The place. They were supposed to be buried by Nana Granger. And they… They…"

He holds her closer, his touch warm and familiar, the only thing that keeps the world from falling away.

Wendell and Monica Wilkins moved to Canberra only three months prior to this tragic event.

She was supposed to keep them safe. Instead, she sent them to their deaths.

As if reading her mind, Ron presses a kiss to her forehead. "You couldn't have known, Hermione."

She shakes her head. "I should have! I should have looked into traffic fatalities and- and-"

The sentence dies, fading into a scream. She should have considered other risks. But what could she have done about them? Something. Surely she could have found a way to keep them safe.

"I could have sent an Order member with them," she says. "Moody could have lived if I'd-"

"Do you really think he'd want to be taken out of the fight like that?" Ron interrupts.

She glares at him. This is so backwards. Ron isn't supposed to be the clever one, the one who deals in logic. And yet, even if she doesn't want to admit it, he's right.

They left behind no known family.

But they did. And they never even knew it.

"I made them forget about me," she says.

"You were trying to keep them safe," he tells her, his thumb brushing lightly over her shoulder.

She knows he's right. She tried her best and did everything within her power to keep them safe. Wars have casualties, and not all of them are soldiers who die on the front line.

And yet she can't find a way to forgive herself.

"Can I have a moment alone?" she asks.

Ron places a chaste kiss on her lips and slowly, almost hesitantly, backs away. "Whatever you need," he assures her. "I'll be in car."

She waits several moments, long after his footfalls have faded, before dropping to her knees, her forehead resting against the marble. Hermione takes a deep breath, warm tears staining her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I should have found a way to look after you better. I just… I thought everything would be okay."

It feels silly to talk to the headstones. Hermione doesn't know where she stands on the afterlife anymore, but her parents believed in Heaven. She clings to that, trying to find hope in the fact that maybe they're able to hear her wherever they are.

"The war is over. We won," she tells them, her voice almost bitter.

Won. With all the losses they faced, it hardly feels like a victory. The war still haunts her, creeping into her dreams whenever she closes her eyes.

"I thought I'd find you and restore your memories. We were going to be a happy family again."

No known family.

Her heart aches as the words from the article echo in her mind. She wonders if they had friends here. Judging by the simple bouquet of yellow roses, she has to assume someone cared for them here.

"I didn't want it to be like this. You were supposed to come home," she sobs, her body shuddering. "You were supposed to come back to me."

The silence feels so heavy. She almost expects her parents to step out from behind the headstones, laughing and assuring her it's all just a silly game of hide and seek.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

Ron takes her hand when she climbs into the car. She squeezes it, tears still falling freely.

"Let's go home," she whispers.