Disclaimer: Oh how I wish I were J.K.R... Please, oh wise wonderful J.K.R. will you not adopt me? Needless to say, these characters do not belong to me and I am not taking any profit from this. I am just making her characters march to the beat of my drums.

Last Resort

It was the last week of classes for the golden trio. Despite the fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still out there somewhere gathering strength and numbers, this week finds the seventh years of Hogwarts celebrating the imminent graduation. Hermione, Ron, and Harry were in the middle of Professor Flitwick's charms class in the center of a small snowstorm of paper charmed into balls that the students were flinging at one another. Poor Flitwick had already huddled himself under his desk, doing his best to avoid as much of the storm as possible. Some students had found his hiding place, and they had charmed their balls to seek him out. A loud rapping stopped the students in their tracks. Paper suddenly froze in mid-air. Ron stared cross-eyed at the parchment wad that was about to strike him right between the eyes. Headmistress McGonagall stood in the classroom doorway.

"I'm sorry to disrupt your…err…class," McGonagall gazed around at masses of parchment floating throughout the room, "Professor Flitwick?"

"Down here," Flitwick called from under his desk. He had wedged himself in so tightly that with the masses of parchment that had been thrown at him he was completely stuck. The only thing visible from the doorway was a single foot sticking out from under everything.

Rolling her eyes and sighing, McGonagall flicked her wand, sending the parchment encasing the diminutive man flying in all directions. Hitting a few students in the process. Harry snickered as one of the errant pieces smacked Draco right in the back of the head dislodging his ever-perfect hair. Ha! His helmet hair can't even stand up to a stray bit of parchment. Harry openly grinned at his thought. Free from the confines of his temporary prison, Flitwick floundered his way out from under his desk.

"What can I do for you Headmistress?" he inquired calmly, as if he had been teaching the whole time.

"May I borrow Miss Granger? She will not be back to class today." McGonagall replied solemnly.

"Oh, yes. Ah, Miss Granger, please go with the Headmistress," he gestured towards Hermione miming for her to follow McGonagall.

Hermione cast an inquisitory glance at her cohorts. Both boys looked back and shrugged. They were just as clueless as she was about this. Gathering her things, which hadn't even been removed from her bag, she glanced once more towards the class looking for any clue as to why she was being called from class by the headmistress herself, but the empty stares that met her eyes gave her no insight into her situation.

Hermione followed McGonagall through the halls. She made no attempt at conversation as they traveled, and they didn't even look at one another. I wonder what's going on, Hermione thought to herself as they neared the headmistress's office, I haven't done anything wrong. Could it be that I've gotten some sort of scholarship to a college? I have applied for them recently, but I didn't think that it would be McGonagall who gave me that information. Granted, it could be just another oddity of the wizarding world. They approached the gargoyle that had guarded this office long before Professor McGonagall had taken it over just shy of a year ago. Usually it was Harry who was coming or going from this office, not Hermione. The sound of stone on stone filled Hermione's ears as the gargoyle turned revealing the stairs behind it. McGonagall motioned that Hermione should precede her. Ascending the stairs, she could see that a middle-aged man awaited them in the office. Hermione gazed about at the various portraits of previous headmasters, nodding a silent greeting to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore who nodded back, a sad smile gracing his thin lips. The portrait just couldn't quite mimic the twinkle his eyes had held, but while things in the wizarding world were quite ingenious, they just couldn't compete with the real thing. McGonagall held out a seat for Hermione that she sank into gratefully, still trying to fathom the reason why she'd been called here.

"Miss Granger, this is Mr. Montson. He is, well, he is what muggles call a lawyer, but he deals with legal matters involving both wizards and muggles," Hermione stared at her in confusion, "I…well…ahh, I don't quite know how to put this dear, but as you are aware the Death Eaters have been attacking muggles more and more frequently. Last night your hometown was the target of one of their attacks."

Upon seeing the strange man, and the headmistress's odd movements, Hermione had been waiting for the axe to drop. She had expected bad news, but at the mention of Death Eaters, her heart dropped to her shoes. Whatever was to come would not be good news. As soon as she mentioned her home, she waited, silently praying the other shoe wouldn't drop.

"Well, of course the Order was notified, but the Death Eaters were long gone by the time they arrived. All that remained of their activities was the remains, and the dark mark. It hung over the entire town, but it was placed directly above your parents' home. I'm so very sorry Hermione, but your parents are dead." McGonagall spoke as softly as she could. This news was never pleasant to deliver, and doubly nasty because the girl in question was the pride of her own house.

Hermione didn't hear a word as the Headmistress spoke. She knew what the news would be, and she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to believe that while she slept her parents were being tortured and finally murdered. She didn't want to be alone; she was supposed to graduate with top honors from Hogwarts in a week. Her parents were going to be there to congratulate her, and pester her about her choices for college and career. Her mom was going to get all teary-eyed at the thought of her only daughter finally growing up; her dad would give her a hug and tell her how proud he was of her and how she had made all the right decisions. The ever-enthusiastic Molly Weasly and her husband, Arthur, would then greet them and while they chatted, Harry and Ron would complain about the lengthy speeches while she justified them. Then they would all floo to the Burrow where all the Weaslys would show them how a real family party was supposed to be. Late that night, she and her parents would say their good-byes, she'd promise Ron and Harry she'd write, and then she and her parents would floo back to Diagon Alley where they'd walk into muggle London and go home.

In an instant that was gone. There would be no greetings, parties, or quiet rides home. She was alone in the world, completely alone.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall hissed, pointing her chin at Mr. Montson. Evidently, he'd been trying to tell her something that she'd totally ignored.

"Thank you headmistress. As I was saying, due to the nature of your parents' death, all of their funds and assets have been frozen until this whole thing has been investigated thoroughly and the case considered closed by the Minstry of Magic. After that, the proper paperwork must be filed by both you and the Ministry to verify your relationship with the deceased seeing as they are both muggle and yourself a witch, but after that you shall inherit all that was left to you in their will, which, if I read it correctly, is everything save the cost of their funeral and various items they have specifically allocated to other individuals. Now during the time…" Hermione stopped paying attention to the man.

Hermione's attention drifted to the only window in the room. The headmistress's office sat far above the grounds so all that was visible was the bright blue sky with a few lazy white clouds meandering their way along without a care. Off in the distance she could see the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Some skeletal arms still marred the perfect blue of the sky above them, but others held the vibrant green tinge of new leaves. A bright bluebird landed on the window ledge and began to sing his little heart out in the hopes of attracting a mate. Life was returning to the forest at the same time it was stripped away from the people who meant the most to her. It just wasn't fair. The world was supposed to be dark and dreary. The light of the world should have left the moment her parents died, but it had not. Life continued as if nothing had happened. She had even woken up, eaten breakfast, and chattered with her friends as she'd done everyday. How could she not have known?

The closing of a door broke into her reverie once more. Glancing to her left, she saw that the chair next to her was now empty. Evidently, Mr. Montson had said what he needed to say and left leaving in her lap a small sheet of parchment. Who would want to hang around after delivering that type of news? McGonagall was looking at her with an expectant gaze. Birdsong filled the office in the absence of the human voices.

Clearing her throat, McGonagall spoke, "Miss Granger, you need not worry for your schooling. The bill was paid long ago, but seeing as you have no place to go after graduation, for the moment, I would like to give you the option of staying here at Hogwarts for the summer. Normally, we would charge for such a thing, seeing as we need to provide food and what not, but in your case, if you would agree to assist either the house elves or one of the professors, I think we could waive the fees."

Hermione just stared at her. She hadn't even thought that far yet. Not only did she not have her parents, she no longer had a home! What would she do? How would she feed and clothe herself? Her parents had each been only children, and her grandparents had all passed on years ago. There's no way I can go to college now! I could never pay for it myself, and I know my parents didn't have all that much money in the first place. The scholarships I have will cover the tuition but I couldn't pay for room and board or books, and no bank, even Gringotts, would give a loan to an eighteen year old kid with no assets without a relative to co-sign it. Not to mention the fact I don't want a loan. The idea of borrowing money from people I don't even know and having that over my head is just frightening. What am I going to do?

"Miss Granger…Hermione, I know that this is all a lot to comprehend, but please know that we professors understand, and we're here to help you," McGonagall looked at her young charge worriedly.

Finally coming fully out of her thoughts Hermione replied, "I understand, Headmisstress, but I don't need the charity of the professors. I would honestly prefer that they treated me the same as they did yesterday. I will probably need to stay here over the summer, and I will accept the terms of your agreement should it be necessary. As you know I do not have any other living relatives that I know of that I could stay with. If you don't mind, I have classes I need to attend."

McGonagall nodded, and she stood to leave. However, just as she went to step onto the staircase leading back into the school, the headmistress's voice sounded from behind her.

"Hermione, dear, are you ok?" she asked, her normally emotionless eyes clouded with worry.

"I am as well as anyone could be in my position. I will be just fine, Headmistress, thank you," Hermione turned back to the stairs and descended back into the school.

Minerva slumped back into her seat. This is not what I had expected. Not that I don't mind it, it does beat having to coddle and cosset a hysterical student, but she most definitely should not have clammed up like that. Hmmm, well, I do recall one muggle psychologist who mentioned something about grief and various phases. Ohh, what was her name? Robert? No, it was a woman, Roberta. Roberta… Roberta… Temes! That's it. I should look that up. With that thought, she set to calling books to her desk only to be interrupted half-way through by an insistent Poppy Pomfrey. Evidently someone in Slytherin thought it would be funny to place a waxing charm on the stairwells.

"You're late, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffendor. You may be graduating at the end of this week, but it is not an excuse for tardiness," Professor Snape drawled.

Hermione simply took her seat and opened her satchel to get out her paper and book, and she proceeded to start on her potion without a word.

"Psst!" Harry hissed.

No response. Hermione was truly lost in her work this time. Well it was probably because she needed to catch up after being late. He wondered why she didn't even bother to tell Snape that she was with the Headmistress. Snape had deducted points for no reason and she'd just done nothing about it. That wasn't normal. He wanted to know what happened up there, but obviously it was going to have to wait until after class. Thankfully that would only be a few more minutes.

"Time is up. Bottle the concoctions you call potions, and leave the vials on my desk. Then clean each of your stations. You may leave only when your station is completely clean," Snape instruction with a desultory wave of his hand.

Harry and Ron rushed to bottle their potions and clean their stations. Ron had managed to spill some ingredient all over their table and hadn't cleaned it up immediately. Now the stuff was attached to the table as if someone had painted it on. Try as they might the stuff wouldn't come up. Finally, Ron tried using his wand to clean it, but he only succeeded in turning the offending material a rather vibrant shade of pink. Puzzled the boys just stared at the vibrant stain keeping them in the dubious company of the potions master. A swish of curly brown hair and a flash of scarlet and gold were all that Ron and Harry caught of their co-conspirator. Without a word or even an attempt to help them, she was out the door and gone.

"You'd think she'd at least give us a hint! The nerve. Walkin' out on us like that," Ron griped as he stared at the stain totally vexed.

"Something's not right with her, Ron." Harry mused more to himself than his friend glancing towards the empty doorway.

"Blimey, if we don't get this stuff off soon, we're gonna miss part of supper! I don't want to be left with what everyone else has already picked over. Stupid stain, why won't you come off!" Ron mumbled under his breath as he continued to scrub the stain which was slowly turning a lighter shade.

Ron continued to grumble and finally resorted to grabbing a scrubbing brush and trying to scour the stain away. Harry tried to put his mind to the task, but he couldn't help but worry for his friend. Finally, when Professor Snape's back was turned, he transfigured the table to make it appear as if the table had been cleaned. Grabbing his bag he darted off. So what if the spell wore off. Right now his friend was more important than detention, even if it was with Filch.

To his dismay, Hermione wasn't at supper, nor was she in her room. Whatever the news had been, it had to be bad. He was certain of that much, but knowing Hermione, she had just gone off somewhere to be alone so she could come to terms with whatever it was. He'd find out in due time. Comforting himself just slightly, Harry donned his pajamas and crawled into bed to the melodious tune of Ron's completely oblivious snoring.

Hermione sat on the shore of the lake just outside the castle. To hell with the risks, this was the only truly peaceful spot on the grounds right now. While her face and body seemed to be relaxed her mind was fighting a war with her emotions on the inside

They can't be gone. It has to be some sort of cruel joke.

But why did the headmistress bring you to her office? And that other guy seemed awfully official looking.

Someone made it look like they were killed. Probably smeared paint or animal blood all over the house to make it look like…

But there were bodies. There had to be otherwise there would have been no official statement from the Ministry. They would have been declared missing or kidnapped and a search would have ensued.

There weren't bodies! There was no mention of them in the letter! Either way my life as I know it is over. I'll be indentured just to keep my head above water.

But you have your inheritance. That should be worth something.

Ha! Remember, the 'lawyer' said that all the assets are frozen until they figure out what happened. Knowing the muggle system, it will be years before I see a penny. Besides, my parents weren't the richest people alive, and not to mention their savings will be in muggle currency. I don't care about the stupid inheritance anyways. I'd give it all just to have them back.

So you admit they're gone.

Fine! They're gone; I admit it. The Death Eaters just did it to get at Harry through me.

But why not go to them… That way you'll be happy, or at least you won't hurt anymore and Harry won't have to worry about you.

Hermione's thoughts stopped cold at that. That was the easy way out, but that's what made it so tempting. It would stop the pain, the loss, and she'd never have to worry about things ever again, but no, that was irresponsible and immature, and she was anything but that.