Chapter One: Too Long Introduction
It was a strangely cold for summer. The sky was overcast;
dark storm clouds littered the sky and formed a kind of
umbrella which prevented most of the warm sun rays from
getting through. The atmosphere was eerie, and a feeling
of gloom seemed to hang over everything and everyone.
A lone figure could be seen standing at one of the
second-floor windows of a semi detached house, her brown
hair bushy hair making her appear larger and easy to spot
from a distance. Her face was young, but had a hardened
look about it which indicated she had not had smiled in
many days. Hermione Granger was staring up at the darkened
sky, but due to the absence of the sun, her mood was not
lifted even slightly. On the contrary, it made her feel
worse. It had been only 3 days since she had returned home
from Hogwarts; three days since the term ended early after
Dumbledore's burial.
Hermione walked absentmindedly over to her bed and flung
herself face down on top of the covers. She buried her
face in her pillow; the pink, fluffy type with lace around
the edges that you would never find on a male's bed; and
she tried to blink back the tears that were always on the
verge of falling since she arrived home. She rubbed her
eyes on the pillow, a little forcefully perhaps. She had
to learn to stop the tears. She had cried openly at
Dumbledore's funeral, as did many people. She had come
home and cried some more. The time had come for her to
fight back the grief she had let take control of her,
that she was powerless to stop sweeping over her, but
now she had to be strong. There was a lot to do, what
with the remaining horcruxes still out there, waiting
to be found and destroyed. Harry would need her to be
brave, and she was going to be.
She lifted her head out from her pillow and looked towards
her bed-side table, where a framed moving photograph
rested. Propping herself up onto her elbows, she reached
out and clutched the frame in both her hands, then drew
it back closer to her face. The picture showed herself,
standing with her best friends on each side of her. Harry,
slightly taller, was standing to the left of her in the
photograph, while Ron, who was almost a full head taller
than both of them, was to her right. They were all beaming
and waving up at her, Ron with one of his arms slung over
Hermione's shoulder, his bright red hair clashing
brilliantly with his black school robes, and along with
his height making him stand out vividly in the photograph.
Hermione grinned a little, as she watched her two friends
waving and smiling, as though they had just won the
Gryffindor house cup and the Quidditch cup to boot.
Despite it having only been 3 days since she said goodbye
to them on platform 9 and ¾, she missed them terribly.
While her two male friends were not as overly helpful
when dealing with feelings and sympathy the way girls
are, she missed the friendship, the familiarity, and
the hugs.
Her eyes lingered on Harry briefly, beaming and waving
so furiously that he occasionally had to push his round,
black-framed glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose.
How would Harry be feeling now? He had returned to his
Aunt and Uncle's house for probably the last time ever,
as Dumbledore had instructed him to before his death,
and Hermione was worried about what he must be going
through, alone but for his Aunt and Uncle and his cousin
Dudley; alone to ponder what had happened, and what
was still to come.
Though they knew little about the wizarding world,
Hermione's parents had been a valuable and
understanding source of comfort to her those past 3
days. Hermione had been careful in what she told her
parents; she merely said her school's headmaster had
died whilst neglecting to mention he was murdered.
She did not want them to worry about her too much.
The sympathy and support of two loving parents was
something she knew Harry would not be receiving,
especially from his horrid Aunt and Uncle.
Hermione shifted her gaze to Ron and watched him grin
back at her. Ron had more things even than her to be
miserable about right now. In addition to everything
else, Ron and his family would be all worrying about
Bill, Ron's most eldest brother, who had been victim
of a unique werewolf attack. No one knew exactly what
would happen; if Bill will become a werewolf himself,
or if his mutilated face will ever be restored back
to what it was; Hermione could not even guess how
much the Weasleys must be suffering. She touched
the photograph figure of Ron lightly with her thumb,
and her heart wept for him.
She lay there on her bed for she doesn't know how
long, thinking of many things, whilst trying not to
think at all. She thought about Harry, about how
long he would want to be left alone, to dwell on
the loss of Dumbledore, and on the path he must
soon take. She knew that, however reluctant,
Harry planned to remain at Privet Drive for at
least a week, which meant four more days at least.
She had considered sending him a message by owl,
or even calling him on the telephone a few times,
to enquire on how he was coping, but she felt this
was not a good idea.
Firstly, she knew Harry's Uncle would probably react
angrily, possibly even violently, in response to
Harry receiving any more telephone calls as he had
years ago when Ron had called him. Secondly,
though, Hermione knew that Harry had a lot to deal
with, more than her and more than Ron, and she knew
it would be best to let him get his thoughts into
place and overcome his grief alone without her
interference.
There was a gentle tap on the window, and Hermione
jumped, startled but the sound which broke the
silence. She turned and saw Pigwidgeon, Ron's
tiny pet owl perched on the outside sill. Usually
noisy and energetic, Hermione was surprised to
find Pig so calm and well-behaved. Was even Pig
feeling this sorrow that everyone else was? She
got up off her bed and walked over to the window,
opening it so that Pig could hop in.
"Hello, Pig, what do you have there?" asked
Hermione softly, untying a scroll of parchment
tied to his tiny leg. She unrolled it, and began
to read:
Hermione,
I know this is probably the last thing on your
mind right now, and I would not expect you to want
to come over this soon, but Mum has asked me to
invite you to stay, whenever you would like, or
when you are ready. She says it must be tough for
you there, without any other witches or wizards to
talk to about... what happened. We understand if you
do not want to, but the offer is there. She said we
should wait a while before inviting Harry, though,
what with the protection spell, and also needing
time to himself.
Everyone here is busy. The wedding is still going
ahead, and it is pretty hectic at times! Mum is
almost going menta from the stress of arranging
things, especially since she and Fleur keep
disagreeing on stuff like the types of flowers
to have at the wedding. I could use your company
if you want to come.
Take care,
Ron
Hermione finished reading the letter, then lowered
the parchment. She had forgotten that the wedding
was still taking place. It sounded like The Burrow
would be really frantic. Hermione could just
picture Mrs Weasley now, running around all over
the place, shouting at everyone and trying to do
a hundred things at once. She and Fleur would
probably be on the verge of butting heads with
all the disagreements. She grinned despite
herself, then cast another look outside the
window at the overcast sky. Maybe a trip to The
Burrow is what she needed to distract herself,
to take her mind off all the sorrow.
Hermione went to ask her parents if it was alright
for her to go. Her parents shared a look of
concerned and disappointed. Over the past 6 years
they had watched her, their eldest daughter,
slowly drift away from them, as though an
invisible wedge had been driven between them.
Mr and Mrs Granger, as muggles, knew little about
the wizarding world, and although Hermione had
often tried to explain to them about Hogwarts
and magic and the like, they really did not
understand it much. This contributed to the
distance that had gradually grew between them.
Despite all of this, they were very proud of
Hermione, and they knew she could get the
emotional support they could not provide her
at The Burrow. They agreed to let her go,
and so she rushed back upstairs to send a
reply message to Ron via Pigwidgeon.
End of chapter 1
Author's note
Thanks for reading this chapter. This is an
idea I came up with last night, and will
like to continue if I get some positive
feedback. Please review, I welcome all
kinds of comments, whether they are
positive, negative, pointing out spelling
or grammatical errors, or incorrect facts
about the Harry Potter books.