A/N: Okay, here's the deal. This is my first fic, so keep that in mind while you're reading. Also, I realize that this is a pretty short chapter, more like a prologue then anything else, but tell me what you think of it. Will eventually be Draco/Hermione, but I'm not there yet! Constructive Critisism is greatly appreciated. Saying "It's boring" doesn't help much. Tell me WHATS boring about it. The same goes for compliments (I must be crazy to think I might get compliments, but I can dream, can't I?) Don't tell me it's good, tell mw WHATS good (I think it's obvious that saying "UPDATE SOON!", while encouraging, doesn't help). I want to improve my writing, while still giving you something interesting to do. Long, boring, note I know, sorry! Anyway, enjoy it!

Also, don't expect me to update soon (sorry).

Summary: One, such a small number, such large consequences. One murder, one love, one decision.

ONE

Chapter One: Murder and breakfast

Hermione Granger woke up one morning to find herself shivering in bed. She pulled the covers closer, not wanting to get up and close the window.

"Go figure" she thought "It's the middle of July and the weather decides to drop to 50 degrees, and to think, I thought it would be warm today!"

Hermione had learned long ago, however, never to count on anything, you just couldn't! You couldn't count on the weather to be warm in the summer, on the sun to always shine, on parents to always be there... she pushed that thought aside and reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. Hermione walked over and closed her window, once again noting the weather. It was a dark, dreary day and the clouds were threatening to rain. It was one of those days were you wanted to curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a book. That though, was out of the question thought Hermione as she looked longingly at the pile of new books on her nightstand. She had work today. Sighing, she walked out of her room and into the kitchen. Her mother was standing by the stove cooking eggs and bacon for breakfast. Crook shanks was at her feet, grudgingly eating the cat food he was now fed, and eyeing the eggs.

"Morning Mum!" said Hermione.

"Good morning dear" her mother replied in a tired voice. Everything about her mom had been tired lately, and it showed. She was often distracted, and her once young face had acquired many bags and wrinkles. Her shoulder length chestnut hair was knotted and greasy...and her eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes, had lost all the joy they once held. Hermione remembered exactly when this all started too, right down to the minute. It was 8:35 pm on the night of July 1st, and Hermione and her mother had been sitting up waiting for her dad to come home. She was reading one of the books that was currently gathering dust on her bedstand "20 of the Most Important Magical Discoveries of Our Time" while her mother watched the tele...then the phone rang.

"Granger residence, Jane speaking." Hermione watched as the color slowly drained from her mothers face.

"Yes...are you sure? Yes...of course, we'll be right down." Jane Granger slowly turned and faced her daughter...

...

They blamed it on a broken spine, but Hermione knew it was nothing of the sort. No, she knew the look of somone who had been killed by magic, though she herself had never saw it, until now. Fell down the stairs, bah! Yes he fell, but he was dead long before he hit the ground. Avada Kedarva killed instantly. She knew, of course, that Voldemort went after muggles... but she never thought... but she shoulld have expected it! She was one of Harry Potters best friends! Voldemort did his research, found where she was, and then, he struck.

...

Dressed all in black, Hermione stared at the lifeless body of her father. She remebered every minute she ever spent with him. There weren't many. He was always away, workshops, overtime, trips to America... but she cherished the time she did have with him. Every Sunday he was home, he would always bring Hermione to a bookshop, a different one each time. Tiny shops, chains, second hand stores... how she had loved those Sundays! Her father had understood her thirst for knowledge and helped her along. It was why Hermione always did well in school; she couldn't let down her father! Her father, who was never around, her father, who understood, her father... who was lying here dead in a casket. She couldn't help it, she broke down. Hysteric sobs escaped her and the tears flowed down her cheeks as they never had before. She felt someone gently take her arm and lead her away from the ceremony.

"Darling it's O.K. I'm here." whispered her mother. Hermione looked up and saw that her mother's eyes were filled to the brim with tears.

"We'll get through this together." she said, and attempted a brave smile.

"You and I... we'll be okay. We will!" she said again as though trying to convince herself also.

"We will."

...

Many changes were made after the funeral. Without a second income, they couldn't afford the mortgage on their house. So, they sold it, and now lived in a small apartment in a boarding house. Her mother started to work longer hours and opened the dentists' office on Saturdays also. Hermione did her share by getting a job as a waitress in a small coffee shop. She wanted to contribute as much as possible before she went back to Hogwarts. Sunday was really the only day Hermione and her mother had to spend time anymore, and soon that time would be gone also. Hermione was almost glad of her busy new schedule, it left almost know time to think, to reflect on her grief. Never being home made it easy to never have to confront her mom about it also. She didn't want to have to talk about it. She kept to herself, not saying much, and trying, hard, to do something she had never done before... not think.

At night, though, it all caught up with her. All the grief came flooding back and a fresh wave of tears poured out. More often then not, she blamed herself. "If only I hadn't been a witch! Maybe he wouldn't have been killed then, if it weren't for that!" or "If only I had been there, I could have at least given him a fighting chance!" Sometimes, she even blamed Harry...Harry, who the Dark Lord hated above all others. He-who-must-not-be-named would do anything to hurt Harry... even if it didn't hurt him directly. Killing his best friends father was and ideal way to stir things up. Then she felt ashamed of herself "It's not Harry's fault, he didn't ask for this, and he would never do anything that would harm me."

"Honey, do you want salt on your eggs?" said Mrs.Granger, bringing Hermione out of her thoughts.

"Yes mum, thanks." staring at her mom Hermione was sure of something. Her 6th year at Hogwarts would be one of the toughest by far.

A/N: So...what did you think?