Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

*this story takes place in 1980*

Chapter 1: The Fall

Hermione did not know them, that was the couple staring up at her from the muggle photograph. Of course she knew their names and their relations but that was not really knowing somebody, was it?

When she was very young she'd gone through a phase in which she demanded to know everything. Her great aunt Maurice, being a slightly harsh but sensible woman, had described it all with little concern for her age. She had told Hermione in a very monotone voice, that the people in the photograph were George and Jean Granger, that they were her parents, and that they were dead.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"But why are they dead, Aunt Maurice?" The little girl with brown ringlets for hair demanded, stomping her foot loudly on the floor. "Why?"

The old woman sighed wearily. "Because they were unhappy."

"Just unhappy?"

"Doomed is more like it." She said with a distressed nostalgia. "You're father killed your mother, Hermione. Shot her in her sleep and then- and then turned the gun on himself. You don't remember it and that is a blessing in itself. Now I've had enough of this nonsense, shoo! Go work on your lessons."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Hermione shuddered. She had been given the photograph that day. It was creased in odd places, torn at the right corner and faded majorly from years of studying, but it was everything she had of them.

Once, Hermione had asked Aunt Maurice for another picture but the woman had only scoffed and not so politely explained that she absolutely could not have anything of theirs in her house, after all she already had Hermione. Aunt Maurice had also enlightened the girl as to what the fate of a bit of their things was. She said, "All those photographs stroked my fire rather nicely. I can not imagine why I had that one- it must have been from the wedding invitation, mind you I didn't go, I always knew that boy was trouble and I told your mother so but she surely did not listen to me and look where that got her!"

Hermione sighed. Look where it got her indeed, look where it got both of them.

It was the eve of their death, needless to say she couldn't sleep. Hermione's feelings toward them were strange. She didn't know them so she could not exactly feel sad about it. She could however feel sorry for herself, sorry for all the things she missed out on and, logically, it would be insensitive not to acknowledge the date at all.

All the other girls in the seventh year, Gryfindor dorm were asleep, their breathing was slow and steady. It had to be nearing or past midnight and she had a full day ahead. Hermione closed her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to sleep.

The next morning Hermione was feeling incredibly tired and actually quite ill. She sat down unhappily at her house's table in the great hall, satisfied with being alone, only to be joined shortly by two of her closest friends. Nymphadora Tonks and Grace Drake.

"Morning." She mumbled grumpily.

Nymphadora cocked an eyebrow, smothering a piece of toast with grape jam. "Well, it's lovely to see you too!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, aren't you supposed to be at the Huffelpuff table? I'm sure they'll have trumpets and confetti for you there."

"What's confetti?"

"Never mind."

There was a bit of a silence. Grace cleared her throat. "Dora and I are going to the match today, I was going to ask if you wanted to come along but now I suppose not."

Hermione thought it over. She was being a bit of a brat, the date called for it but maybe if she got her mind off of death and murder and loneliness she be able to function normally after all. Besides she hadn't been to a match in a year. "I'll go with you, yeah."

"I just hope you know, Hermione," Nymphadora started sympathetically,"Gryfindor's not having the best season."

"Ugh, Dora, I'm not that clueless." She snipped. "It doesn't surprise me. Ever since James Potter left..." Hermione trailed off, noticing the blush on Grace's cheeks. "Are we honestly back to that?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The James thing?" Nymphadora said knowingly, mouth full. "Sorry to break it to you, Grace. The bloke didn't even know you existed."

Grace spluttered. "He handed me my quill once."

"Well you might as well get married, then." Nymphadora's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Oh that's right, he is married."

"I really can't stand you sometimes." Grace sighed.

After more bickering- from everybody, the three walked down to the Quidditch pitch and took seats on the front row.

Ravenclaw was the first to score and Nymphadora nearly got tossed out as she had decided to root for the team that was winning while standing on the other's side. It was rather cold and the wind gusted so violently that one of Ravenclaw's chasers got knocked off his broom. His arm was visibly broken and then the match was suspended for half an hour. They played for another hour, tied, another, still tied.

"For heavens sake!" Hermione moaned, leaning weakly on the railing. The noise of the previous hours had given her a headache so strong she felt as if she may faint. "How much longer can this go on?"

"Oh, I'd say a couple of months."

Hermione spun around, immediately recognizing a familiar voice.

"Professor!" She exclaimed, steadying herself clumsily.

McGonagall flashed a small smile at the girl's flustered manner. "I see you've managed to keep Miss. Tonks safe from the angry mob."

"Well, she certainly hasn't made that easy."

Dora shrugged innocently.

"I wonder, are you feeling quite alright, Hermione?" Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, she had quickly taken in to account her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

Hermione shrugged. "To be honest, no."

"Oh what a relief, I won't have to fight you on it. Come along then, we'll get straight to Madam Pomfrey."

Professor McGonagall began to push her way through the sea of students, jerking furiously when the crowd erupted into a cohesive roar. Gryfindor had finally scored, the match was over. She turned to grab Hermione's wrist but found that the girl was no longer standing near the rail, she had fainted over it and now lay motionless below.

Hermione came to slowly. Her vision adjusted to the white brightness of the room after a series of squints and she suddenly realized she lay in some sort of hospital.

"Bloody hell." She moaned over the blood pounding in her ears, slapping her hand over her eyes.

There was a quick clicking of heels and then a soft voice by her side. "There now, Miss. Granger." The woman cooed, placing a cool cloth on her forehead. "Stay still and I'll get you something for that headache."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a raspy voice.

"You fainted, my dear, at the Quidditch match yesterday."

"Quidditch?"

"Yes, Miss. Granger. Now drink this."

After the woman helped her sit up, Hermione accepted the vile.

"Ugh." She choked on the taste. "What was that?"

"A headache potion, Miss. Granger." The woman explained again, this time more slowly and watching the girl closely.

Hermione groaned once more, weakly falling back onto the pillows. "Why do I have such a bad headache?"

"Because you hit your head very hard."

"How?"

The woman inched closer, illuminating the tip of her wand and instructing the girl to follow it with her eyes. A few moments into the exam, Hermione began to cry.

The woman cancelled the spell quickly and sat down on the edge of bed. "What is it, dear?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" She wept with confusion. "Where is this? Who are you?"

The woman gasped, although the noise was quickly smothered. "This is Hogwarts, dear and I'm Madam Pomfrey. Can you tell me your name?"

Hermione furrowed her brow, her breath coming more and more quickly. "No. No I can't remember."

A/N: I'm rewriting this story which is old and from my previous account. If you're confused keep reading! Please review!