Chapter One: Overkill
Meaningless. That was the word-there was no other word for it, really. Her life had become meaningless, because he was no longer there. She would have laughed inwardly She couldn't even say his name!
That was the train of thought passing through Hermione's head as she sat, glumly stirring her porridge at the breakfast table. She hadn't eaten a bite, and her parents knew it.
"Would you like some bacon, Hermione, dear?" Hermione's mother asked.
Hermione said nothing, shaking her head slowly.
Emma Granger sighed. "Hermione, this has gone far enough."
Hermione looked up, puzzlement only barely overcoming the haunted and sad look on her face. "What do you mean? I'm just not hungry."
Dan Granger, Hermione's father, barked out a laugh. It was obviously forced. "Hermione, you've been 'not hungry' at half of your meals for the last year! I've corresponded with that Madame Pomphrey at your school, and she's just as concerned as we are!"
Emma looked over. "You've lost nearly fifteen pounds, Hermione! And you weren't exactly heavy before Harry died."
Hermione winced. That name! She couldn't stand to hear it…
Emma pretended not to notice Hermione's pained expression. "And that's not the only problem! You used to read every book you could get your hands on!"
Hermione's face didn't match the indignation that she attempted to express in her voice.
"I still read all the time! I still get top marks, you know I do-"
Dan interjected. "Barely. You barely get 100 percent in your classes. You used to get at least one hundred ten! It may not be the normal idea of bad, but for you it is. And there are only two types of books you read nowadays. School books, and the ones that Harry bought for you." His tone was nearly accusatory.
Hermione decided to make her parents cut to the chase. She knew that they were leading up to something. "What is this all about, anyway? You've known this for a long time. This is the first time you've brought it all up at once." They had mentioned everything offhandedly at least a hundred times before.
Emma sighed. "You're right, as usual, Hermione. Now, a young man is moving in next door. He's eighteen, I believe, since he lives alone. We want you to give him a tour of the neighborhood."
Hermione snorted. "More like, get all buddy-buddy with him to get over my depression. I know as much psychology as you do."
Dan and Emma smiled sheepishly. "Right in one. But that doesn't mean you don't have to give him that tour. He's moving in right now, so scoot!"
Hermione set her spoon down quietly. "Fine. It won't work." She left the table. If she hadn't been so sad, she would have stormed out of the house.
After Hermione left, Emma pulled a piece of wood out of her pocket and flicked it negligently at Hermione's bowl. It floated over to the sink and began to wash itself. Dan flicked a similar piece of wood at his own bowl, and it imitated the action of Hermione's.
Neither of Hermione's parents seemed to realize that they were Muggles.