Day 159

The girls hadn't hear anything from Harry for over a week, and it was taking it's toll. Every time an owl flew into the shop or knocked on the window, Hermione rushed to receive it with an expectant look on her face, only to deflate as soon as she saw that it wasn't from Harry.

Her nights were plagued with anxious thoughts and dreams of everything that could go wrong, she tossed and turned for hours, until she deemed it an acceptable hour to get up and start her day. Fred did his best to help her, but all he could really offer was reassurances that Harry would be home soon and comfort from the nightmares.

Ginny wasn't faring much better, showing up at the flat early in the mornings and staying late in the evening. She had spent more than a few nights on their couch, and on occasion even kicked Fred out of his own bed. But while both girls spent their nights in fitful dreams, their days were filled to the point of running themselves ragged.

Ginny had committed every hour she could to Quidditch practice, training harder than anyone else on the team and pushing herself to her limit every day. On more than one occasion her coach had tried to get her to slow down, only to have her turn around and push even harder the next day.

Hermione was dealing with her anxieties in a similar way, throwing herself into creating new products and improving on the ones she had already completed. When she wasn't inventing, she was working on the books or filling owl orders. At least once a day she cleaned the workshop from top to bottom, and dinner had become a continuous three course affair.

She was in the middle of preparing one of these meals when an owl knocked at the window, a roll of parchment with the Ministry's seal attached to its leg.

Expecting to find news about Harry, Hermione abandoned the stove and rushed to the window.

What she found when she opened the parchment roll, however, had nothing to do with her friend.

Dear Miss Granger,

We are writing to request a meeting with you in regards to the investigation of your parent's disappearance. Please reply by this owl with your earliest availability.

Regards,

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Hermione read the note three times, hoping that she had read it wrong and this wasn't what she thought it was- the prelude to a death notice. Each time she looked over the words, however, they stayed exactly the same and it was with shaking hands that she scribbled a note on the back saying she would be there at 8:30 the next morning and sent the owl on its way.

They were dead. The Aurors had found her parents in Australia and they were dead. She shouldn't have been surprised. It had been months since there had been any sign of them, she had been prepared for this moment for more than a year- at least she thought she was.

"Something smells good," George called, throwing open the apartment door. "Did you make a pie?"

"Blueberry," Hermione nodded, still staring out the window in the direction the owl had gone.

"You alright?"

"Fine," another nod. "Can you take the pie out of the oven in about ten minutes?"

"Sure, but-"

Before he could say anything else, Hermione pushed past him to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Back in the kitchen, she could hear Fred and George chatting aimlessly, she could smell the pie in the oven, feel the floor under her feet and the cold porcelain of the sink against her palms. Everything was exactly the same as it had been fifteen minutes earlier, but she felt like she had fallen into some sort of alternative universe- like Alice through the looking glass.

"Hermione?" Fred knocked on the door, jarring her back to reality. "I think your pie's done, but I'm not sure."

"I'll be out to get it in a second," she called.

She splashed some water on her face and held her hands up to ensure they had stopped shaking, then unlocked the door and rejoined her flat mates.

"I think it's done," Fred repeated, pointing to the pie he had pulled out of the oven. "It smelled like it was starting to burn."

"It looks good," Hermione agreed. "Go wash up and I'll set the table."

As Fred passed the window, the ministry owl returned and tapped it's beak impatiently against the glass.

"Keep your feathers on," he scolded the bird. "Hermione, it's for you."

She gave him a tight smile and took the letter.

"What's it say?"

"I have a meeting at the Ministry tomorrow," she said quietly. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"When's the meeting?"

"First thing, 8:30."

"Right," Fred nodded. "George can open the shop so I can go with you."

"That's alright," Hermione shook her head. "You don't have to do that."

"Hermione," he took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. "You're not doing this alone."

She turned her cheek into his palm for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."

"It'll be alright, love," he kissed her forehead. "Come on, let's have some supper."

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Hermione didn't sleep that night, despite her best efforts. Fred had offered her a sleeping potion, but she had refused, knowing it would give her nightmares. When he finally convinced her to come to bed around one in the morning, she simply tossed and turned for a couple hours before getting up again. When George got up at 3 to use the toilet, he found her curled up in her armchair with a book.

"You alright?" he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Couldn't sleep," Hermione shrugged, not looking up from her book.

He nodded and continued on his way, used to seeing her up in the middle of the night. When he came back through the room a few minutes later, however, he saw that she was crying.

"Okay, what's going on?" he asked, pulling the footstool over and sitting in front of her.

"I'm fine," she quickly wiped her eyes. "It's just a sad book."

Not believing her, George lifted the volume so he could see the spine.

"Hogwarts: A History is sad?"

"Yes it is," she sniffed. "And you can't say I'm lying because you've never read it."

"Oh contraire, mon petite Herms," he smirked. "I have, in fact, read it in its entirety. Thought there might be some sort of useful information in there. So I know, for a fact, that there's nothing sad about it. You're worried about your meeting?"

Hermione nodded, still not looking up from the book.

"Fred said the letter didn't have any specifics. How do you know you should be worried?"

"Well they're not just going to put it in the post, are they?" she scoffed. "That's not how you tell someone their parents are dead."

"You don't know that that's what they're going to say," George argued. "Maybe they've got a new lead and they want to keep you informed."

"You should go back to bed," Hermione shook her head. "You have to be up early."

"So should you."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he got up and kissed the top of her head. "But you will be."