Coming To Terms

The journey back to the Granger's home was a tedious drive. Hermione wished she could just sleep the journey away and avoid her parents unusually probing questions, but given she had slept almost all of the journey to Kings Cross Station, her eyes couldn't even close to pretend. She avoided as many questions as possible, pretending she was reading her book, oblivious to the world around her. But her parents knew different, the pink tinge to her cheeks made it obvious she heard every single question. In the rear view mirror Andrew Granger saw the silent tears trickle down his daughter's face and sighed in resignation. He glanced over at his wife and pressed a finger to his lips. Miranda Granger turned carefully to glance back at her daughter, she too spied the tears and decided to distract herself with her phone.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, much to Hermione's relief. Her seatbelt was undone before her father had even switched the engine off. She raced to the back of the car and levitated her trunk out of the boot, internally thanking her father for having the common sense to park in the garage. She whistled for Crookshanks; her perminantlely dishevelled looking cat, as she went upstairs. Floating her incredibly heavy trunk up to her room, she quietly shut the door behind her. Feigning unpacking, she collapsed onto her bed, suddenly feeling exhausted, even though she'd spent most of the day asleep. In less than 24 hours she felt like her world had fallen apart. Even though Albus Dumbledore was only the Hogwarts Headmaster, he was still one of the only people who truly encouraged her to expand her knowledge as best as she could. To read her way into infamousy as the brightest witch of her age. Although it was something she would never own up to, she felt a certain amount of pleasure at being regarded someone so intelligent, that noone else in her generation could compare.

Deciding that she really needed to take her mind away from the disaster that had been yesterday, she chose to actually unpack her belongings from her trunk. She decided to unpack everything the muggle way. It was incredibly tedious and took her the best part of an hour and a half, but it was mundane enough to distract her from her own thoughts. Just as she was shoving her now empty trunk into the bottom of her linen closet, she heard her mother calling her name at the bottom of the stairs. Peeking her head out from around her bedroom door, she called back.

"Yes mother?"

"We're just putting dinner onto the table, if you want some, then you need to come down now."

"I'll be down in two seconds! I just want to wash my face first." She called back down the stairs. Nipping into the bathroom at the end of the hall she splashed warm then cold water onto her face, awakening her senses a bit more. After gently patting her face and hands dry with her indigo fluffy towels, she wandered off downstairs to the smell of heaven.

The beautiful aroma of mousakka and garlic bread intensified when she got to the dining room. Her parents were already seated waiting patiently for her to join them, she quickly sat down and smiled at them to start eating. Glancing around the room as she served herself a large helping of mousakka, she smiled at the photos of her childhood upon the walls. Her favourite photo was of her on her 5th birthday, sat on the porch steps that led out into the back garden. It was one of the only photos that actually showed just how large the Granger home was.

Her parents were the most sought after dentists in the whole of the south of England and were world renound for the smiles they gave people. The had quite a large number of celebrity clientele, which meant money wasn't something they were short of. This was remarkably obvious in their beautiful home. It was a three storey victorian house; not including the wine cellar and the attic, with four well sized bedrooms and the master suite. Hermione had the whole third floor all to herself, with her own private bathroom, linen closet, study, guest bedroom and then her own bedroom, which included a walk in wardrobe and ensuite.

However, other than when her cousin used to come and stay, it was usually a remarkably lonely house, her parents were cold and beligerent. More interested in their work lives and each other, than they were in her. They had high expectations of her; she had to get the best grades, failure wasn't option. She had to be perfect to make them proud, which typically meant she had no friends. She wasn't overly popular in primary school, having to be the top of the class and smarter than the other kids earned her a variety of nicknames, and a dramatic lack of friends. She'd had three best friends; Lucinda, Rowan and Meredith, so girly sleepovers were a frequent thing before she got her letter from Hogwarts. But due to her new education away from muggle Secondary schools, she lost contact with all bar Meredith. Even then, due to Meredith being a Muggle, Hermione wasn't as close with her as she used to be. This led to quite a lot of loneliness, as all her Hogwarts friend were usually far to busy being with their own familes, to visit during holidays. The exception to this being Ginny Weasley.

Ginny frequently visited the Granger home, at least once a fortnight during the holidays, and even more frequently if she was arguing with the rest of the Weasley siblings. There was a fantastic photo of her and Ginny stood outside of Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley with their arms linked and Pigwidgeon, the latest Weasley owl, perched on Ginny's head. The two of them were smiling at something Harry had said just out of shot.

There were also a varity of photos of family members on the wall, most of them she knew but a few she didn't. The photo she cherished the most was of her aunt Lydia holding her as a baby. There was a sudden pang of sadness in Hermione's heart as her eyes fell upon the photo, and she found herself blinking back tears. Although she hadn't known Lydia all that well, there was an excitment from her that Hermione rarely found in her parents. Although her magic was a secret kept from her extended family, she always found Lydia watching her closely during her rare visits to England. Almost as if she was expecting Hermione to start floating the fine china around the living room. And on the one occassion where as a young child Hermione had been told off, and accidently blew up the washing machine in a fit of rage, Lydia had looked like Christmas had come early. Only to have the excitment vanish the minute Miranda said that the washing machine had been struggling for a while and it was due to die any day now. To this day, none of her family that didn't know of her magic, could understand how on earth the machine had actually blown up.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Hermione was startled out of her memories by her father's rare moment of compassion. Seeing the concerned look on his face, she just nodded and bit back the tears that were threatening to escape. Swallowing a large spoonful of the mousakka, Hermione slumped back into her chair, even eating her favourite food did little to lift her spirits.

"Are you sure? You don't appear to be very happy, and you never cry, yet you are now.." Miranda's lack of tact was like a slap in the face. Although Hermione was used to how cold her parents were, almost like emotionless automatons, it still hurt. She couldn't fail to notice the slight look of revulsion in her mother's eyes.

"I'm fine, I just feel emotional. But I'll be fine, don't panic." Hemione's sarcastic response to parents didn't seem to work at getting them to back off, as she noticed the concerned glance the gave each other. "I'm just dreading the funeral.."

The look of alarm in both her parents eyes, and the clatter of her mothers cutlery falling from her hands to her plate suprised Hermione. Both her parents were usually the epitome of calm and collected, unaffected by the world around them.

"Hermione, what funeral, we didn't know anyone had died? Is that why you've been sent home?" The words tumbled from her mothers mouth like a waterfall, Hermione didn't know which to answer first, she was too busy trying to work out how her parents didn't already know.

"Didn't Professor Mcgonagall tell you?" The blank expression on both her parents faces answered for them. "Professor Dumbledore, you know, the headmaster... Well he was.. sort of.. well, murdered. But we don't now by who, we weren't told. That's why we got sent home. Even the professors were on the train home, and they never come with us, they usually apparate. I think they're worried it was an inside job, after all Hogwarts is supposed to be impenetrable." Once she'd got past saying the word murdered, the rest of Hermione's words came tumbling out of her mouth at such a speed her parents could barely keep up.

"Okay, well what does that mean for you studies, and your exams? Will the school be open next year?" Her mother queried. Hermione could have kicked herself for not realising sooner, that the only reason they were concerned was because they were worried she wouldn't still be top of the class.

'No, no, don't mind me, the headmaster has just been bloody murdered, but you two just keep worrying about my damn grades.' She ranted to herself internally.

"I don't really know to be honest, I finished my O.W.L.s last year, and my N.E.W.T.s aren't until next year, so these next couple of weeks only come out of my studies, and learning rather than exam time. But I don't know anymore than the obvious, so until I get another letter, or unless an announcement is made at Dumbledore's funeral, then I don't have a clue." Hermione said bitterly.

Her parents didn't bother to push for information when it was clear their daughter didn't have it, so they just continued on with their meal in silent contemplation. After dinner was finished and the crockery and cutlery washed and put away, Hermione wandered back up to her bedroom to continue studying. She'd be damned if she fell behind where she should be under normal circumstances. It was also a good method of distraction.

A week later Hermione was woken up by an annoying tapping noise. As her eyes fluttered open, she glanced at her alarm clock to see that it was 9:52am. Sitting bolt up right she glanced around the room trying to distinguish where the tapping was coming from. Confused as to how she'd slept so late and why her parents hadn't woken her up. Peering out the window, she noticed a small owl tapping on the window. She clambered out of bed and let the owl in, removing the letter from its leg she gave it an owl treat that she'd kept aside for Pigwidgeon, it munched it quickly and then flew out the open window. Turning the letter over she noticed the Hogwarts seal on the back. She ran into her study and sliced it open with a letter opener, and began to read.

Dear Miss Granger,

This letter is to inform you of the date and time of the funeral of Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

It will be held on the grounds of Hogwarts, on the 21st of July at 11am.

Further information regarding the return of students next September will be announced after the funeral in the Grand Hall.

I hope you're well and that you're able to attend.

There is no need to dress in black, Albus would have preferred everyone in vibrant colours, but do bring your black school cloak and wand.

Kind Regards,

Minerva Mcgonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione had to sit down, although everyone had gathered around Dumbledore's body in the Hospital Wing after McGonagall had announced his death, it hadn't felt real until she'd received the letter. All she wanted to do was cry and empty out all the emotions that were building up in her heart, but all she'd done all week was cry, and there were no tears left. She climbed onto her bed, curled up under the duvet and rocked herself back to dreamless sleep.

A/N - Quite a lot of changes in this chapter, but there's a lot that changes in the future that this is contributing to.