Author's note: A lovely reader pointed out that Apparation happens of age. I remember this from the sixth book and it's just been awhile since I've read them. So any mistakes I make are bound to happen. But this is set in sixth year – so the Apparating part, I'm just going to pretend like Harry had the trace off him. Please enjoy this chapter! Xx

Hermione Granger stared at the kitchen table before her, shaky hands wrapped around her mug and trying to steal all of it's warmth that she could. Her parents were dead; murdered in front of her. She had bore witness to their deaths before she ran into their secret passageway and hid herself as best she could from the Death Eaters. She hadn't recognized them; just knew they were two men who worked for Voldemort. Her parents were – had – been muggles. So they didn't know how to defend themselves against a wizard's attack and even if they did, the Avada Kedavra took no mercy on anyone in its path. She could still close her eyes and see the green lights that snuffed out their lives if she wanted to. She decidedly did not want to but it wasn't up to her.

She could feel Harry's eyes on her, watching her as she stared unseeingly into her mug. She knew her best friend was worried. And, she also knew there was a reason she had called him with the coins instead of Ron. Why she had messaged him first. Hermione trusted him more. Knew that he would help her get out of that situation the fastest. Harry Potter was the hero the wizarding world needed and was the hero she needed. She just hated having to take him from his holiday. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think to not take you away from the Dursley's."

She knew that she'd most likely not done anything wrong; that his relationship with the Dursley's was so off-balance he was probably glad to have an excuse to leave, even if it was a macabre one. "Mione." Harry's tone was soft and gentle and it hurt her in ways she couldn't quite describe to know that he was worried about her. "It's the Dursley's. Even if they were people I had cared about, I would have still come to your rescue. My best friend was in danger; I'd be nowhere else."

Her eyes obscured with tears as she sniffled and Mrs. Weasley brought her a handkerchief. Smiling at her politely as much as she could, Hermione thanked them both quietly and dotted underneath her eyes, trapping the tears there and removing them. She would be stronger than this. She had to be. They were in the middle of a war. "Okay."

"Did you see anything familiar about the Death Eaters?" Harry asked gently, squeezing her hand comfortingly and she took strength from that.

"Not rea -," she was cut off as she heard footsteps descending the stairs and looked up in time to spot Ron walking into the kitchen. He did a double-take of her and Harry, then frowned at their solemn expressions.

"What's wrong?" Ron demanded, making his way to the table, and placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder. It was warm and comforting but friendly. She knew that's all she'd ever feel in that regard.

"M-My parents were murdered," she whispered, afraid to speak too louder out of fear of her voice breaking. "Death Eaters."

Ron gasped softly. "Oh Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione nodded her head in appreciation, a tear trickling down out of the corner of her eye and it wasn't too long before she succumbed to her tears that were fresh. She bit on her lip, hard, to revolt against the idea of screaming out the poison coating her insides. Screwing her eyes up in an attempt to offset the pain she felt radiating through her like fire, Hermione cried quietly, determined to keep her sobs to a minimum. No one deserved to hear this. She could feel either Harry or Ron rubbing small circles into her back and could hear Harry murmuring soothingly into her ear.

"Just get it all out, Hermione," he murmured softly. "Cry for as long and as loud as you need to now. No one will judge you."

She covered her lips with her hand in the hopes to mute the sobs as she cried hard and her body shook. Her parents were dead. Gone and not coming back. And she had to witness that. She almost envied Harry in that moment because he was a baby when his parents died and didn't seem to remember much of their actual deaths minus the green light. Then she chastised herself for feeling like that in the first place. They were both orphans now and she had the feeling she'd need to lean on her best friend quite a bit in the upcoming months. "I-I'm sorry."

"Shh, nothing to be sorry for, dear," Mrs. Weasley soothed as she sat across from her, tears dripping down her own cheeks. "It's hard losing those we love, especially in such a horrid mannerism. Take all the time you need to heal."

Hermione nodded her head, taking in great, gulping lungful's of air. It was then that she noticed Ginny wasn't down. "W-where's Ginny?"

"Out in the orchard, practicing Quidditch," Ron replied quietly and Hermione at least knew they were all safe. Well, as safe as she could be in this type of situation. She hated the Death Eaters that took her parents from her; detested them.

"Hermione, you'll stay with us through the holidays, alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked her gently and Hermione nodded, having no desire to go back to any empty home right then. She didn't know if she'd ever be ready.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley, I really appreciate that," she said quietly, tone soft because she couldn't find any reason to be louder than what was expected of her. Perhaps her pain would go away but she wasn't sure right now. She didn't think it would go away for a long time, if ever.

They all fell silent then and Hermione knew the other three people in the room were trying to give her a chance to grieve on her own without actually leaving her alone. She didn't know if being on her own – even in a room in a house filled with people – was something she wanted right now. She didn't know if she could survive it. She also wasn't sure how she was supposed to go back to school for their Sixth-Year. Hermione never once thought she'd not want to return and continue onward with her education but the deaths of her parents masked everything else right now that was important. She was hurting and tired.

"Do you maybe want to go take a shower, Mione?" Harry asked quietly. "Then I can call Dumbledore. Alert some Aurors to your parents death? We really can't keep this quiet from law enforcement."

"I know you're right," Hermione said smally, voice painfully quiet and pitiful. It didn't even sound like herself. "If you can call Dumbledore and maybe he can call the Aurors, that'd be nice. If I have a choice to pick one of the Aurors, please ask for Tonks and Kingsley. I want them working the case as the officials if I can have them."

"Alright," Harry replied gently, soft smile adorning his features. "Why don't you go take that shower and I'll reach out to Dumbledore. Take your time and only come back down when you're ready."

Hermione offered up a tremulous smile; shaky and wobbly but a smile nonetheless and stood up to her feet. Following Mrs. Weasley up the stairs, she left Harry and Ron to sort out the conversation with Dumbledore and went to go take her shower, hoping the hot water would do her some good.

XXX

Once in the shower, Hermione stood underneath the almost scalding hot water, wanting to wash away the events of the day and send them down into the drain. She was hurting in ways she didn't quite know were possible and she wondered if this was how Harry felt on his loneliest days. She wouldn't blame him if it was. Running her hands through her brunette locks, she took her time cleaning and shampooing her hair, hoping to ease the tension that had risen along in her shoulders some.

When she was through with the shower and had used up as much hot water as she dared, she stepped out and wrapped a towel around herself, deciding to go change into something of Ginny's. She didn't think her friend would mind and besides, Mrs. Weasley had told her to make herself at home. Home. Something she didn't have anymore; at least in the literal sense. She felt tears smart at her eyes and sighed. Would she ever stop crying?

Hermione didn't have the answer to that question nor did she think she'd have it for a long time. She was just simply existing at this point; not much to do but survive.