Hermione stared blindly. She tore apart green blades of grass, over and over, making them as small as possible.
She refused to look at the roof. She knew the dark mark was there. She didn't want to believe it, she didn't want to believe that Ron was dead, or worse, alive and being tortured.
She could hear a car screech to a stop in front of her house. The car door slammed and she was swept into foreign arms. All this was distant to her, she was mourning the loss of Ron.
The arms helped her inside of her house, she stumbled into the leather chair in the parlor, a favorite of Ron's. The pain was agony, she hurled forward, her head in her hands. She cried… hard. All of the agony that swept over her in just the fifteen minutes since she pulled up to her house was in her tears.
She couldn't bear to be here without Ron. She needed him.
"There, there now… cry all you want." The arms were around her in an attempt to comfort her. "I know. I know it hurts."
The words stuck her as odd. How could anyone know what the dark mark symbolized? She looked up at the woman that was trying to console her. It was the old woman Mrs. Luther from down the sreet.
"How… how do you know what…"
The old woman ran her fingers through Hermione's hair, sorting out the tangles that had gathered in her despair. "You're not the only witch here." Mrs. Luther threw a blanket around Hermione shoulders. "Of course I know you, and Ron. You've made history many times. There's not a mess you haven't been able to get out of. You and him… Harry. Dumbledore sent me many letters, I was most intrigued by your adventures."
"You knew Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, confused and blinking through tears.
"Yes, he sent me to watch you. He was worried. He loves you, and Ron."
"Why are you here? Why haven't you fled me? You know what the dark mark means. He's alive. He's killed. Are you not terrified?" Hermione gripped the pillow of the chair. Smelling Ron on every inch of him, she tried to hold back her tears. She dreaded the answer.
"Yes, I'm petrified. But, I love Dumbledore. My loyalties are to him. He told me to watch you, I'm watching you. Even while he-who-must-not-be-named has lingered over this very spot… I'm here. You need me."
"Thank you." She got up. While Mrs. Luther made her speech, Hermione had made her decision. She knew she had to go, even if she didn't want to.
"Where are you going?" The old woman asked.
"Ron's not dead. My heart would be empty if he were. But there's still a lingering trace of him left and every part of my bodies aware of it. I have to save him. I have too."
She walked out of the house and unlocked the door. She put the keys in the ignition, turned the car engine over and sped out of her neighborhood. She was heading towards London.
She was heading towards Harry.
