By Friday of the first week of classes, Hermione had still not
received word from her parents. Professor McGonagall had spoken with her
several times, saying that they were recovering steadily and not to worry,
but Hermione found it quite difficult to calm her nerves.
Her parents were dentists. They had no place in this world, much less in this war. While Hermione knew that they were not the actual targets, but indirect targets, they had been targets nonetheless. She could only imagine what would have happened had Dumbledore not seen this coming and stationed a guard from the Order of the Phoenix in her neighborhood.
Arithmancy class was nearly over when Hermione came to, realizing she had not taken in a single word, but wasted the lesson reliving the past two weeks. School should have been a welcome relief for her, but she felt as though she were coming apart at the seams.
She scrambled desperately to copy what was left on the board, to absorb the last of the lesson, but it was hopeless- she had lost too much time to catch up now. The bell rang and she began angrily repacking her backpack. When would they be well enough to write?!
Hermione made her way to the Great Hall for lunch with Harry and Ron. She wondered what stupid thing Ron would say today that they would wind up fighting about. But when she sat down, he seemed to actually pick up on her mood, and instead started filling a plate for her. He looked at her as if to say, "It'll be all right," but he said nothing. Hermione managed a weak smile.
Harry still wasn't saying much. Hermione knew that he blamed himself for the attack at her house. She wanted to scream at him that that wasn't what she needed now. She didn't need someone to blame- she knew the Death Eaters were to blame. She just wanted a friend.
She realized she was choking on her meat pie. She swallowed hard, thinking, "I will not cry, I will not cry, I must be strong now." Strength was so important lately. Ron handed her some pumpkin juice, which she gulped trying to calm herself. She must not think that everything was falling apart. Things could always be worse.
Someone slid into the seat beside her. She looked up to see a Ravenclaw sixth year she knew from a few classes.
"Hey," he said quietly. "I thought you seemed, um, a bit distracted in class today, so I duplicated my notes for you." He handed over a piece of parchment. Hermione looked perplexed.
"Look," he said, "I heard about-" Hermione looked down, so he hastened, "well, you know, and if you ever need notes or anything, it's no problem at all, okay?"
Hermione looked at him, not sure whether to smile or cry. "Thanks," she mumbled as he smiled and walked off.
"Well, that was nice," said Harry.
"Yeah," Ron agreed, scowling at the Ravenclaw table.
But Hermione wasn't paying attention to Ron, the notes, or the Ravenclaws. Harry was making eye contact with her for the first time in days. She smiled slightly at him. She didn't blame him, after all.
Her parents were dentists. They had no place in this world, much less in this war. While Hermione knew that they were not the actual targets, but indirect targets, they had been targets nonetheless. She could only imagine what would have happened had Dumbledore not seen this coming and stationed a guard from the Order of the Phoenix in her neighborhood.
Arithmancy class was nearly over when Hermione came to, realizing she had not taken in a single word, but wasted the lesson reliving the past two weeks. School should have been a welcome relief for her, but she felt as though she were coming apart at the seams.
She scrambled desperately to copy what was left on the board, to absorb the last of the lesson, but it was hopeless- she had lost too much time to catch up now. The bell rang and she began angrily repacking her backpack. When would they be well enough to write?!
Hermione made her way to the Great Hall for lunch with Harry and Ron. She wondered what stupid thing Ron would say today that they would wind up fighting about. But when she sat down, he seemed to actually pick up on her mood, and instead started filling a plate for her. He looked at her as if to say, "It'll be all right," but he said nothing. Hermione managed a weak smile.
Harry still wasn't saying much. Hermione knew that he blamed himself for the attack at her house. She wanted to scream at him that that wasn't what she needed now. She didn't need someone to blame- she knew the Death Eaters were to blame. She just wanted a friend.
She realized she was choking on her meat pie. She swallowed hard, thinking, "I will not cry, I will not cry, I must be strong now." Strength was so important lately. Ron handed her some pumpkin juice, which she gulped trying to calm herself. She must not think that everything was falling apart. Things could always be worse.
Someone slid into the seat beside her. She looked up to see a Ravenclaw sixth year she knew from a few classes.
"Hey," he said quietly. "I thought you seemed, um, a bit distracted in class today, so I duplicated my notes for you." He handed over a piece of parchment. Hermione looked perplexed.
"Look," he said, "I heard about-" Hermione looked down, so he hastened, "well, you know, and if you ever need notes or anything, it's no problem at all, okay?"
Hermione looked at him, not sure whether to smile or cry. "Thanks," she mumbled as he smiled and walked off.
"Well, that was nice," said Harry.
"Yeah," Ron agreed, scowling at the Ravenclaw table.
But Hermione wasn't paying attention to Ron, the notes, or the Ravenclaws. Harry was making eye contact with her for the first time in days. She smiled slightly at him. She didn't blame him, after all.