Author's note: ok, I've finally dragged it through this very rough patch. I found it very difficult to write this, because it seems to drag on and on, but it's done now and so is she. So enjoy everyone, and feel free to review or email, the address, I believe is a couple of chapters back.

And by the way, if anyone is so inclined to read the section I edited out in which Snape is tortured, I'll be happy to send it to you. Yes, I wrote it, because I wanted to be sure in my mind of what he went through.

Everything, apart from minor additions here and there, belongs to she who must be deeply respected, JK Rowling. All thanks to her and my computer.

Chapter 11 - The Mind's Construction

Severus went that night to see Dumbledore and explain all that had transpired, including the passing of Hermione's parents. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were called in to hear the news, and every person was denied the chance to see Hermione.

"What do you mean we can't see her?" Ron exclaimed indignantly.

"Just that, Mr Weasley," Snape replied acridly, "You are forbidden to enter Professor Daniels' quarters…as is everyone. Do not think you and Mr Potter are special, Mr Weasley, even Professor Dumbledore is forbidden. You must give her ample time to grieve."

"Why is Professor Daniels allowed to see her?"

"That is between Miss Granger and Professor Daniels," He said curtly, "Now if you will excuse me, I have much to catch up on. Professor Dumbledore, Minerva," he turned his burning eyes, "Potter…Weasley," and departed.

A thin, wan light broke on Hermione's face, as she woke in Deb's chambers for the seventh and last time, by the deal they'd made. There was a strange taste in her mouth, bitter, sharp and offensive. Vomit. She was wearing the pyjamas Deb had loaned her, which was just another sign of her presence.

Deb was nowhere to be seen in the room, but Hermione felt her. The stacks of books, reams of paper, broken quills, bottles and glasses were sodden with an energy that could have only been Deb's. There was also her smell, like lots of things but not quite anything. It floated through the air like the shadow of a nanny. It was hard to feel truly alone…hardly a coincidence.

Hermione pulled the covers over her head and curled into fetal position. The whole world was against her. Mother and father dead, not even able to kill herself… Where was the justice? Why couldn't she have the life she'd had just a week ago? Why couldn't everything just stay the way it was? And what did I do to deserve it? Why don't the Malfoys parents die? Draco deserves some suffering in his life, but she'd never done anything wrong enough to warrant losing her parents. What was coming of the world?

And what did she ever do to Voldemort? She'd never even seen him in her life, never uttered a word to him. Harry was the one he was after…but Harry's already lost his parents. Hermione guessed it was because she so contradicted everything he said about pureblood being better than mudbloods, what with her beating Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in every subject. Or why not Crabbe and Goyle? Would they even notice if their parents were killed?

"Hermione?" she heard from the doorway accompanied by footsteps. There was small clatter as a tray was put down somewhere and a shake of the bed as Deb sat down on it.

"I brought you breakfast. " A cloying silence came between them until Deb scratched her head.

"I know there's nothing I can say to you right now, you've got lots of bad thoughts to think through, but you can ask me anything, anything, and I'll tell you. Anything you want, and I'll get it for you."

"Why?" Hermione mumbled.

"Why what?" Deb said cautiously.

"Why me? Why my parents?"

Deborah sighed.

"You've asked me the one question I cannot answer. I don't have the answer. I've asked it of my own situation too, but I just don't know."

"Don't you miss them?" Hermione said, as she crawled out from under the covers.

"Yes, but I cope. It's not so much missing them, actually. After a few years that goes away. It's the fact that I didn't get all the time I deserved with them. It was cut short. That is the pain that stays with you."

"I miss them."

 "I know." Deborah sighed again and gave Hermione a warm hug. "Give it time."

Hermione screamed and threw Deborah's arms away. "I don't want to give it time! I don't want to! I WANT THEM BACK! I want to see them again, I want them to watch me graduate, get married, see grandchildren. I want them to be HERE!"

"They're here, Hermione, if not in body." Deb offered.

"BOLLOCKS!" Hermione leapt out of bed, "Don't feed me crap, Deb, I just want them back!"

"I know it sounds like crap Hermione, but your parents gave birth to you to perpetuate themselves. You are now the only living remnant of your parents. They live in you. You don't care now, I know, but at some point, when you're least expecting it, you'll feel a surge of pride, and it'll be your mind working for them."

Hermione lifted the breakfast tray and threw it at the door, where plates shattered and clattered to the floor.

"I DON'T CARE! HOW DOES THAT HELP ME NOW?!"

"Hermione, what do you want me to tell you? There isn't anything…not one thing that will make this any better. Death is part of life."

"NOT MINE!" Hermione screamed. She paused for a moment, and her words suddenly turned around and imprinted on her brain.

"Not mine." She sat down on the bed, shoulders curled in disheartenment. Deb put her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione," She said firmly, "Today you are going to get up, you're going to have a shower, eat some breakfast and go back to classes. You've had your time to wallow, now you must return to life."

"I can't," Hermione sulked.

"You must," Deborah insisted, "Otherwise your highly inquisitive friends, Harry and Ron, will attempt to break into my office again."

"They tried to break in?" Hermione said incredulously.

"What? You think it's beneath them? Of course. And not just once, but four times. Thy never quite realized though, that I've been sitting out there all week. I haven't left, so I always catch them. That invisibility cloak only works on people who aren't expecting it." Deb waved her wand and a glass of water appeared in her hand. She handed it to Hermione.

"How could they be so stupid?" Hermione took the glass.

"They love you, Hermione. They care about you. The real question is, how can you say you cannot go on living when you have friends like that? You still have love around you. You have Harry, Ron, all the Weasleys from what I hear, Dumbledore, Me and even Snape."

Hermione coughed some of her water out.

"Umm…I really doubt THAT."

"It's true. He doesn't love you like, want-to-get-into-your-pants love you, it's more like like-the-daughter-I'll-never-have love. Don't mistake the insults for insults, Hermione. Sarcasm is his expression of care. And be thankful for that. Sometimes I wonder at how he is still capable of it, even in it's severely twisted form."

There was a sad, thoughtful pause while Deb looked out the window.

"You know, Hermione, sometimes I wonder what we would have been if death hadn't knocked on our doors so many times. What more we could have done if we hadn't been so badly scarred. But then I think again and I realize we probably would not have been better people, but rather worse. And we wouldn't have done any more, but rather less. I've come to realize that for all the battery we go through, we actually come out the better, because we're learning. What doesn't kill you really makes you stronger. So you get out of this sad stupor and win your life back. You'll get your revenge. You school uniform will be here when you get out."

Hermione shuffled into the bathroom and ran the shower, somewhat warmer than she would normally tolerate, but in this instance it helped her wake up and cleanse herself of the mourning, like stepping into the sun after a week of twilight.

She didn't want to sit in a dark room for the rest of her life and sulk about the past. She didn't want to be a victim of a mean and hurt little boy acting out his fantasies on the world. She resolved to fight, not to dwell on the pain, but to push on, like Harry and Deb did every day. Like every other person who loses family does. She had a duty to her parents to avenge their deaths, and she could do so simply by living, and by showing she was not destroyed by Voldemort's cruelty. It sounded stupid even as she thought it, but those things Deb said, about her parents being in her too…well, it was beginning to ring very true. She strode out of the shower, toweled herself off, and when she came back into Deb's bedroom, there was her uniform on the bed. Laid out perfectly, as good as new.