Back at home
Hey everyone. I've been getting responses to the last chapter, which is good. Means you aren't all thinking of eating me alive for doing something so cruel. Hehehe.
OK, reviews . . . appreciate people that I'm doing this at near 10:00 at night and I'm quite tired but I don't want to go to bed.
*~*Flutterling: Like, whoa, man. Hehe, sorry about it being a bit short. This next chappie should be long. I'm going to be explaining quite a bit, hopefully.
*~*electra*27: yeah, they'll find us very strange. :P, anyway, yeah they say arse, mainly. Just . . . not butt. That's very American. Hope you did well with your basketball game.
*~*princess-of-d-c: thank you. I hope you'll keep on reading, despite me being a little slow with the writing-ness.
*~*Mickey Sky: thank you, and I am continuing
*~*coolcat411: yes...expect the unexpected in this fic.
*~*ILUVRONWEASLEY: yes yes I'm updating, I'm updating!
*~*bombshell: I refused to begin another chapter until you reviewed :P. and bugger, you know how to juggle. I am no longer special. There's a girl in my drama class who was juggling pens and I'm like 'just stop it Susie' and she kind of went 'sorry'. Hehehe.
*~*illmtl: :P
OK dudes, I have an idea. If you wanna keep reading my story as I update, you could, as you review, hit that little box thingy that says Author Alert. Because then you get a nice friendly email every time I update. It's so handy. I do it with all the stories I like.
Oh, and adding on from that, if any of you have a cool story that you reckon I'll like, then tell me about them, because I'll gladly read them. I mean, you read mine, right? Try to use big words in your stories. I need to improve my vocabulary.
Disclaimer: I own a lot of stress-related headaches at the moment. Hopefully this chapter will help me calm down.
Right, I'm gonna start now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
During dinner that night Harry and Ron were approached every now and then.
'Is Hermione all right?' asked Seamus. 'We heard she hasn't been seen for a while.'
'We're not entirely sure,' answered Harry truthfully. 'We haven't seen her either.'
'Well,' continued Seamus '. . . where is she?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione flew out of the fireplace, her robes full of soot. She stood up and brushed the soot off half-heartedly. She was looking around, eyes scanning, trying to find what she was looking for.
And she found it. A tall, middle-aged man, walking towards her, knowing who she was, for the first time in 6 months.
Her father.
Hermione sighed, not feeling the excitement that she should have felt at the sight of him, and walked towards him.
He looked at her, surveying what she looked like, how tall she was, how she was standing, seeing if anything had changed.
'Hi Dad.' She said.
Hermiones father stared at her for a second, then smiled an enormous smile, held his arms out, and Hermione ran into them, and they shared their first (and much needed) father/daughter embrace in a long time. Too long a time.
'Did you miss me?' he asked.
'Very much,' replied Hermione, a mixture of sad and happy tears (let's call them emotional tears) streaming out of her eyes. 'I didn't know if you would ever be the same again.'
'Well, I'm back,' he said. He held her by the shoulders and looked at her. 'That's one thing to be thankful for, I guess.'
'Yeah,' replied Hermione.
They turned and headed towards the subway, where they'd be taken back to their home in the outskirts of London, each of them, though enjoying the others company, wishing there was someone else there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Back at Hogwarts Harry and Ron were getting just on the peak of nervousness when Professor McGonagall came up to them.
'The Headmaster wishes to see you both about Miss Grangers whereabouts after dinner . . . Potter, what's wrong with your forehead?'
'Oh, nothing, Professor,' said Harry, removing his hand from his painfully throbbing scar. 'We'll be at Professor Dumbledores office then. We're very keen to find out what's going on . . . as are all of the Gryffindors.'
'Very well,' replied the professor. 'It might be a good idea for you to report this to Mr Malfoy as well, after you've heard it.'
'Why?'
'You'll find out,' replied the Professor, choosing that moment to walk away.
'Interesting,' said Ron once the Professor had gone. 'Are you going to tell Dumbledore about your premonition?'
'Well I'll have to, won't I?' replied Harry. 'I have a very bad feeling about this Ron. I definitely think Voldemort's responsible.'
'Should we tell Hermione that, what we see her?'
'No . . . I don't think we should. Not until she's recovered.'
Ron shook his head. 'It's so awful that this had to happen to her.'
'Yeah, it is. That's why we don't want Hermione knowing that we think Voldemort did it. She'd probably get herself killed trying to hunt him down or something like that.'
'Hmm, yeah.'
Within the next 15 minutes, Harry and Ron managed to excuse themselves, and saunter over to the Headmasters office. Ron knocked on the door.
'Harry, Ron, is that you two?'
'Yes Professor,' replied Harry.
'Come on up. I have news.'
The doorway opened and Harry and Ron climbed the spiral staircase up to the Headmasters office.
They entered the room, noticing briefly that it was still the never-ceasing wonder and amazement it always was. They were much to eager to hear what the headmaster had to say about their friend to notice much however, and they quickly hurried over to Professor Dumbledores desk and sat down.
'Harry,' began the professor. 'Did you have a vision. You seem to be fiddling with your scar.'
Harry removed his hand from his forehead hastily. 'Uh, yes, I did Professor.'
'I thought you might,' said the Professor.
'You did?'
'Yes. So you know that Hermione's mother died?'
'Yes we do,' said Ron.
'Is that all you know?'
'Um . . . all that we know is fact any way,' replied Harry.
'All right. The other things that were found out was she apparently killed herself, because she wasn't killed magically, and also, Hermione's gone to visit her father.'
'Why her father?' asked Harry, curious.
'Her father's sane again, and insisted he saw her. Often what happens is that when someone dear to them dies, a person who magically became insane will become sane again. That's the magic in love, so to speak.'
Ron and Harry nodded slowly. So that's where Hermione was.
'And we're not sure when she'll be returning to school. We're presuming, however, that it will be before the end of the week. Hermione, being Hermione, doesn't wish to miss out on much school work, or your upcoming Quidditch match.'
Harrys head shot up from staring at his shoes. Why was Hermione thinking about the Quidditch match at a time like this. He tried arguing with the Headmaster:
'She . . . she doesn't have to do that for us . . . not at this time. . .'
'She doesn't, no. But she wanted to. It goes to show you both what a caring friend she is, doesn't it?'
Both of them nodded, truly touched by Hermiones move.
'Now, as for your vision, Harry. . .'
'Um,' replied Harry, not quite sure he wanted to go into it. 'What about it?'
'Well, were you inside someone else? Did you feel any kind of emotion. Did you see what happened? And I must urge you tell me the truth Harry, because it's very important, particularly for Hermiones sake.'
Harry was about to ask why, but thought better of it. He figured it would be best to just answer as best and truthfully as he could.
'I was a woman. I could tell from the way I spoke,' he said carefully.
Ron, who hadn't heard the tale of his vision yet, was listening intently. 'Yes?'
'And I was feeling . . . anger . . . madness . . . determination.'
'Determination?'
'Yeah. Like I knew I had to do something and nothing now would stop me. And I came to this bed, and saw Hermiones mum lying there. And I pulled out a blade of some sort, and brought it down . . . onto her wrist . . . and that's all I can remember.' Harry finished slurredly.
Professor Dumbledore was looking sharply at Harry, however. 'So Mrs Granger didn't kill herself?'
'I highly doubt it, Professor,' replied Harry, his scar disagreeing with him.
'Someone else killed her,' said Dumbledore slowly.
'We're sure it's the doings of Lord Voldemort, Professor.'
'And I won't disagree with you Mr Potter. But why would they hurt someone who mattered to Hermione . . . Hermione isn't Voldemorts main threat.'
'Maybe,' said Ron, 'They thought it would be easier to kill off the Brains of us three, because of her illness and all.'
'But she, whoever she is, didn't kill Hermione. She killed her mother.'
'Well of course she couldn't kill Hermione directly. Anyone who catches Keduas is an extremely powerful force, not to be directly tampered with. But killing Hermione's mother could lead to Hermione killing herself, through her dreams.'
'Ahh, I see,' said Harry.
'What I don't get though,' said Ron. 'Is why they want to get rid of Hermione. Sure, she's smart, and has a powerful magical force, but I'm sure Harry does too. Why would they go to such lengths as killing others to try and get rid of Hermione?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione entered the hallway of her house, and smelt the slightly dusty air. She smiled sadly to herself. The smell of the house reminded her so much of her mother is was almost like she would come bustling out of the kitchen telling Hermione to hurry up with her essay because they were just about to have lunch. Mum and her lunches, Hermione thought to herself.
Her Dad entered behind her.
'How long were you here by yourself?' Hermione asked.
'I actually haven't been in here since . . . well. . .'
Hermione nodded.
'I think I'll take these up to my room' she sad quietly, lifting up the bag she'd brought with her and walking up the stairs.
She entered her room and stared in wonder. She couldn't believe she hadn't been inside for 8 months. It looked exactly the same as she'd left it. Same neatly made-up bed, same desk inclusive of computer, same bookshelf, laden with books; same window, showing a view of the house opposite her own . . . and the same pictures.
Hermione walked over to her desk, and had a look at some of the pictures she had there. There was one of her, Harry and Ron, all waving and smiling; one of Rons family; one of Crookshanks, one of her dad, holding up a dentists award he'd won; and one of her sitting in front of her two parents, all of them smiling, and, because it was taken in the muggle way, perfectly still.
As Hermione sat there looking at it, she remembered something else she had. She rushed over to her bookshelf, and in the bottom counter there was a photo album. She yanked it out of the bookshelf and opened it up to the last page.
And there she's stuck a series of photos she'd taken during the summer and developed at school, and stuck it in during her Christmas holidays in 6th year. They were of her and her parents, and were all moving. All of her mum and dad. Her mum and dad were smiling and waving enthusiastically. Hermione, who had been standing, slowly sank to sit on her bed, trying, in vain, to fight back her tears. She couldn't believe she'd never see her again.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but didn't care, nor did she when she heard her door open. She couldn't shake off this horrible feeling. Something that had been plaguing her mind for a long, long time.
'Hermione?'
Hermione turned to see her dad standing there, face etched in concern.
Hermione sighed and looked back at the picture. She felt the extra weight on her bed as her father sat down next to her.
Hermione closed the album slowly and sadly. 'It's all my fault,' she said.
'What?' asked her father. 'Don't be ridicu—'
'But it is. If I hadn't been a witch, none of this would have happened. And you wouldn't have gone insane, and I wouldn't have gotten this disease, and mum . . . mum wouldn't have gone.' The tears then fell.
Her father, meanwhile, shook his head. 'When we first found out about you, your mother couldn't have been more proud. She was always so proud of you, and so am I.'
'Yes,' replied Hermione. 'But if this hasn't happened, then she'd still be here.'
'But if this hadn't happened,' said her dad, 'then all the other stuff you've done for the world wouldn't have happened either.'
'But –'
'But nothing. You've saved so many lives in all this time. You know your mother. Think about how disappointed she'd be if she knew you were being like this. Wishing that you weren't who you are. Being a witch is who you are, and that's all your mother ever wanted. And I know what she still wants.'
Hermione turned to look at her father. 'What's that?'
Her father looked at her intently. 'To beat this evil. You need to beat it . . . the world is counting on you.'
Hermione looked back down on the cover of her photo album. Her mother had written on it 'To Hermione, memories to treasure'. She knew that her father was right. It was what her mother would have wanted her to do.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll do it for her.'
Her dad gave her a huge hug. 'That's my girl.'
Hermione smiled at her dad. 'Thank you for being supportive of me.'
'No problem.'
The two of them sat there for a minute, before Hermione's father said. 'So . . . um . . . what's this disease you've got?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day was the funeral. Hermione spent the day exchanging greetings to people who all said they were so sorry for her loss. She thanked them all immensely, and felt that by the end of the day she didn't have any tears left. She felt immensely empty, and couldn't wait to get back to the hustle and bustle of school. She found the atmosphere at home too miserable. Yet she also felt incredibly guilty of leaving her dad alone by himself.
She did get some reassurance however. The evening after the funeral, as Hermione was eating some baklava her grandparents had given her (she was on her 4th slice and beginning to feel slightly sick), the door opened, and their next door neighbour, Mrs Hearthel, came in.
'Hermione,' she said, looking at Hermione sitting at the table. 'You're going to get fat if you eat too much of that.'
Hermione smiled and took another bite. 'How are you Mrs Hearthel?'
'Better then you I'm thinking,' she said. 'But I hear you're going back to school tomorrow?'
'Yeah. It's still term and I've missed a few days. I gotta keep up.'
Mrs Hearthel shook her head. 'Always the studious kind, aren't you Herms? Anyway, I thought I'd just let you know that I'll be here for your dad. As will the rest of the neighbourhood. Don't you worry about that.'
Hermione nodded to her. 'Thank you.'
'No problem. Your dad's a fighter Hermione. He'll get through this just as well as you will.'
Hermione wasn't quite sure if that was very encouraging, considering how much baklava she had eaten/was going to eat. Oh well, she thought, as long as Mrs hearthel has confidence.
She smiled at Mrs Hearthel as she left the house. Sighing to herself, Hermione walked upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. She had to get to school very early tomorrow so she wouldn't miss any classes, and she figured she might as well avoid missing any more then she absolutely had to.
As she got into bed, she dimly remembered that there was a Quidditch match on the weekend. She was returning back to school on tomorrow, Thursday. She wondered is Harry and Ron knew about what had happened. It would all have to wait till tomorrow, however, when Hermione was actually there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
OK, I dunno HOW long that took, but I am so sorry it did take that long. I've been so busy trying to keep up in maths . . . and all my other subjects! :P. Anyway, provided some of you are still alive, please review! If only to abuse me for taking so long.
Hey everyone. I've been getting responses to the last chapter, which is good. Means you aren't all thinking of eating me alive for doing something so cruel. Hehehe.
OK, reviews . . . appreciate people that I'm doing this at near 10:00 at night and I'm quite tired but I don't want to go to bed.
*~*Flutterling: Like, whoa, man. Hehe, sorry about it being a bit short. This next chappie should be long. I'm going to be explaining quite a bit, hopefully.
*~*electra*27: yeah, they'll find us very strange. :P, anyway, yeah they say arse, mainly. Just . . . not butt. That's very American. Hope you did well with your basketball game.
*~*princess-of-d-c: thank you. I hope you'll keep on reading, despite me being a little slow with the writing-ness.
*~*Mickey Sky: thank you, and I am continuing
*~*coolcat411: yes...expect the unexpected in this fic.
*~*ILUVRONWEASLEY: yes yes I'm updating, I'm updating!
*~*bombshell: I refused to begin another chapter until you reviewed :P. and bugger, you know how to juggle. I am no longer special. There's a girl in my drama class who was juggling pens and I'm like 'just stop it Susie' and she kind of went 'sorry'. Hehehe.
*~*illmtl: :P
OK dudes, I have an idea. If you wanna keep reading my story as I update, you could, as you review, hit that little box thingy that says Author Alert. Because then you get a nice friendly email every time I update. It's so handy. I do it with all the stories I like.
Oh, and adding on from that, if any of you have a cool story that you reckon I'll like, then tell me about them, because I'll gladly read them. I mean, you read mine, right? Try to use big words in your stories. I need to improve my vocabulary.
Disclaimer: I own a lot of stress-related headaches at the moment. Hopefully this chapter will help me calm down.
Right, I'm gonna start now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
During dinner that night Harry and Ron were approached every now and then.
'Is Hermione all right?' asked Seamus. 'We heard she hasn't been seen for a while.'
'We're not entirely sure,' answered Harry truthfully. 'We haven't seen her either.'
'Well,' continued Seamus '. . . where is she?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione flew out of the fireplace, her robes full of soot. She stood up and brushed the soot off half-heartedly. She was looking around, eyes scanning, trying to find what she was looking for.
And she found it. A tall, middle-aged man, walking towards her, knowing who she was, for the first time in 6 months.
Her father.
Hermione sighed, not feeling the excitement that she should have felt at the sight of him, and walked towards him.
He looked at her, surveying what she looked like, how tall she was, how she was standing, seeing if anything had changed.
'Hi Dad.' She said.
Hermiones father stared at her for a second, then smiled an enormous smile, held his arms out, and Hermione ran into them, and they shared their first (and much needed) father/daughter embrace in a long time. Too long a time.
'Did you miss me?' he asked.
'Very much,' replied Hermione, a mixture of sad and happy tears (let's call them emotional tears) streaming out of her eyes. 'I didn't know if you would ever be the same again.'
'Well, I'm back,' he said. He held her by the shoulders and looked at her. 'That's one thing to be thankful for, I guess.'
'Yeah,' replied Hermione.
They turned and headed towards the subway, where they'd be taken back to their home in the outskirts of London, each of them, though enjoying the others company, wishing there was someone else there.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Back at Hogwarts Harry and Ron were getting just on the peak of nervousness when Professor McGonagall came up to them.
'The Headmaster wishes to see you both about Miss Grangers whereabouts after dinner . . . Potter, what's wrong with your forehead?'
'Oh, nothing, Professor,' said Harry, removing his hand from his painfully throbbing scar. 'We'll be at Professor Dumbledores office then. We're very keen to find out what's going on . . . as are all of the Gryffindors.'
'Very well,' replied the professor. 'It might be a good idea for you to report this to Mr Malfoy as well, after you've heard it.'
'Why?'
'You'll find out,' replied the Professor, choosing that moment to walk away.
'Interesting,' said Ron once the Professor had gone. 'Are you going to tell Dumbledore about your premonition?'
'Well I'll have to, won't I?' replied Harry. 'I have a very bad feeling about this Ron. I definitely think Voldemort's responsible.'
'Should we tell Hermione that, what we see her?'
'No . . . I don't think we should. Not until she's recovered.'
Ron shook his head. 'It's so awful that this had to happen to her.'
'Yeah, it is. That's why we don't want Hermione knowing that we think Voldemort did it. She'd probably get herself killed trying to hunt him down or something like that.'
'Hmm, yeah.'
Within the next 15 minutes, Harry and Ron managed to excuse themselves, and saunter over to the Headmasters office. Ron knocked on the door.
'Harry, Ron, is that you two?'
'Yes Professor,' replied Harry.
'Come on up. I have news.'
The doorway opened and Harry and Ron climbed the spiral staircase up to the Headmasters office.
They entered the room, noticing briefly that it was still the never-ceasing wonder and amazement it always was. They were much to eager to hear what the headmaster had to say about their friend to notice much however, and they quickly hurried over to Professor Dumbledores desk and sat down.
'Harry,' began the professor. 'Did you have a vision. You seem to be fiddling with your scar.'
Harry removed his hand from his forehead hastily. 'Uh, yes, I did Professor.'
'I thought you might,' said the Professor.
'You did?'
'Yes. So you know that Hermione's mother died?'
'Yes we do,' said Ron.
'Is that all you know?'
'Um . . . all that we know is fact any way,' replied Harry.
'All right. The other things that were found out was she apparently killed herself, because she wasn't killed magically, and also, Hermione's gone to visit her father.'
'Why her father?' asked Harry, curious.
'Her father's sane again, and insisted he saw her. Often what happens is that when someone dear to them dies, a person who magically became insane will become sane again. That's the magic in love, so to speak.'
Ron and Harry nodded slowly. So that's where Hermione was.
'And we're not sure when she'll be returning to school. We're presuming, however, that it will be before the end of the week. Hermione, being Hermione, doesn't wish to miss out on much school work, or your upcoming Quidditch match.'
Harrys head shot up from staring at his shoes. Why was Hermione thinking about the Quidditch match at a time like this. He tried arguing with the Headmaster:
'She . . . she doesn't have to do that for us . . . not at this time. . .'
'She doesn't, no. But she wanted to. It goes to show you both what a caring friend she is, doesn't it?'
Both of them nodded, truly touched by Hermiones move.
'Now, as for your vision, Harry. . .'
'Um,' replied Harry, not quite sure he wanted to go into it. 'What about it?'
'Well, were you inside someone else? Did you feel any kind of emotion. Did you see what happened? And I must urge you tell me the truth Harry, because it's very important, particularly for Hermiones sake.'
Harry was about to ask why, but thought better of it. He figured it would be best to just answer as best and truthfully as he could.
'I was a woman. I could tell from the way I spoke,' he said carefully.
Ron, who hadn't heard the tale of his vision yet, was listening intently. 'Yes?'
'And I was feeling . . . anger . . . madness . . . determination.'
'Determination?'
'Yeah. Like I knew I had to do something and nothing now would stop me. And I came to this bed, and saw Hermiones mum lying there. And I pulled out a blade of some sort, and brought it down . . . onto her wrist . . . and that's all I can remember.' Harry finished slurredly.
Professor Dumbledore was looking sharply at Harry, however. 'So Mrs Granger didn't kill herself?'
'I highly doubt it, Professor,' replied Harry, his scar disagreeing with him.
'Someone else killed her,' said Dumbledore slowly.
'We're sure it's the doings of Lord Voldemort, Professor.'
'And I won't disagree with you Mr Potter. But why would they hurt someone who mattered to Hermione . . . Hermione isn't Voldemorts main threat.'
'Maybe,' said Ron, 'They thought it would be easier to kill off the Brains of us three, because of her illness and all.'
'But she, whoever she is, didn't kill Hermione. She killed her mother.'
'Well of course she couldn't kill Hermione directly. Anyone who catches Keduas is an extremely powerful force, not to be directly tampered with. But killing Hermione's mother could lead to Hermione killing herself, through her dreams.'
'Ahh, I see,' said Harry.
'What I don't get though,' said Ron. 'Is why they want to get rid of Hermione. Sure, she's smart, and has a powerful magical force, but I'm sure Harry does too. Why would they go to such lengths as killing others to try and get rid of Hermione?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione entered the hallway of her house, and smelt the slightly dusty air. She smiled sadly to herself. The smell of the house reminded her so much of her mother is was almost like she would come bustling out of the kitchen telling Hermione to hurry up with her essay because they were just about to have lunch. Mum and her lunches, Hermione thought to herself.
Her Dad entered behind her.
'How long were you here by yourself?' Hermione asked.
'I actually haven't been in here since . . . well. . .'
Hermione nodded.
'I think I'll take these up to my room' she sad quietly, lifting up the bag she'd brought with her and walking up the stairs.
She entered her room and stared in wonder. She couldn't believe she hadn't been inside for 8 months. It looked exactly the same as she'd left it. Same neatly made-up bed, same desk inclusive of computer, same bookshelf, laden with books; same window, showing a view of the house opposite her own . . . and the same pictures.
Hermione walked over to her desk, and had a look at some of the pictures she had there. There was one of her, Harry and Ron, all waving and smiling; one of Rons family; one of Crookshanks, one of her dad, holding up a dentists award he'd won; and one of her sitting in front of her two parents, all of them smiling, and, because it was taken in the muggle way, perfectly still.
As Hermione sat there looking at it, she remembered something else she had. She rushed over to her bookshelf, and in the bottom counter there was a photo album. She yanked it out of the bookshelf and opened it up to the last page.
And there she's stuck a series of photos she'd taken during the summer and developed at school, and stuck it in during her Christmas holidays in 6th year. They were of her and her parents, and were all moving. All of her mum and dad. Her mum and dad were smiling and waving enthusiastically. Hermione, who had been standing, slowly sank to sit on her bed, trying, in vain, to fight back her tears. She couldn't believe she'd never see her again.
She heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but didn't care, nor did she when she heard her door open. She couldn't shake off this horrible feeling. Something that had been plaguing her mind for a long, long time.
'Hermione?'
Hermione turned to see her dad standing there, face etched in concern.
Hermione sighed and looked back at the picture. She felt the extra weight on her bed as her father sat down next to her.
Hermione closed the album slowly and sadly. 'It's all my fault,' she said.
'What?' asked her father. 'Don't be ridicu—'
'But it is. If I hadn't been a witch, none of this would have happened. And you wouldn't have gone insane, and I wouldn't have gotten this disease, and mum . . . mum wouldn't have gone.' The tears then fell.
Her father, meanwhile, shook his head. 'When we first found out about you, your mother couldn't have been more proud. She was always so proud of you, and so am I.'
'Yes,' replied Hermione. 'But if this hasn't happened, then she'd still be here.'
'But if this hadn't happened,' said her dad, 'then all the other stuff you've done for the world wouldn't have happened either.'
'But –'
'But nothing. You've saved so many lives in all this time. You know your mother. Think about how disappointed she'd be if she knew you were being like this. Wishing that you weren't who you are. Being a witch is who you are, and that's all your mother ever wanted. And I know what she still wants.'
Hermione turned to look at her father. 'What's that?'
Her father looked at her intently. 'To beat this evil. You need to beat it . . . the world is counting on you.'
Hermione looked back down on the cover of her photo album. Her mother had written on it 'To Hermione, memories to treasure'. She knew that her father was right. It was what her mother would have wanted her to do.
'All right,' she said. 'I'll do it for her.'
Her dad gave her a huge hug. 'That's my girl.'
Hermione smiled at her dad. 'Thank you for being supportive of me.'
'No problem.'
The two of them sat there for a minute, before Hermione's father said. 'So . . . um . . . what's this disease you've got?'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day was the funeral. Hermione spent the day exchanging greetings to people who all said they were so sorry for her loss. She thanked them all immensely, and felt that by the end of the day she didn't have any tears left. She felt immensely empty, and couldn't wait to get back to the hustle and bustle of school. She found the atmosphere at home too miserable. Yet she also felt incredibly guilty of leaving her dad alone by himself.
She did get some reassurance however. The evening after the funeral, as Hermione was eating some baklava her grandparents had given her (she was on her 4th slice and beginning to feel slightly sick), the door opened, and their next door neighbour, Mrs Hearthel, came in.
'Hermione,' she said, looking at Hermione sitting at the table. 'You're going to get fat if you eat too much of that.'
Hermione smiled and took another bite. 'How are you Mrs Hearthel?'
'Better then you I'm thinking,' she said. 'But I hear you're going back to school tomorrow?'
'Yeah. It's still term and I've missed a few days. I gotta keep up.'
Mrs Hearthel shook her head. 'Always the studious kind, aren't you Herms? Anyway, I thought I'd just let you know that I'll be here for your dad. As will the rest of the neighbourhood. Don't you worry about that.'
Hermione nodded to her. 'Thank you.'
'No problem. Your dad's a fighter Hermione. He'll get through this just as well as you will.'
Hermione wasn't quite sure if that was very encouraging, considering how much baklava she had eaten/was going to eat. Oh well, she thought, as long as Mrs hearthel has confidence.
She smiled at Mrs Hearthel as she left the house. Sighing to herself, Hermione walked upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. She had to get to school very early tomorrow so she wouldn't miss any classes, and she figured she might as well avoid missing any more then she absolutely had to.
As she got into bed, she dimly remembered that there was a Quidditch match on the weekend. She was returning back to school on tomorrow, Thursday. She wondered is Harry and Ron knew about what had happened. It would all have to wait till tomorrow, however, when Hermione was actually there.
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OK, I dunno HOW long that took, but I am so sorry it did take that long. I've been so busy trying to keep up in maths . . . and all my other subjects! :P. Anyway, provided some of you are still alive, please review! If only to abuse me for taking so long.