Disclaimer- Yup. You know it.
Draco sat in the common room for a long while after Hermione left. He knew that she had to leave, but he didn't want her to. He wanted her with him, always. To Draco, a few days without her could mean the end of a relationship. Not from any doing of his, but because she wouldn't be near him, she might not like him anymore, and move on to someone else. This was his fear of her leaving, and one of the more selfish reasons of giving her the charmed pendant. Oh, he defiantly wanted her to have it, not only for its charms, and that he was supposed to give it to her, but also because it meant that they would have matching jewelry. Draco would never admit this to anyone, but he was a romantic, always trying to woo, always trying to sweep a person off their feet.
Draco got off the couch, needing to stretch his legs. He'd been in the room too long now, but he couldn't help himself. His thoughts were filled with her, her scent still lingered within the room, and he was loath to leave it. He walked around the room, massaging his aching muscles. He went to the window, and looked upon the Hogwarts grounds. He could see the students playing Quidditch, or having picnics around the lake. He wished that he could join them, but knew that not many would accept him now. After 7 years of being an asshole, he had driven many people away from him, and the ones that stayed, weren't like him anymore. They still supported a dead lord, by their parents command. They didn't accept that Draco had found his love in a muggle-born witch, the know-it-all queen herself. They didn't actively do anything to Draco, since he was still the Slytherin prince, but he could feel their anger in the air, whenever he was in class with them.
Draco continued to walk around the room, contemplating what to do. He was hungry again, but dinner wasn't for a little while yet. He decided to head to the library to start his essay for Transfiguration class. Granted, the essay wasn't due for another week, but he couldn't think of anything else to do before dinner. He went to his room, gathered his bag, and books, checked that he still wore the pendant, and walked out of the common room.
Hermione walked out of the fireplace, with her trunk and cat, to the faces of her parents, Ann and Alan. Her parents rushed to her side, to take her things, and to take her in their arms. All three Grangers had tears on their faces, but were too overwhelmed to wipe them away.
"How did she die?" Hermione asked, once her parents had let her go, and had returned to the couches. She walked over the threshold, towards another couch, wanting the answers, not even bothering to remove her robe.
"Your father and I talked about this, actually. At first, we wanted to protect you, but then we realized that you are old enough to know. She was murdered in her apartment. Beaten to death, with clubs. At the funeral, she will have a closed casket. I'm sorry, dear," Ann said, clutching her husband's hand, the tears still unchecked.
Hermione sobbed at the news, but was filled with such anger, and rage. Murdered? How DARE someone do that?
"Were the people responsible ever caught?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her rage in check, while also trying to stop the tears.
Ann looked at Alan; they exchanged a glance, which spoke volumes. Hermione was not unaware of this look, or what it held, but she needed to hear this from them. She needed to know.
"No, they weren't." her father said, putting his arm around his wife, and beckoning at Hermione to come sit with them.
Hermione got off the couch, as thoughts flittered through her mind. Her main thought involved torture, and revenge. Finding the bastards that killed her grandma. Her visions of pain, and hurt were so vivid that her eyes filled with red, making her stop in her tracks, not wanting to trip. Once her vision cleared, she continued walking, and sat down on the couch.
SMASH
Beside the family, a vase exploded, causing them to jump. Ann and Alan looked around, wondering what caused such a thing, and their eyes landed on their daughter, with a guilty look on her face. Hermione caught their gaze, and blushed.
"So much for being the brightest witch. I can't even control my own anger." Hermione said, quietly. She knew that she was the reason the vase exploded. While she didn't necessarily want that to happen, it had been a result of her intense emotion, or so she assumed. She remembered Harry telling her about his aunt, back in 3rd year, as well as other strange things that happened to him, before he knew of the magical world.
Her parents exchanged another look, this one of alarm, as they realized what, exactly, their daughter just told them. They didn't fear for their lives, as they knew the anger wasn't directed towards them, but they were worried that something like this would happen at the funeral, and would need an explanation to the rest of the family.
"Honey, I want you to do something for me." Alan said, putting his other arm around his daughter. " I want you to remain calm about this. The police are trained in this kind of thing, they know what they're doing. Don't get involved. Don't seek revenge. We don't want to see you get in trouble."
Hermione looked from her mother to her father, letting their words sink in. She knew they were right. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing that she should do.
"Sure, dad. But no matter what I promise, it wont take away the pain, the rage." Hermione said, looking her father in the eyes.
"I know honey, we are just as angry as you, but you have to control that anger, help yourself heal." Ann said, smiling at her daughter.
"We love you honey, and we're happy that you managed to get the time off school, to come."
"Of course I'm here! I wouldn't miss this.' Hermione said, as she slumped against her father.
"Lets go get some lunch, and we can go through what still needs to be done, before everything tomorrow. Alright honey?' Ann said, getting off the couch.
"Sure, mom." Hermione said, following her mother.
Hermione knew that her parents meant well, knew that they wanted to see her safe, and happy, but she couldn't forget the rage, the anger, the hatred. She couldn't help but think of ways to make the culprits feel the pain that she felt now, and would feel for longer still. She helped her parents make lunch, ate with them, and talked about what needed to be done, for after both the wake and the funeral, the guests would be coming here, to their house, to talk, and eat. Hermione did the chores that were asked of her with a smile, no complaints. She needed to talk to Draco, tell her what was going on. As she did her chores, she wrote him an owl in her mind.
AS soon as she finished doing the vaccuming, she rushed to her room, pulled an ink pot, and some parchment out of her bag, and sat at her desk. She composed the letter in her mind. Once finished, she called for an owl, and sent him on his way.
Hermione followed the owl with her gaze, hoping that Draco wouldn't worry, but would offer some comfort, with a reply. Hermione turned back from her window, and lay down in her bed. She thought about her grandma, and Draco. She wasn't even aware that she was tired, and slipped into unconscienceness, worn out from the long day.
Draco
I miss you already. What I wouldn't do to have you here to comfort me, to hold me as I cry. I know what you're thinking, and don't. You can't afford to miss classes, I need you to take notes!
I found out what happened. She was murdered. They weren't caught. I accidentally broke a vase, with my rage, and anger. I want to vent. Please, be there for me when I return. I'll need you more then ever, and I only hope that your strength can hold us both.
Yours,
Hermione
