Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of these characters- even though I wish I did! I only claim to own this plot- or lack there of :)

And before you start reading, please note that this is my first fic, and I am trying to stray from your usual plot. I haven't really considered if Hermione will go out with anyone in particular. In fact, I haven't really thought about what will actually happen much, but it will happen when it will.

For info on how this chapter has been edited, see the end of this chapter.

Hermione sighed, as she sat down on the army green damp grass, and pulled her knees up to her chin. Pulling at her school robes, she covered her legs to shelter herself from the chilly wind that was blowing her way.

'Why me?'she thought, staring out across the school grounds, a single tear falling from her eye, her insides withering with desperation. The tear was now sliding silently smoothly down her cheek and it landed on the collar of her shirt.

The dark clouds loomed above her, making the impossibly dark night even darker.

If only she had never left to start the school year. If only she knew. If only she could save them…

A few moments went by as she gazed up at the sky. She could almost hear the soundless clock, ticking away at time. She gazed up at the heavens. Where they would be, no doubt. Reminiscing, recalling the pain they had endured before their deaths.

It would be nice to think that they died without pain. Without suffering.

But Hermione knew. They didn't. Death eaters weren't known for ending someone's life suddenly, without having what they probably referred to as a little 'play'. It wasn't play. Play was what you did when you were young, in the playground. Play was fun. How could they be as heartless as to find killing, and causing pain, "fun"?

She moaned, staring up at the sky once more. How could anyone be so cruel, so heartless?

Hermione could feel the tears welling in her eyes again. She willed herself not to cry. She blinked furiously, in an attempt to stop the flood of tears. She would not cry.

'I am strong' she thought. 'Who are you kidding, Granger?' a counter thought surfaced through her brain, ringing in her ears even though it wasn't spoken.

A sob escaped her lips. She started sobbing, against her will. It was like her brain hadn't registered it, but her heart; the stupid piece of muscle had, and was regaining full control of her body. 'I'm in Gryffindor, I'm brave…'

'I don't need to cry!' her inner voice thundered.

'Crying is for babies, crying is a sign of weakness…'

Thunder lit up the sky, startling her. When she realised what it was, she continued what she was doing before, against her rational brains will.

Sobbing.

'If only I was there.'

'If only you where there?' A voice rang in her head, teasing her. 'And what would you do, then?'

An interesting question it seemed. What would she have done?

She was barely able to duel last year at the Department of Mysteries. How could she go against, no doubt the same people, by herself?

She wasn't even conscious for most of the time.

Embarrassing, really.

Thunder lit up the sky for a second time.

What was the use of being the smartest, brightest girl of her year, if she could barely utter a spell against evil?

'You wouldn't have been able to do anything. They'd have killed you along with the rest of your family. Tortured, and then killed you.' Her know-it-all brain got annoying sometimes.

'Who knows? Maybe they would have given into your pleas, killed you and left your family to be?' The voice taunted her, made her feel stupid.

Lightning struck a tree, causing a long, ear splinting crash to ring in the silence of all mother natures' havoc.

Hermione ignored it.

'Of course they wouldn't have. They're all the same. The lot of them. Evil, scheming, non-soul having… things.'

'Probably not even human' she muttered, as tears flowed like a river down her face. She could taste the bitterness of tears in her mouth.

It was unnaturally silent.

Lightning lit up the sky, for a final time, before it started raining heavily.

Hermione clenched her fists. 'Why did they have to kill my family?'

The question sounded distorted in the patter of rain hitting the cold bricks of Hogwarts castle.

'They knew nothing about the war.'

More rain fell. She was soaked in a matter of minutes.

'They would have been confused, wondering why these people with wands that looked like mine were hurting them'.

Hermione felt unusually helpless. She never felt helpless. She was always the helpful one, who knew everything. Or was going to find the answer to the problems. She was never helpless.

And, despite the large number of inhabitants in the castle at the wall she was leaning against, Hermione never felt more alone in her life.

A place in her heart that was once filled with joy, happiness and laughter was replaced with sadness, filled with sorrow and loneliness.

No matter what happened, her family was always there to help her. They supported her, and her mother constantly gave her advice and leant a kind ear for her to talk to. When she felt her whole world was crashing down, like she was being suffocated with work during the school year. Like she was gong to fail, and get everything wrong, she would always rely on her father's inquisitive questions about the wizarding world, her mother's kind words of support, and her elder brother's jokes.

It was like she had cotton wrapped around her with them. Not suffocating cotton. Sweet, comforting cotton, that gave her warmth. Now the cotton was gone. It was cold, she was alone and no-one could ever give her back that cotton.

It was like fairy floss.

Hermione couldn't think about them any longer. 'Think about something else,' she desperately urged herself. But how could she not think about her family? The pain and suffering they had to go through just because she was and wanted to be part of a world that they weren't. A world, where at the moment, foundations were shaking and somewhere shattering. Everything she had known about this world, it greatness, all the magic and mystery were beginning to loose their appeal.

Why did she have to come here?

Why couldn't she have just declined the offer to attend Hogwarts, and think the letter was a joke?

If she hadn't come, her family would be still alive.

She was sobbing hysterically now, unable to control the hysterica that got a hold of her. Tears were flooding down her cheeks, but she was unable to tell the difference. What was rain, and what were her own, salty, tears?

It didn't matter any longer.

The only thing that mattered now was that they were dead, and it was her fault. Her fault for choosing this path, her fault for not being there to protect them.

It was her fault that they suffered, died in vain.

What use were their deaths?

Such a waste of life. Such a waste of beautiful, happy life, to cause another unhappy life. It was like dominoes. Knock over one, and you'll cause the others to collapse.

Hermione found it hard to breathe. She had all this air, and yet it was hard to breathe.

Someone had yanked her heart out, and thrust it on the floor.

But not only had they done that. Now they were stepping on it- stomping, more likely.

And her heart, this stupid muscle that enabled her to feel was still attached to her.

She found herself clenching her fists, grinding her teeth.

But all the grinding, clenching, sobbing, heart stomping could never bring her family back. She was still alone after all her body put her through. And it continued to do more.

Hermione never felt herself more alone in her life. Not when she got lost in supermarkets when she was younger. Not when she first came to Hogwarts and didn't know anyone. Not ever. Not even when she and Ron where fighting in Fourth year, and he wouldn't speak to her.

Never ever in her life.

The rain stopped.

But her tears didn't.

Hermione didn't know how long she sat there in the dark, shivering in the wind. All she could think about was how she caused their deaths, and it was her own fault. Her own selfish, fucking fault.

It felt odd to swear, Hermione pondered. She never swore. It was her conservative upbringing, her mother and father who brought her up to be a sensible girl. Thinking even more about them, their happy memories made Hermione want to cry more.

But she had run out of tears to cry. It was like squeezing a dried up sponge. She wanted to cry, but she didn't have anymore tears.

So she sat there, up against the wall all night, and when the sun rose, she was still awake.

Her body felt numb- she was shivering, but she didn't feel cold. Her face should have felt wet- but it didn't. She should have been tired- but she wasn't. Her mind was transfixed on one thing, and that one thing was how it was such a waste of life. How she would never hear her father's chuckles, her brother's witty, sarcastic remarks and her mother's kind, soothing voice.

She and her brother would never grow old together or move away from home. She would never badger him about girlfriends again- he would never get married. Her parents wouldn't grow older and wiser. They were frozen bits of time, not part of the present anymore. They would never to move forward in life. Her family was going to stay etched in her mind, memories of what seemed a distant past, yet so close to the present and they were never going to be seen again moving, alive in the flesh.

She was never going to be able to joke with her brother, or beat him at checkers. She would no longer watch documentaries on TV with her father. She couldn't bake cakes, cupcakes or scones with her mother again. They were all lost.

What seemed such trivial and insignificant activities she did with them would never happen again. She would never ever see them alive again.

When she thought that her tears had run dry, a never ending supply regenerated them, and she felt another tear slide down her face.

Hermione slowly felt the castle come back to life. But her parents would never come back to life. They were dead- going to sleep for eternity. Whilst everyone was going to die eventually, except for probably Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore, her parents, and especially her 17 year old brother died too early.

'They died too early, and left me here.'

The feeling in her body slowly came back. Birds started to chirp and you could hear the constant chatter, footsteps and buzz coming from the castle.

But Hermione didn't want to move. She wanted to stay there forever, watching time go by, just like her parents would up in heaven (if there was such a place). She should have been there, or she should have never come here.

'I wish I could turn back time' she thought to herself furiously.

'Ahh… but you could once, remember your third year?' a devious voice in her head responded.

'But look how that turned out! Harry and I could have killed ourselves!' The thought escaped from a place in her brain for the other voice to hear.

'My point exactly- you don't know what you might do!'

However logical this other voice sounded- it was a reasonable point, Hermione could not help but desperately wish she could turn back the hands of a clock, back to when she received her Hogwarts letter, and rip it up, and never speak of it again.

Then her parents would be alive, and brother would still be here, and I wouldn't be alone, she thought vainly.

Another salty tear found its way down her cheek.

Students started walking onto the grounds, on their morning walks and they gave her weird looks, as if questioning her. Do you have a good enough reason to be in the state you are? Their stares and questioning looks taunted her.

Some where, in the back of her mind, a thought surfaced. 'What if you're overreacting?'

'What do you mean, what if I'm overreacting? My parents just died, my brother is gone! If anything, I'm under reacting!' she retorted back.

Under reacting… Under reacting…Under reacting

The last word rang through her head, echoing, sending sharp pains through her temples.

What if she was under reacting?

Hermione wasn't sure. She'd never had anyone close to her die before. Not until now.

She didn't want to forget them. They were her bloody family.

So what if she was under reacting?

Hermione felt like she was betraying them, not being able to cry anymore. Not throwing a hissy fit. Not yelling at the sky, cursing Lord Voldemort, stomping off to seek revenge. She felt like she was betraying them.

Should she yell at the sky for effect? That's what they always did in movies. But the actors didn't know what it was like. Should she run off and tell her friends? It wasn't exciting news.

What should she do?

'What should I do?'

Hermione focused on this question, not willing herself to think about them. But really, by thinking about this one question, she was reminded herself more and more about their deaths. They were her fault. She should have been there, to say sorry for these awful witches and wizards, to yell insults at the very people who hated her kind. To explain to her parents that she had been lying about the current state of the wizarding world.

But she wasn't. She wasn't there, and nothing could change that.

Read and review! You know you want too… constructive criticism, or criticism that isn't even constructive is welcome too.

Note: This chapter has been edited. Please don't be confused if you read before this edit (before this note was here). Basically chapter 1 and 2 have been merged together, because having 2 chapters on Hermione being depressed was a bit too long. Chapter 2 was formally called 'Frozen Bits of Time' (quite liked that title… pity).