Long one! This one is sad...but i guess the whole thing is sad...so yeah. Enjoy!
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Anyone who looked at Hermione Granger would assume her as an older woman. Her hair was long and curling untamed. Her face pale and wrinkled smile-less. Her entire body not having seen emotion since the horrible day years ago.

Hermione entered her warm, stale home from her balcony overlooking frosted fields. She latched the large glass paneled doors and went across the bare room. She took the time to walk through each room slowly. To look at each stripped wall and each dusty floor. She looked in the shadows that concealed the corners and under her loose floorboards. Nothing remained in this house. That's all it was now. It never truly was a home. Her heart was never here, but now it was only walls.
She tore her eyes from each wooden room and each frosted window. Finally, she made it down the stairs to her front door. There were two large boxes. The only things she had worth keeping, fit in two cardboard boxes. Most things were magical photo albums and remnants of her childhood. Even her wand lie deep within one box. She felt no need to have it on her person. If someone wanted her dead, than so be it. But...maybe she should take it out, for safety.
Upon instinct, she opened the closest box and ran her long fingers over each leather-bound album and each scrap of paper. She felt for the magical stick and sealed her fist around it. She felt something flow through her. Almost like the very first time in Olivander's where she found her wand. Magic warmed her frozen fingertips and ran up her arm. Soon her entire body filled with warmth and she remembered why she had stored the wand in the first place. Hermione did not want to feel feelings. She would break down if she did. She honestly couldn't even remember how to feel since the day her parents were attacked.

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The very first attack had magical sirens blaring. The loud whirring ring left all tone deaf. All anyone knew was panic. People ran the blackened streets screaming. Black-cloaked figures floated from house to house like ghosts. They filled the streets shooting random people with flashes of green light. Some however, took joy in watching people suffer and shot a breath-stealing spell to helpless children or wandless witches and wizards. People tried to protect their crying children or told them to run away. However, some figures only took pride in storming houses, and pushed past fleeing people.

Hermione watched frozen from her window. All she could see was pure chaos. Everyone ran left and right. Black-cloaked dark wizards rounded up people in circles in the middle of the street. Muggles and wizards alike. They took no care for anything. Fear filled the panic stricken air as they surrounded the ant-sized people and blasted them. All Hermione could hear was one mass scream.
All at once, a black-cloaked figure her size turned. He looked straight up into her eyes. All Hermione could see from her window now, was his eyes. Everything else seemed to blur away. Those eyes locked with hers and searched her through her windowpane. She was frozen on the spot. She couldn't even duck. The pain and anger filled eyes glued to hers. Out of nowhere the familiar, icy eyes turned away. The person pointed up to Hermione. She finally ducked. Just in time.

Her front door burst open. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She ran to her bedroom door and peeked out. Five wizards in black and the young one from the window flooded in. Hermione's mother's scream pierced through all the noise and hit Hermione's ears like nothing before. The high pitch turned on her tear ducts. Tears pierced through her eyes and poured down her face. She almost ran down to help her mother when her intelligence took over. She ran to her closet and hid instead. She climbed in the tiny hidden door in the back. Her father had built it for her in case of an event this horrible. Hermione had laughed it off at the time, but now her heart beat so fast it pounded in her ears. Her raspy breathing filled the quiet closet air. She prayed the masked men wouldn't hear her. She tried as hard as she could to stop crying, but knowing that her mother was tortured out of life broke her very soul. Her head throbbed and her eyes hurt from the salt of her tears. The lump in her throat burned her very breath as she listened with all her might.

Stomping up the stairs came pairs of feet. Incoherent shouts were heard and her father's shout of pain. Hermione gulped back the fresh ocean of tears that erupted within her. Her very existence was now gone. The reason for life had been taken. But, Hermione told herself she must be silent. If she were not then she would have the same fate as her family. She choked down the tears as they swelled in her. Her heart ached, but she was too afraid to notice.
At last thumps came down the hallway. Closer and louder. Hermione could no longer tell which were foot steps and which were her heartbeats ringing in her ears, Her bedroom door burst open, sending a ripple of silence through the ice-cold room. Stomping and crashes meant the invaders were searching for her. She heard the noise cease and held her breath until her lungs almost popped. Footsteps were stealthily sneaking toward the closet, but having lived in this room her whole life, Hermione knew someone was crossing the floor.
Closer. Almost at the door. Hermione could sense someone there. She knew she was in her hiding cabinet, but would it be enough? She pulled back as close to the wall as possible. Silence.

The closet door flung open and her cloths and shoes were discarded throughout the room. Through the tiniest crack in the wooden wall, Hermione could see a blur moving about searching for her. Someone knew she was there. It must have been the cloaked ghost in the window. The young one with the hatred in his eyes. Hermione held in a gasp as she swore she saw the electric flash of their eyes again, but the death eater turned away. She heard them retreating her bedroom. Tears soaked her cheeks once more but she bit her lip and remain silent for what seemed like forever.
With trembling hands, she reached to the door and pushed it open a crack. Pulling back instantly, she froze against the shadowed corner of the cramped space. No movement filled her room so she tumbled out of the cabinet space. Shivering with fear, she tread silently through her trashed room and to her broken door. Hermione stepped over pieces of wood and out into the chilled hallway. With no sound in the house, she snuck to her parent's room. Her father was gone. In the place, her heart sank. Blood spattered everything and only a pile of flesh and bone lie on the bed. Gruesome as it was, the eighteen year old ran to him and touched the frozen flesh. The touch to his hand make her break down. Her knees were weak as it was and she couldn't bare it. She fell to the ground and sobbed.

Just like that, a muffle had been taken off of her and she heard the final screams in the night. Glancing to the window, she saw bright flashes of green light and heard the screams drowned out by the explosion of evil laughter. At once all was silent. Hermione was alone and she could feel it. She quivered when she tried to stand, but inched to the shattered glass anyway. Darkness covered everything. All the streetlights were shattered. Flaming trees barely lit the pavement, but revealed the horror of the attack. Bodies littered the entire area. Not a cloaked figure remain. Children and adults, muggles and magic alike all slaughtered for the enjoyment of the Dark Lord. Not even the stars would shine on the broken scene. Not a siren remian howling. Not a soul was left untouched.
Hermione tore herself from the room of her father and the broken night. She fled down the blood covered stairs to pray her mother was all right. She rounded the destroyed home for any trace of her. At last, the teen reached the living room and found her mother lying on the floor. She looked so peaceful, she could have been sleeping. Hemione ran up to the beautiful woman and touched her cheek. She fell to the floor beside her and shook her shoulders. When nothing would work, Hermione lost control. She cried and cried. Her broken house seemed to absorb all of her tears. They never stopped flowing and her sobs echoed around her, making her feel more alone. Finally when no more tears would come, Hermione rose from the floor. She wrenched her puffy, salty eyes from her innocent mother and looked to the window. She saw her weak reflection in the silver shards of glass. Then she vowed she would feel no more. No more tears would fall from her eyes. She also promised that she would avenge her parents no matter what. No one would get away with this. She may have been broken inside, but she would never let her emotions grab hold of her again. She almost ran to save her parents, but now she was alive and there was no more chances for 'almost's. She would have to know exactly what she wanted to do, and set to it.

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Now Hermione stood in her acrctic house of two years. She held the wand in her hands that represented everything of her childhood. The magic she felt in learning, the joyfulness of friendship, but most of all the love of her parents. They had given her everything she had ever needed. And now, the only chance to get anything done might be this wand. Her heart tore in two. She had to put it back to preserve her memories right? Or would she possibly be able to uphold her vow to avenge her parents-by breaking a vow of emotion?

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