A/N: Hello, hope this chapter didn't take too long, cos I'm in the middle of me exams now, and I just had to write : ) Here's the meatier (I think) content, as promised.
Chapter 13: Prelude
An insistent hammering prodded her rudely from a dream. She couldn't remember what it was, just that it had felt good.
Groaning, she stumbled out of bed and went to open the door. "What the—arrgghh! For goodness's sake, Ron, don't hug me like that!"
"Sorry," said the redhead, not looking in the least contrite, lowering her to the floor.
"Good heavens, Hermione, you look a right mess!"
"Thank you ever so much," she groused at the speaker. "Dissing the birthday girl is just the thing to get her in the mood on her special day, isn't it?"
"He didn't mean it, Hermione," Harry cut in hastily before they could launch into an all-out row. "Can we come in?"
"Can I say no?" she countered grumpily as she stood aside to allow her well-wishers entrance. "Wait here while I get changed."
She, grabbed a jumper and jeans, disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door, checking her appearance in the mirror. Draco was right. She was a mess. Hair a virtual bird's nest, pyjamas rumpled, eyes still blurred by sleep.
Sighing, she washed up and changed, tossing the nightwear into the hamper by the door before unlocking the door.
Taking one step out, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her room had been completely transformed beyond recognition. Multi-coloured crepe paper hung from the ceiling, decorated her furniture. The words "Happy Birthday to Hermione" were hung around the perimeter of her bed's canopy in glittering purple letters, and motifs of festive things covering the previously plain wallpaper.
Crookshanks stalked over to her, looking very cross at the floppy red ribbon they had tied around his neck.
"Close your mouth, Hermione," advised Ginny. "You might swallow a fly accidentally."
"But—what...the—" She floundered around for words and finally managed to string a coherent sentence together. "You don't have to do that."
"Ah," Harry intoned, raising a finger. "As you can see, it's not a matter of having to, but a matter of wanting to, in the name of pleasing a—" He was cut off rather rudely by a pillow to the head."
"Do shut up, Harry, before you bore us all back to sleep with your sermon," drawled the boy beside him, a party hat with squiggly green and silver stripes perched in a jaunty angle on his blonde hair.
He shot him an offended look before turning to give the bemused girl his most winsome smile. "The point is, Hermione, this is your last birthday in Hogwarts and we want to make it an extra special one."
Tears pricked at the back of her eyelids. His innocent declaration had brought many things to the forefront, things she had purposely pushed to the back of her mind.
Chiding herself silently, she shoved them back ruthlessly into the corner of her mind where they belonged. They meant well, after all, and she did not want to be a killjoy by weeping before them.
"Thank you," she finally croaked, flinging her arms around his neck.
He returned her hug firmly. "Don't turn into a dishrag on us now," he teased. "We do have such fun in store for our resident know-it-all."
Chuckling damply, she released him. "Hey," protested Ron. "Don't I get one too?"
"Prat." Ginny fished a hanky out of her pocket and handed it to her. "You are just jealous Harry got an armful of Slayer and you don't."
"Am—" He found himself pulled into a huge bear hug with his sister. "No fair, Harry gets you all to himself and I have to share you with Ginny?"
"Shut up, you." She gave him a friendly punch on his shoulder and halted before Draco.
Both parties stared at each other until he cleared his throat awkwardly and held out his hand. "Happy Birthday."
She grasped his hand and yanked him into an embrace. "You don't have to hold yourself back around us, you know," she told him.
He stood stiffly for a moment before tentatively placing his hands on her back.
Harry hooted gleefully. "Anyone got a camera? We should take a picture of this and send it to Dumbledore. The fellow has been going on about inter-house harmony for an eternity now."
He scowled at the dark-haired boy, trying to get accustomed to the feel of holding someone with nothing but platonic feelings. But she pulled away too soon, leaving him with yet another feeling of bereftment at the loss of contact.
Shaking himself firmly, he joined in the slightly off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday", basking in the radiance of his friend's smile.
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Dark of the moon it was, but it was also a Saturday and a Hogsmeade weekend, and it made for a rousing birthday celebration at the Three Broomsticks with what seemed like half the Gryffindor house. She was kind of sorry Draco couldn't be there, but he had his facade to uphold, and had expressed his regrets at having to absent himself from the festivities.
Drinks were on the house, and everyone was going through Butterbeers like there was no tomorrow. She had lost count somewhere after the sixth toast, and yet another was going round right at that moment. Wriggling her way through the crowd packed into the tiny establishment, she found Harry and Ron sitting at a table with Fred and George. "When did you two appear?"
The twin on Ron's left grinned. "Had to come. It isn't polite if we were to skip the birthday bash of one of Hogwarts' finest, is it?"
"And besides," added the other twin. "Ron would have dragged us bodily from our shop if we didn't attend."
She blushed at the implication of his comment, trying to tell the identical idiots apart, and as usual, failing miserably. "All right. Which one of you is who?"
"Fred," Ron interjected, nudging the corresponding twin in the ribs. "George." He jerked his thumb at the twin, and promptly received perfectly synchronised slaps on the back of his head.
"Git," growled George. "You always spoil all the fun."
"Can't bear to see your precious Hermione suffer, can you?" jibed Fred.
"Shut up," snapped Ron, whose ears were rapidly turning a horrible shade of pink which clashed violently with his hair. "Do something," he pleaded Harry, who shook his head and grinned.
Before the moment could degenerate any further, Madam Rosmerta's voice rose over the babble of voices. "Hermione Granger!"
Muttering under her breath, she made her way towards the bar, the people before her making way readily. "Yes?"
The older woman held out an envelope. "This came for you on the Floo."
With a little amount of trepidation, she broke the seal and drew out the piece of parchment.
Miss Granger,
Please come to my office immediately.
Professor Dumbledore
Oh dear, she thought, stuffing the parchment into her jeans pocket. What now?
She was halfway down the path back to Hogwarts when Harry and Ron finally caught up with her. "Merlin, Hermione, every step you take is at least three for us," wheezed Ron.
"Sorry," she answered, slowing down to accommodate their gaits. "A note came for me from the Headmaster. I had to rush. Oh dear...the party..."
"Don't worry about that," Harry assured her. "I told them to carry on, not that they need any prompting."
She nodded tersely in gratitude, and continued walking
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Uttering the password, she stepped onto the revolving steps, trying to curb her impatience as she waited for it to reach the Headmaster's office door.
Professors McGonagall and Snape were both present, seated on either side of Dumbledore, their eyes turning on her upon her entrance.
The Headmaster beckoned her to the lone armchair set before his claw-footed desk, and she took her seat with growing disquiet, noting the ever-present twinkle was absent for once from his eyes. The boys perched on either armrest of her chair, and she felt obscurely comforted by their quiet, solid presences surrounding her.
"This came for you by owl just now, Miss Granger." The ancient wizard handed her a large envelope.
Her stomach clenched at the sight of the Ministry stamp on the wax seal, her heart starting to hammer painfully against her ribs.
With shaking hands, she broke the seal, withdrew the letter and read.
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Harry watched in growing disconcertment as the piece of parchment fell from nerveless fingers, knowing in his heart what sort of message the short missive bore. Letters from the Ministry addressed specifically to students during these times, particularly Muggleborn ones, meant only one thing.
"Hermione?" he muttered softly, touching the hand that lay in a clenched fist in her lap as she sat staring straight ahead, unseeing, unmoving.
"They are dead, then," she intoned in a voice that was completely unlike hers.
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Yes."
She inclined her head, the same blank expression on her face. "Very well, then. Good afternoon, Professors."
Without a backward look or acknowledgement of his and Ron's presence, she left. Concerned, they leapt off their perches and made to follow her, but a hand on each of their shoulders stopped them.
"Let her be," advised their Head of House. "She will need some time alone."
Harry looked at her, and inwardly winced at the drawn and pinched quality of her face. It mustn't have been easy, he thought. To see the lives of so many students torn apart with the arrival of an impersonal notification.
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"Is Hermione in?" Ron inquired of Draco after dinner that day.
""She's been locked in her room since noon." He surveyed them with an air of suspicion. "Did you have a tiff or something?"
He was on the verge of giving a heated retort when Harry cut in, "Hermione just got the news from the Ministry at noon. Her parents are...gone."
The other boy's eyes widened. "You are joking, aren't you?" he asked shakily as he involuntarily took a step back.
"No joke," said Ron harshly as he pushed past the stunned boy. "We were there when Dumbledore gave herthe letter."
"It's not fair," Draco whispered half to himself. "On today, of all days..."
"Yeah, we know," agreed Harry tiredly. "And we don't know who did it. Yet." Crossing the room, he knocked gently on his friend's door, "Hermione? It's us. We brought you dinner."
The door opened on its own accord. "Leave it on the desk. I'll eat it later."
From where Draco stood, he could see her seated by the window panes, and he felt his heart twisting in his chest at her cold, emotionless tone. What happened next worried him more.
"Hermione?" murmured Ron hesitantly. "Are you alright?"
"Go away. I don't want your pity."
"But—"
"Go away."
Looking as helpless as he felt, the two turned away and exited the tower, dejection in the line of their slumped shoulders and bowed heads.
Just before the door could shut completely, Draco jammed his foot against it, halting its progress. "Hermione?"
"I'm in no mood for company."
He swallowed hard. "I just want you to know...if you need a ear, I'll be around, okay?"
"Thank you."
The note of dismissal in her curt answer was unmistakable, so he removed his foot and watched as the door slammed shut inched from his nose.
A/N: I'm sorry, I know you guys are gonna kill me for this, but I deem this cruel act necessary for what I'm planning in the future. Please don't be mad at me!
Natsuyori: Yippee, another new reviewer. Thanks! Hope you don't mind this chapter!
FanFiction Dreamer: Thanks! I know you won't flame me to death cause of this chappie...right?