Chapter 4: Abandoned in Her Moment of Need

Hermione blinked once.

Twice.

"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione gave a nervous laugh. "I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just say…"

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "You're parents were killed tonight."

"That's not possible." Hermione stood quickly, dislodging McGonagall's hand. "Harry killed Voldemort. No one else would want my parents gone. Why would anyone want to kill my parents? They're just two ordinary people. Two Muggles. They're dentists. That's ridiculous. Why would anyone want to kill two Muggle dentists? Harry killed Voldemort. Didn't he?" Her frantic rambling came to a stop as she sent a pleading gaze towards both professors.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Professor McGonagall's eyes were filled with pain as she watched her top student absorb the information.

"I don't understand," Hermione whispered. She crumpled to the ground, staring at nothing. Somehow, she kept from crying. She needed to be strong. She needed to find out who did this to her parents.

"It wasn't Voldemort," Dumbledore's grave voice penetrated the fog of turmoil that Hermione was in. "It was definitely the work of a wizard, or wizards, but it wasn't Voldemort."

"Do you know for sure?" Hermione stood slowly.

"Yes. Powerful magic leaves behind a residue, similar to a fingerprint, and this wasn't Voldemort," Dumbledore took a letter from his pocket and placed it on his desk.

"I remember reading something about that when we were trying to find out more about Voldemort," Hermione mumbled. "The residue doesn't last very long, but the more powerful the magic, the longer it lasts."

"Here is the letter I received from the Ministry of Magic. Take it, Hermione. You should know the truth."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione clutched the letter tightly as if it was her lifeline, and she was drowning. "I think I need to be alone right now."

She walked out of his office in a daze, with both professors looking on in concern. She walked, not knowing where she was going. She needed Harry and Ron. They would help her though this. They would keep the darkness that threatened to engulf her, at bay. Those thoughts kept her sane. It kept her from breaking down.

She made her way slowly back to the Great Hall. Music pumping, bodies swaying, lights flashing. None of this registered in her mind. She searched the sea of bodies for the faces of Harry and Ron, letter still clutched in her hand, unread. She saw them close to the exit, faces flushed with excitement as they danced with their girlfriends.

The sight of the two girls made her hesitate. But it wasn't enough to stop her. She needed her best friends now more than ever. She needed their understanding. She needed the comfort only they could give. Paying no heed to the dirty looks she was being given, she pushed through the mass of writhing bodies. So intent on getting to her best friends, she ran headlong into Lorelei.

"Watch it, 'Mione!" Ron scolded as he caught the stumbling Lorelei.

"Ow! Oh, I've twisted my ankle!" Lorelei whimpered.

"You did that on purpose!" Vivien accused. "You deliberately pushed her. Harry and I both saw it. Right Harry?"

"I need to talk to you guys," Hermione face was pale. "I need your help."

"Well, she didn't push her… more like ran into her," Harry tried to avoid the fight he could sense approaching. He head felt a little fuzzy due to the firewhisky Vivien and Lorelei had sweet-talked him and Ron into spiking the punch with.

"She was looking directly at Lorelei, and then deliberately ran into her!" Vivien's face was a mottled red.

"It hurts so much!" Lorelei cried out piteously as she tried to walk with Ron's assistance. He helped her to a nearby chair.

"Why you go and do that for, Hermione?" Ron was angry. "I know you don't get along with Lorelei, but you didn't have to hurt her. You're just jealous that we have girlfriends and you don't have a boyfriend."

"I need your help," Hermione repeated, almost desperately.

"No wonder you don't have a boyfriend. It's always about you, isn't it? Well, let me tell you something, Hermione. Stop being such a nagging harpy, and get that pole out of your ass. What could you need help with, anyways? Do you need us to help with the Transfiguration project? If anyone needs help at the moment, it's the person who you've injured. Lorelei."

Ron met Hermione's gaze. One moment she was looking at him with pain in her eyes, the next, it was as if he had disappeared. She didn't seem to see him. This wasn't right. Normally Hermione would be spitting fireballs, not acting as if he didn't exist. He backed up in surprise before Harry cut in.

"C'mon, 'Mione, can't you take a joke?" Harry laughed as he tried to smooth things over half-heartedly. "You're so uptight all the time, you need to loosen up. You need to stop being such a nightmare to everyone. So what if we don't have perfect scores? Why can't we take some time off from studying without you harassing us? You need to learn how to go with the flow of things. What?" Harry turned to Ron, who had been nudging him insistently.

"Shut up!" Ron was growing alarmed. He had been watching Hermione, and the more Harry talked, the blanker her face became.

Hermione's hold on the letter tightened infinitesimally. She was alone now. There was no one who could help her. She needed to get out of here. Slowly, almost trancelike, she walked out of the Great Hall, blocking out the chattering voices from the crowd that had gathered during their fight.

She was deaf to the world, isolated in her own shell of hurt. Somehow, she made her way to the top of the astronomy tower. The wind was biting and cut right through her thin gown, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything at all except for the pain that was tearing through her heart.

She looked out into the distance, the beautiful moonlit view lost to her. Her parents were gone. Her laughing, animated, doting parents were no more. She started to shake from the cold that started to consume her deep inside. Alone and trembling, she let out a wail of grief. She slid to the ground. Tears streaked down her face. No one heard her cry.

No one heard her agonizing call.

Except for one person.

It had been an hour since he had delivered his message to Hermione, and Draco was bored. He wandered through the Great Hall, weaving around the dancing bodies when he caught sight of her. He could tell she was distressed. Her face was pale, and she walked as if not knowing where she was. He saw her plowing through the throng of people towards her goal.

"What the bloody hell is she doing?" Draco muttered to himself as he followed at a distance. He saw her with the Idiot Duo, and it appeared as if they were yelling at her. Curious as to why Hermione wasn't reacting and putting those two prats in their place, he followed her out of the Great Hall.

The astronomy tower? Why in bloody hell would she need to go to such an isolated area? He watched as she stared out into the distance, then jumped as she let out a sudden keening howl of heartache.

He was uncertain of what to do. She lay in a heap on the ground like a broken angel. This weeping couldn't be the result of the Idiot Duo and their big mouths, could it? Should he go out and ask her what's wrong? Should he go and make fun of her for showing such weakness to him? He stepped out of the shadows still undecided of his plan of action.

"Granger."

She froze at the sound of his voice.

He still didn't know what to do, or what to say. So he waited.

She stared at the ground for what seemed like hours before she slowly raised her eyes to meet his. Her eyelashes glittered in the moonlight, spiked with tears. Her face was streaked with the evidence of her misery, reflecting the soft moonlight. Her eyes were a pool of darkest brown that seemed to call out to him.

Draco's breath caught in his chest. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. A yearning to hold and comfort her grew in his heart. And never one to deny himself, that's exactly what he did.

Her gaze was now centered back on the ground as he crouched before her. Sounds of her attempt to halt her own tears reached him. Gently, he encircled her in his arms, warming her just the tiniest bit.

"Shh…" he stroked her hair. "It's ok."

Those two words of understanding broke the tenacious hold of control she had. Without another thought, she threw her arms around him. She sobbed uncontrollably, the unread letter still clutched tightly in her hand, soaking the front of Draco's shirt.

"It's alright," he crooned to her. "Everything's going to be alright."