Since that fateful night two weeks ago, my mother has not been the same. She has never exactly been what you could call a kind woman, but she has always been sensible. Now she is neither.
Dad was her reason for everything. Everything she ever did was for him. She became his partner in dentistry because Dad had a fascination with healthy teeth. She became a wife because Dad wanted his home to be as normal and perfect as could be expected of a well-to-do dentist. She had me because Dad had always wanted to take a stab at playing the father. She allowed me into Hogwarts because Dad thought it would be smashing to have a witch for a daughter. Now, her entire life and reason for being is gone and she is left with a profession she never cared for, a ring that proclaimed her a widow, and a witch in place of the daughter she never wanted.
I became the blame for her unhappiness. Me, Hermione, a know-it-all girl with imperfect teeth and knowledge for things far from ordinary. "It's your fault" she says every morning she wakes up to a cold bed and an empty chair at the table. "If you weren't a witch, he'd never have been murdered" she says as I try to make her comfortable, as I try to please her with any housekeeping abilities I have. "If you were never born, he'd still be alive" she says as she looks at me through red-rimmed eyes.
And she is right. If I had not gotten my Hogwarts letter that so unnerved her, if I had never made friends with the most targeted and dangerous boy in England, if I had never come home with the news that a war was starting in my world and that all of us were in danger, he would be fine. I do not blame her.
A week after his death, Mum started rules. Strange, outlandish rules that kept me from being happy but made her feel safe in a world full of unforeseen dangers. I was no longer allowed any contact with any part of my world. No owls to any of my friends, no over vacation homework, no trips to Diagon Alley. The worst of it, no return to Hogwarts come September 1st. I begged and I pleaded, but her word did not budge. I was to remain at home and hope to salvage what little bit of normalcy we had left to us.
For the rest of the summer, if not longer, I was to remain inside the house. It was to be my duty to clean it and keep it as orderly as possible as Mum tried to find a new routine in her life that did not include my father.
For two weeks, we kept the shambles of our home and family as together as possible. I would do all I could to make her appreciate me; look at me with more than blame and hatred in her eyes. It never worked. Especially on one fateful day when I was owled by my friends.
Apparently Harry was at the Burrow and he and Ron had been waiting for me to show up for a long time and finally got tired of waiting. They sent a letter asking for me to come over with Pig. If they had sent Errol, I might have been able to hide it from Mum. He's so quiet, even if he does manage to knock over a vase or two upon landing. Pig, on the other hand, is at his best a complete nuisance. He comes in through a window and flies circles about the room and hoots his fool head off. This is not the best sort of owl to try hiding from one's angry Mum.
So, while I was trying to shush the hyperactive owl, Mum banged into the upstairs guest room. Her eyes narrowed immediately at the sight of the miniature hooting owl in my arms and there was no point in my trying to hide him.
"What is that?"
I cowered beneath her gaze, a very un-Hermione-like move. "An owl, Mum."
"An owl?"
"Yes, Mum."
Her eyes narrowed even further and her lips nearly disappeared in a thin line. "The sort that you send letters with. Letters to your freaky friends?"
"Yes, Mum." My voice was barely a whisper.
She glared at the now quiet Pig. Her eyes took in his miniscule frame, his eyes wide with animalistic curiosity, and the scrap of parchment fastened tightly to his little leg. Before I could protest, she had snatched it and was opening it.
" 'Hermione'," she read, " 'Where've you been? We've been waiting for you for absolute ages. You should've been here three days ago. You said you would. Mum's on the verge of sending Lupin and Tonks to your house and just picking you up and bringing you back here. Anyway, if you don't reply soon, me and Harry'll do it ourselves. So, just write back and let us know what's up, all right? Love, Ron.'"
She looked at me over the edge of the parchment. "Have you been writing them, Hermione." Her voice was shrewd and demanding.
"No, Mum." It was the truth. I'd been to busy trying to make her happy to have time for anything else.
"I will not have you lie to me, Hermione. Have you been writing to them?"
"No, Mum. I haven't, I swear. I've been doing too mu--"
She cut me off. "You swear. Just like you swear that there was nothing you could do to save Jason? You, a witch, who can do anything with a simple wave of your magic stick?"
"Mum," I pleaded. "I couldn't do anything. It was an Unforgivable, a Killing Curse. It can't be reversed. Believe me, if I could I would've done something, but I couldn't!"
For a moment, her face crumpled and her shoulders slumped. I thought she might just believe me. But then, her resolve returned and her steeliness was back in full force. She was just as stubborn as I was. "Quit lying to me, Hermione," her voice was like ice. "You know you could have saved him. It's on your conscience, his death, no one else's." I felt the truth in her words and I seemed to fold in on myself. "I don't want to look at you, Hermione. Go. To your room. Stay until I call you."
I ran from the room, clutching Pig to me like a teddy bear. Once in my room, I crumbled onto the floor, hiccoughing from suppressed sobs. When I looked up, I saw the owl my dad had bought for me at the end of sixth year; the normal brown barn owl that I had planned to always use to write him. Now I did not have the chance. And I knew then, as I looked into her frank eyes, that I had to leave. I could not deny myself the world that I now belonged to. I stood and placed Pig in the cage with her and started to gather together all the things I could not bear to part with.
As I began packing my possessions into my trunk, I thought of where to run. There was always the Burrow, of course. But at the Burrow there was Molly. And while she would be glad to have me, she would lecture me constantly on running away. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I could go to Hogwarts, I supposed, but if they wouldn't let orphans stay there over the summer, why would they let me when I still had a home. Or I could run to Grimmauld Place. Though technically no longer Headquarters, it did belong to Harry and I was pretty sure that Remus was still an occasional resident. Yes, I could stand Grimmauld Place. And Remus would understand why I had to leave. At least, he would once I explained.
Once my trunk was filled, I ran to my desk and pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen. Hardly wizarding parchment and quill, but they were already packed and the less time I took the better. I hastily wrote a scribbled message to Harry and Ron about where I would be and sent Pig off to the Burrow.
With my wand and a few spells, I charmed my trunk to the size of a block and stuck it in my pocket and managed to quiet my footsteps. I stepped out of my room and carefully made my way, softly calling Crookshanks to follow. He merely opened an eye wearily and went back to sleep. Grumbling, I went back and grabbed him, holding him awkwardly in front of me. Just as I reached the head of the stairs, an idea struck me. As much as my mom didn't care for me right now, her maternal instincts would kick in eventually whether she wanted them to or not. I returned to my room and hastily scribbled out a note that told her I was going to be gone for the rest of the summer and the school year and that I would owl her as often as possible. Now satisfied that she shouldn't be too upset, I made my way all the way out of the house.
With a last look at my childhood home, I turned on the spot carefully and apparated to Grimmauld Place.
The front of the building looked just as it always did, dank and dark and dirty. But by the guttering light flickering out of a window on the second story, I knew that someone was inside. Gathering what little courage and resolve I had left in me I walked to the front door and carefully knocked upon it. The familiar screeching of Mrs. Black reached my ears and I knew it wouldn't be long before the door was opened.
I shuffled uncomfortably as I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and stopping before the door. It opened and I was met with a look of absolute shock. I smiled faintly at the tired handsome face of my former Professor.
"Hello, Remus. May I come in?"
With a stunned shake of his head, he held the door open wider and admitted me in.
