I Grieve

— Peter Gabriel

The news that truly shocks

Is the empty, empty page

While the final rattle rocks

It's empty, empty cage

And I can't handle this

I grieve, for you

You leave, me

Let it out and move on

Missing what's gone

They say life carries on

Wilkins' Residence

Hermione stared at the walls of her parents' home with no small amount of anger, guilt, and sadness.

The pictures on the walls felt like a punch to the stomach.

Rationally, she knew what she would find once she entered the house, but expecting and finding were two different things. She had erased her whole existence from her parents lives, it was logical that she wouldn't be with them in the dammed pictures.

Still, it hurt.

She glared at a particular photo where she knew she used to be. A trip to France where her father had asked a nice french boy to take a picture of the three of them. Her parents were seated on the grass, while she stood on her knees behind them pulling two fingers behind their heads and making a face.

The picture was so clear in her head, it felt like the photo was mocking her.

"Why aren't you in any picture?" Mr. Stark asked, looking around with his stupid sunglasses on. Inside a bloody house.

Hermione glared at him too. Harry flinched away at the expression on her face and quietly inched away from her line of vision, so she wouldn't catch him and terminate him on the spot.

Tony was oblivious, or maybe he didn't care. Either way, it made Hermione angrier. "Was it because of the witness protection?"

Hermione blinked at him. Witness protection? Her mind was still dealing with the pictures and her parents coffins to fully understand what he was talking about, so it took longer than usual for her mind to catch up on his question.

Tony saw it, but kept his thoughts to himself, all the while he studied her from behind his black sunglasses.

Witness protection. Well, it kind of was, Hermione supposed. A very special, very specific witness protection.

She turned, facing the photo again and taking it off the wall to store it in a box by her feet.

l "Yes. We... Separated. I got in trouble and they had to go to stay safe."

"I don't see Helen leaving a daughter behind" Mr. Stark replied, and Hermione thought of a way to answer. It wasn't like she could throw a confundus charm his way, or she risked killing him by frying his archreactor.

She took another picture from the wall, her father lying on the grass of a small park. She traced his face with the tips of her fingers, smiling sadly, "It's complicated." She shrugged" I couldn't leave, and if she stayed I..." She closed her eyes for a moment and placed the picture with the other in the box, "It wouldn't have ended well for either of us."

Tony stared at her with curiosity. Each minute he spent with Helen's daughter only added more mystery to the whole situation. He was no closer to getting answer than when he found out about her passing, he only got more questions.

The girl went away, to get away from his questions he supposed. And he was left alone to roam the house.

It was small house, although the back yard was quite large. Tony went from room to room, not really helping, just observing the remains of the life his friend had lived.

It was the two of them plus Mr. Potter and Mrs. Tonks. Mr. Potter had taken to pack the living room and the kitchen, while Mrs. Tonks had decided to keep close to the girl storing the bedrooms and photos. Tony felt out of place, with his hands deep in his pockets.

He didn't know why he had insisted on coming, his excuse being he could drive them, but he could've sent Happy to do it. He was just too curious for his own good.

And he couldn't understand it, but the home was bare in less than a day with only three people working on it. Tony didn't know how they did it, he tried to catch them, but they always seemed to know when he was close, and stopped whatever they were doing.

By the end of the day Tony's curiosity was reaching high heavens, followed closely by his frustration.

The next day, aboard the Stark Jet

"Do I have something on my face, Mr. Stark?" Hermione snapped, glaring at the man across from her.

Tony shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and press his fingertips together under his nose.

"You are a puzzle, you and your friends" he replied nonchalantly. Shrugging his shoulders, Mr. Stark leaned back again and stared out the window, his index finger rubbing his upper lip as he thought.

Hermione got tense, as did Ron by her side, out the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Tonks turn her head towards them, her hand inching ever so slightly towards her wand under her sleeve, and Ginny anxiously squirming on her seat, Harry was coming back from the bathroom, and noticed the tense stillness in everyone's frame.

"I don't know what you're trying to say" Hermione said slowly, staring straight at him and trying to appear calm, although she knew she must be failing miserably.

Mr. Stark turned to her and grinned, like she had given him all the answers he was looking for. "This are one of those things I'm not supposed to know, and yet, I will figure out. I always do."

It sounded like a promise, and Hermione turned to look at Mrs. Tonks for guidance, finding the woman staring at Mr. Stark with narrowed eyes.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place

"He knows something." Ron stated.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother, "Yeah, thanks for saying the obvious." She muttered under her breath. Ron heard her and blushed, glaring at her.

"He is quite smart, a genius actually," Hermione said quietly, picking at a biscuit, her tea getting cold between her forearms on the table.

"Mr. Stark cannot find out about our community, it's against the law." Replied Ron, grabbing a handful of biscuits and shoving them into his mouth.

"Not yet anyway..." Hermione muttered. She hadn't said anything much too loudly since... But her voice was still recognised, her friends conditioned to listen to her as the voice of reason during a conflict.

"What do you mean?" Harry, the only one who hadn't said a word since returning, asked. One of his hands came to rest on her shoulder as he leaned a bit forward to look at her face. She smiled at him, and patted his hand.

Hermione lifted her face to look at those around her, her smile was a sad one, her eyes dull with the loss, but she was still their Hermione.

"My parents will..." She began, choking a bit on the last word, "They... They left a list of names, people I could go to if anything happened to them..." she choked a bit on the words, but continued after taking a deep breath, "they were quite old, I came as a surprise, they had given up hope a long ago."

"You don't have to go anywhere, you can stay with us!" Ron exclaimed after the surprise of her statement faded, Ginny nodded along with him.

"Mum will take you in any time, she loves you like a daughter." Ginny added, reaching for one of her hands and squeezing.

Hermione smiled and squeezed back. "I know, but I think I need to get away for a while, far from all this..." She said, gesturing around, mostly to refer to the war.

Her eyes went vacant, lost as she stared at nothing, "There are a few names on the list, family friends mostly, because the rest of my family is either dead or unable to take care of someone else... There is my cousin Sharon, but she is away most of the time doing government business and I don't want to be alone.

"The others I don't know much about, and none of them has contacted me anyway, neither when I faked their deaths, nor now."

"Mr. Stark didn't contact you the first time either" Harry pointed.

"He did now though" she returned, although the doubt crawled its way up her spine. "And Kingsley checked him, he's safe." he had to be.

"What do you want to do?" Ginny asked, looking at her.

"I don't know."

She wanted to get away, she wanted to cry in peace, she wanted to remember them, she wanted them back. She wanted to be alone, and yet she didn't, she wanted a hug, but none of her friends could give her the comfort she craved. She felt desperate.

"Whatever you decide, Hermione, we will support you, forever." Harry said. Ron reached for her hand, and Ginny for the other. The four of them staying like that as Hermione quietly cried.

Granger Residence

Ginny hadn't come with her this time. She was alone in her home staring at the telly, a late night show playing lowly in it providing the only light.

Hermione had insisted, put her foot down, stating she wanted to be left alone to think about things.

Her parents last Will and Testament was clutched in her hand.

She could barely see the short list of names, but by then she knew them by heart.

Lauren Keller

Grace and Terrence Northon

Gustav and Alice Jones

Sharon Carter

Anthony Stark

She hadn't paid much attention to the list the first time the lawyer had read it to her when her parents 'died', after all, her parents had not really died at the time and she was confident she would be reunited with them and as such, wouldn't have to go to anyone else.

In any case, none of the people on the list had come for her. Not even her cousin Sharon. She thought it insulting, at the time, but she also had other things to worry about, so Hermione never gave it more thought.

Now she was thinking about it. And she was angry at them. At all of them.

Why? Why had anyone come looking for her the first time? Was her parents memories nothing to them? Was she nothing to them?

Hermione glared at the names printed on the paper.

Then she thought about the man whose name was the last on the list and frowned. Harry was right when he said that Mr. Stark hadn't come nor contacted her the first time around either. It was odd, and she planned to confront him on it later.

But not tonight.

Tonight she wanted to be left alone to think.

What could she do now?

Stay? Go away?

Now she rightfully had everything her parents owned. It wasn't fair, she didn't want any of it when it signified that her parents were no longer alive. It was definite.

She always felt like she didn't had much of a childhood growing up. Her parents had their practice and spent most of the day there, she often spent her day either in school or in a corner in the practice reading a book.

No one ever understood why she treasured books so much. Books were an escape, a way for the hours to rush past. At first, learning something new was a bonus, then she came to love knowledge when she saw how happy and proud her parents got when she did or said something advanced for her age, when she understood more than most kids in her class.

Aside from the bouts of accidental magic that frightened the living daylights out of her parents, her childhood had been filled with books as her only constant companion.

Anything she couldn't ask her parents, which happened more often than not, she could learn from a book. And she came to relie on them more times than she could count. But her parents always tried.

They tried not to show fear when she had accidental magic. They defended her when she got bullied at school for being smarter. They tried their best to be supportive and open-minded when Professor McGonagall showed up at their doorstep and finally gave a name and a reason as to why she could do the things she did.

She was a witch. The strange things she could do were magic.

When the Professor had said there was a school to lear to control her magic she was excited. It was only now as she reminisced about that day that she could read her parents expressions better. They were relieved they had an explanation, but fearful when they asked questions about the new world she would be entering, sad she would be away for so long.

Their summers, even the short ones where she went to the Weasley's of Grimmauld Place, they would try their very best to clear their schedules, plan a vacation, anything.

She missed her mother taking her shopping. She missed her father teaching her how to shoot and speak French.

She missed so much, and yet, they were all such small moments in her life.

Hermione guessed that's what made it all the more special. All the more painful.

She hoped it would get easier with time. That what they say about it healing all wounds was true.

Idly, Hermione touched the cursed scar on her forearm. Over the years, Hermione had acquired several scars she wasn't particularly conscious about. But there where two she despised, two that made her feel sick to her stomach. Two scars that, more than a physical mark, were now a part of her magic, her soul.

Yes, she hoped time really healed all wounds, otherwise she would never feel whole again.

A pizzeria in downtown London, nearly two weeks later

Hermione was meeting Mr. Stark for lunch. It was a surprise that he was still around, Hermione had been in a reclusive state of mind where time hadn't registered. She was half aware of different members of the Weasley family stopping by, of Harry once staying, but time became a blur inside her head where everything just mixed together.

So, when she called him, she had thought that only a few of days had passed, never would she have thought that more than a week and a half had passed by since coming back from Australia.

Still, he had agreed to meet and three days later he was there for lunch.

She had dressed casually, although in dark colours, her hair barely contained in a high ponytail. Mr. Stark, for his part, tried to look as nondescript as possible, yet it seemed impossible to achieve given the cheer aura that eveloped him. He was luxury and nonchalance incarnate.

It was just the two of them. She wanted answers.

Once the pleasantries had passed and the pizza placed before them, she asked as casually as she could muster, "Why now? Why not before?"

It took Mr. Stark a minute to understand her question, but he answered once he swallowed his second bite of the decent enough slice of pizza, "I didn't got a notice."

Such a simple answer. Hermione stared at the half beaten slice in her hand with a blank face.

"It was sent."

"Really?" Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow and a small smirk playing at his lips. Hermione glared at him in return.

"Yes. It was. I made sure of it." Hermione threw the slice to her plate and leaned back, crossing her arms under her chest.

"Jarvis never said anything, so curious, don't you think?" He replied, taking another bite of his pizza, then another, and he was finished with his first slice. "Why would Jarvis whithold such intell? Do you have any idea?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed in his direction. Her skin rose in goosebumps, her magic reacting to this obvious attempts to get information from her. She suspected then that he knew something, or at the very least suspected something.

"I don't know. Isn't him your creation? You tell me" she snapped, starting to feel cornered.

She had survived Bellatrix Lestrange though, she could handle Anthony Stark.

Mr. Stark hummed, an amused expression crossing his face as he leaned forward. "I believe, Miss Granger, that you're hiding something from me." He said with a Cheshire smile that divided his face in two. "Not that I balme you, of course," Mr. Stark continued, leaning back in his chair now, "I'm a perfect stranger to you, but I hope we can get to know each other better with time."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

She thought carefully about her next words. It could be a mistake, it could be the best thing she could do for herself now, it could be a complete disaster.

"What do you mean, get to know each other?" She asked, her words laced with annoyance. Miss Potts would have smacked him in the back of the head, she was sure.

Mr. Stark shrugged, "You're beautiful, kid, but you're too young, so don't get any ideas," he joked, Hermione felt just a tiny bit better, not knowing she had gotten tense, but was even more so annoyed. What was it about her and immature men? No, scratch that, immature boys. The one before her was old enough to be her father or a young uncle, and yet he acted like an overgrown child.

At nineteen, Hermione had dealt with many people. Some disgusting, some dangerous, some annoying, some lovely, and some downright evil. She had never met another one quite like Anthony Stark though.

"You're incredible" she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Thanks, Pepper said the same"

She looked at him incredulously. Shaking her head, Hermione thought about her options. She was a legal adult in both the magical and the Muggle world, she had her parents money (the thought sending a sharp pain across her heart), and the reminder of a broken, grieving community.

Maybe she was a coward, or maybe it was her survival instincts, but she was sure she couldn't keep going like that. She wanted time to heal, time to be just Hermione. She was now known as Hermione Granger, War Hero, Brains of the Golden Trio, recipient of an Order of Merlin, First Class, Brightest Witch of her Age. She couldn't go anywhere without being recognised, and even though Muggle London would be a nice, logical choice for anonymity, it reminded her of her heritage, her parents. It wouldn't be the same.

She couldn't understand her need to stay away from her adoptive family, from her mainland.

Then she remembered her cousin Sharon, and the grandmother she didn't know. She thought about that one time her mother had mentioned going to the Americas to visit some distant relative for Christmas, only to forget about it for some reason, Hermione never asked, never cared enough to know because she had so much on her plate already, too much to worry about with her friends, with the world she was now a part of and that was at war.

She was also so, so very tired.

At night, nightmares wouldn't let her sleep. She would see Bellatrix with her cursed knife, yelling at her face to spill her secrets. She would see her brother dead in Hagrid's arms, Ron leaving them, yellow eyes lurking in the corners of a darkened tent, endless woods filled with snatchers. Sometimes the dreams changed, mixing together into situations that never happened, but that still left her sweating and screaming her throat hoarse, short of breath. She slept with her wand in her hand and bluebell flames floating over her bed.

Yes. Maybe some time away from all of it would be beneficial for her.

She didn't dare hope.

"You mean it? You really want to get to know me?" She asked, and he nodded slowly, the first awkward smile gracing his lips. "Why?"

He shrugged, "I know what it feels like to loose your parents, so far away from you, unable to do anything. Besides, Helen was a dear friend of mine until she was about to finish her university career, then she got too busy to meet anyone, her entire social life reduced itself to the Hospital she was doing her practice. We lost contact."

Hermione eyed him, their eyes met, and she saw a flash of a memory of her mother. "I believe you." He sighed.

They finished their food then, the silence heavy between them. He made a few jokes, but Hermione wasn't really in the mood, too much on her mind. Again, she wondered if he would take her in, but was too afraid to ask and being rejected.

"Have you been sleeping lately?" Mr. Stark asked out of the blue, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Sleep. Have you been sleeping? You look like shit" that made her snort, mostly because of how sudden it have been, and because it was most likely true, she felt like shite alright. "HA! Finally! I was starting to wonder if I had lost my touch. You're a tough croud kid." He waved at a waitress and asked for dessert and more to drink. "What is going on in that pretty head of yours, kid?"

It was an opening, she knew he was giving her a chance to say anything, where was her Gryffindor courage now?

Taking a deep breath, one, two, three, four, five... Letting the air go, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...

"I was wondering if it would be okay for you to take me to America?" The question was more of a mere whisper than anything else, and she had to repeat herself because Mr. Stark hadn't heard her the first time. "Would you take me to America with you?"

He eyed her with something akin to pity before his face got that faraway look that could only mean he was lost in his mind.

Hermione regretted her words, but there was no going back now.

Her heart felt like it wanted to get out of her chest by punching her ribs open, and she felt her blood run cold with the thought that he might not take her.

"I have enough room at the place I'm building," he conceded, getting back to earth and staring straight at her. "You will even be able to design your room to your tastes."

She was dumbfounded. "Really? Are you sure it's okay?" She asked faintly. Did he really just accepted?

"Yeah, why not? Pepper could use some female company, she always complains she works too much to have friends and if you're living with me she is bound to see you more often."

"I... Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Mr. Stark was my father, stop calling me that," he sighed with faked annoyance, pulling his sunglasses on, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms petulantly. "Just Tony, even uncle Tony would be acceptable."

"You're incorrigible."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The Burrow, two days later

"So, you're leaving." It sounded defeated.

It was dinner night at the Burrow, all the family had gathered, along with a few members of the Order. Hermione wondered if Mrs. Weasley knew she was making an announcement, or if it was just a coincidence that nearly everyone was there tonight.

"I am," she nodded, staring ahead towards the shed. There wasn't much else to say.

Ron sighed and slung an arm over her shoulder, hugging close to his side.

Harry on the other side, kicked a rock with his foot in frustration, he was hurt, and she knew, but the decision was made and she wasn't one to back down. Harry knew that, and that's what kept him from trying to convince her otherwise.

"Does everyone else knows?" She asked aloud, voicing her thoughts.

"No," Harry said brusquely, staring to the side, "we just know you better."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't." He snapped, turning to look at her with an expression of pure sadness, one that made her resolve to not cry null. Salty tears gathered in her eyes and he sighed. "You're my sister, Hermione, don't apologize for trying to find your own peace. I will support you in everything, but I expect you to write."

She launched at him, her arms going around his neck and squeezing the air out of him. Harry wounded his arms around her waist and hugged her as hard as she did, neither complaining about the lack of air until they both felt they might faint.

Hermione leaned back and half turned towards their ginger friend still holding Harry, and pulled the other close for a group hug.

"Friends forever?" She asked, clutching at them like a lifeline.

"Of course!"

"Forever, Mione." Harry kissed her forehead, Ron her cheek.

Hermione hugged them tighter.

Mrs. Weasley called them then, and the three of them followed the woman inside for dinner.

The announcement was met with mixed reactions, some sat silently, other yelled at her to change her mind, that she was going crazy, others calmly asked for an explanation, a good reason for her to leave them, to go out of the country with someone they didn't know.

A headache was forming behind her eyes and only Mrs. Tonks noticed the weak waves starting to come out of Hermione, each second growing stronger.

"Maybe we should all go to bed, so we can digest the news better." She said, effectively silencing the room in ways only mothers could, but less estrident than Mrs. Weasley.

They all abided after some groaning and complaints, but the glares and nonsense looks sent by both Mrs. Tonks and Mrs. Weasley was enough to clear the table and the whole main floor of the Burrow.

Mrs. Weasley came to her with her arms outstretched to hug her, and Hermione let the woman evelope her in one of her bear hugs. "You're a smart young woman, my dear, be careful out there, alright? Write me as soon as you get there, please." And kissed the top of her curls. She conceded, it was the least she could do.

When she returned home she found the house empty of her personal stuff. Her books no longer filled the bookshelves on the east wall, and her moving photographs where no longer on sight inside her room, her favourite mug was not on the cabinet next to the coffee pot, and her toiletries where waiting to be used one last time before following the path of the rest of her things. She knew all her clothing was in her trunk, along with the books and everything else that said she had lived there. The house was the same as when she came back after the war.

Only forniture and the ghost of a memory.

I don't think I have done it yet but THANK YOU ALL. You guys have no idea how happy it makes me to see each notification telling me you added my story to favourites and following, and your comments make my day.

My life is busy and hectic, I don't have time to myself most of the time, so writing has so often fallen to the wayside that I thought I would never publish anything. I don't know what posseded me to publish this one, knowing you like it, and want to keep reading is good encouragement to keep writing.

So thank you!

Now about the chapter... big decisions where made here, I don't really think Hermione understands what she's doing, but she wants to get away from all of it.

The song in this chapter was actually last chapter's song, but halfway through I realised it would work better on this one, so I switched them. Also, the beginning of this chapter opens with the Wilkins' house getting packed, and ends with the Granger's house packed as well, a curious thing I only noticed while rereading the chapter once it was finished.

Thanks for reading! I'm working on next chapter btw, and sorry for the delay in posting this one, the next will probably be late, as well, but life gets in the way