Disclaimer-Im not JK Rowling, nor do I own her characters. Maybe in a past life I did, but not this one.
Hermione ran towards her house, pushing and shoving anyone, quite rudely, who was unfortunate enough to get in her way.
Maybe she wasn't too late… Maybe she could still save them…
Hermione had to hope, if, for no other reason then to not fall down in a fit of despair, and tears. Oh, and shock too, she added mentally. She had to keep herself moving, had to see things with her own eyes before she could accept the worst. Even though, she knew in her heart, that the worst was what would most likely meet her.
She got to her two story, typical suburban house, and flung the gate open. She didn't notice the hinge that broke off with the sheer amount of force she used, nor, if she had noticed, would she have cared. She couldn't, and wouldn't stop. She needed to go on.
She slammed into the front door with abandon. Her wand was in her hand-although there was no conscious memory, or even thought of doing so.
She stopped dead.
Her entire view was of bodies. Everywhere. Not a single one of them was moving.
Her aunt Scillia was on her stomach, arms outstretched, towards something just out of Hermione's line of view. She couldn't, and, most likely, didn't want to see what the thing was, her subconscious remembering her mother mentioning her aunt's pregnancy.
All over were bodies. The bodies of her family. Her past, her future.
The only sound was of her own heartbeat, which, she was sure, could be heard from all the way down the street. So empty, so silent. Admittedly, her house was always on the quieter side-compared to the burrow, but this was so quiet, it was loud.
She wanted to run away from all of this, make it all not real, as if it didn't happen. But she couldn't.
She needed to see this in its entirety. She knew that it was real and that they were at war. This thought didn't make things any better for her.
Hermione walked into the house further, walking over the dead bodies, not wanting to disturb them. The dead deserved to rest in peace.
Aunt Joanne, Uncle Andrew, her cousin Xian. Her whole damn family, gone. Wiped out completely. They all ceased to exist, all except her.
She continued onto the top floor, tears streaming unnoticed and unchecked down her face. She couldn't help it.
She stopped, and fell into a heap on the floor. Her parents. Her father holding her mother in an almost protective embrace. Sobs wracked her small body, leaving her weak and feeling completely helpless.
She didn't know how long she sat there crying. It could have been minutes, could have been hours. The sun had gone down, the lights in her house needed to be turned on. But she couldn't do it. Not only because she didn't have the strength to get up, but she didn't want to see her family all dead in the harsh light.
She had to get up, had to get help.
Slowly, Hermione got up off the floor. She didn't quite know what to do at this moment. She, the brightest witch of her year, was at a complete loss of what to do. She decided that someone of authority should be called, but she didn't know if she should call the Muggle police, or the aurorers, and, if the latter, she lacked the fireplace to do so.
After some deliberation, she decided to call the Muggle police first, and then to call Harry. He would come, see her, and he could contact Mr. Weasley, who would know exactly what to do.
"Please state your emergency," the cool voice on the phone said.
"Um, it isn't an emergency per say" Hermione said, not quite sure of what to tell them. She decided that bluntness was most likely the best way to go. "My house is full of dead bodies. My family" she trailed off.
The conversation after those words was a complete blur to Hermione. She was asked questions and answered them, completely automatically. It seemed as if her brain had shut off. The conversation was over as soon as it had started, or so a mighty distressed Hermione thought.
Soon enough, she was dialing Harry's house.
"'Mione, is that you?" Harry's voice carried through the phone.
"Yeah, Harry it is." She paused. To be blunt, or not? "Harry. I need you."
Silence.
"Hermione, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Harry said, sounding confused.
"My family, the Dark Mark. My house." She sobbed. "The Muggle police are on their way." She shuddered, wondering whether or not she made sense to Harry.
Apparently, she did.
"I'm going to floo the Weasley's, and then Ill be right over." Harry said urgently. They hung up after saying quick goodbyes.
Hermione sat, and waited. She knew that someone, be it Harry, or the police, would show up soon.
The police arrived soon after, and guided her outside, away from the carnage that was her house. They taped it off, the yellow shining brightly off the full moon. It was too bright, too jarring, to Hermione.
A kind looking woman gave Hermione a blanket, which was odd, since it was summer, and led her to a place to sit. She asked questions, some Hermione could answer, and some she couldn't. There was no question about one thing though. Hermione was in complete shock and had nowhere to go.
Harry showed up sometime later, completely unnoticed by the police. He walked up to Hermione, and put his arms around her small body, cradling her.
She wept again, like a child, the sobs wracking her body.
"Harry, what on earth am I going to do now?" she whispered.
end transmission