Disclaimer-I am not JK Rowling, although I wish I were.
The next few days passed in a complete blur for Hermione. A mass funeral was being planned, mostly by Mrs. Weasley, who was beyond sympathetic and, strangely enough, Mrs. Dursley.
No one, not Hermione, not Harry, not even Mr., Dursley knew why she was doing it, but, in the wake of such a tragedy, no one disputed her involvement or even her motives.
Hermione, in her more coherent moments, was extremely grateful for everyone's help. She knew that she couldn't do this on her own, especially not with the amount of grief that she still felt. It would pass, she knew, with time, but for now it was still like a cold knot of pain that took up her entire chest. It was still too new, too fresh. She had, of course, managed to thank everyone involved in the planning, and all the people who helped her, but she felt it was inadequate. She would think of something for a better thank you later on, when she wasn't hurting as much.
Harry, Ron and Ginny were supportive as well. One of them was around her constantly, not trying to cheer her up, but to just be there to listen, and for comfort, should Hermione ask for it. Ginny proved to be quite adept at properly gauging Hermione's moods, feelings and wants. She also seemed to know what to do, and say during each.
Ron, on the other hand, was a complete wreck at the whole comfort thing. While his emotional range had gone from teaspoon to tablespoon, he was still at a complete loss of what to say. He did try though, and Hermione knew this, and she was grateful nonetheless.
Harry was more a combination of the two. He was adept at gauging her emotions and moods, but he hadn't a clue of what to say. He was, however, the only one who knew what it was like to have no family. The two of them grew closer together during this time, despite the fact that, every now and then, Harry stuck his foot in his mouth. He never made her cry (like Ron had) but he didn't sooth her as well as Ginny.
Hermione was staying with the Weasleys, in Ginny's room, until something could be sorted out for a more permanent basis. She did, of course, now have an entire two-story house to herself, but she didn't want it. She knew that the memories would haunt her, and besides that, the house was too far way from any wizarding community to be of any use. Furthermore, there was entirely too much room in that house for just one Hermione.
The Weasley's would, of course, keep her for as long as they could, but Hermione didn't want to become a burden, especially with the stress of the war, the upcoming wedding (which, for Hermione, seemed wildly out of place) and Mr. Weasley's job at the ministry.
She wasn't totally sure, she needed to weigh out the options, but she thought that selling the house, as well as all the belongings, would be the best thing to do. Not only would she then have money, but also she wouldn't have to deal with the bad memories that would plague and haunt her every night. She would think it through soon, but after the funeral, when there was less work to be done. Maybe that was when the healing would begin, so Hermione could get on with her life.
"Draco, dear, don't tire yourself out." Narcissa Malfoy's voice came through the veranda. "You have a meeting tonight. But I'm sure that you knew."
Draco paced the garden, occasionally running his hands through his white blond hair, and completely disregarded his mother.
He was deep in thought. Things had been happening recently and he wasn't sure what to make of them. Firstly, from what he heard, his father has escaped from Azkaban, along with a large number of other Death Eaters. That thought almost frightened him, but also confused him. If his father had escaped, why hadn't he contacted Draco, or Narcissa? This is what confused him the most.
That was the main thing on Draco's mind, but other things cropped up occasionally.
The Death Eaters, minus himself and a few other new recruits, had attacked Mudblood Granger's house a few nights previous. Apparently, they had wiped out the entire family on one shot. Not one survivor, not even the cat.
Draco knew that he should be happy that the only person who was smarter then him was dead.
But he wasn't.
The thought came up; Draco had an ice-cold feeling in his stomach. He wasn't entirely sure, but he had the sneaking suspicion that this was the feeling of regret.
He continued pacing, which he could tell vexed his mother. She, while more observant than his father, never truly knew her only son. He knew that he loved her, and would do anything to protect her, but it was more out of family respect. He knew that he loved his mother, but he also knew, and totally accepted, that he didn't actually like her.
His father, potentially, escaped. The only person-a witch and a mudblood no less-smarter then him dead. This feeling of regret, tinged with sorrow. His 'missing' death eater mask.
He certainly had a lot of things to think about.
And, if the first point was true, then not a lot of time to think.
end transmission