In this chapter we finally get to know what really happened at the Granger's house.

It's only a very short chapter, down sue me! Originally I'd wanted to do this chapter a little bit more dramatic, but couldn't bring myself to do it...my Hermione had gone through too much already, right?

Rating K+

4. Of Magic that hurts

Silence determined the usual lively and laughing Weasley Clan at this early morning in late Spring

while they gathered around the breakfast table. No laughs could be heard, no bickering comments of the youngsters, no twins who teased their mother with apparating right behind her to startle her.

No, it was dead silent. All of them stared down at their plates, eating quietly as if any too loud smack or slurp would evoke a far greater darkness than what they'd already experienced last night.

Ron was the only one who plucked up the courage to look up when his mother placed a silent and reserved Hermione on the chair right next to him. Her gaze was dull and without any life, she looked straight into thin air. Probably she didn't even realise where she was and why she sat here at the table.

He wanted to take her hand and give her a gentle squeeze, but then he reflected a better and dropped the idea. He looked around the table, observing how his siblings exchanged nervous and suggestive looks, even daring to throw a look back at her, from time to time. His mother alone didn't act like a zombie-like figure too afraid to address the silent girl next to him. However, when Hermione didn't even respond to her questions about what she wanted to eat, even Molly Weasley gave up and returned to her place at the top of the table.

"They..." someone started and all of them startled, it took them more than just one moment to realise that it had been Hermione who'd spoken with such a broken, shivering, thin voice. All of the sudden all eyes at the table went to her and they waited in an uncomfortably long and awkward silence until the girl resumed her talking. However, as soon as she started speaking again they all wished she hadn't started in the first place.

"They tortured me. With the Cruciatus..." she sobbed, hardly able to control her voice and Ron's eyes fluttered shut while a hot, red wave of anger rushed through his veins.

"They said...they said if I don't scream they wouldn't kill my parents...", she whimpered quietly and he felt her starting to shiver. He wanted to take her into his arm's embrace, calming her, comforting her, but he found himself unable to do it. His own arms hang limp at his side while his hands were clenched into fists, rage stormed through his thoughts while his nails bored themselves into his palms, definitely more than just scratching skin. He had to force himself to listen to her again, but it was difficult, her voice shook heavily by the force of her own desperate tears and one could hardly understand her words. But they did. They all heard them.

"But I couldn't...I just couldn't stop screaming...and they killed them...", her voice failed her and she cried out quietly, her whole, once glorious and brave figure, now a mere shaking mess. She let her head fall into her hands, covering her eyes and her shameful tears as her sobs increased. Unsure of what to do, the Weasleys let her grieve, offering her this moment of collapsing into tears and sobs. However, soon her fingers went into her hair, tearing strands out of the beautiful brown hair. Ron's hands came up, trying to grasp her little fingers and to make an end to her hysterical panic attack, but she only pushed his hands off of her.

"I killed them...just...just as if had slid their throats with my own hands..." she screamed in agony, leaving a dreadful quiet around the table where no one even dared to breathe. She fell back into sobs and tears, shivering like the last leave at a dying tree. Ron lifted his hand again and tried to calm her down and again she pushed his hand away. Then she looked up, finally meeting the eyes of the family and each one of them had to catch his breath, breaking the eye contact. They couldn't take what they saw in her eyes. She couldn't even take it herself.

Hermione pushed herself up and left the kitchen in long, hurried steps, she couldn't breathe, she needed air, she had to get out of here. She pushed the front door of the Burrow open and ran outside, for one moment the fresh air shocked her and she swayed a little, before it filled her lungs.

Now that she had said, that she finally had told the truth she could breathe easier again. The tears that ran down cheeks didn't burn like judging flames any longer, it felt deliberating to simply be able to cry. To be able to grieve.

She heard steps behind her, but couldn't pluck up the courage to turn around. She didn't need to turn around anyway. She already knew who had come after her. Ron's calloused hand touched her shoulder and at first she startled, unwilling to give in. However, she knew this was no longer her decision to make. When he felt her resistance melt away he slowly turned her around and pulled her into his embrace. It took her only one glimpse of a moment before she eventually relaxed within his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, near the spot of his heart and finally let the tears flow.