Within three hours, they had boarded another plane and were having her parents remains shipped to London. Hermione was quiet the whole trip back to. She didn't talk. Didn't eat. Just sat there, trying to comprehend what was happening. Her mind just wouldn't accept it. Her parents couldn't be dead. They just couldn't be. But they were. And she knew she needed to accept that. The plane landed and she was getting her luggage and in a taxi with Michael before she even knew what was happening. They arrived at the Ministry and were immediately ushered in to see the Minister. It was nearly 2 AM when they arrived. The only three people who knew what had happened were Hermione, Michael, and the Minister. They were trying to keep it quiet so Hermione could at least have a day or two of peace without people bombarding her with questions. She barely even listened to the Minister as he and Michael made plans for the funeral that was to take place the next day. She just sat there. Not talking. Not even moving.

Every few seconds Michael would look at Hermione. She had the same blank expression she had had the whole trip back. She hadn't cried since it happened. She just remained in the same state. Like a robot. Never changing. Only moving when she had to. She stayed that way when they left the Ministry. When they got in the taxi. The entire way back to her home. It wasn't until they entered her house that she collapsed on the couch. Michael was with her in an instant. He held her until her heart-wrenching sobs were quiet shakes. He picked her up and carried her upstairs to her bed. He layed her down, kissed her on the forehead, and turned to leave.

"Wait. I- I can't be alone tonight. Please stay." He turned back to her and smiled. Without a word, he climed in the bed and held her. Hermione curled into him and layed there until they both fell asleep.

"Hermione." The same errie voice kept whispering her name. Over and over. Like a broken record. "Hermione, Hermione." She heard it, but had no idea where it was coming from. She knew the voice, but didn't know how. The room was dark. She was chained to a chair and could not move at all. It was like she'd been frozen. Then a screen appeared in front of her. The memory that had been haunting her moving across the screen, set on replay. The green flash of lights. The screams that emit from her throat, the cries that shook her for hours. Her parents dying right before her eyes, forever etched into her memory. She woke up screaming.

Michael had woken up as soon as he heard her yelling. But she was still stuck in her nightmare. He tried to wake her, but it did nothing. She finally woke up with one last blood-curdling scream. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was before falling into Michael's arms. She shook, but didn't cry. She felt as though she was out of tears. When she finally got under control, Michael went downstairs to get them something to eat while Hermione took a shower. She let the hot water run over her body and tried to forget the memory that would haunt her for years to come. It was already late in the afternoon. That night was to be her parents funeral. It was suppose to be a small funeral, that's how Hermione wanted it. She got out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror. The past few days had not been good to her. Her eyes were bloodshot and surrounded in dark circles from her lack of sleep. She'd barely eaten and you could see the outline of her ribs and her spine, and her legs were shaking and hard to stand on. Her nails were in horrible condition from where she'd bitten them until they bled. She looked like she'd been tortured, and felt like it, too. She put on a simple black dress with a jacket and flats and tried to cover the bags under her eyes with makeup. She looked fine, but still felt horrible. She sat on the bed when Michael brought her up a cup of tea and some toast. When she was finished, he took her hand and they Apparated to the Ministry to get ready for the funeral.

When they finally got there, everything was already ready for that night. The whole ride to the cemetary Michael didn't once let go of her hand. When they got there, the only people who were there were the Minister, Harry, and the Weasleys. Ron looked into her eyes and looked away as soon as he saw her hand connected with Michael's. She felt a twinge of pain in her heart, but ignored it as soon as she remembered their fight. What's the matter with you Hermione? she thought to herself. It's the day of your parents funeral, you shouldn't be feeling bad about a stupid fight with Ron. They stood next to the grave as people took turns speaking. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had become good friends with her parents, were both crying. Hermione stood and spoke last. Her voice was strong, but her heart felt weak as she told them the story of how her parents died.

"Yesterday was the first time I'd seen my parents in a year. They had no idea who I was, no idea who they really were. Michael and I watched them throughout the day. We were following them home that night, barely even ten feet behind them. They turned a corner and were attacked by two Death Eaters." By this time, she was crying again. "I tried to catch up and stop them, but by the time I got there it was too late. I watched them kill my parents and then disappear before I could do a thing." She sat down and sobbed into Michael's shoulder.

After her speech, the funeral was over. Harry and the Weasley's came to give their condolences, but they all eventually left. Until the only ones left were Hermione, Michael, and Ron. Hermione looked nervously at the two boys for a few minutes before Ron finally said,

"Hermione, uh, can I talk to you?" She stood up and followed Ron to the edge of the cemetary. He fidgeted with his hands.

"So.. You and Michael?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that mean?"

"It just means that he was there for me when I needed someone, Ronald, nothing more."

"It could've been me."

"Oh not this again! Ron, I don't want to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting! I'm just saying."

"And I'm not talking about this with you! Michael was there for me. You weren't. End of discussion, Ronald." With that, she left him standing there, feeling even worse than before.