Hermione had signed more forms while carefully being organised. She had identified her father. The mortuary staff had moved his body to the chapel so she did not have to see him in the morgue. That had been kind of them. Now she was making a list. She was sitting at her mother's bedside and making a list of what to do after her mum died. Her hands clenched around the paper, crumpling it.
"Granger." Marcus took the list out of her hands and put a cup into them. "Drink this. I bribed a child to show me how to make the coffee machine work." He had been more than prepared to hex the infernal thing when the boy had chanced past and pitied him.
The wizard had not been pleased to be patronised by a Muggle a third of his size but the boy had been waiting with his grandparents in the ward almost as long as they had. So he had been civil and had paid for the boy to have a hot chocolate. It seemed a fair exchange.
"Thank you." Hermione sipped, the hot sweet liquid doing a little to revive her. Flint went away and came back with another chair, setting it down beside her. He seemed in no hurry to go anywhere. She found that comforting. And he was quiet. Right now she needed quiet.
Her parents had been involved in a head-on collision on their way home from watching the fireworks. The driver of the other car had been drunk and had swerved into the oncoming lane. Her father had tried to avoid him but had only had time to turn the car enough for her mother not to be killed on impact too. The other driver had died at the scene and a young couple in a third car had been badly hurt when they had hit the wreckage.
Her mother had sustained multiple fractures, including three to her skull, which had caused bleeding on the brain. The surgeons had operated but there was little they could do. Artificial respiration kept her mother alive. And sometime tonight, she would turn it off.
"I thought I would feel guilty. For not being here, I mean." Hermione spoke when she had emptied her cup. "It's a standard response, saying that 'I should've been there'." She shifted in her chair to lean against him, cold in the air conditioning. "But if I had been in the car I would've been killed too. And if I had Apparated right there, there would've been nothing I could do. Dad died instantly and mum... left. Even if I healed all the damage, she wouldn't be there."
Marcus put his arms around her and kept his mouth shut. He did not tell her how much he wished someone had sat with him, held him and brought him awful coffee when he had kept this vigil for his mother. Hermione cried, trying to get all the tears out at once so she could do something. She had to do something.
What she did was ask for a chaplain because her mother would have liked that. They had spoken abstractly, as parents do with their teenage children, about funerals and responsibilities. Her mum had only gone to church fitfully but she had believed.
This shift, the pastoral care provider, as listed on one of the helpful pamphlets, was an Anglican Reverend. He shook their hands and seemed to know all the right questions to ask. Hermione found his calm demeanour steadying and answered collectedly.
"We read the 23rd Psalm at granddad's service. Mum said that was her favourite. I would appreciate if you could please say that one, before..." Cutting herself off before she lost her composure, Hermione breathed in slowly. "Before I speak with the doctor."
Marcus stood at her side while the chaplain recited. The Reverend had his Bible open in his hands but he did not need to look at it. He knew the verses by heart. Hermione closed her eyes, remembering the last time she had heard those words. She reached for a hand instinctively and finding one, held tightly.
And then it was over. The doctor and ward sister came at her request. There was a brief discussion, more a reassurance for everyone that this was being done appropriately. The chaplain stayed out of respect while they waited the few minutes required for it to be official.
And then it was over.
And she was an orphan.
And there were more forms to sign.