Author's Note: Hey everyone! Here I go again with another fic...my oh my, I'm juggling two stories at once! Nineteen years is on hold; despite the fact that I'm female, even I can multitask only so much. With this story, I actually followed those oh-so-famous instructions that language teachers have (and still do) repeatedly mentioned to us. I made a rough draft in my notebook, revised it, typed it, revised it some more, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I forget...Hopefully our language teachers were right! I have a pretty good idea as to how this story is going to turn out, but then again, my brain with a mind on its own (Haha! Get it? Never mind, bad joke...) could have other plans. Who knows. Oh, and by the way, I'm not going to tell you anything about the plot (oooh, I'm just so evil) - I do leave hints as to what year this story takes place, though, so yeah...
Warning: PLEASE READ! There is cutting mentioned within this story. IF you are offended by material like that then DO NOT READ this story. Please note that I do not promote cutting and/or attempted suicide. If anything, this story includes the repercussions of such an event and how much loved ones are affected when someone attempts things like that. I am just warning you now.
Tears of a Mourning Bookworm
Chapter One: Guilt of a Good Friend
Overall, Christmas was going well at the Burrow. Then again, there were those moments when Mrs. Weasley didn't bother hiding the fact that she wanted Tonks as a daughter-in-law rather than Fleur, and when Ron would randomly begin mumbling about whether or not Hermione had really snogged Viktor Krum.
"I mean, can you really imagine her snogging anyone, for that matter?" Ron asked Harry one morning.
Harry sighed and said, "Can we stop talking about that?" It felt awkward discussing Hermione's 'love life', especially when she wasn't there to retaliate.
"Fair enough," Ron said, defeated. "Let's go downstairs. Mum must be cooking breakfast by now."
After Harry and Ron got dressed, they headed downstairs. The rest of the Weasleys and Fleur were already sitting down and eating their breakfast rather aggresively. Fred and George, in between bites, were putting their heads together and whispering to each other, most likely discussing the joke shop. Ginny was laughing at Arnold the Pygmy Puff, who was swaying lazily on her shoulder. Bill and Fleur were talking to each other, both of them looking more awake than anyone else in the room.
"Ron! Harry! I was about to wake you two up," Mrs. Weasley said, clapping her hands together.
Everyone else seemed too busy eating their food, or talking, to notice Harry and Ron take their usual seats at the table.
Suddenly, however, Ginny's head snapped up and she spotted the two teenagers. "Hey, Harry, could you pass the - ?" Ginny began. But before she got to tell Harry exactly what she wanted him to pass to her, a loud knock was heard from the front door.
"Stay here," Mr. Weasley said firmly as the others stood up from their seats. Harry was quite taken aback by this; normally, he would have simply approached the door, happily opened it, and welcomed whoever had bothered to wish to enter the Burrow. But now, with Voldemort gaining more and more power, everyone had to take extreme caution about everything - especially everyone in the Burrow, considering the fact that Voldemort's prime target was within that very house.
Harry heard Mr. Weasley's voice, then another...it sounded familiar...a woman's voice... A few minutes later, Mr. Weasley returned to the kitchen, followed by Professor McGonagall. She looked different from when Harry had seen her before he set out for the winter break. She looked skiddish and upset about something. Her hands were shaking.
"Why's she here?" Ron whispered. He had abandoned his meal and was shifting in his chair to get a better view of the new visitor.
"Dunno," Harry replied.
McGonagall, by now, was whispering to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley across the kitchen where nobody at the table could hear exactly what they were saying.
"Fred, you prat! Are you kidding me?" Ginny scolded her older brother. Harry turned to look at Fred, who was extracting an Extendable Ear from his pocket. "Not this time. It looks serious."
"But that meeting at the Order of the Phoenix last year, that was serious - " Fred argued.
"Since when did those meetings cause those reactions?" Ginny interrupted hastily, pointing towards her parents.
She was absolutely right. Mrs. Weasley gaped at McGonagall; then she collapsed into her husband's arms, crying. Mr. Weasley had a cold expression on his face - the same expression when Lucius Malfoy had confronted him in Flourish and Blotts before Harry's second year at Hogwarts. Harry's heart was beating extremely fast at this point. What happened? Was it Lupin? Tonks? Many horrible thoughts were rushing in and out of Harry's mind, each one more dreadful than the last.
"Potter. Weasley. Follow me," McGonagall said sternly, indicating towards the Burrow's living room. Harry forced his shaking legs to obey him, despite how difficult this task was. Ron wasn't looking so good either - he suddenly looked very ill.
Harry and Ron sat down across from McGonagall, who avoided their anxious gazes. She inhaled deeply, adjusted her hat, and opened her mouth to speak.
"There's been...an accident," she said, attempting to hide the shakiness in her voice.
"W-What happened?" Harry asked nervously. Half of him wanted to know, but the other half didn't.
"The...the Granger household was attacked last night by Death Eaters," McGonagall said as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
"HERMIONE!" Harry exclaimed, immediately getting to his feet. His stomach dropped, his heart was ready to explode from beating too quickly, and dread spread throughout every vein in his body. No, this couldn't be happening...
"Miss Granger is alive," the professor said as Ron, too, got to his feet. Relief rushed over Harry, but only for a moment. If Hermione was okay, then... Harry closed his eyes, trying to make his mind think happier thoughts.
"However, her parents, being muggles, were not able to defend themselves," McGonagall said, wiping another tear.
"No..." Harry began. He could tell that Ron was thinking the same thing that he was from his friend's expression. Harry had remembered briefly seeing Hermione's parents before his second year.
"According to Miss Granger, and we haven't gotten much out of her, Mr. and Mrs. Granger ordered her to only worry about protecting herself, as most caring parents would do," McGonagall continued. "Unfortunately, her parents were murdered by...by suspected Death Eaters. Miss Granger had attack nearby enemies, but she was eventually outnumbered. By the time Aurors arrived on the scene, the Death Eaters had escaped, and she was severely injured."
"Is she - is she going to be okay?" Harry asked. He nervously ran his fingers through his messy, black hair.
"Physically, yes," the professor said shakily, and Harry knew exactly what she meant. Physically, of course, she'd be okay. But emotionally...she'd never be one hundred percent okay. Her parents were gone, and God knew what the Death Eaters had done to her... Anger boiled up inside of Harry. Why would anyone want to attack such a wonderful person? He wanted to run out of the Burrow and singlehandedly take on the entire population of those bloody Death eaters, and he'd be sure to serve justice to Hermione and her parents, Cedric, Sirius, Harry's parents, and the rest of Voldemort's victims by murdering every last one of them. Then another thought rushed to the front of his mind...
"It's because of me, isn't it?" he asked nobody in particular. "The Death Eaters, Voldemort - they're trying to get to me by hurting people I care about. They killed Sirius, they killed Hermione's parents and hurt her..."
"Don't blame yourself, Potter," McGonagall said, the normal sternness in her voice suddenly returning.
"But it's my fault!" Harry exclaimed. "If I hadn't befriended her, then they wouldn't have bothered - " but he stopped himself for two reasons: McGongall looked like she was going to transform him into a ferret if he blamed himself any more, just as (the fake) Moody had done to Malfoy in his fourth year, and also because he knew that Hermione was a target anyways, with her being Muggle-born.
Harry buried his face in his hands, which were shaking even more violently now. The guilt still didn't ease from him. Hermione was smart, she would figure out that it was all his fault, and she'd never want to speak with him again... Finally, he lifted his face from his hands, only to find McGonagall wiping continous tears with a tissue that she had clearly conjured out of thin air, and Ron, who was staring at his feet, pale-faced, without blinking.
The professor sniggled and said, "If you two would like to see her...I mean, I'm not guaranteeing that Miss Granger will wish to say anything..."
"We'll go," Harry said immediately. Ron nodded, still staring at his feet.
"Very well, then," McGonagall said, standing up. "Miss Granger is at St. Mungo's, obviously, due to her injures. We'll be traveling by Floo. I believe your fireplace is off of your kitchen, Weasley?"
Ron, who looked more ill than ever, moved his head shakily upward, then down. When they approached the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing, Mr. Weasley had the same expression displayed on his face, and everyone else at the table was now standing up anxiously and casting glances at Harry and Ron that said, "What happened?"
None of them replied to this, and McGonagall motioned for Harry to walk inside the fireplace first. He was so numb that he did not even feel the normal sensations of Flooing after he screamed, "St. Mungo's Hospital!" Several flashes of patients' rooms passed by before he stopped spinning. Harry hastily brushed the ashes off his robes and moved out of the way just in time for Ron to stumble out of the fireplace.
"Everyone at the table went mental when they heard you Floo to St. Mungo's," Ron told him as McGonagall gracefully walked out of the fireplace. It was the first time he had spoken since he had asked Harry why McGonagall had showed up at the Burrow. "Ginny was about to set a Bat Bogey Hex on me because I wouldn't tell her - wouldn't tell her what was going on...luckily I got out in time..."
As the three of them approached the front desk, reality began to sink in. So Hermione was an orphan now... Harry's hands were shaking even more violently than every by the time he, Ron, and McGonagall approached the fourth floor. Harry was not fully aware of everything going on around him. The Transfiguration professor had to pull him out of the way of a man sprinting right in his direction. The man had apparently escaped his hospital room, because he had branches for arms and was wearing the usual St. Mungo's patients' apparel. Normally, this would have been rather humorous, but given their current situation, not even Ron chuckled.
"Room 743...room 744...here it is: room 745," McGonagall said gloomily.
Almost instantly, a Healer sped out of Hermione's room. She had short, blonde hair, and her face was rather fox-like. "Hello, Minerva. Mr. Potter. And...?" she said, pointing to Ron.
"That's Ron Weasley, another friend of Miss Granger," McGonagall said.
"Right, then...well, you lot are the first to visit the poor dear."
McGonagall looked surprised. "The first? I had understood, though, that she had one extended family left - her aunt, I believe - in Liverpool. Usually, family visits first."
"Unfortunately, such Muggle records haven't been updated since Miss Granger arrived at Hogwarts for her first year. She has no living relatives at this point," the Healer said.
Harry wanted to jinx the Healer for bringing such horrible news. Hermione had only had her parents? Her aunt, who had been alive and well in Liverpool during their first year, had deceased at one point, and Hermione never bothered to mention this to Harry and Ron? Surely she could have confided in Harry, at least...he understood what it was like to have limited family members.
"Healer Kerrie, do you mind if we - ?" McGonagall began hesitantly.
"Actually, Minerva," the blonde Healer said, "Miss Granger only wishes to see Mr. Potter right now. And since she is of age, I couldn't deny her Visitor Requests..." Healer Kerrie's voice trailed off into muttered apologies.
Ron looked more hurt rather than angry at this point...but quite honestly, Harry almost didn't want to see Hermione at such a terrible time like this. But, if she had specifically request to only see him, then Harry was willing to take on his responsibility as being a good friend.
"Please go easy on her," Healer Kerrie whispered to him as he approached the door to Hermione's hospital room. "Every time we question about exactly what happened, she goes...well...mental, simply put."
Harry was only able to nod as he steadily opened the door before him, as though he didn't want to disturb even the smallest mouse that might've been existing within the room. He stepped inside and silently closed the door behind him. Harry took a deep breath and approached Hermione. But she didn't look like Hermione. Only the majority of her face was showing - the rest of her head was wrapped in bandages. Most of the rest of her body was bandaged, as well.
Harry cleared his throat, yet his voice was still shakier than ever.
"H-Hermione?"
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! (that is, if you actually read this thing and didn't just skip to the bottom) Please tell me what you thought about it. I'm trying to improve my writing, so if you think I am, then please let me know! :)