To Love Someone

When she awoke, she stared at the blurry image of colours; darkness and fire...hot and cold...Harry and Ron? 'Where am I?' She groaned and felt hands on her, touching her hair, her face, her arms. Someone kissed her...'Oh, Harry.'

"Get off me, you prats. I'm fine. What am I doing here? Why are you in my bedroom?!?"

She tried, and failed, to get up and push them bodily out of her room. Ron and Harry looked at each other in confusion and grief.

"I don't want to have to tell her," Harry mouthed.

"Hermione," Ron started, "don't you remember the owl and the hospital?" At her blank look he continued, "Anything at all?"

He buried his face in his hands for a moment then looked into her eyes. Taking her hands he said, "Hermione, your parents...they're...that is they..." He steeled himself, "Hermione, they're dead, murdered. I'm so sorry."

He gathered her into his arms and realization hit her like a brick in the face. It was all real. She had seen her parents...pale with bluish bruises on their cold skin, eyes closed and dead. She clutched at Ron and sobbed, the weight of the world crushing her into his encircling arms.

Harry placed an arm around her shoulders and they cried with her. Still hiccoughing and wet from her own tears, they laid her back into her bed and sat with her through the night.

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

The next morning she wanted to know why, how.

"I'll kill Voldemort," she snarled.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks.

"It wasn't him, Hermione," Harry said quietly.

"What?" she screeched, eyes glinting wildly.

Ron spoke up after a long and awkward pause. "Muggles: they found out that your parents had a witch for a daughter and..." He broke off, not knowing what to say next.

Hermione's eyes flashed. "No." The reply was simple and firm.

"But Hermione," Harry began.

She cut him off. She began quietly, but her voice kept rising until she was screaming. "You're telling me that the very people that we are dying to save killed my parents. We risk our lives to ensure their safety and they KILL MY PARENTS?!"

"They don't understand, Hermione. They don't know anything. No one is telling them," he tried to placate her.

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT," she screamed.

They had never seen her lose control this badly. They knew she could get touchy and that she and Ron had rowed on previous occasions in voices that Switzerland probably heard. But she was uncontrollable, inconsolable now.

"I need to be alone," she said quietly.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" The boys stumbled over each other in their efforts to convince her to let them stay.

In the end, they left her alone in her flat. They did not see or hear from her for six weeks.

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

It was late June at the convening of the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone was gathered and the only ones missing were, of course, Hermione and Dumbledore, who was always late to his own meetings.

Suddenly, the wrong door opened and Hermione walked quietly in and took her seat next to Harry. She was too thin. Her grief was worn outside like a badge. Inner conflict was clear in her eyes. But she lifted her head proudly and stared into their shocked faces.

At this moment Dumbledore came in. Noticing Hermione at once, he said, "My dear, I am pleased that you have returned to us. We have been worried. Please accept our condolences in the death of your parents."

He lowered his head respectfully and she responded with a quick dip of hers. He looked closely into her eyes and looked troubled for a moment. Shaking his head, he continued with the meeting.

*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Hermione picked up where she had left off with Bill in the discovery for a counter to the Unforgivables. Her relationship with Harry, however, was irreparable. She was cold and distant with him and their relationship shattered. He was upset but understood.

Over the next few months, Snape's inside information began proving unreliable and many of their own plans were being thwarted before they even began. When Snape was found dead outside a potions shop in Knockturn Alley, the Dark Mark floating above his prone form, they knew there was a mole. They were horrified and had no idea who could possibly do such a thing.

Privately, Dumbledore called Ron to his office.

"Ron, this is a difficult request I have for you."

Knowing better than to rush the Headmaster, he waited patiently.

"There is a spy. You know this. I think," he paused, "that it is either Hermione or one other." Placing both hands palm-out toward Ron to forestall anything he might say, he went on. "I know you think it is impossible."

Ron's look of shock and outrage was enough to presume his accuracy.

Dumbledore shook his head and lowered his hands to his lap. "She was out of contact for six weeks. Her beliefs were shaken terribly. She is a possibility and we MUST know. You and she were close. Harry is out of the question, you know why. I think she may let you in. I NEED you to watch her. She may be perfectly innocent, but we need to know. Get close to her again; watch her closely."

Having said all he would, Dumbledore waited. It was Ron's turn.

Ron sat in conflict with himself. 'She's not the spy; never...never. I'll prove that she isn't.' Resolutely, he agreed.