Hermione gazed at her phone. Minutes before it had helped relayed the terrible news. Her grandmother was dead. She wished she could turn back time. She wanted to turn back to before she had picked up the phone.
Why, oh why hadn't she just let it ring?
Minutes before she lay beside Harry on his bed. His arms once wrapped around her protectively.
Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't cry over it.
The death.
Harry was there too. He had heard the whole conversation between Hermione and her mother. It had been brief. Only necessary words were exchanged.
"She's in a better place now," insisted Harry.
Hermione clasped her hands around his and lightly squeezed them.
"I know."
She wanted to say a lot of things. She could describe her grandmother's features, but it would not help. If anything she would go backwards into a depression. It was a rare occasion that someone died in the family. Hermione had been known to take the events hard.
"I heard my mum's voice for the first time in what seems like forever. And I don't know why, but it seemed different. Like loosing grandma took more out of her than I thought it would."
"You've imagined her dying?"
"Harry, she's lived longer than any of us expected. Besides that her health wasn't in the greatest position," she finished wistfully.
Hermione stared up at the ceiling, looking as lost as ever. She tapped her fingers against her chin, appearing to be planning her next move. She had no idea what that was going to be.
"I think that I'm going to start packing. We should leave tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" asked a bewildered Harry. "I'd rather not intrude on a private moment."
"I'd rather not be left alone with my family. We're just going to pay our respects and we're coming right back around. My only interests lie in her…and in Olivia. Yes, we must check on my sister."
She glided out of the room. Talking aloud to herself, counting out the items that she needed to bring for the trip.
Harry shrugged it off. He was forcing himself not to worry about her. And to not ask how she was doing every time he thought something was wrong. There was a good chance there was, but they were her battles to fight. He had no intentions of getting between that.
He was still groggy from sleep.
So that's what he did sleep.
Harry did not understand that it would be this tough having Hermione as his girlfriend. Hermione stopped him in the process of bringing his bags to the door. Hermione had two small ones well within her personal limit.
She pressed her lips together as she looked inside it. The zipper slid back, and she opened it in his direction. But he already knew what the bag contained.
"Honestly Harry," said Hermione as she rolled her eyes. "I meant to pack light but this is ridiculous."
There was no winning with her. He simply folded his arms across his chest not too long before he was dragged off by Hermione to his room.
"Absolutely ridiculous," was her mantra as she dumped the little he had put in there. Her facial expression changed as she kneeled down in front of his dresser and pulled out shirts and pants and folded them neatly into the bag. "See?"
"Yes, thank you," laughed Harry.
"Now, I have to go make sure I have everything. Be ready in twenty minutes."
Hermione walked into her room and turned on the lights. She surveyed the room scanning for anything that she might have left behind. Hermione actually had no idea how long they would be staying. Though she knew how long she wanted to stay.
Her eyes fell on her family portrait. She had stupidly taken it with her when she left home. When Hermione moved in she "hid" it from herself, but it didn't work. And now she stood staring at it. Her body gravitated to it like a magnet, she stood before it.
Her hands were out of her pocket cradling the frame delicately in her hands. Her fingers ran across the intricate flower design and finally rested on the faces in the picture. She singled out the one of her parents, and then finally the one of her grandmother.
It was her smile that drew her to it. She had been told by many that she had the same smile. The thought brought her hands across her lips as she continued to look at it. The photo captured her. No, it wasn't moving like wizarding pictures, but it still captivated her senses.
Hermione did not notice it until Harry rested his head on her shoulder. Did twenty minutes go by that fast?
"It's been twenty minutes, but if you wanted to stay longer I would understand."
"I can't believe I've been looking at this for that long," she said in astonishment.
"I think she'd be proud of you."
"You think so?" she asked.
The truth was, Hermione had no idea what Violet Granger would have to be proud of. Olivia was the one that Violet had passed on all her crafts to. Olivia was the one that talked to her, and sat with her when no one else had the time. It was all Olivia.
Hermione had never been jealous of sister, but she wished she had that connection. She wished she could appreciate the older woman just a little bit more for what she had done in her life, but she couldn't.
"I know so."
She didn't know that. Hermione wondered how Harry could be that confident in his belief.
"We should get going. I'd be upset if I missed the funeral."
Hermione didn't want to miss the funeral. She had already missed so many milestones in her family. Some births and some deaths she had simply let go saying there would be another. But there would probably never be another matriarch.
Harry flicked his wand and sent their bags off before them. She touched his arm, obviously too late to stop him from shipping the bags off.
"What?" he asked.
. She felt the strange pulling sensation, and her parents living room came into view.
She grabbed onto the arm rest, before she collapsed on the ground. She had not been expecting Harry to apparate them so soon. He usually gave warning.
"Where do you want these bags?"
"They can go in the guest room. I think it's best if I just give Olivia some space for now."
He nodded and proceeded to carry the first of the bags upstairs.
Hermione smiled.
She had seen him reach for his wand on instinct, but he thought better of it. Her parents would not appreciate magic being done in the house.
She realized as he walked away that he was giving her time. Time to readjust to being in her house and time to deal with any parental fall out. Hermione took a seat on the couch. It felt like she was suddenly a stranger in the home.
"Hermione is that you…?" trailed off Margaret.
"Well you called me," she stated bitterly.
"I didn't think you'd come. How long will you be here?"
"That depends on the funeral."
"It's in two days. That gives relatives a chance to get here."
"Who all are we waiting for?"
"Distant relatives."
"You mean the ones we never see? Mum you know what they're coming for."
"And what would that be?" Margaret asked folding her arms across her chest.
"Would you two just shut up?" snapped Olivia. "Harry and I can hear you from upstairs."
"Harry's here?"
Her face was in a look of surprise, but Hermione could not tell if it was good or bad.
"It makes no sense; she only knew the five of us so we should just have the immediate family. Just bury her and get the damn thing over with."
"Violet would not appreciate that."
"Well, she wouldn't be proud of what you're doing right now. That's for sure."
"Olivia," started Margaret.
Olivia however ignored her mother and looked at Hermione. She fidgeted with the bottle cap she had in her hands.
With the same bottle of water in her hands, Hermione talked to Harry in their room.
"She's not doing alright," murmured Hermione. "Is it even possible to move a funeral up?"
"Magically yes, but I doubt tit can be done the muggle way. Do you think Olivia was implying…"
"Even if she was mum can't have her cake and eat it too."
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Two days later Hermione stood in front of the mirror surveying her dress. She was nervous around her own family.
"I feel ridiculous," she moaned.
"But you look beautiful," said Harry.
He too aimed at formality, but his tie still hung loose about his shoulders.
"Can you say that on the day of a funeral?"
"I don't know, but you do. Try not to be so morbid about it."
Hermione couldn't help but smile as she adjusted her necklace. She spied her mother peeking her head through the door as she was dressing.
"Darling are you about ready?" asked Mrs. Granger. "Harry I'm sure that Hermione needs some time to get ready. She can meet you downstairs in a little while. After all we are a bit pressed for time."
"It's fine mum, I am almost done anyway."
"If you haven't noticed, Hermione, Harry is a grown man. Now I have no idea what you are up to wherever you are staying, but in this house…."
Hermione tuned the woman out murmuring over her words to Harry as she gently fixed his tie. In her head however she had a plan to strangle her mother with it.
"I'm not here for her," she told him softly. "But I am doing my best to tolerate it."
"She cares about you," said Harry.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but stopped. Her sister peeped her head in the room too. It had been like this for the past two days. Relatives popping their heads into her room to say hello or to ask a simple question.
She loved them all, and she loved her little cousins, but she wished for some privacy. And above all else some time to think.
"You two ready?" asked Olivia.
Hermione nodded her head briefly.
The one thing that she did like about Grimmauld Place was its privacy. There were some days where she wished she could view the birds outside her bedroom window. But to her advantage she didn't have to deal with the barging in of her mother, father or sister. She loved them all dearly, but she was now accustomed to just being with Harry.
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They had been gone for at least three hours. All of them Hermione hoped that they could get along. She had hoped that they could forget any animosity between the four of them and honor the life of Violet Granger, but that didn't happen.
They had arrived back at the house. Hermione and Olivia had taken the same side against their parents folding their arms and holding their bags. And poor Harry…he was in the middle of them all acting as a mediator.
"I know I never asked out loud for this, but I was hoping….I was praying that we could let it all go for three hours. Just three hours, that's all I was asking. You didn't have to like me, and we didn't have to exchange endearments, but we could have kept it all in."
That was it. They were in the house. There was no priest to feel ashamed in front of, and she didn't feel confined by the sanctuary that was the cemetery. She at least knew that they hadn't.
"Stop it," yelled Harry. "I understand that you're angry, but there is another way to about this than throwing the blame around."
"She never meant what she said, Hermione. This is a tough time for all of us. If you would just take a minute and consider this in your mother's perspective…"
"I'm done," she whispered.
Harry strained his ears to catch what she said. He couldn't believe that he was hearing this. Was it possible? Hermione was known for her kindness, and also her fierceness. But he sincerely doubted that she was forgiving to that extent.
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A/N: Hopefully I'll be able to post another chapter before the Christmas holidays arrive.
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