Understanding

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Understanding
Chapter Six:
Away From Me

****I hold my breath as this life starts to take its toll
I hide behind a smile as this perfect plan unfolds
But, Oh God, I feel I've been lied to
Lost all faith in the things I have achieved
I can't go on like this
I loathe all I've become
I've woken now to find myself
In the shadow of all that I have created
I'm longing to be lost in you
Won't you take me away from me?****




First years and parents started drifting into the Great Hall about five minutes before graduation was to start with faculty members and older students who knew Dumbledore never started anything on time filtering in even ten minutes after the ceremony was to have started. That was odd. Dumbledore was rarely punctual, but he was never out and out late. I nervously surveyed the room. My parents were not there, but, much like Dumbledore, they had a penchant for being fashionably late. I cannot fathom where I got my anal retentive streak. All of the teachers were there except the one I wanted to see and my Head of House, who I guessed was busy trying to get Dumbledore to stop brushing his hair and get downstairs.

The prefects (those who were left) were trying desperately to control the students, but on the last day of the school year, with no real reason for most of them to be here, it was a losing battle. The din in the hall was rapidly approaching deafening, and the students, quite tired of sitting and behaving all through exams today, were exceptionally rowdy. Even the parents and teachers were gossiping noisily in the Headmaster's absence.

Through the crowd, I saw the familiar tartan robes and red hair of Professor McGonagall and smiled. Good, now maybe things could get under way. The quicker this was over, the quicker I could sneak down to the dungeons and play "spank the virgin" with Professor Dumbfuck. McGonagall, however, was not accompanied by Dumbledore, and she wore a rather sour, pinched expression on her face. I briefly wondered what went wrong; if they'd had a little lover's spat. I didn't know for sure what those two were up to, but if it didn't involve something naughty, I'd eat myself as the sorting hat would say. Lost in my revery, I never noticed that the Deputy Headmistress had approached me and laid her hand on my shoulder.

"Miss Granger, come with me."

Uh-oh.

This can't be good. I wondered startledly if Snape had told Dumbledore that I'd come on to him. It would have been a blatant lie, but I was sure Dumbledore would have taken his word over mine. My mind raced that my actions, whether really my fault or influenced by a rather senior member of the faculty, would see my expelled just minutes before graduation. They would have my wand! I'd end up working at some terrible retail job for the rest of my life! I'd be twenty years old and managing a Claire's for God's sake!

Silently, McGonagall lead me to the stone gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office. Muttering the password, she left me alone to make the emotionally daunting trek. What on earth could I have done wrong? No one went to Dumbledore's office unless something was wrong. And I had most definitely not done anything wrong. Except kiss the Potions Master and try to grab his dick. But other than that, absolutely nothing!

Upon entering the study, I was shocked to see my beloved Potions Bastard- I mean, Master, in attendance. Stopping abruptly inside the door, I stammered the first thing that entered my mind.

"He started it."

"No, Miss Granger. I'm afraid there is a much more serious matter at hand." Dumbledore began gravely. "Please, sit." It was only then I noticed how entirely defeated and distraught both he and Snape looked. Warily, I narrowed my eyes, and as I had no idea what was going on, I really found no reason to stop hating Snape.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," I replied, meaningfully eyeing the close proximity to Snape.

"Hermione," said Dumbledore, trying in vain to center my thoughts on him. "You receive the Daily Prophet, correct?"

I nodded lamely. To be honest, I wasn't paying attention that closely. I was mentally casting imaginary curses that would leave Snape, shall we say, useless
to any woman.

Or any man, for that matter. I was beginning to wonder about him.

"So, you are aware that a group of rogue Death Eaters has been terrorizing Muggles?"

Again, I nod. Take that, Snape! And that! Each imaginary blow was accompanied by one of those sounds weapons in sci-fi es mes make.

Photon torpedoes away!

"Hermione, there is no delicate way to tell you this."

Woooo! That one blew his balls clear off!


"Your parents are dead."


Mouth suddenly hanging open and time suddenly standing still, I stood staring at Dumbledore, reality crashing down on me.

"What did you say?" I whispered. It was like one of those dreams where you try to speak or scream but cannot force the air out of your lungs. I was suffocating and I could not stop it.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," was all the Headmaster could mutter before turning his gaze to his hands.

"But... What?..."

I don't have a dad.

I don't have a mum.

"I got there as soon as I could, Hermione," said Snape. I had already forgotten he was even there. "It was too late to save them. Your father was dead by the time I got there, but your mother gave me this." Snape stood and approached me. In his hand was a silver necklace. I would have known it a million miles away.

On the delicate chain hung a dainty pendant in the shape of a claddagh, the heart of which was formed out of a deep blue sapphire, my birthstone. My father had given it to her the day I was born, and since that day, it had never left her body. Together with her wedding band, the claddagh had stayed on her day and night, even when she bathed The necklace and its constant attachment to my mother's neck had held my fascination from day one, and I had even believed my father when he told me it had been the only thing holding my mum's head on. She had told me once that those two pieces of jewelry were the most important physical posessions she owned- one because it symbolized my father and the other because it symbolized me and our family.

I felt a sob catch in my throat as I realized her wedding band and my father's were now hung on the chain, flanking the claddagh. The sob released itself as I took the necklace from Snape and placed it around my neck. I would never remove it again. I would come to think of it as my clearest lifeline to their memory.

"She.. She..." Snape stuttered. "She told me to tell you she loved you. That they both loved you." His voice caught and choked, and without any thought all, I launched myself into his arms- all animosity temporarily forgotten. He held me close, much like he had that horrible morning.

"He raped her, didn't he?" I questioned into his chest, no emotion in my voice and numb from the brain down. "That bastard Malfoy raped her." To this day, I have no logical explanation as to why I was so calm. Except for the tears and the fact that I was clinging to the man whose balls I had been trying to hex off moments before, I really felt nothing out of the ordinary.

"Yes, Hermione," Snape whispered into my hair. He had said it unapologetically, factually. I will be grateful to him my entire life for not sugar-coating it. He knew I was smart enough to know what had gone on. "They raped her while forcing your father to watch. They cast Cruciatus on your father while forcing your mother to watch. They slit your father's throat and stabbed your mother. I was only there a matter of seconds before she died. Tonks and Charlie Weasley got there several minutes earlier. Too late to save her, but she was able to tell them all that had happened. I'm so sorry, Hermione." his voice was so soft now, not his booming baritone, and it caught me off guard. I glanced up into his eyes briefly and saw genuine contrition and sorrow. I knew I would regret it sooner or later, but I trusted him again.

I still hated him, but I trusted him.

I sobbed against his chest for what seemed to be an eternity. I could feel his robes become soaked but I simply buried my head deeper into his sanctuary. He kept his arms around me, rubbing my back and occasionally whispering to me. He never tried to comfort me, only whispering, "Shh, Hermione," and "I know." And despite my complete and utter loathing for the man, think I fell in love with him a little more that night.

Once the sobbing htopptopped, Snape and I sat, and, together with Dumbledore, we discussed details and formalities. My mum and dad's lawyer was a squib and knew all about the magical world. They had selected him because of this fact and had given him express orders on how to proceed if anything should happen while I was at Hogwarts. He had owled Dumbledore before Snape had even returned from my house.

Dumbledore informed me that he, the lawyer, Severus, and I would go to my home the next morning to make arrangements. Looking up startledly, he read the unasked question in my eyes. It was customary, it seemed, for a student's Head of House to be there in times of tragedy, but since my Head of House would be running the school in Dumbledore's absence, Snape would be filling in.

I wanted to ask why Snape didn't just stay in charge of Hogwarts so McGonagall could accompany me, but before I could, I was ushered off to bed where, despite my mind's protestations, my exhausted body fell into a deep sleep.

I woke early the next morning with Snape knocking insistently on my door. It was just an ordinary knock on the door, but somehow I knew it was him. It seemed kind of ruder than a normal knock.

Back to your bastard self, then, Snape?

I stumbled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and didn't even bother dressing. I simply slid on a bra underneath the oversized "Ren and Stimpy" T-shirt I had worn with my blue flannel pajama pants and pulled on socks and shoes. Finally, running a hand through my hair and yanking it into an unruly ponytail, I opened the door a split second before Snape's fist would have come crashing down again.

"I'm ready," I announced, stepping out of my room and trying to ignore the questioning look he gave my outfit.

Commence mockery in three...

Two...

One...

"Miss Granger, I may be revealing my ignorance Muggle culture yet again, but what, may I ask, is 'Ren and Stimpy'?"

"A Muggle television cartoon. It's my father's favorite. It *was* my father's favorite," I corrected. I felt my heart lurch and I wondered if I'd ever become
used to talking about my parents in the past tense. Even that simple act seemed a betrayal.

Walking through the corridors, I was glad it was still early in the morning and no other students were about. The shirt still smelled faintly of my father's cologne (I had stolen it from him after Christmas holidays), and I really didn't want to explain either the significance of the shirt's ownership or the genius of "Ren and Stimpy" to any of my wizarding friends. They already thought I was weird. Still exhausted, I stumbled a bit and immediately felt Snape's hand on the small of my back. I glanced back at him with what I hoped was a sneer, but, frankly, I hadn't the enthusiasm to be pissing him off this early. Not even acknowledging the effort, he guided me to the school's main entrance where, had I posessed the energy, I would have done a double take.

Sitting astride Sirius Black's enchanted motorcycle was Albus Dumbledore, clad head to toe in black leather biker gear.

"Problem, Miss Granger?" Snape questioned as I once again swayed backward.

"Just a bit early to see the Headmaster in leather chaps."

"I concur entirely, but he refuses to cut his hair and his beard, so the only way he can go unnoticed among Muggles is this or as an aged, out-of-place
Hippie." He laughed joylessly and began guiding me forward, down the steps. It was then I saw Professor McGonagall, who ran to me and embraced me.

Okay, "embraced" may have been a bit of an understatement.

"Oh, Hermione," she wailed, her tears wetting my hair and her arms cutting off circulation to anything above my waist. "We all love you so much. You know that, right?" I nodded numbly, hoping an affirmation would cause her to loosen her strangle-hold on me. "I will be here for you whenever you need me, Hermione." I closed my eyes and prayed for some divine creature to pry me from her death grip. I was sure nothing of this world have been adequate.

"Minerva, I'm quite sure Miss Granger is about to lose consciousness," came the silky drawl from behind me.

Okay, so I ask for an angel, and I get Snape.

Son of a bitch.

Professor McGonagall unhanded me, only to have Dumbledorach ach for me and escort me to the bike.

"Come along, Hermione," he invited quietly.

I had never understood how people said they used humor as a coping mechanism for depression. It had always seemed entirely illogical to me, but realization dawned on me as I gazed upon the Headmaster, looking strangely like Santa Claus from the head up and disturbingly like Mr. Slave from "South Park" from the neck down. Strange, bad, ugly things ran through my mind at the sight, and I giggled like a first year. Dumbledore guided me to sit on the bike and took his seat in front of me, but my mirth was soon replaced with confusion.

"What about Professor Snape?" Snape's eyes narrowned and then flashed with...

Was that hope?...

No, probably indigestion.

Bloody bugger, he considered me guardedly, then sneered and folded his great bat-like arms across his chest.

"Professor Snape will be apparating to your home from Hogsmeade in time to meet us. It would seem he has an issue riding on a bike with another man. He also refused my offer of a sidecar."

I laughed openly at that. Tragedy or not, the mental image of Severus Snape scrunched up, knees to chin, in a tiny sidecar wearing a shiny new crash helmet and lovely goggles was fucking hilarious. Dumbledore glanced at me as if I were mentally unbalanced, McGonagall only wept more freely and excused herself, and Snape glared at me.

If looks could kill...

"Right, then, Hermione. Hold on tight." And with that, I was airborn with Professor Dumbledore high above Hogwarts. The ride was not all together unpleasant, as the rushing wind did not allow conversation. I really had no desire to talk to anyone right now. Well, except for Snape.

Bad Hermione! You only need to confront him on what happened yesterday. When that is done and you hate each other equally, you will be done with him forever. You do not need to talk to that evil, greasy bastard. There are plenty of people to talk to at home, your family.

But no one understands but Snape, the little voice in my mind whispered.

I told it to fuck off.

Plenty of people understood me... Crookshanks, my stuffed toad Trevor, my teddy bear James.

Okay.

I get it.

I have no friends.

I'll work on it.

Thankfully, the drive did not last as long as I had anticipated it would, and it was about nine o'clock when we arrived at my home. I got off the bike slowly, taking in the sight of my house as I never had before. The flowers my mum planted every year, the gigantic grill my father loved so much, right around the corner in the back. My parents were evident everywhere I looked, and for the first time, I felt like I didn't belong there. Without my parents, it was nothing more than a house. An empty, lonely, useless house.

Entering the house, I was inundated with memories and emotions, but again I was strangely calm and methodical. I saw the lawyer and the shadow of another man in the dining room- Snape. He nodded at me as I entered.

I wonder where he picked that up? It's hardly friendly and not very conversational. No wonder he never got any chicks. Can't imagine girls in a bar being interested in the tall, dark, and greasy guy who nodded at them. I giggled again- I can be pretty funny when I want to be.

Jeez, Granger, keep up this inner monologue and you could be a stand-up comic if the whole "witch" thing doesn't pan out.

The lawyer, Dumbledore, Snape, and I settled into the sitting room to make arrangements, and it wasn't until late afternoon when my stomach rumbled loudly, causing everyone in the room to turn their eyes my way. I blushed and excused myself, but Dumbledore only smiled.

"I think Hermione has reminded us all of the time. What do you say, dear, would you like to get something to eat?" he asked sweetly. I wanted to refuse and never, ever leave my house again, but my stomach, it seemed, had other ideas.

"I guess so," was the most enthusiastic response I could muster.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore concluded, a bit too joyously for my taste, but nature would not be stopped and my stomach roared fiercely at the mere mention of food. "What do you feel like, Hermione? I, myself, am an avid fan of Muggle fast food." I giggled a bit at that.

I'm really making a habit of that.

I should stop. It's pretty fucking annoying.

"Really?" I could just imagine Dumbledore with Big Mac special sauce in his beard, but the Headmaster nodded the affirmative, so, after parting ways with the lawyer, Dumbledore, Snape, and I quietly apparated to the nearest McDonald's.


****
Dinner was absolutely disgusting. How on Earth did these Muggles eat this shit on a regular basis? The grease-covered thing they claimed to be beef was sitting unmoving in the bottom of my stomach even hours later, and I was sure it would stay there for all eternity. I have no idea how Dumbledore and Hermione had enjoyed it so much. And the potatoes... Who, in Merlin's name, came up with those little heart attack pellets? I shall have to run an extra thirty laps around the lake when I get back to Hogwarts just to work off the calories I took in breathing the air in that place.

Arriving back at Hermione's house, the Headmaster had decided to let her have time alone to do whatever she felt she needed to do. He promised neither of us would interrupt in any way and she should just tell us when she was done. Albus and I spent the time sitting in a tense silence, punctuated only by her anguished wails from time to time. My heart ached for her. I knew this pain well, and though I knew she would probably never confide in me again, I physically hurt with a longing to tell her, to explain to her.

It had been over an hour when my nervous energy took over me and I got up and began examining the room. Not for evidence of crime as I had earlier, but for clues into the heart of her family. On one wall hung a portrait of Hermione, probably the year before she got her Hogwarts letter- she looked very similar to the bushy-haired know-it-all I had met that year. On the mantle stood several more picture frames. One of Hermione and her mother on Diagon Alley fairly recently, a family portrait from when she had been barely old enough to hold herself up, and a snapshot of her mother and father in front of a rather large glass pyramid on the banks of a lake. I would later learn that the building was the Rock 'N Roll Hall of Fame, making my appreciation for it fade ever so slightly. All around the room was evidence of Hermione's happy and loving childhood, and at once I was heartbroken and jealous. My family had never vacationed together as the Grangers obviously had. My family home held no remnants of any happiness.

Moving to a large bookshelf, I found books on almost every subject imaginable, both Muggle and magic. Hermione had once mentioned that her parents were enthralled by her magical abilities and wanted to learn all they could. Seemed like Hermione came by her love of books and learning honestly. Starting at the top of the bookcase, I had counted one-hundred thirty-seven books before I encountered another photo frame on the fifth shelf down. It was a large frame, but the opening for the photo was the size of a snapshot. The small picture was of a tiny Hermione, not over the age of three, I would guess, hair in pigtails, sitting on her father's shoulders at the London zoo, and my eyes pricked with tears as I read the inscription taking up the vast majority of the frame. The message read, "Dad, heroes come in every shape and size. Most are labled by what they do. Through the eyes of a child, one of my greatest heroes is you."

A strangled sob came from behind me and I realized she had been standing there unnoticed for some time. She moved closer to me, gently taking the frame from my hands.

"I got this for him for his last birthday," she croaked, her voice thick over the lump that was almost physically visible in her throat. "Three months ago." She let the tears she had been holding in all day go, and once again, I held her. I hastily took the frame from her hands, afraid she would drop it and shatter it, and placed it on the shelf behind me. With her hands free, she wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her head against my heart. I felt instantly inappropriate, wanting her and wishing I could be with her forever. Wishing I could hold her and comfort her for every hurt that would ever come into her life.

But we all knew that little fantasy wouldn't be coming true. What was it you said to her last time she came to you for comfort, Severus? "Get out of my sight?" Smooth, Snape. Real smooth.

We stayed wrapped around each other for several minutes until slowly she sniffled and pulled away from me. She cleared her throat to awaken Albus, who had fallen asleep sometime during my investigations.

"Professor Dumbledore, I made up the guest room for you, and Professor Snape, there's a pull-out couch in my father's office for you. I think I'll be turning in, unless you need any help with the more Muggle-y things here."

"No, Hermione, dear, I'm sure we can find all we need," Dumbledore reassured her, but I was internally protesting. I had no idea what a pull-out couch was, but it didn't sound comfortable.

Why did Dumbledore get a real bed?

Oh yeah, he probably hadn't broken her heart yesterday.

"Goodnight, then. Professor Dumbledore. Professor Snape." And with that, she had disappeared up the stairs, and I heard some soft crying before the closing of her door.

Albus stood then, smiling at me and stumbling halfway up the stairs before adding a final direction to me.

"Don't stay up too late," he warned, making his way up to his comfortable bed. Bloody bugger. I knew I was being a spoiled child, but I wanted a nice
warm bed. After all the years in the dungeons, I thought I deserved it.

I explored the lower level of the house for another hour before deciding to find my make-shift bedroom. Once up the stairs, I located Hermione's room immediately by the giant Hogwarts banner hanging on the door. The door at the end of the hall was closed and there was no light coming from under it. I assumed it was Hermione's parents' room. I located Albus' room by his unearthly snoring. There was one door open on the right and one on the left, and taking a chance, I headed for the one closest to me, opposite Hermione's door.

Unless Hermione's idea of a bed was a toilet and bathtub, I had chosen the wrong door. Moving to the other room, I gently pushed the electric light switch and squinted against the harsh brightness. I immediately knew I was in the right room. Along one wall was a highly polished mahogany desk with a name plate reading "Bernard Granger, DDS" and every other wall was covered in built-in bookshelves.

Good God, she did have a genetic predisposition to learning!

The middle of the room was inhabited by a large black leather sofa which seemed to have a mattress sticking out of it for no reason. The bed (I use this for lack of a better word) took up the entire floor with only about a foot of room to walk in front of it. The bookcase in front of the bed was oddly-shaped and a very large box I could only assume was what they called a television sat proudly at eye-level, surrounded by several other, smaller black boxes. Also, there were no books on this wall. One side of the shelving unit held collectibles and action figues, mostly of cartoonish men and women. On the other side of the television were things that, at first, appreared to be books, but instead were some kind of cartridge in colorful boxes bearing titles. Picking one up, I read the back of it and deduced that these were what the Muggles called movies. There seemd to be an odd assortment. From the pictures and descriptions, I guessed most were comedies. I saw videos of "Ren and Stimpy" and briefly smiled. Hermione had pulled on some jeans before we went out to eat but had insisted on wearing the oversized t-shirt. By the size and smell of it, I had deduced it had been her father's and hadn't tried to stop her. She had worn it to bed again tonight, but if she tried to do so again tomorrow, I would be forced to intervene. Memories were great, but hygiene is another matter all together.

This coming from the Greasy Git. Yes, I know. The irony is delectable.

Pulling down the covers, I glanced at the bed disdainfully before noticing my wand had begun sputtering silver sparks. It was a warning.

Dumbledore had put a spell on Hermione's wand to alert us if she cast any spells. Neither of us knew exactly what state of mind she was likely to be in and we could not afford her attempting to kill herself. The silver sparks indicated that she had not done anything to jeopardize her safety but had done something that may be a precursor to a destructive act. Dumbledore and his color-coding. Never figure him out.

Stealthily, I crept from my room and approached Hermione's door. From the sound of it, Albus was still asleep, and I snorted derisively. Good plan. It appeared he had been banking on my insomnia tonight. No light showed from underneath her door and I pushed it open as quietly as I could. Looking around, I could ascertain that she was not in there, but I also could have sworn she had not gone by the door of her father's study which I had left open.

I slunk down the stairs in my efforts to find her and was shocked as my mission was suddenly and unceremoniously finished. Hermione sat in the living room, playing the piano and, from the looks of it, singing while she cried her eyes out and raged simultaneously. She had only cast a simple silencing spell. Sighing deeply, I slid to sit on the stairs where I could watch her but not be seen by her, and she did not move to leave until silver dawn light filtered into the home. Then, she snuck back upstairs to pretend she'd been asleep all night.

**************A/N*******************
First, I know there's not really a graduation at Hogwarts, but it was elemental to my plot, you see. Also, thank you for some of your quick reviews! I decided to thank you with a super quick update. Keep up the reviews and maybe I'll keep 'em coming fast. Not usually this fast, though. To be honest, I had most of this one written already...

Deb: Thanks!!! You rock more than I could possibly express.

deblovesdragon: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it! Hope you liked this one!

Dani: Sorry, but I LOVE cliffies! *evil grin* Just a taste of what's to come, I'm afraid. Glad you like the story, and THANK YOU for reviewing it! Made you feel good, didn't it?

XxphoenixX: PLEASE sleep! You sound as bad as I look! Thank you for your wonderful review! I do believe that's the first time I've been called "fucking brilliant", so thank you!