Broken Bits

30. Cost of a Funeral

Hermione pulled the sleeves of Fred's sweater down until they engulfed her hands, and only then did Hermione feel her breath even out. She was wearing a pair of black slack pants, a pair of sensible flats and one of Fred's knitted sweaters. A deep maroon color. 

No one fretted over her hair, or her makeup. They simply let her exist as calmly as she could. 

They formed a barrier around her as they walked down the long emerald hallway of the Ministry. Where a year ago, half of them were fighting for their lives and their work. Their heels clicked against the marble, the only sound in the pressing silence. 

They passed by Hermione's old office, and she was so focused on keeping her steps in line with Ginny in front of her, she didn't notice. 

It had been that long since any of them had truly stepped foot in the place, and most of them didn't ever want to return. The walls were cold, and the stares even colder. None of them, not even Harry, felt welcome inside the walls. 

But today was the day of Hermione Granger's funeral, and they were pulling out all the stops. Luna called it a publicity stunt. Draco called it breaking news. Harry called it the most exciting day of his career. Ron called it a ticking time bomb. 

Kingsley was stood on a podium in the center of the Ministry, where a year ago Arthur Weasley had been tied to a chair. He was the only one in attendance that knew of the true whereabouts of Hermione Granger, as well as what had truly happened to her. 

Ex-classmates were sat in long rows of chairs, dabbing their eyes with tissues. It had been a long year, one of doubts and waves of pain. Old professors sat in another row, disbelief evident on their faces. Coworkers, and people that had admired the witch stood crowded behind the chairs. 

Kingsley caught sight of the Weasley family, emerging from behind the crowd and cleared his throat to speak. It was time. 

"Many of you have lived this past year under the false belief that our Hermione Granger is dead. I'm here today to tell you that that is not the case. That she is alive, though she is not well. The events of this past year weigh heavily on her, and it is to no one's fault but the Ministry's." 

Kingsley ignored the wave of disbelief that washed over the crowd, and continued on. The crowd silenced at once. Fred felt Hermione press to his spine, and he wrapped his arm behind himself to encase her against him. 

"She is here today to tell her story, and I am hoping you all will listen. We have failed her as a community. She did not choose this life, it was granted to her. We have done nothing but shown her the evil sides of it all. We have done nothing to protect her, or her family. Hermione Granger, if you would, please." 

Kingsley extended an arm, and all at once everyone turned. The gasps rang loud and true, and Hermione felt herself cower in. Her feet stumbled as she stepped backwards, but a firm hand on her spine kept her straight. She turned her head expecting to see Ginny, but found Ron. 

"Tell them." Ron whispered, nodding his head to the people. "They will listen." He reassured, and Hermione found herself shaking her head. 

"They'll hate me." Hermione whispered, jumping startled as a hand slipped down her arm. Capturing her hand in his own, Fred pulled her into him. 

"No, they won't." 

Hermione pulled Fred with her, knowing she couldn't stand up there alone. Fred went without any questions, and stood stone by her side. His family gathered in the back, huddled together as Hermione stepped towards the microphone. 

Kingsley smiled warmly at her, and stepped away. Leaving Hermione with more power than she had had in a long time. 

Surprisingly, it didn't take any coaxing for the words to tumble from her lips.