Everything That You Are...

March 19th 2008

(it's a long one! Don't start the music yet)

Hermione, Ron and Rose were sat round their dining table eating breakfast. There was a firm knock at the door.

"I'll get it" Hermione said, rising out of her chair. She left the room. Rose was playing with a plush dragon. She made high-pitched roaring noises as the dragon stomped through the land of baked beans and scrambled egg. The dragons tail dragged in the splodge of ketchup on Rose's plate.

"Oi Rosie watch out!" Ron exclaimed. He got to his feet to get a kitchen towel. "You're just like your Uncle Char-" but his sentence was cut short by an almighty sob from the doorway. It was Hermione.

"Hermione!" Ron ran out of the kitchen. In the doorway was the familiar, tall and broad stature of Kingsley Shacklebolt. Hermione was crumpled on the floor, a piece of paper scrunched up in her hand. She was crying. Really crying. It was as if she had never cried before and all her tears were coming out now. Ron crouched beside her, his arm around her shaking shoulders, trying to ease the paper from her fist.

"My deepest sympathies, Mrs Weasley-Granger. I feel as if my presence is unwanted. I'll leave you now." Kingsley's deep voice echoed off the close walls of the hallway. And with that, he was gone. Hermione collapsed into Ron's lap. He stroked her head, trying to calm her. Not that it appeared to he working. Ron noticed that Hermione had dropped the letter. Carefully, he leant over his disconsolate wife and picked it up.

Dear Mrs H. J. Granger-Weasley,

It is with deepest sympathies that I regret to inform you of the deaths of your parents: Jean and Patrick Granger.

We understand it has been some years since you have seen your parents, who were sent to Australia under the names Wendell and Monica Wilkins for their own protection. Although their deaths are not currently being linked to dark magic activity, we will be investigating. More information will be passed onto you if you so wish.

I wish you well in this difficult time.

Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister of Magic

"Oh 'Mione." Ron whispered softly, kissing her head. Her parents. Dead. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much pain she was in. It broke his heart.

"Daddyyyyyyy-" Rose whined as she waddled in.

"Um Rosie, just go back in there. I'll be out in a second." Rose just stood in shock at her broken mother.

"Rosie..." Ron looked at his daughter, then at Hermione, then back at Rose, "Roar! I think I hear Mr Dragon is calling. You better go see him" Ron said. Rose nodded and walked out. Hermione let out another howl.

Ron eased Hermione off the floor. When he finally got her to her feet, her tears were still streaming down her cheeks. Her arms were draped around his neck, her head on his shoulder. Ron tried to make her move, but she wouldn't. Couldn't. So Ron did what he thought to be his only option: he scooped his arms under her legs and carried her like a crying baby up the stairs.

He lay her down on the bed, tucking her under the sheets. He kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I'll be back in a second." He promised, before kissing her again and heading back downstairs to Rose.

(music)

Rose was sat back at the table, playing half-heartedly with her dragon.

"What's wrong with Mummy?" asked Rose, as soon as she saw Ron. Ron scratched the back of his neck.

"Well. Mummy's mummy and daddy-"

"Granny and Grandad?" questioned Rose.

"No. That's my mummy and daddy. But mummy has - had - a mummy and daddy too," Ron sat down, "and now they've gone to heaven. So mummy's a bit upset."