I know I should probably be updating one of my other stories instead of posting a new one.
In my defense, however, I've been suffering through the worst case of writer's block.
Seriously, it's like my inspirations taken an extended vacation or something.
So, in an attempt to rectify this, I thought I'd start a fresh fic.
Who knows?
Maybe it's the kick in the rear I need to update my others.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Cool amber eyes lazily scanned the letter that had just arrived in that morning's post, inwardly wondering why her mother insisted they keep in touch.
Hermione didn't hate her, or even mildly dislike her, but it sometimes grew tiresome to read and reply to her mother's fumbling attempts at mothering.
She let out a soft sigh as she read through a particularly rambling part in the note. Study hard to make good grades? The curly haired witch fought the urge to shake her head. My mother she thought with a touch of dejection really does know nothing about me.
It, however, wasn't her mother's fault they had grown so estranged from one another; it was really all due to the less than pleasant circumstances surrounding her birth.
Her mother was a pureblood, known in the British wizarding community as the Lovegood squib, who made little contact with the magical world once she became of age; with the exception, of course, of her twin brother and her parents.
Her mother had never really talked to her older and younger brother or her two older sisters, finding their disdain of her too much to handle; disgusted with her family, she hadn't even talked to her twin brother until her parents disowned him for marrying a mudblood.
Though her mother spent most of her time attending a university in muggle London, she did occasionally visit her childhood home. These visits were rare and brief due to the mutual dislike between Hermione's mother and grandparents, really done only out of familial obligation.
It was on one of these visits that her mother had met him…her biological father, Parkinson.
Parkinson, unhappily engaged at the time, had been attracted to her mother's beauty and charm; and her mother, still subconsciously yearning for the approval of her parents, found the man's status and lineage appealing.
They, unknown to her mother's parents and her father's fiancée, began seeing each other. Things between them, in fact, escalated to the point of her mother becoming pregnant.
And that's when things turned ugly.
When her mother, radiant with joy and sure of his affection for her, had shared the news with her lover, he had been horrified.
He, after regaining his composure, had coldly informed her mother that her unborn child could never be a Parkinson; and that she, a squib, could never hope to be one either.
Hermione's fucktastically wonderful father had married his fiancée the following week.
Her mother, heartbroken and desperate, had turned to her parents for help. They, though not happy about how it came about, surprisingly welcomed the prospect of a grandchild.
So, since her mother was still a student in college, Hermione spent the early part of her childhood being raised solely by her maternal grandparents.
Later, after her mother stabilized her situation, she started living off and on with her. This had worked out fine in the beginning, and Hermione had just started to become accustomed to having her mother around, but then…her mother got a boyfriend.
The man's name was Peter Granger, a nice muggle who shared her mother's dream of becoming a dentist. It had been love at first sight for the two, and, after a yearlong courtship, her mother became Mrs. Granger.
The couple settled down in a nice two story townhouse and started a practice together, and soon after, a family. Hermione hadn't begrudged her mother her happiness, after all she had been through, she deserved it.
But, though her mother tried to make her feel as if she belonged in their new family, Hermione always felt alienated in their home; especially after the arrival of her twin half-brothers.
The young witch, though barely five at the time, couldn't help but notice the awkwardness her presence caused, how her mother's eyes darkened with regret and heartache every time they fell upon her, how her stepfather carefully hid the resentment he felt towards her for being a painful reminder to her mother.
She tried to remain oblivious, just like she tried to ignore the way both their faces lit up whenever they were with her brothers…her half-brothers.
But, though young, she was not that stupid. Gradually, she shortened her stays at the Granger house, opting to stay with her grandparents instead.
She knew her choice had hurt her mother, but she also knew that this would make her mother happier in the long run.
And now, years later, she knew she'd made the correct decision.
Her mother was still happily married and seemed to be even more in love with her husband than she had been on their wedding day. She, the few times Hermione saw her, also glowed in maternal satisfaction when speaking of her two little darlings, Henry and Paul, now eleven year old preteens.
In fact, the only damper on her mother's happiness seemed to be her, the unwanted bastard daughter.
I will never understand that woman, Hermione thought in puzzlement. Why try so hard to keep in contact with the one thing that brings you misery?
The brunette witch appreciated the effort, she really did, but she wished her mother would just end this farce of a mother-daughter relationship.
They had never been close, and they most likely never would be; so Hermione saw no point in her mother putting herself through the misery of facing her unpleasant past just to talk with her, a daughter she never really got the opportunity to love or bond with.
Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, she returned to reading the letter, inwardly grimacing at the uncomfortable formality of it.
Her mother's letters were always carefully worded, to the point of being nauseatingly polite, and slightly stilted, as if her mother wasn't quite sure what to tell her.
They were, simply put, awkward.
Finally seeing the end of the letter, the curly-haired brunette let out a soft sigh of relief. There are only so many reminders of good dental hygiene that a person can stand and still retain their sanity, she thought in mild exasperation.
Just as she had begun pondering the effectiveness of dental hygiene reminders as instruments of torture while absentmindedly finishing her mother's letter, one sentence derailed her train of thought entirely.
Is she serious? Hermione incredulously reread the sentence, disbelieving that life had thrown yet another curveball her way. I don't know why I'm so surprised she thought wryly. Since when have things in my family gone according to plan?
Breathing in deeply, resigned amber eyes focused on the last chapter in her mother's lengthy message. So my half-brothers are wizards then she mused, her eyes intently studying the end of the letter. Why would mother feel the need to personally tell me? She could have simply told mum and papa, they would have relayed the information.
Of course, amber turned slightly bitter as it finished the message. She wants me to 'ease their way into wizarding society'. Hermione let out a derisive snort at the thought. Typical, just bloody typical.
She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she studied her mother's thinly veiled request. Why her eyes narrowed in disgust doesn't she just come right out and say it?
This was the other reason she disliked keeping in touch with her mother; her mother's dogged attempts to get her grandparents to accept her mother's new family.
I wouldn't mind it so much if she didn't insist on using me, the brunette thought irritably.
Every letter, without fail, her mother would subtly try to persuade her to patch things up between her grandparents and her mother's family.
…as if a few kind words from her would suddenly makes things better.
If her mother truly believed that, then the delusional woman greatly underestimated her grandparents' disdain for muggles.
They weren't exactly muggle-haters per say, they just saw non-magical beings as inferiors; and muggles just happened to fit that criteria. So, naturally, anything relating to or pertaining to muggles was distasteful to them. Hermione herself was indifferent; as long as muggles didn't cause her or her loved ones any problems, she was perfectly fine with them. She, however, wouldn't take any great pains to defend them.
Which put her in a sticky situation with her mother and her mother's family.
I've never spoken to mother's husband or her sons and I haven't seen any of them in over seven years. So what she wondered makes her think I'll feel any obligation to grant her this request.
What new scheme was her mother up to?
The annoyed brunette felt the beginnings of a tension headache forming. I hate it when mother attempts to include me in her plots.
Her mother may be a squib, but she was the most clever, most intelligent, woman Hermione had ever met; an impressive feat, especially so when considering that the Lovegood clan was dominated by Ravenclaws.
Gingerly rubbing her throbbing temples, the curly-haired witch contemplated her next move. I'm fairly certain this request for my aid is just a ploy to bring her family into contact with mum and papa. However, knowing mother, slender brows furrowed in thought, there's more to this than meets the eye. Question is, what?
What was she missing?
Maybe I'm reading too deeply into this, she mused. Maybe mother simply wants to bring me closer to her family. Hermione immediately scoffed at the absurd notion.
The day her mother's motives became that simple to decipher was the day she decided she loathed books.
With a deep sigh, Hermione leaned back into the pillows of her window seat. I suppose I'll just have to play along for now, she thought with an internal shrug.
Comfortable with her decision, the brunette witch lazily reached for her quill and parchment. Since mother wants to play amber eyes sharpened let the games begin.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
The next day Hermione found herself studying a sturdy oak door in front of her, reluctant to ring the doorbell. Come on Hermione, she coaxed herself, the sooner you get this over with, the sooner you can complain to Luna about it.
Softly sighing, she brought her hand up and pushed the buzzer. With her current mood being as dismal as it was, the resulting rings brought to mind one of her favorite poems by Poe. Bells, bells, bells, to the moaning and the groaning of the bells, she thought wryly.
Though Poe was a muggle writer, she wasn't one to snub literary genius.
A few hurried footsteps and seconds of jostling the doorknob later, Hermione found herself face to face with her mother. That was fast.
Both women stood awkwardly for several seconds, neither of them sure how to greet the other. I should have thought to prepare conversation starters, she mulled, vaguely amused at how ill at ease they were with each other. Perhaps then our meeting wouldn't be so painfully awkward. The curly-haired witch shifted uncomfortably in the extended silence as her mother nervously tucked her blonde locks behind her ears.
The silence stretched on.
Well isn't this a model mother-daughter moment, Hermione mused sarcastically. She idly studied the line of ants marching by their feet in an effort to ignore their mutual discomfort. I think this is a new record for us, her mouth twisted into a humorless smile, uneasy silence within our first second with each other.
Any casual observer would be shocked to find they were mother and daughter. Their stances and behavior more aptly suitable to a meeting between strangers than one between family.
The thought tickled the twisted side of Hermione's sense of humor. Our closeness really is quite astounding, the corners of her mouth quirked into a sharp grin.
The brunette gave her head a rough mental shake after the snarky thought. Since when did I become so cynical? She vaguely wondered. If she wasn't careful, she could very well end up sounding like Professor Snape; and as much as she admired the man, she wasn't particularly keen on emulating his personality.
Seeing that her mother was not making a move to speak, even though they'd been mutely standing for several minutes already, Hermione began to wonder if the entire visit would be spent in silence.
Just as she was contemplating the rudeness of apparating back home, and close to damning the consequences, the sound of two bickering voices caught her attention.
"Mom said to wait in the living room!"
"But they're taking so long," the other reasoned, "don't you want to see what they're up to?"
"It's none of our business. You're going to get us in trouble!"
"You don't have to come with me you know."
Any response the other boy could've come up with was cut off by an angry Mrs. Granger, whose tense nerves needed an outlet. She tore open the front door and glared witheringly at the two boys who came tumbling out.
"What did I tell you two?" she asked irately.
Cowed by their mother's displeasure, the two meekly responded, "You told us to wait in the living room."
"And where are-?"
Sensing that her mother's scolding would unnecessarily lengthen her visit, Hermione decided to politely intervene. "So these two are the ones you want me help, mother?"
The three Grangers turned towards her, the sons looking at her in gratitude. Mrs. Granger sent one last glare in her sons' direction before answering her daughter. "Yes, these boys are your brothers."
Despite being laced with irritation, there was no mistaking the affection in her mother's tone; something that grated on the young witch's nerves. Where was all this maternal affection when I was growing up? She thought bitterly. Forcibly shoving down her resentment, she quickly regained her composure.
Hermione leveled her amber eyes on her mother's pale blue ones, slight disdain in her gaze. "Half-brothers," she corrected coolly.
Her mother flinched at the not-so-subtle reminder, something that didn't go unnoticed by two pairs of perceptive blue eyes. "Perhaps," she said gesturing towards the door, "it would be wiser to continue this inside."
Inclining her head in agreement, the brunette witch followed the three indoors.
Trailing behind the Granger trio, Hermione surreptitiously studied the tasteful, and cozy, decor. I'm starting to think coming here was a bad idea. The brunette's face hardened as she discreetly studied the various family pictures adorning the mantelpiece, not noticing a single one of her among them. We've never been family, and I'm -apparently- too bitter to start pretending we're one now.
She abruptly stopped at the entryway to their living room.
She couldn't do this.
If she continued on, her anger and resentment towards her mother and her mother's family was bound to leak out, and that was just unacceptable. She was a logical, rational creature; it disgusted her that she was being so bloody emotional about this.
A good Lovegood, as her grandparents had drilled into her at a young age, must remain detached from their feelings, must not let fickle things like emotions dictate their actions.
Since her desire to leave stemmed from her feelings of bitterness, she supposed it was a little too late to strictly adhere to that principle; but, with her departure, she could at least keep her mother and her mother's family ignorant about her feelings towards them. Satisfied with her justification, the brunette angled her body to leave.
"This was a bad idea, mother." Her face schooled itself into a perfect mask of apathy as she regarded the seated blondes. "I think it would be best if I just left." Hermione turned her back on them as she stepped into the hall. This is the last time I attempt to connect to this family.
"Hermione, wait!" The young witch felt a warm hand snag her elbow. Immediately stiffening at the unwanted contact, she firmly tugged her elbow away. "Yes?" she politely questioned, amber eyes darkening in irritation.
Sensing her hostility, her mother removed the offending hand. "Will you at least listen to my proposal? Please? You're brothers aren't that bad, and they could really use your help," warm blue eyes silently pleaded with her.
Should've known she'd make this difficult. "Half-brothers," she corrected halfheartedly, the word carrying less frost than she'd intended it to. Why do I always fall for the puppy eyes?
Her mother instantly brightened. "Sorry, my mistake," she said, not sounding very sorry at all. "Come on, let's join them."
An annoyed Hermione followed the suddenly cheerful blonde. When did I ever bloody agree? She inwardly grumbled, having the distinct feeling that her mother had somehow duped her; those misty blue eyes had been too perfect to be genuine. Still sore at having fallen for her mother's little act, she entered the living room.
The curly-haired witch took a seat on an overstuffed chair, the one that was furthest away from the other three without making it look obvious.
Another stretch of silence ensued as the four awkwardly looked at each other.
Not again,she groaned. Silence is a virtue and all, but this is just overkill.
Since no one seemed inclined to talk, and since Hermione was keen on keeping the visit short, she broke the silence. "How much do they know?" Though the question was directed at her mother, she trained her evaluating gaze on her two fidgeting half-brothers.
"We keep in close touch with your Uncle Edmund, so the boys are familiar with wizarding life and culture." The beautiful blonde paused, her azure eyes going soft with worry as she gazed on her sons. "But they don't know the inner workings of wizarding society and they have only a vague notion on how dangerous times are in the wizarding world."
Hermione leaned back in her seat, her mind mulling over the information, pondering over the words that were not spoken. "So," sharp amber eyes bore into her mother, "you want me to baby-sit them." She rubbed her temples as she felt the beginnings of a tension headache. Why is it that I always get headaches when dealing with mother? She groused irritably. "And I don't have an uncle named Edmund," she added as an afterthought.
The boys, who had been silent up to the moment, exclaimed in outrage at her words, both for different reasons.
"We don't need a babysitter!" Henry –or was it Paul?- shouted.
"Of course you have an Uncle Edmund!" Henry/Paul yelled. "He's mom's twin brother!"
Hermione's headache was developing into a steady pounding, and their continued rants really weren't helping. She rubbed her temples more firmly. Hexing them will only make matters worse, she reasoned. Even though it would be extremely satisfying.
Flashing amber eyes snapped open, quashing all further protests from them. "I never said you needed a babysitter," she narrowed her gaze on the subdued boys, "mother did. And mother's twin was disowned by the Lovegood family before I was born, so I don't have an uncle named Edmund."
"It doesn't matter if he's disowned!" one of the two growled in righteous fury. "He's still family!"
Seeing that her daughter's patience was wearing thin, Mrs. Granger cut in. "This is exactly what I mean, Hermione. They don't know how wizarding families function, what is and what isn't acceptable behavior."
Both boys looked slightly betrayed at their mother's statement. They, however, remained quiet, sensing the severity of the situation.
Hermione, on the other hand, looked puzzled. "They're half-bloods, mother, Lovegood half-bloods that aren't recognized by the Lovegood family." Her brows furrowed in confusion. "They will not be held to pureblood standards nor will they be openly welcomed by wizarding society. So why do you want them to learn society rules and pureblood doctrines?" Her words, though harsh, carried no bite.
Solemn azure eyes met perplexed amber, "I want them to be recognized, Hermione. They are both wizards, the Lovegood family can't ignore them forever."
Hermione's features slightly softened in sympathy, "You underestimate our family's tenacity, mother."
"No," her mother responded as a soft smile curved her lips, "I just have great faith in you."
At her words, all traces of softness left Hermione's features. "You're a fool if you think I can single-handedly get the Lovegood family and the rest of wizarding society to recognize your sons, mother." She shook her head as her mother opened her mouth to protest. "I'll do my best to shield them from the war and from harm if you wish, but that is all. I'm not a miracle worker."
"I'm not asking for a miracle. Even I, as cut off as I am from that world, have heard of your intelligence and accomplishments." Her mother's face lit up in pride. "You hold great influence and prestige in the magical world, Hermione. If you recognize Henry and Paul, the others eventually will as well."
"So you want to use me?" the brunette questioned coldly. "It doesn't surprise me really, why else would you ask me to visit?"
She rose from her seat, ignoring her mother's earnest protests that that was not the case. "My offer still stands," she assured the blonde female detachedly while smoothing down her skirt. "I assume they're going to Hogwarts?"
Hermione's closed off expression discouraged additional conversation. So, sighing softly in resignation, her mother mutely nodded her head.
"I suppose I'll see them in September then," without further ceremony, the young witch left the house.
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Though this story is listed as a Draco/Hermione, it's really a Hermione/multiple.
Not sure what the final pairing will be.
But I'm leaning towards Hermione getting more than one fella.
Later.