Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Rating: for mild adult themes
A/n: I had the idea for this about two years back and even handwrote it (no idea where the handwritten version is: I assume it's amidst my uni notes). I remembered it recently and decided it might be fun to try and write it. I haven't read the HP books for a while (my bookshelf won't even hold the last three books) so feel free to point out if I've messed something canon up. Hope you enjoy!
1 May 2014: disclaimer corrected. While it is true that I don't own The Hunger Games, that statement doesn't save me from being sued here! Many thanks to Enna Moon for spotting that. No other changes made.
Recognition
He sits up when he hears the creak of the front door.
"Wendell, what is it?" his wife murmurs sleepily.
"Nothing, dear. I just want a glass of water. Go back to sleep," he says. Monica recognises the tone – when he stands up, she also gets out of bed. He lets her follow him, quietly grateful. Monica has always been braver than he: when they were burgled last year, it was Monica who confronted the burglar. Wendell insisted on acting on their lifelong dream to move to Australia.
It was strange, though: the visa application had been alarmingly straightforward. He had expected it to take months.
He leads the way down the stairs because, even now, he is determined to prove that he is brave. If there's one thing he does not want to be, it's a coward.
They run into the burglar halfway down. In the light from the intruder's remarkably thin torch, he can see that the burglar is a young woman. It must be his imagination but in the dim light, he thinks that the burglar looks like Monica.
"Who are you?" he asks and he's grateful when his voice does not quiver.
She smiles. Again, it must be the light: it looks like a sad smile.
"You don't know me?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
In his dreams, he dreams of the daughter they never had. It had been close – so close. Monica had been pregnant and the doctor had told them it would be a girl. They had already decided her name. Hermione Jean Wilkins. Hermione because it sounded educated and she would be clever. Jean after Monica's grandmother.
The dreams have a strange quality to them. He can see, very clearly, her growing up, but there's a strange haze around the edges. Hermione is a quiet child who loves to read and to learn. She runs up to him and excitedly tells him about new facts. Daddy, daddy, did you know there are nine planets? Dad, I learnt about the Fibonacci sequence today!
And he always congratulates her and directs her on to new learning. What worries him – both in his dreams and, strangely, when he's awake and remembering the night – is that she doesn't have many friends. She insists she's happy in the dreams, that she only wants to read, but dream-Monica tells him that she is clearly lying. The thought that his daughter is a liar makes him uncomfortable. It is moments like this that, perversely, he is glad that the baby came out stillborn. That his daughter would lie about her happiness – something so important about her life – well, it breaks his heart.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"All I know is that this is my house and you have broken in," he says with as much courage as he can muster.
"I'm sorry," the burglar says. "I thought you would be asleep."
"Yes, I've heard that's how burglaries work," Monica deadpans. She has a wonderful deadpan that only comes out when she's terrified. His hand twitches.
"Mu- Monica, I-"
"How do you know my name?" Monica asks sharply.
The girl takes a breath and says something foreign. A rush of images flits through him.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A stranger comes to tell them that Hermione is a witch. He wants to argue with the stranger – magic doesn't exist – but Diane nudges him so he remains silent. Hermione is so excited about the idea of learning magic that he also feels excited, despite his scepticism. And, really, it explains so much about her childhood. The strange situations. The never-ending stream of books that fit into a bookshelf that should have collapsed under the sheer weight of paper (never mind how the bookshelf held fifty more books than its designated capacity). The bullies who, one day, simply stopped bothering her.
After the professor leaves, she asks him, worriedly, if he's happy for her. He smiles and tells her, "I'm so proud. I always knew you were magical."
They go to a strange place called Diagon Alley and he's never felt so out of place in his life. However, there is more to Hermione's expression than excitement: she feels at home here. Monica notices it. Neither of them comments but once Hermione has started at this school, he knows that they linger at her bedroom door for more reasons than missing her – he's terrified that she'll never return.
She writes weekly. Her letters (essays, really) are filled with that strange false optimism that she'd had all through school. Then, one day, stories about two boys: Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley appear. He doesn't know how he feels. He's delighted that she's finally made friends. However, she also: (a) is far too young for boys (and will be until she's forty, he's sure); and (b) appears to be involved in life-threatening situations far more often than she ever was before she met them.
She comes home for Christmas and he can see that she's already more confident than she ever was. The transformation is more pronounced when she returns at the end of the year, full of stories about mass murderers coming back to life, stones that can make you immortal and scoring over full marks on end of year exams (only Hermione, he thinks proudly when she tells him). He finally agrees with Diane that Hogwarts is the best place for her.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
He sits on the stair, buckling under the weight of images. The girl points at his wife then peers at him with concern on her face.
"Dad?"
He simply stares at her.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
He meets the mysterious Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in the summer before Hermione's second year. Ron is loud, talkative and friendly; Harry is quieter and politer. He's reluctant but he lets Hermione disappear with them while Ron's father takes Diane and him for a drink. Later, he asks Hermione about Ron and Harry, and she's more than happy to fill the evening telling him stories about her two best friends.
Her absence, this year, is easier to bear – perhaps because he's already used to it. Her letters are still thick, weekly essays. He is more than a little alarmed about her fascination with her teacher (surely there are laws against this sort of thing there? How would he know? Maybe it's considered normal there) but Diane reminds him that Hermione is twelve and usually sensible. He is more reassured by the comments of Harry and Ron that Hermione sends – both are scornful of this Lockhart man and he decides his earliest opinions about them were wrong. Harry and Ron are clearly sensible boys who will grow into wonderful people if they stop Hermione from ever dating.
Yet, despite her open crush on her teacher, he begins to think she's hiding something. She mentions, in one line, that students are being "petrified" but doesn't explain why or what measures the school is taking to counteract it. Yes, he is interested in her work and yes, he does want to know about her crush (or, at least, the sane friends near her) but he is far, far more interested in the illness spreading around this school that could make her immobile. Hermione is a smart girl: she must know that. Yet she is careful to go into minimal detail.
She doesn't come home for Christmas. She says she has something important to do. He writes back on behalf of himself and Diane, saying that that's fine and they'll send her presents to the school. He makes sure to keep it upbeat because he, too, can hide tears. Not his own. Diane's. Just two weeks in the year and she won't come and see them.
He is careful not to let any of this show in any of his letters back. She writes about duelling, about lessons, about quidditch. He writes about work, about old friends, about the mundane things that he worries can, in no way, match up to her experience.
And then one day, a teacher appears: Professor McGonagall. She tells them that their daughter has been attacked but, not to worry, she's only petrified and they're working on a cure. He wants to scream. If she had gone to her local comprehensive, she might have been beaten up, true, but he can guarantee that no one would have petrified her. Instead, he nods and thanks the teacher who promises to keep them updated.
The worst thing is that they are forbidden to visit her.
(He later learns that parents rarely visit their children in this school. Apparently, eight weeks of the year is enough for wizards.)
When they hear that she has been de-petrified, it's safe to say that their reaction is something akin to hysteric relief. As soon as she gets off that train at King's Cross, he hugs her so hard that she protests in gasps that he's crushing her ribs. However, he can tell that she's pleased.
Later, he convinces her to describe her year in full detail. He asks her why she didn't tell them the full scale of the attacks or the reasons. She tells him that she didn't want him to think she was upset or to worry him.
"I want to be worried," he says. "No more secrets?"
She nods. "No more secrets, Dad," she echoes.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"Dad? Malcolm? Malcolm Granger?"
He peers at her. "That's ... that's me?"
He doesn't feel like Malcolm Granger.
"That's your name," the girl agrees.
He turns to his wife. "And you're ... you're Diane?"
"You do remember!" the girl cries in relief.
"Remember what?" he asks but even as he says it, more memories roll through his mind.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
They go on holiday again. Hermione disappears for part of it to magical areas that neither he nor Diane has any comprehension of. Still, he's rather touched when she presents him with some magical trinkets that he has no idea how to work but which look wonderful all the same. At the end of summer, she buys a giant cat. When he finally meets it, he is careful to treat it with respect and dignity. It warms up to him.
When she starts school, she sticks to their summer vow and tells him within a few days that she has been given the power to travel through time in order to attend her classes and that Sirius Black, the mass murderer, is a wizard who would quite like to murder Hermione's best friend. It is at times like these that he is glad that they communicate only through letters because it means he can nearly have a heart attack in peace and quiet and then write a calm, authoritative, paternal letter back.
In fact, she fills him in about her life with bright and beautiful detail. He longs to explore Hogsmeade with her and Diane laughs when she catches him practicing the hand movements for the spells he cannot cast but which Hermione wants to teach him.
Once again, she forsakes coming home for Christmas but, this time, he can forgive it because he feels as though he is standing over her shoulder at school. Until, just after Christmas, her letters take on the tone. It doesn't take a Hermione to work out that she's argued with Harry and Ron: her letters no longer discuss them.
Diane convinces her to tell them what happened. Hermione tries to make light of it but the pain is clear in the inky words. He offers, in all seriousness, to teach Harry and Ron a lesson (little idiots. Their friend tries to save Harry's life and all they can think about is a piece of flying wood) which appears to cheer Hermione up, if only temporarily.
Hermione has been researching wizarding law on dangerous animals and he has no idea how to react when she writes a letter telling him that her friend's pet is going to die, that she has reconciled with Harry and Ron and that she has dropped Divination.
Hermione would never quit anything. It stuns both of them. He lets Diane handle the reply.
When she comes home this summer, she tells them that her friend's pet escaped. She's curiously evasive about it and he can't work out why. But no matter what he does, she won't explain it. He puts it down to her being a teenager although, deep down, he knows that that isn't the reason.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The girl looks uncertain.
"Remember ... do you remember me?"
He isn't ready to face up to this. Not yet.
"You ... what happened to us?" He stands up, walks past his equally confused wife, and flips a light switch. The girl is Mon- Diane's height, with his brown hair. Her nose, his eyes. Her nervous look. He clenches his fists, torn between ... between what?
"Da- Dr. Granger? You know who I am, right? Mum?"
M- Diane looks at him. Her expression matches his feelings. They have been burgled.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She spends the first couple of weeks with them. She insists on sending food to Harry who, she tells him, is on a forced diet. He agrees to send food but insists it be sugar-free. From the sounds of his life, no one is paying the slightest bit of attention to his teeth. He's more than happy to let the Weasleys feed the boy up and act as a surrogate family but the Grangers will not let him down. He will not get tooth rot if he can help it.
When she goes to the Quidditch World Cup, he tries to smile, he really does, but the wizarding world had her for over ten months: they've had her for two weeks. They part on a false tone that he must have inherited from his daughter.
Her letters are less detailed. At first he thinks it's his imagination until Diane mentions that yes, the letters really are shorter. It surprises him. Nevertheless, he continues to write his essays back, even though he's sure that she doesn't really want to know about the vacuum cleaner packing up the other day.
She takes up a strange cause about slavery. He supports her efforts and offers to buy one of her badges. She points out that it would have little effect in the muggle world. He is forced to agree and instead wishes her all the luck in the world.
Her friends argue over some deadly contest. He has stopped being worried by deadly threats – as far as he can tell, this world is up to its ears in danger. He has, however, become addicted to soothing noises. 'Ocean waves' is his favourite. She asks for advice on how to handle being between two people; he can barely write quickly enough, pleased to, once again, be the person Hermione turns to when she needs help.
She doesn't return for Christmas for the third time in a row. This time, it's a dance. A boy. An eighteen year old international sports star. There are definitely laws against this. There must be. In the middle of one of his rants, Diane amusedly tells him that Hermione is far too sensible to sleep with the first boy she meets. He snaps that they have no way of knowing because, really, how do they know that anything she tells them about this school is true?
Diane doesn't say anything.
They never refer to the conversation or the boy again.
She mentions being in some trouble with the newspapers. Something about a love triangle. He tries to get more details out of her but she only says that it's something silly and it will blow over soon. He doesn't believe her but he gives up trying to convince her to open up. Maybe she's being a normal teenager – too cool for her parents, just like at the end of her third year. She never struck him as the type.
When she returns home, she cries. Someone has died. Someone has risen from the dead. Someone who will want to kill her and her parents. He feels an icy stab of fear and actually looks into buying a gun, gun laws of England be damned.
(Her teeth are straight. She didn't mention it and when Diane asks, she shrugs it off. He doesn't press it because she's obviously traumatised by the death of Cedric Diggory and the rise of this immortal maniac. But he wishes that she had let him give her braces – this one, small, muggle thing.)
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She doesn't move. He has the sudden, ludicrous urge to tell her to come upstairs in case she falls.
"Please tell me you remember me," she says. "Do you remember anything? Please, Da- Please?"
He frowns. "I remember ... magic?"
She smiles and it's Diane's smile. "Yes! Yes, that's right. Magic is real."
Diane stands next to him, catching his fingers with hers. "Everything's so conflicting," she whispers. "I feel like you're Wendell except you're not."
The girl moves up one step and then stops. Her hands twitch uncertainly. "Do you remember anything else?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She leaves them for the summer holidays after a couple of weeks again. This time, he snaps. He asks whether she really hates being home that much. She doesn't cry. It surprises him because the little girl he remembers would have cried and he would have felt horrible. Instead, she hugs him and promises that they will have Christmas together.
She writes to tell them that she has been made a prefect. He feels unbearably proud of her.
Her letters are shorter yet, as though she is distracted. The feeling that she is hiding something grows. It's not a boyfriend – the sports star disappeared from her life at the end of the year (thank God) – but he has no idea what it is. All sorts of scenarios run through his head. By Halloween, he has decided that if she's a lesbian, that is absolutely fine; if she's failing her lessons, he'll pay for tutors; if she's gotten detention (again), well, all teenagers rebel; if she's taking drugs, he will stage an intervention; if she's killed people, he will have several issues with that but he won't abandon her. Diane tells him he's being ridiculous. This from the woman who wondered if Hermione had taken to petty crime.
His birthday is 20th November. She sends him a card and a present on 25th November.
They book a skiing holiday. She tells them she isn't coming because she has to study for owls, which Diane translates to O Levels. They can't keep the disappointment from their letters. He adds up the hours he has spent with his daughter since she turned thirteen. About six hundred and seventy-two. The Weasleys have seen her for around one thousand three hundred and forty-four. It's no wonder people rise from the dead in that world, if they never see their parents.
Her letters become shorter and shorter as she becomes more and more stressed about exams. He actually breaks their cardinal rule and sends some truly sugary sweets in an attempt to make her feel better. She thanks him. He suspects the meaning of the gesture is lost on her.
One day, he finds Diane standing in Hermione's bedroom. Her fingers brush over some children's books. A couple of cuddly toys lie on a bed that has fresh sheets because Diane changes them every week. There are a few moving pictures on the wall but if he didn't know better, he would swear this room belonged to an eleven year old girl. Diane puts the books back. They exit the room. Diane gently closes the door behind them.
At the end of the year, they receive a message that Hermione is critically injured. No one will give him an exact explanation. She was ... somewhere ... outside school ... people broke in ... a terrible accident, it won't happen again.
He's still forbidden to visit.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
He's being rude but he can't bring himself to answer her.
She looks at the stick – the wand – and mutters to herself. When she raises it, he flinches and guilt flickers over her face.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I ... I don't know if it worked."
"If what worked?" The penny drops. "You tampered ... you tampered with our memories?"
"No! Well, yes. But I've restored them. I should have restored them." She peers at him desperately. "Please, Dad. Please say you remember me."
"With fake or real memories?"
"Real. Dad, I had to. Dad..."
Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad. Two letters, one used twice.
He doesn't feel like a father. But he remembers being one.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
She spends the customary two to three weeks with them in summer. It's different. Quieter. She's twitchy, as though she expects an attack, and whenever either Diane or he goes out, she warns them to be careful. Something happened to her. Something terrible. But they have long passed the time when, with enough questions, she would tell him.
This year, for her birthday, he simply sends her money.
Her letters are still bland but she ends each one warning them to be careful. His letters are down to two sides of A4. An overview, really, of their life. Stories of old friends, of mundane meetings, of dentistry, of broken-down vacuum cleaners cease to feature. Diane puts in more effort but it almost feels like an exam: write the minimal amount and include some adjectives.
He doesn't bother to ask if she's coming home for Christmas. So when she says that she is, he has to re-read the letter ten times. They have a lovely holiday together but Hermione is still quiet, still anxious and somewhat upset. One night, Diane and Hermione stay up until four in the morning, talking. When he asks what it was about, Diane smiles and tells him that Hermione wanted her mother's advice on men. He doesn't fly into anxious panic: he smiles.
For a few weeks, the letters approach essays. Her subjects sound harder. She sends some sweets from Hogsmeade and a few trinkets. Ron becomes seriously ill and she's clearly upset about it. He puts two and two together at this point. He wants to write to the Weasleys and ask them just what they've let their son do with his daughter. Diane exasperatedly tells him that the Weasleys haven't let Ronald do anything to (with) her. She also adds that, at the age of seventeen, it is not illegal. He grumbles but agrees not to write to this strange family. After all, Diane has had The Talk with Hermione. And the more recent one at Christmas.
The letters lose their detail towards summer. In the last month of school, they become notes. She's worried, he thinks, but about what, he doesn't know. Presumably that maniac who wants to kill her and all people like her. And her best friend. He wants, so badly, to protect her but this is a world where he knows nothing.
When she meets them at King's Cross, she clings to them desperately and he begins to think that when she leaves this time, she may never return. But then she tells them that she'll stay with them for as long as possible. He's delighted. He thinks it means six weeks with his daughter, six weeks to be a family again.
He's wrong.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
"I don't understand, Hermione," he says quietly.
She sags in relief. "You ... you know my name."
"Yes."
"And that I'm your daughter?"
"Yes."
She smiles. "Thank God. I mean ... you do, don't you? You know who I am."
He shakes his head. "I remember you," he says quietly. "But I have no idea who you are."
Fin