Lightning flashed against the walls as thunder rocked the house, startling young Rose out of her deep sleep; frightening her to the point she jumped at shadows. She peeked over the side of the bed, checking for things that might grab and snatch, dragging her under the bed. Once she decided the coast was clear, she lept from her bed and shot out into the hallway, trying to find her way to her parents room in the pitch black that enveloped the house. Her petite hand found the brass door knob and she turned it slowly, not wanting to make a fuss, she just needed her mommy.
Soft, tiny feet padded through Ron and Hermione's room, creating the ever so slight 'pit pat pit pat' as she made her way to Hermione's side of the bed. Hermione looked peaceful as she slept, having had a wonderful, quiet life with the man she loved and their two lovely children. Hugo was finally at the point in his childhood where he slept through the night, which was lovely for Hermione's sleeping schedule.
Rose's small hand reached out hesitantly towards her mother, nervous about waking her up, but she needn't worry. Before Rose's hand could shake Hermione, her eyes slowly opened.
"Rosie?" She said groggily, raising her head to better see her one and only daughter. "What is it, Rosie? Did you have a bad dream?" Rose shook her head, causing her red curls to tremble and shake. Hermione looked over her shoulder at her sleeping husband. He was her rock, her companion in a dangerous war, her best friend, and the love of her life. He was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the storm and the small, frightened child at their bed side. She peeled back the covers and sat up, pulling Rose to her in a tight embrace. "Well, what's the matter, love? Why do you seem so shaken?" She asked softly, stroking her hair in a motherly fashion.
"The storm woke me up," she mumbled, burying her face into her mother's shoulder.
"Do you want to come to bed with us?" She asked, pulling Rose away so she could look her in the eyes. Rose shook her head, not wishing to impose on her mother and father.
"Could we go back to my room? Will you read me a story?" Hermione couldn't help but smile. Her little girl was so much like herself, sometimes. Hermione stood from the bed, took Rose by the hand and walked her back to her room. After Rose picked out a book the both climbed on her bed and Hermione began to read. Rose's focus, however, was no longer on the story, but on her mother's left arm. There the word 'Mudblood' shined in the low light, the pale white lines marring the normal peach color of her mother's skin.
"Mum," Rose started, unsure if her mother would answer or not. "What's that word mean? Why is it on your arm?" Hermione stopped dead, freezing at the questions her young daughter presented. How could she answer this correctly? She slowly closed the book; it wouldn't be opened again tonight. No, tonight it was time for a different story. One Hermione thought she'd have a little while longer before she had to tell it.
"Rose, this is going to come off much like a fairy tale, but it has some dark, unpleasant parts," she started.
"You mean like the Brother's Grimm version of Cinderella? Where they cut up their feet?" The young Weasley asked, her brow furrowing. Hermione laughed quietly; of course her young daughter would know the true version of the classic fairy tale. She shook her head, however.
"It's darker, Rosie. You see, Rose, there's a very mean name for Muggleborns, like me. The word is the one you see on my arm. And it's on my arm because I fought for what I believed in. Uncle Harry, your father, and I all stood up to a man who wanted all Muggleborns out of the wizarding world…" Hermione strayed from the word 'kill' to keep from upsetting her daughter. She'd get the full story when she was older, but now was not the time to frighten her.
"This man thought that only pureblooded wizards, those with no muggle heritage, should be allowed to do magic," She leaned down, as if she were sharing a secret with Rose. "Harry, your father, and I didn't agree. We were part of a group who believed the same thing we did. When you're apart of this group, darling, there are certain risks you have to deal with. I was one of the lucky ones when I was caught by the evil man's group. They were known as Death Eaters, and one particularly nasty one…" She gulped, unsure if she should share this next part or not. "One of them tortured your mum," She held out her arm so Rose could see it better.
"They hurt you?" she asked in disbelief. Hermione nodded and lowered her arm back to it's place, around Rose.
"They hurt me because of my blood. Because your grandmum and grandpop are Muggles. They hurt me because I believed that all wizards should be equal. And because I wouldn't give tell them where your Uncle Harry was," a small tear escaped her honey-brown eyes as she recalled the night that Bellatrix Lestrange crouched over her as she laid on the cold stone floor of Malfoy Manor, furiously carving 'Mudblood' into her arm. Rose's eyes were wide as she reached up to catch her mother's tears.
"Will the bad man come back and hurt you again, Mummy?" She asked quietly, a slight tremble in her voice. Hermione shook her head.
"No, Rose. My best friend, your father, and I defeated him. We made it safe for you. For Hugo. He'll never bother us again." She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the top of her head, thankful for the sacrifice so many had made, thankful they could all sleep safe at night.