A Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I know, shocking isn't it.
She was glad that Rose had brown hair, and eyes. My eyes, she thought with a small, fond smile. It made things easier. Now, if only her jawline wasn't quite so strong. Her knees a little less knobbly. If Rose was just a carbon copy of herself no one would look twice.
But Rose wasn't. And there was something so charmingly Harry about the way her grin was crooked, and how her eyes lit up when she found something that interested her.
'Rose Potter,' she whispered, her mouth barely forming the words.
Ron coughed next to her and rolled over, until he was pressed uncomfortably into her side. She edged away, careful not to wake him, and sighed. The moment was lost. But it had been a fleeting thought. The sheer lunacy of it shocked her. She, who prided herself on rational and considered thought processes succumbing to such a … such a fantasy. But it was still there. That painful, all consuming thought.
What if, it whispered to her, what if? What if what? she thought angrily. If she could go back? If she could change something? If she could make everything better? It made her sound bitter, and he didn't deserve that. Ron didn't deserve that. He loved her, she could tell. He was always so gentle, more so since Rose was born.
It made her feel sick.
She could imagine it. Him reading the paper, and she'd look up at him over her coffee. 'She's not yours,' she'd say, and he'd look at her, with that expression he always got when he was confused.
'Who?' She could imagine him saying that, innocently. Maybe he'd smile at her, that horrible half smile he gave her when he was humouring her.
'Your daughter. Rose. She's not yours.'
There'd be a moment of silence. Perhaps he'd keep smiling. A disbelieving, assured smile.
'Very funny Hermione.'
He'd be confident. He was always confident these days.
Her alarm buzzed, but Ron didn't stir. Hermione dressed quietly and quickly, and then she left, slipping out the front door and taking long strides down the gravel path to an ancient oak tree just past a cast iron gate. She disapparated, just outside the wards. She didn't want Ron to know she'd been gone, and the wards only informed him if someone apparated within them. She almost smiled at the deficiency.
She clutched her cloak around her as she arrived. The wind here was cold, and her breath hung in the air, a misty silver. The grave before her was familiar, and she sank down onto the cold wet earth before it with a soft smile.
'Hey.'
'Harry James Potter' stared back at her, the words looping and fancy. Her eyes ducked down, and a small frown marred her features at what was written underneath.
'A hero in life, and saviour in death.'
She'd fought against those words, but she was only one against the masses, and the Ministry had made the decision. They were so bland. As if all his life had been for others. It made her angry, furious. A deep burning rage had churned in her stomach when she'd first seen it, and now all she could do was ignore it.
'Rose turned seventeen last week. She wants to be a teacher. A normal one not a magic one. She hasn't told Ron. Can you imagine? He'll throw a fit.' Hermione laughed. It was true. Ron wouldn't understand. He'd grown up with magic, lived it, breathed it, and to him Rose would be throwing it away. It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad. That it had taken Rose til now to tell even her. She could remember the tears brimming in her daughters eyes, and her choked, almost whispered confession. It was odd that in that moment she'd been reminded of Harry. Harry had never cried, at least not often. But he'd lock it all away, until it hurt, and Rose, in that moment, had acted so similarly, and she could feel her heart break just a little at the thought.
The graveyard was silent, and Hermione leant back against Harry's grave and closed her eyes. She'd have to leave soon. The sun peeked over the horizon, turning everything gold and crimson.