Growing Pains
Summary: The tragedy of Hermione Granger's continued advancement out of childhood, as seen through the eyes of her slightly neurotic father.
Warnings: Lots of cussing. (Mr. Granger has a foul mouth when he's panicked, which is often. And when he's angry or excited. So, basically, all the time. I don't know, just roll with it.)
A/N: For the pairings, there are simply one-sided Hermione/Harry, mentions of Ron/Lavender and Hermione/Victor Krum, with this story leading to Hermione/Ron, Really, the most prominent pairing in this story is Mr. Granger/Mrs. Granger. (In other words, all canon pairings.)
J. K. Rowling has said that Hermione's parents are 'quite ordinary' and 'not that interesting.' Not so in this story. Obviously, I'm taking liberties and assuming that the people who produced Hermione have their own interesting personalities. Also, a few minor canon details have been tweaked and some rules of punctuation have been ignored in certain places for effect.
Edited to change Mr. Granger's name from 'Dan' to 'John' in order to avoid shippy implications.
So. Like most things, there is a beginning. This beginning is not actually when his daughter receives a letter from an owl about some magic school with a weird name. Nor is it when Hermione is seven and they get a note home from school saying that a girl who had been teasing her about her (admittedly frizzy, but still perfect) hair suddenly became bald.
No, it begins when his wife is crushing the bones in his hand and swearing that she's never having sex with him again. Well, it actually begins a little bit after that, when he holds a little baby girl (his daughter – holy fuck, holy fuck) in his arms and is filled with love and panic. He has noticed that these feelings tend to dominate his life, and they only increase after his daughter is born.
-x-
They get the letter at dinner.
Emma had decided that they were going to eat outside in their backyard because it's a nice day and family time is important. They're just sitting there minding their own business when suddenly out of nowhere this bloody owl swoops down and drops a letter in Hermione's lap.
He chokes on his food and Hermione is torn between seeing if he's okay and reading the letter.
She reads the letter. Nice to know where her priorities lie.
Where had he gone wrong, that his own offspring would ignore him in such a way? In between his silent dramatics, his wife rolls her eyes at him. He grins at her and sticks his tongue out. She flicks a piece of corn at him. Before he can retaliate, thereby setting a bad example for their daughter – they are adults; they are mature – Hermione looks up and declares, "Someone's written me a letter saying that I've gotten into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
-x-
What follows is a debate over who could be pranking them, of course magic's not real, we are a rational family, are you still being picked on because I told you I would kick their arses from here to China if that's the case –
"Breathe, dear," Emma says.
He breathes.
He is calm, cool, and collected.
Then there is a knock on their door and an elderly woman with a slight Scottish accent proceeds to blow their minds.
He considers it an accomplishment that he only falls off of his chair once (when she turns into a cat of all things). In his defense, it is a lot to take in, but somehow it is easier to accept than it should be. He listens to the explanation with what he calls his Knowledgeable Face, because he is unwilling to show just how far out of his depth he is feeling right now. Which is a lot, by the way. These depths that he's far out of, they're deep. And he can't even swim.
Okay, stretching the metaphor a bit, but whatever. The point remains: this is confusing. None of the parenting books he has read mention how to deal with the fact that your daughter's a witch.
He glances at his wife and sees her listening with an expression that is both attentive and placid, revealing nothing about what she is thinking. Emma is a master of the subtle nuances of body language.
So. Magic is real.
Magic exists.
This does explain all of the interesting things that have happened to Hermione over the years. He always knew she was special; this is just concrete proof.
McGonagall leaves with a promise to return next week and help Hermione purchase her school supplies. John had wanted to go with them, but both he and Emma will be busy that day, so maybe it's for the best.
After Hermione goes to bed, he turns to his wife. "So…what do you think about…all of this?" He waves his arms around in movements that are meant to encompass both 'all of this magical stuff' and 'I don't know what the bloody hell is going on.'
She gets it though and smiles at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Never a dull moment in the Granger household," she jokes.
"Damn straight."
-x-
After Hermione goes on her shopping trip to Magical Land ("it's called diagon alley, daddy") – to that magical alley, which still sounds suspicious, she throws herself wholeheartedly into her magical studies. She's got Potions textbooks and Charms textbooks and Transfiguration textbooks (whatever the fuck that is). She can't do any spells, even though she has wand, but she can read. And read she does.
He would be worried about her fervour, but that's how the Granger family rolls: all single-minded determinism and obsessive enthusiasm.
-x-
The first time she talks about this Harry Potter boy – "academic interest only, daddy, you understand" – she offhandedly mentions how he's the only person ever known to survive the Killing Curse, Daddy, isn't that fascinating?
Fascinating is not the word he would use, he thinks, as he tries to stop thinking about the fact that these Wizards have a Killing Curse.
-x-
He demands more information, after he thinks he's ready to deal with the rest of this crazy Wizardly World ("wizarding world, daddy"). So Hermione nervously tells him.
There's a dark history to the culture that his baby girl is now a part of. Of course there is. Because anything else would be too easy.
He's not prepared to deal with this; he's a dentist. A fucking dentist.
"Language, dear," Emma says, and he realizes that he's been fiddling with the silverware in a menacing way and mumbling things under his breath that aren't fit for polite company. His daughter looks intrigued at the way he's handling the utensils.
As if the existence of a secret magical society that uses owls to deliver their post isn't enough. So there used to be this Dark Lord guy who wanted to exterminate all 'Muggles' (like them) and all 'Muggle-borns' (like their daughter).
He needs to lie down.
"I'll get you a cold compress," Emma says.
-x-
Hermione writes them her first day there, and tells them about the train, the boat ride, how splendid the castle looks and its enchanted celling, and about the Sorting Hat (yes, capital S, capital H). She's been sorted into Gryffindor, the house of the brave; damn right his baby girl is brave. She said that the Hat told her she could have gone into Ravenclaw as well. Hell yeah, he's got a brave genius for a daughter. He's always known of course, but it's always nice to have someone else acknowledge it, even if that someone else is a talking hat.
Hermione tells them about Hogwarts' moving staircases, moving portraits, and moving doors. She tells them about the ghosts, her professors, and her ghost-professor. She does not tell them much about her peers, with the notable exception of one Ronald Weasley, who is, according to her, an uncouth, inconsiderate child with no manners or appreciation of his studies. He suspects that this last point irks her the most.
John gets the impression that the other children have been less than kind to her, and that thought makes him want to race to the castle in fatherly fury. He doesn't, and not just because the castle is 'unplottable' and covered in 'Muggle-repelling charms' – makes it sound like they're some kind of bugs – but also because he and Emma have had a conversation about 'boundaries' and 'smothering.'
His baby girl is strong and brave and smart, and he tells her so when he writes back to her. She doesn't explicitly mention so, but he gets the feeling that it has helped her. John starts to think that having Hermione away at her magical boarding school might not be so bad.
Then the letter about the troll comes.
-x-
"We must pull her out of Hogwarts, Emma!" he roars as he paces. "There's no other option!"
"Let's think this through rationally, shall we?"
"I'm being perfectly rational!"
"You're wearing a hole in the carpet, dear."
He looks down. So he is. "I'll get a new one," he promises.
"We just bought that a few months ago," she mourns.
"I'll go shopping," he says, more desperately this time.
"Do you even know where to go?"
"Um. That carpet place?"
She sighs. There are a few minutes of silence before she says, "Now about this Troll business."
He puffs up, ready to explode in another fit of righteous anger.
"We'll wait for Hermione to come back for the Winter Holidays, and then we'll all discuss it."
He deflates. "Yes, dear."
-x-
He regularly calls emergency meetings with his wife, to discuss his daughter's physical and emotional wellbeing. He has been growing more and more concerned about her association with this Potter boy. He can see how the tone of Hermione's letters has changed, how often she talks about him.
"It's sweet," his wife says.
It's worrying is what it is.
"Well, he did save her from a troll. It's perfectly natural," she says, as she knits. Yes, Emma has taken up knitting. He doesn't have the heart (or the balls) to tell her that her talents lie in other areas. "She's at that age."
She most certainly is not. 'That age' should be more like thirty – and even that's pushing it. He would prefer 'never,' but Emma wants grandkids. 'That's what adoption's for,' he has pointed out before, subsequently cowering at the force of her glare.
"It's a phase!" he insists wildly instead, waving his arms around.
"As you say, dear."
And Emma returns to her knitting while John ponders the tragedy that is his daughter's continued growth into adulthood.
-x-
He's never been that shotgun-wielding dad. That's just not his style. A drill works just as well at scaring the boys away. Hermione threatens to lock herself in her room and not talk to him for weeks if he ever tries to do that with Ron and Harry.
He considers if it's worth it.
On the one hand, he has his fatherly duty. On the other, his daughter can hold a grudge. Eventually, he decides. If the opportunity presents itself to menace those boys without getting caught, he will take it.
-x-
His wife has mastered the art of pretending to pay attention while she's really only focused on her knitting. She also has talent in switching that up: her sharp ears can catch everything as she maintains a docile expression and steadily works toward finishing that scarf/sweater/seven-toed sock/whatever. She says that people seem to think that just because she's knitting, she is incapable of focusing on anything else.
Hah, suckers. His wife is a master of multitasking.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in her charity work. Emma really is a caring and companionate person, though you wouldn't know it from her brusque manner. She advocates tons of causes, and is a part of many organizations, ranging from stopping animal cruelty to brining illiteracy rates down.
She can often be found working on several projects at once, usually roping John into helping as well. His obsessive attention to detail makes him a good candidate for helping her, and his organizational skills are second to none.
Emma also, unlike John, has good reactions to unexpected circumstances. This is proven the day that he forgets that one of his colleagues is coming over for dinner today. Frankly, he finds the man obnoxious, but they must maintain good relations seeing as they have to work together.
Ever the gracious host, Emma nods and says serenely, "I'll set an extra plate for the bastard, shall I?"
"You're amazing."
"I know."
"I owe you."
"You do."
And this is when John realizes that even though Hermione is off at her magic school, some things (like annoying coworkers and bloody awesome wives) will always stay the same.
-x-
Hermione asks them if they want to go to Diagon Alley with her. About time. He wants to see a sample of the culture that his daughter is becoming entrenched in. He's eager to undergo this new experience, at least until he learns how they expect him to travel into the Alley. The barkeep at The Leaky Cauldron (which was invisible to them until Hermione waved her wand randomly) informs them that wall's down for maintenance right now, whatever the fuck that means, so they have to use this Flu – Flue? Floo? – instead.
And he's all, what the hell, Wizarding World, you expect me to jump into a fire? A green fire? Emma says, "Think of it as an adventure, darling."
"Remember, Daddy, be polite," Hermione reminds him and what is she talking about? He's always polite.
"I'll look after him," Emma promises, despite his splutters. The women in his family have some kind of conspiracy against him, he knows it.
But the visit does go fine, at first; Hermione shows them around, and they gawk at all the weird magical things. At the Wizarding bank – run by goblins! – he gets his first look at one of the two boys that his daughter always talks about, Ron Weasley: red hair and blue eyes, a bit lanky and unimpressive overall. But he can see how Hermione's face lights up when she sees him and drags them over to meet her parents.
They end their visit at the bookstore, naturally. It's there that he meets the famous Harry Potter: black hair and green eyes, a bit scrawny and unimpressive overall. But John can see how excited his daughter is that he has finally been introduced to her friends, so he holds his tongue and resists saying something like, 'Hurt my daughter and you'll be eating out of a straw for the rest of your natural lives,' or 'You know, I thought you would be taller.'
They are then introduced to Arthur Weasley, who is quite interested in their 'Muggle' money and wishes very much to know what the function of a rubber duck is. John manages to foist him off on Emma, with a, "please direct your questions to my lovely wife." His lovely wife gives him the stink eye, but answers Arthur's questions graciously. He can see that she isn't really annoyed with him and doesn't mind educating Arthur on the subject of Muggles.
John doesn't mind either, but he wants to see if he can find some books that will tell him about magical dental hygiene. Before he can, however, they're stopped by this arrogant prick of a Pureblood. It's one thing to know about the discrimination his daughter (and by proxy, he and his wife) faces, and another to know.
Condescending piece of –
His wife puts a restraining hand on his arm, and the next minute, Arthur and Malfoy are duking it out and it is spectacular. The only thing better would be if he was the one pushing Malfoy into a bookshelf, but you can't have everything and this is almost as good.
-x-
The summer before Hermione's Third Year, John is feeling more and more high-strung, in between Hermione's magical school and that bratty kid who bit him (he had to get stitches, the little shite).
"Let's take a vacation, dear," Emma suggests. "Someplace like France maybe."
So they go to France, and tour the museums and go to places like the beach. It is peaceful and nice except for the punks who keep eying his daughter, who do they think they are? So John gets her a nice, big T-shirt to wear over her bathing suit. She stomps away and his wife sighs.
-x-
This time when Hermione comes back buying school supplies from Diagon Alley, she brings with her a cat-thing, Crookshanks. John gives it a stern talking to, charging it with the protection of his daughter. Hermione asks him what he's doing and tells him that 'cats can't talk,' as if he's the one who should know what kinds of magical creatures there are. Whatever. He knows that cat can understand him.
-x-
Later, when Hermione's back at school, she writes to them and tells them that Harry blew up his aunt (what the hell, he knew that punk was trouble from the moment he saw him). After his incredulous letter, she quickly clarifies that he literally inflated his aunt – not on purpose; with accidental magic, Daddy, because he's a nice boy.
John is doubtful, but he notices that Hermione is trying to hide something from them. She tries to avoid talking about it by directing their attention to other issues, but he's good at spotting bullshit (he learned from the master, and his daughter has a long way to go before she can out-bullshit his wife) and he demands that she tell him about whatever it is that she's not telling him. He threatens to buy that Daily Fortune-teller or whatever, so that they can be informed about all the current Wizarding events.
She caves. He learns that Sirius Black isn't just an escaped murderer/serial killer, but an escaped murderer/serial killer wizard. And he's targeting one of his daughter's best friends.
Then he has something that Emma labels a 'freak out' and he calls a 'healthy release of stress.'
At the end of the year, Hermione tells him that Sirius Black is innocent and it was really Peter Pettigrew who betrayed the Potters and killed all those people. She tells them a tale of friendship, betrayal, and idiotic politics. "So they said he had confounded us and they were going to give him to the Dementors!" The way she says 'Dementors' rings alarms, so he asks what they are.
And that's how he learns that some soul-sucking creatures of misery have been invading his daughter's school.
-x-
Hermione obtains permission to stay over at the Weasley's house through a mixture of bribery and logic. In the end, it comes down to her cajoling, "Please?" and him caving in with an, "Oh, fine," while Emma looks on in amusement. Subsequently, she asks to be allowed to go to the Quidditch World Cup, whatever the hell that is.
"It's a sport."
"Ah," he says, promptly losing all interest, as Hermione had probably predicted.
"Yeah, I don't understand what the big deal about it is either, but both Ron and Harry love it. Besides, it's only held every four years," she says, "so this is a good chance. I should experience something so culturally important to the Wizarding World."
"Oh, fine," he says. Emma unsuccessfully tries to hide her smile behind her hand.
-x-
Hermione has taken up knitting, like her mother, with results that make it clear that her gifts lie in other areas, also like her mother. Her knitting differs from Emma's in that it comes with that weird magical twist (for 'House Elves') that everything she does nowadays has, because he's losing his baby girl to a bunch of wizards. Emma tells him he's over-reacting. Hermione launches into a long treatise about House Elf rights.
From what he can tell, Wizards have enslaved these House Elves and use them to cater to their every whim. Sounds like something they'd do, and further proof that she should leave Hogwarts and come back home to live with them forever.
Hermione doesn't get upset and defensive with him when he says that though. Instead, she huffs out a laugh. This is very worrying. When he brings it up with Emma, she pats him on the cheek and tells him that their daughter is growing up – blasphemy! – and she knows he's not serious.
He is very serious. She laughs at him too, and says that he needs to learn to have a little more…fun. They then have the kind of fun that he doesn't ever want his daughter to engage in. Emma rolls her eyes when he tells her that afterwards.
-x-
Hermione writes to them about how Ron is being a prat and how she had a date for the Yule Ball and it was Victor Krum.
Date? Victor Krum? What is this nonsense?
Victor's famous, she writes, a Quidditch player, which doesn't make it any better really.
He knew he should have never let her go to that World Cup thingy.
"In a moment of temporary insanity, our daughter has started…dating," he announces, making it sound like she has been kicking puppies and stealing lollies from small children for fun.
"Let's be rational," Emma says.
"I am being rational. I'm always rational." She raises an eyebrow. Damn, he's always wanted to know how to do that.
"Fine, fine," he grumbles. No one can win against The Eyebrow, and he really doesn't want her to bring out The Eyebrows, plural.
"I'll write a letter of congratulations then, shall I?"
"Now let's not get too crazy," he cautions her. She grins at him and he says, "It's a phase. It must be. Yes, that's it." He nods to himself, feeling reassured, and says to her, "See. I'm being rational."
"Just so," Emma says.
He gets the feeling that she is humoring him. Bah.
-x-
"Voldemort's back," Hermione tells them over dinner when she gets back from her fourth year.
"That dead madman?"
"Yeah."
"The one who's supposed to be dead?" he asks again, just for confirmation.
"That's the one."
"…How?"
"Magic."
Then there is an explanation about just what magic can do, which apparently includes making dead madmen not-so-dead. By the end of it, John is not grinding his teeth because he is a dentist and he knows that is bad for them.
"Remember your blood pressure, dear," Emma says, cutting up her meat with too much force.
He remembers his damn blood pressure. How could he not, with all of these things conspiring to keep him permanently stressed?
Hermione says, "Can I be excused, Mum?"
Emma says, "Yes, yes, go ahead," with a strained little smile.
-x-
Emma has already given Hermione that talk, but John still has misgivings about those two boys that she talks about so very often, so he asks her very seriously if she has any feelings for them.
She goes pink, then laughs and says, "Oh, no, Harry is like a brother to me," and he is so relieved that it isn't until later that he realizes she hadn't said anything about the Weasley boy.
-x-
Once John starts thinking about it, he realizes how much of Hermione's letters talk about one Ronald Weasley. He brings the matter to his wife, hoping for some assurance. She does not deliver it – rather the opposite – so he must rely on his own analysis "It's a phase. Just like in first year with Harry Potter, and with that Quidditch bastard."
"Third time's the charm," Emma shrugs, horribly blasé about it all.
"Don't say things like that," he says, then has a sudden consideration. "You could be wrong, you know."
"Women's intuition," is her response, which is bullocks, but he can't argue with it.
-x-
Even if he is disappointed that Hermione has opted not to come with them on their winter trip, he is glad for the chance to have some alone time with Emma. For him, skiing is a romantic thing to do, not because he gets to cuddle with his wife and drink hot chocolate – though that is also fun – but because they actually met at a ski resort, when John fell out of a ski lift and landed on Emma.
He came away with a broken ankle; she got some bruises and a sprained wrist. Later, at the hospital's cafeteria, (they had discovered that they were both training to be dentists and had decided to get some coffee while they talked teeth) she asked him, "Did it hurt?" He started to answer in the negative when she interrupted with, "You know, when you fell from heaven."
He stared at her. She stared at him.
There was a flurry of motion as they exchanged contact information.
"Call me." He didn't say it in the smoothest manner, but she smiled coyly at him, revealing a sliver of white teeth. She had excellent dental hygiene, he noted.
"Oh, I will."
And the rest, as they say, was history.
-x-
Hermione's letters in fifth year frequently include rants about Umbridge as she tells them about the secret Defense group that she helps to start.
His daughter, the rebel. John can't decide whether to be proud or panicked.
In any case, her letters had been full of life and energy, but at the end of the school year, she comes back strangely subdued.
"Sirius died," she says. She doesn't elaborate and they don't press.
-x-
That's how much of her Sixth Year goes, with her avoiding talking about certain things and them not pushing her to. He does get the sense that things are picking up and it's so damn scary to think that his daughter's world is on the brink of a civil war.
There are moments of normalcy too, where Hermione's competitive drive comes into play as she huffs about how Harry is getting good grades in Potions by using a textbook that used to belong to the Half-Blood Prince.
This is cheating, in her opinion, and John is inclined to agree, but he reminds her that nothing worth doing is ever easy and shortcuts are no good if she doesn't understand the material. He thinks that might have calmed Hermione down some; he loves his daughter, but she doesn't tend to react well to anything that she sees as a threat to her grades.
There are also a few letters about Ron and a girl called Lavender. Emma mostly responds to those, probably because John's letters can't help but convey a sense of subdued triumph. Yeah, he doesn't like to see Hermione unhappy, but that Weasley boy didn't deserve her anyway. He suspects that his attempts to communicate these thoughts to his daughter go unappreciated.
And so the year passes. He and his wife examine teeth and campaign for various causes. Life seems to return to some sort of normalcy, or whatever has traditionally passed for 'normal' in their family.
And then it's like he's waking up from a long sleep, except that he's in Australia. Emma blinks beside him in similar bewilderment, both of them staring at their daughter's tearful face.
-x-
It turns out that they've been living in the period of time that his wife calls 'the Australia detour,' A.K.A. the 'my daughter wiped our memories what the hell' detour.
"It was like a nice vacation?" Emma tries to console him, but even she can't look sure of what she's saying and her smile's a little broken around the edges.
For his part, John keeps thinking of the fact that for however long a time, they forgot who Hermione was.
That is wrong and scary and it makes him angry that he knows he's going to forgive his daughter for what she did. Later, after he gives her a very prolonged and intense silent treatment.
His resolve lasts of all of two seconds before he's pulling his baby girl into a crushing hug.
This incident leads to more revelations, like, say, a professor in Hermione's first year had Voldemort sticking out the back of his head. What the hell? Seriously?
Oh, and that time he thought she was sick in her Second Year? Yeah, no. She actually spent that time petrified because of a Basilisk that got loose in the castle. And a Basilisk is…?
Hermione tells him.
A fifty-foot snake that can kill you with its eyeballs?
The fuck?
Before his rapidly approaching heart attack can happen, his wife takes his hand. He squeezes once, twice, and takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, he is significantly calmer. So. Fifty-foot killer snake.
But that isn't all. Of course not. Before Potter charged off to face said killer snake, their DADA professor tried to Obliviate them.
And then there was that DADA professor that was actually a convicted murderer and had locked the real one in a trunk for a year, and another one that was basically inflicting government-sanctioned torture. Was there any Defense teacher that wasn't evil?
"Well, in our third year, we had Professor Lupin," Hermione offers after a moment's thought. "He was good, but he had to resign at the end of the year because people found out that he was a werewolf."
He gives a jerky little nod. A werewolf. Right. Okay. Awesome. He can deal with this.
"I can't deal with this," he says.
Emma sighs and Hermione looks kind of hurt and resigned. "Well, we don't have to talk about it, if you want."
That's so not what he meant. "No way. We are getting through this. Keep going."
She keeps going. They hear about three headed dogs, evil diaries, Triwizard Tournaments, Prophesies, secret organizations, giants… And she never told them.
There are so many things that happened to her while they had forgotten her existence: snatchers, hiding out, theft and a subsequent escape on a dragon, insane Death Eaters (which is kind of redundant now that he thinks about it), Horcruxes…
If she had died, they wouldn't know. They wouldn't even care.
By the end, even Emma is pale and her mouth is set in a thin line. Their clasped hands have become less of her comforting him and more of mutual reassurance. There is silence for a while as they try and process everything that their daughter has told them.
"Well," Emma eventually says briskly. "This has certainly been enlightening. You've said that the war is over, but you're aware that such discriminatory attitudes do not just disappear. They cannot be allowed to fester." A bold statement. Coming from anyone else, it would sound fairly ludicrous, but this is Emma Granger talking, whom he is convinced can do anything (but knit).
"We need to make some kind of anti-racism campaign, or better yet, organization, to spread awareness. I've already got some ideas, but you're more informed about this than I am, and my 'Muggle' status is not exactly going to help – "
Not even wizards can magic away all problems, and something as deep-seeded as blood prejudice will take a special kind of touch. They are the Grangers and what they can't talk their way out of, they can bulldoze their way through, Muggle-repelling charms be damned.
Hermione nods eagerly and leans forward. John can see that she's already got plans and ideas exploding in that quick mind of hers. As one, they both turn to him with questioning eyes. He gives them the thumbs up. As if there was ever any doubt that he would stand by his girls.
Women.
The thought hits him like a splash of cold water to the face.
They're women. His wife is a fine example of a women, and he's always known that, but for the first time, he can see that his daughter has…grown up. She did it right under his nose and he hadn't noticed.
So this, this right here is what some could see as the end of the not-quite-tragedy of Hermione Granger's continued advancement out of childhood, but John knows that it's really just the beginning.