Choices by Lady Clover. Clover_Witch@hotmail.com
SS/HG Post Hogwarts
Chapter rating: PG
Chapter Summary: Hermione Granger has been living with her daughter Jasmine, in a nasty run down flat, as a Muggle for the last three years. Her mother makes an offer to move back home to help rebuild her life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All respective copyrights belong to their owners. No infringement is intended, and no permission was given to the author to use J.K. Rowling's characters and places.
Many thanks go to my Britpicker Yncairn8. All of the Briticisms that you see are hers.
* * * * * * * *
"No Jasmine. We don't pull the cat's tail. Pet him nicely." Hermione knelt next to her daughter, prizing her little fist from the cat's tail. Crookshanks took off like a shot and hid underneath the entertainment center, immediately sitting on his tail, smoothing out the rumpled fur with quick deliberate strokes of his long pink tongue.
Jasmine looked up at Hermione, eyes bright with tears. "Mummy." She whinged, her bottom lip quivered. Hermione sensed the impending storm and scooped her up into her arms.
"Shush, it's ok Love, Mummy just didn't want to see you get hurt." She didn't think that Crooks would have bitten her daughter on purpose, but the cat was fickle and had become quite unstable in his old age. "What's this? You're all sticky. Has Gran been giving you sweeties again?"
"Yes I have." Her mum said, coming into the room with a basket of towels.
"Mum . . . I wish you wouldn't. Honestly. You're a dentist, you should know better." Hermione said, picking cat hairs from Jasmine's sticky fist which she had started to suck on. "Well, lets clean you up then." She scooped a washcloth from the basket and set off to the kitchen. Her mother followed close behind, setting the basket down on the kitchen table.
"Darling, I only have one grandchild. I'm allowed to spoil her any way I see fit." She said sitting down with a sigh. Make us a cuppa, Love?"
"Make one yourself. You know where I keep the tea things." Hermione said, scrubbing at Jasmine's face and hands with the damp washcloth. Jasmine squirmed and fussed, trying to avoid the cloth. "Hold still. You know this is your entire fault. Giving my daughter sweets. You should be the one cleaning her up."
"No dear, grandmother's privilege. I have all the fun, and you do the nappies and washing up. Besides, I'm folding your laundry, the least you could do for your poor old mum is to make me a cup of tea for my trouble."
"Fine." Hermione said, satisfied that she had gotten the worst of the mess. "I'm going to put Jasmine down for her nap. You'll have to wait for your tea."
"No dear. Let me." Her mother said, scooping Jasmine out of Hermione's arms, singing to the toddler as she left the kitchen.
Hermione dropped the washcloth into the sink. She sighed to the now empty room. Who would have thought that her life would turn out like this? She was a single mother with no one to look out for her but her parents. Certainly she didn't. Don't think about it, Hermione. Chin up. Deep breath in, slow breath out. Make the tea, put the kettle on the gas, get the milk and sugar, set out the cups, but don't fret on it. She let out a shaky breath and started the ritual of making the afternoon tea.
Her mother came back into the room, and Hermione looked at her. Mum looked as if she wanted to say something, but was afraid to start. Finally she spoke.
"Hermione. Your father and I were talking, and we'd like it very much if you and Jasmine would move in with us. Now hear me out," she said putting her hand up, "this flat is far too small for the both of you. Your father and I have this worked out. We have plenty of room now that your sister has left for college. We have a garden - - that child needs a garden to run around in - - and June, our receptionist, is leaving to have her baby. We have no problem setting up a play area for Jasmine in the office while you work. Please say yes? It would mean so much to your father." Her mother said, enfolding Hermione into her embrace. Hermione felt boneless and leaned against her mother as she spoke.
"Mum. You know I can't. It's too dangerous. I can't risk your lives . . ." Hermione felt the tears welling up inside of her, and her throat felt very tight.
"Oh, not that nonsense . . . please. It's been nearly three years now. Nothing is going to happen. Don't let old fears prevent you from getting your life back." Her mother said, smoothing a hand through Hermione's hair.
"But mum . . . Voldemort - -" The kettle was whistling. Hermione's mother broke their embrace to remove it from the gas before it started shrieking and woke Jasmine. Hermione swiped at her eyes, brushing away her tears, and sat down at the kitchen table, letting her mother finish the tea. She picked up a towel and started folding it. She left the rest of her thought unspoken, but it was there, hanging between them in the too tiny kitchen like a white elephant that neither one wanted to acknowledge.
"Hermione. Even if you did decide not to move home, you can't continue to live in Council housing forever. What kind of lesson are you teaching Jasmine if you continue to live on benefits? You need to think about tomorrow. You could carry on with your education. At least take a few classes in the evening at London South Bank University. If you want to remain here in Elephant and Castle, I could come and watch Jasmine. It would be no problem for me. I can take the train out after work, and then your father could come for me when you are done." Her mother said, setting a steaming mug of tea in front of Hermione, in the clear spot where she had been folding towels.
Hermione looked into her cup, swirling the teabag a few times with her spoon, hedging. It was a wonderful offer. The flat was too small. It was nothing more than a living room, bedroom and kitchen. The walls were paper thin, the rent too high, and there was a vermin problem, further evidence of Crookshanks's growing infirmity. The area was also dodgy; Hermione's car had been stolen twice before she finally gave up keeping one altogether. The lure of a better job than the one she had now for the local bookshop and the opportunity to return to school, even if it was a muggle university, pulled her strongly towards saying yes. But there was the issue of Voldemort, and her parents safety . . . While it was true that no overt actions had been made against her during the last three years, could she risk endangering their lives any further?
"Mum. Let me think about it." She said simply, and took a sip of her tea. She had been unaware that she had been holding her mug so tightly, and she released her grip on it, her fingers smarting from the heat.
"You do that dear." Her mother said. "Have you given any thought to who you are going to invite to Jasmine's birthday party. She's going to be two, and that is plenty old enough for guests. Does she have any little friends at her childminder's that we should invite? Have you given any thought to the theme?"
"I'll ask Susan tomorrow when I see her." Hermione said, sipping at her tea. "As for a theme, Jasmine absolutely adores Bob the Builder. Would it be too much to ask if you did the shopping? I barely have enough for presents."
"No dear, that would be fine. I want you to take care of the invitations. I know this is a tender subject for you, but will you be inviting any of your friends from Hogwarts?"
"Mum!" Hermione set her cup down hard and some of the tea sloshed out over her hand. "How could you ask that? If I were still on speaking terms with them, I would certainly not invite a house full of wizards to a birthday party attended by muggle children and their parents! It would be disastrous. No, absolutely not!"
~*~
Later that evening as Hermione dressed for bed, she looked over at her sleeping daughter. Jasmine was flushed pink in her pyjamas and her jet- black hair stuck to her sweaty face in clumps. Hermione considered undressing her. She cursed the fact that she could not open the window for fear of someone breaking in. She leaned over the crib, carefully stripping the sleeper off, and changed her nappy. Jasmine's eyes fluttered open, and Hermione found herself looking into twin pools of fathomless black. Just like her father's eyes. Hermione felt her throat close up again. Don't think about it. Don't think . . . The baby muttered fussily, and gave a shuddering breath slipping back into sleep. Hermione dropped the soiled nappy into the pail in the bathroom, and drew a bath, letting the running water mask the sound of her crying.
~*~
She awoke early the next morning, bleary eyed and drained from lack of proper sleep. Her mother's offer weighed terribly against her heart. Jasmine, sensing her mother's wakefulness, bounced at the rails of her cot, jabbering and impatient to be up. How could she say no? Was she doing herself and Jasmine a disservice by remaining here? What kind of life could she expect for them if she remained here, in poverty? She groaned, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Jasmine's jabbering became more insistent, and a cuddly toy that was thrown across the room with much more force than the child should have been able to muster suddenly struck Hermione on her forehead. Jasmine giggled.
"Oh you naughty little girl . . .wait a sec. . . did you just do what I think you did?" Hermione said. She was stunned. She looked at her daughter who immediately did it again. She saw the toy float up out of the crib and fly across the room, smacking harmlessly into the wall by the door. Jasmine shrieked with laughter.
"Oooooh! Oh Jasmine. Thank Merlin. You're not a squib!" Hermione laughed and swept her daughter up into her arms. "Just wait till I tell your Grandparents." She tickled and kissed her, causing her daughter to squeal with delight. She carried Jasmine into the kitchen and set her in her high chair. "Just for that you get scrambled eggs on toast." She said.
"Muumm mumm mum. Egg!" Jasmine giggled and smacked her lips appreciatively, while Hermione dug around in the fridge for the eggs, butter, toast and strawberry jam. The milk was almost gone, and the shelves were just shy of bare, but there was enough for this morning. Hermione did some quick calculations, trying to work out how much was in the coin jar she kept in her room. Enough for more milk and train fare, but it looked as if she would be stopping by her parent's home for dinner for the next few nights. Whipping up the eggs she added a little milk to make them fluffier. At least there was enough for Jasmine, and so what if she only got the crust? At least her daughter would eat well today. And what about tomorrow? A little voice at the back of her head said. What about the day after? What about the rent and utilities? After they're paid will you have enough for food then?
"Shut up." She muttered and slammed her fist onto the counter. Jasmine's face darkened. "Oh, not you honey, Mummy's talking to herself again." But the girl didn't understand and started to wail. "Oh love, here." She said, hurriedly spreading the preserves on the toast and dishing up the scrambled egg. She set it in front of Jasmine, who devoured the toast.
~*~
After work she stopped by the childminder to pick up Jasmine. Susan, the woman who had been minding Jasmine for the last six months or so was clearly flustered. "Miss Granger. I cannot mind your daughter any longer. Strange things happen around her, and the child is to blame. I can sense it."
"But . . . I don't have anyone else . . ." Hermione gasped.
"No buts. That child is some kind of monster, and I'll not have her in my house again." Susan said. Jasmine was already dressed and ready to go, and she was pressed into Hermione's arms. She was crying hysterically, and a bruise was rising on her cheek in the shape of a handprint.
"Did you strike my daughter?" Hermione asked. Ice was in her veins.
"Prove it." Susan said and slammed the door into her face. Hermione was shaking with anger and Jasmine's hysterics increased.
"Hush, hush." Hermione murmured, brushing Jasmine's hair aside to better look at her face. Yes, she had been struck. A handprint was clearly visible. "Oh baby, oh, mummy is so sorry. You won't be going back. That nasty woman will never touch you again. I swear."
Twenty minutes later they were at the police station and a policewoman was taking a statement. It felt like an interrogation.
"I didn't strike my daughter, if that is what you are implying. It was her childminder. That's why I'm here. To make a complaint."
Ms. Granger, please calm down. I must examine every possibility. If this turns out to be true your childminder will lose her registration. This is a very serious allegation. Do you live with Jasmine's father or do you have a live in boyfriend?"
"No, we live alone. I haven't spoken with Jasmine's father since before she was born."
"And where is Jasmine's father?" Said the Policewoman, who in Hermione's mind was quickly turning into P.C. Bitch-of-the-yard.
"Abroad. Look I don't see what he has to do with this." Hermione said.
"Just procedure. Was there any abuse in your relationship?"
"I will not answer that question. Now if you are quite finished." Hermione said, gathering her things.
"Certainly, we'll send someone out to speak with the childminder, and someone from social services will be visiting you at your home in a day or so to make an assessment."
"I don't see what my home has to do with this." Hermione spat, scooping up Jasmine.
"Just procedure. Do you have a contact number for Jasmine's father?"
"No." She said, through gritted teeth. "I can't give you that information."
"You can't or you won't?" The policewoman said.
"I can't. You'd never be able to reach him. It's impossible."
"I see." She said. "Well then, could you at least give us his name?"
"Severus Snape." Hermione said, and she burst into tears.
SS/HG Post Hogwarts
Chapter rating: PG
Chapter Summary: Hermione Granger has been living with her daughter Jasmine, in a nasty run down flat, as a Muggle for the last three years. Her mother makes an offer to move back home to help rebuild her life.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All respective copyrights belong to their owners. No infringement is intended, and no permission was given to the author to use J.K. Rowling's characters and places.
Many thanks go to my Britpicker Yncairn8. All of the Briticisms that you see are hers.
* * * * * * * *
"No Jasmine. We don't pull the cat's tail. Pet him nicely." Hermione knelt next to her daughter, prizing her little fist from the cat's tail. Crookshanks took off like a shot and hid underneath the entertainment center, immediately sitting on his tail, smoothing out the rumpled fur with quick deliberate strokes of his long pink tongue.
Jasmine looked up at Hermione, eyes bright with tears. "Mummy." She whinged, her bottom lip quivered. Hermione sensed the impending storm and scooped her up into her arms.
"Shush, it's ok Love, Mummy just didn't want to see you get hurt." She didn't think that Crooks would have bitten her daughter on purpose, but the cat was fickle and had become quite unstable in his old age. "What's this? You're all sticky. Has Gran been giving you sweeties again?"
"Yes I have." Her mum said, coming into the room with a basket of towels.
"Mum . . . I wish you wouldn't. Honestly. You're a dentist, you should know better." Hermione said, picking cat hairs from Jasmine's sticky fist which she had started to suck on. "Well, lets clean you up then." She scooped a washcloth from the basket and set off to the kitchen. Her mother followed close behind, setting the basket down on the kitchen table.
"Darling, I only have one grandchild. I'm allowed to spoil her any way I see fit." She said sitting down with a sigh. Make us a cuppa, Love?"
"Make one yourself. You know where I keep the tea things." Hermione said, scrubbing at Jasmine's face and hands with the damp washcloth. Jasmine squirmed and fussed, trying to avoid the cloth. "Hold still. You know this is your entire fault. Giving my daughter sweets. You should be the one cleaning her up."
"No dear, grandmother's privilege. I have all the fun, and you do the nappies and washing up. Besides, I'm folding your laundry, the least you could do for your poor old mum is to make me a cup of tea for my trouble."
"Fine." Hermione said, satisfied that she had gotten the worst of the mess. "I'm going to put Jasmine down for her nap. You'll have to wait for your tea."
"No dear. Let me." Her mother said, scooping Jasmine out of Hermione's arms, singing to the toddler as she left the kitchen.
Hermione dropped the washcloth into the sink. She sighed to the now empty room. Who would have thought that her life would turn out like this? She was a single mother with no one to look out for her but her parents. Certainly she didn't. Don't think about it, Hermione. Chin up. Deep breath in, slow breath out. Make the tea, put the kettle on the gas, get the milk and sugar, set out the cups, but don't fret on it. She let out a shaky breath and started the ritual of making the afternoon tea.
Her mother came back into the room, and Hermione looked at her. Mum looked as if she wanted to say something, but was afraid to start. Finally she spoke.
"Hermione. Your father and I were talking, and we'd like it very much if you and Jasmine would move in with us. Now hear me out," she said putting her hand up, "this flat is far too small for the both of you. Your father and I have this worked out. We have plenty of room now that your sister has left for college. We have a garden - - that child needs a garden to run around in - - and June, our receptionist, is leaving to have her baby. We have no problem setting up a play area for Jasmine in the office while you work. Please say yes? It would mean so much to your father." Her mother said, enfolding Hermione into her embrace. Hermione felt boneless and leaned against her mother as she spoke.
"Mum. You know I can't. It's too dangerous. I can't risk your lives . . ." Hermione felt the tears welling up inside of her, and her throat felt very tight.
"Oh, not that nonsense . . . please. It's been nearly three years now. Nothing is going to happen. Don't let old fears prevent you from getting your life back." Her mother said, smoothing a hand through Hermione's hair.
"But mum . . . Voldemort - -" The kettle was whistling. Hermione's mother broke their embrace to remove it from the gas before it started shrieking and woke Jasmine. Hermione swiped at her eyes, brushing away her tears, and sat down at the kitchen table, letting her mother finish the tea. She picked up a towel and started folding it. She left the rest of her thought unspoken, but it was there, hanging between them in the too tiny kitchen like a white elephant that neither one wanted to acknowledge.
"Hermione. Even if you did decide not to move home, you can't continue to live in Council housing forever. What kind of lesson are you teaching Jasmine if you continue to live on benefits? You need to think about tomorrow. You could carry on with your education. At least take a few classes in the evening at London South Bank University. If you want to remain here in Elephant and Castle, I could come and watch Jasmine. It would be no problem for me. I can take the train out after work, and then your father could come for me when you are done." Her mother said, setting a steaming mug of tea in front of Hermione, in the clear spot where she had been folding towels.
Hermione looked into her cup, swirling the teabag a few times with her spoon, hedging. It was a wonderful offer. The flat was too small. It was nothing more than a living room, bedroom and kitchen. The walls were paper thin, the rent too high, and there was a vermin problem, further evidence of Crookshanks's growing infirmity. The area was also dodgy; Hermione's car had been stolen twice before she finally gave up keeping one altogether. The lure of a better job than the one she had now for the local bookshop and the opportunity to return to school, even if it was a muggle university, pulled her strongly towards saying yes. But there was the issue of Voldemort, and her parents safety . . . While it was true that no overt actions had been made against her during the last three years, could she risk endangering their lives any further?
"Mum. Let me think about it." She said simply, and took a sip of her tea. She had been unaware that she had been holding her mug so tightly, and she released her grip on it, her fingers smarting from the heat.
"You do that dear." Her mother said. "Have you given any thought to who you are going to invite to Jasmine's birthday party. She's going to be two, and that is plenty old enough for guests. Does she have any little friends at her childminder's that we should invite? Have you given any thought to the theme?"
"I'll ask Susan tomorrow when I see her." Hermione said, sipping at her tea. "As for a theme, Jasmine absolutely adores Bob the Builder. Would it be too much to ask if you did the shopping? I barely have enough for presents."
"No dear, that would be fine. I want you to take care of the invitations. I know this is a tender subject for you, but will you be inviting any of your friends from Hogwarts?"
"Mum!" Hermione set her cup down hard and some of the tea sloshed out over her hand. "How could you ask that? If I were still on speaking terms with them, I would certainly not invite a house full of wizards to a birthday party attended by muggle children and their parents! It would be disastrous. No, absolutely not!"
~*~
Later that evening as Hermione dressed for bed, she looked over at her sleeping daughter. Jasmine was flushed pink in her pyjamas and her jet- black hair stuck to her sweaty face in clumps. Hermione considered undressing her. She cursed the fact that she could not open the window for fear of someone breaking in. She leaned over the crib, carefully stripping the sleeper off, and changed her nappy. Jasmine's eyes fluttered open, and Hermione found herself looking into twin pools of fathomless black. Just like her father's eyes. Hermione felt her throat close up again. Don't think about it. Don't think . . . The baby muttered fussily, and gave a shuddering breath slipping back into sleep. Hermione dropped the soiled nappy into the pail in the bathroom, and drew a bath, letting the running water mask the sound of her crying.
~*~
She awoke early the next morning, bleary eyed and drained from lack of proper sleep. Her mother's offer weighed terribly against her heart. Jasmine, sensing her mother's wakefulness, bounced at the rails of her cot, jabbering and impatient to be up. How could she say no? Was she doing herself and Jasmine a disservice by remaining here? What kind of life could she expect for them if she remained here, in poverty? She groaned, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. Jasmine's jabbering became more insistent, and a cuddly toy that was thrown across the room with much more force than the child should have been able to muster suddenly struck Hermione on her forehead. Jasmine giggled.
"Oh you naughty little girl . . .wait a sec. . . did you just do what I think you did?" Hermione said. She was stunned. She looked at her daughter who immediately did it again. She saw the toy float up out of the crib and fly across the room, smacking harmlessly into the wall by the door. Jasmine shrieked with laughter.
"Oooooh! Oh Jasmine. Thank Merlin. You're not a squib!" Hermione laughed and swept her daughter up into her arms. "Just wait till I tell your Grandparents." She tickled and kissed her, causing her daughter to squeal with delight. She carried Jasmine into the kitchen and set her in her high chair. "Just for that you get scrambled eggs on toast." She said.
"Muumm mumm mum. Egg!" Jasmine giggled and smacked her lips appreciatively, while Hermione dug around in the fridge for the eggs, butter, toast and strawberry jam. The milk was almost gone, and the shelves were just shy of bare, but there was enough for this morning. Hermione did some quick calculations, trying to work out how much was in the coin jar she kept in her room. Enough for more milk and train fare, but it looked as if she would be stopping by her parent's home for dinner for the next few nights. Whipping up the eggs she added a little milk to make them fluffier. At least there was enough for Jasmine, and so what if she only got the crust? At least her daughter would eat well today. And what about tomorrow? A little voice at the back of her head said. What about the day after? What about the rent and utilities? After they're paid will you have enough for food then?
"Shut up." She muttered and slammed her fist onto the counter. Jasmine's face darkened. "Oh, not you honey, Mummy's talking to herself again." But the girl didn't understand and started to wail. "Oh love, here." She said, hurriedly spreading the preserves on the toast and dishing up the scrambled egg. She set it in front of Jasmine, who devoured the toast.
~*~
After work she stopped by the childminder to pick up Jasmine. Susan, the woman who had been minding Jasmine for the last six months or so was clearly flustered. "Miss Granger. I cannot mind your daughter any longer. Strange things happen around her, and the child is to blame. I can sense it."
"But . . . I don't have anyone else . . ." Hermione gasped.
"No buts. That child is some kind of monster, and I'll not have her in my house again." Susan said. Jasmine was already dressed and ready to go, and she was pressed into Hermione's arms. She was crying hysterically, and a bruise was rising on her cheek in the shape of a handprint.
"Did you strike my daughter?" Hermione asked. Ice was in her veins.
"Prove it." Susan said and slammed the door into her face. Hermione was shaking with anger and Jasmine's hysterics increased.
"Hush, hush." Hermione murmured, brushing Jasmine's hair aside to better look at her face. Yes, she had been struck. A handprint was clearly visible. "Oh baby, oh, mummy is so sorry. You won't be going back. That nasty woman will never touch you again. I swear."
Twenty minutes later they were at the police station and a policewoman was taking a statement. It felt like an interrogation.
"I didn't strike my daughter, if that is what you are implying. It was her childminder. That's why I'm here. To make a complaint."
Ms. Granger, please calm down. I must examine every possibility. If this turns out to be true your childminder will lose her registration. This is a very serious allegation. Do you live with Jasmine's father or do you have a live in boyfriend?"
"No, we live alone. I haven't spoken with Jasmine's father since before she was born."
"And where is Jasmine's father?" Said the Policewoman, who in Hermione's mind was quickly turning into P.C. Bitch-of-the-yard.
"Abroad. Look I don't see what he has to do with this." Hermione said.
"Just procedure. Was there any abuse in your relationship?"
"I will not answer that question. Now if you are quite finished." Hermione said, gathering her things.
"Certainly, we'll send someone out to speak with the childminder, and someone from social services will be visiting you at your home in a day or so to make an assessment."
"I don't see what my home has to do with this." Hermione spat, scooping up Jasmine.
"Just procedure. Do you have a contact number for Jasmine's father?"
"No." She said, through gritted teeth. "I can't give you that information."
"You can't or you won't?" The policewoman said.
"I can't. You'd never be able to reach him. It's impossible."
"I see." She said. "Well then, could you at least give us his name?"
"Severus Snape." Hermione said, and she burst into tears.