Disclaimer – I own nothing! Don't sue me please!
A/N – Written for the Christmas challenge on Final Prophecy. Many thanks to my awesome beta, the elusive Captain Bluebeard!
A small, well-kept house sat nestled on a quiet street in a London suburb. It was late afternoon and hazy winter sunlight glinted through the tall beech trees that served to shield the dwelling from its neighbors. In summer the grass was always kept trimmed and brightly coloured flowers would line the path. Now, however, snow blanketed the ground with a crystalline whiteness, burying the dormant plants deep underneath. The stone walkway was shoveled clean the snow had been swept completely from the front steps.
Inside a middle-aged woman was carefully hanging glass ornaments on the large evergreen that stood in the corner of the sitting room. She absentmindedly tucked a graying chestnut curl behind her ear and smiled at the ornament that represented the year of her only daughter's birth. A sigh puffed from behind her lips and she wondered how time had managed to get so far away from her.
"It seems as if she should still be a baby," she whispered to herself. "Perhaps I should have stayed home with her instead of pursuing a career, maybe then I would know her better, know what to say when…" she shook her head and stepped back, surveying the tree. The woman finished hanging the last few decorations and stooped over to plug the lights in. Smiling at her work, she sat down on the sofa, gazing at the pictures on the mantle piece.
The majority of the photographs proudly displayed there were of a young girl with bushy brown hair and a big smile. As she moved into her teen years the pictures lessened in number, until they seemed to stop completely around the age of fifteen or sixteen. Ellen Granger snapped out of her reminiscing state and stood quickly as she heard the back door open and close. A young woman, recognizable as the girl from the pictures, came to stand hesitantly in the doorway; she leaned stiffly against the frame, arms crossed over her stomach.
"Hello, Mum," she said quietly, staring at the tree.
"Hello, Hermione," she replied, smiling warmly.
"You wanted me to come by?"
"Yes, dear…it's Christmas Eve, your father will be home soon."
"And I'm not sure he'll be very pleased to see me. Has he got your practice straightened out yet?"
"Well…no, but we were in Australia for nearly an entire year. It takes some time to get the work back in order after a stint like that." The girl nodded and Mrs. Granger took a moment to study her daughter. She appeared quite thin, even under her bulky jumpers; her bushy hair was lank, complexion ghostly and there were dark circles under her eyes. "You don't look well, dear."
A strained smile came across her face and she said, in a rather high-pitched voice, "I'm fine! I've just been working hard, you know. It's not easy, getting in at the Ministry, especially without N.E.W.T.S. I'm really amazed they took me on at all. I have the longest shifts and the worst jobs and…" her voice broke and she turned away, covering her face with her hands. Ellen rushed over and wrapped her arms around the crying girl, who promptly pulled away violently.
"Hermione…if you'd just tell me what was wrong I could help! You only come around when I've…written you several times and then you only stay a few minutes before you start crying and rush out. Whatever it is that's troubling you I'm sure talking about it would help. Please…"
"I can't talk about it. You wouldn't understand; you weren't there."
"Because you wouldn't let me be," she hissed.
Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously, even as tears still poured steadily out of them, "I know you resent me for packing you and Dad off to Australia and causing you to forget me, but I did it for your safety, to keep you alive. I brought you back as soon as I could!"
She sniffled a bit and pulled a small beaded bag out from her coat pocket, rummaging in it a moment she removed two rather large presents that were wrapped neatly in red paper and plunked them down unceremoniously under the tree. "There are your gifts. Merry Christmas and goodbye."
"Hermione, wait!" her mother called; the younger woman stopped and turned. "I just…want to understand you. I feel like I've been cut off from your life for so long. I just want to understand what you've been through."
"Understand?" the witch screeched, her voice shrill. "You cannot possibly understand because you weren't there."
"You could at least try instead of running out!" Ellen huffed angrily. She locked eyes with her daughter, brown meeting brown, and saw countless shadows and hurts that had accumulated over the last year.
Hermione's cheeks became flushed and she wrenched her eyes away from her mother's, staring resolutely at the floor. After a few moments' pause, she began, voice rising in pitch and volume with each new topic, "Fine! How can I explain to you the fear of not knowing where to turn, of having nowhere to go because anywhere you can think there are people whom you love and care about, people who would be killed simply for knowing your whereabouts? Would you like to hear about the countless days we had no food? Or about the months spent never staying in the same place more than two nights for fear our charms would fail?
Oh, I know! Maybe you would like me to explain to you the hurt I felt when I had to choose between my best friend and the man I loved. When I had to choose to keep fighting or to give up and run away; and I chose to stay and the man I loved walked out on me? Would you like to hear about that?" The agitated young woman began to pace back and forth, waving her arms around a bit for emphasis. (Maybe instead of saying 'waving her arms around a bit', you could put 'gesticulating wildly')
"Perhaps you would care to hear the story of when Harry and I had to battle a huge serpent and Lord Voldemort himself showed up just as I managed to Disapparate us? Or maybe the night Ron returned and I was so mad I couldn't see straight would entertain you."
She grew silent for a moment and when she started speaking again her voice was so soft that Ellen had to move closer to understand her. "How best could I convey the agony that comes with being brutally tortured for my lineage at the hands of a madwoman who didn't care if I lived or died? She had planned on giving me to a werewolf to do with as he pleased once she was finished. How do I explain that to you, mother?
How do I explain the heat of battle to you? How it feels to know every curse you cast may be your last? Every glimpse you have of your friends could be the last time you see them alive? How it tore at my heart to watch people I cared for, loved even, die? To see mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, lovers and friends grieving over the body of someone they held dear? Do you understand now, mother?" she finished, eyes brimming with tears, voice barely a whisper.
The older woman shook her head silently; tears running slowly down her cheeks.
"See!" Hermione suddenly screamed once more. "You're just a muggle! Just a dentist! That world is not yours! It's mine, and those like me who were there. You weren't there and you will never understand. So don't even try!" She stood there, breathing hard, knuckles clenched so tightly they were white.
The older woman reached out a hand, whispering, "Hermione?"
Her daughter gently placed her fingertips in her mother's hand. "Hermione…I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you. I'm sorry I resented you for sending us away. I just wanted you to share what you'd been through, to let me know something about the year of your life that I couldn't be a part of. That's all I wanted and thank you for sharing it with me, in your own way."
Hermione opened her mouth and her mother continued. "I wish that I could have protected you from those things, but I understand that it was quite out of my league."
Mrs. Granger opened her arms wide and Hermione folded herself into them, letting her mother hold her as she had not since she was but a child of eleven. Ellen rocked her daughter slowly back and forth, rubbing her back in small circles. Hermione pulled back and she let her go.
"May I go wash my face?" Ellen nodded and watched her daughter leave the room. She returned momentarily, faced scrubbed clean, though her eyes were quite red. "I'm sorry I blew up like that."
"It's quite all right, dear. Maybe I should make you mad every time I want information out of you that didn't come from a book."
Hermione smiled weakly in response to her mother's comment.
"Would you please stay for Christmas Eve dinner?"
"What about Dad?"
"I think we can bring him around. He's missed you, and doesn't mean to be short with you when you come by."
Hermione chewed her bottom lip a moment and then nodded, saying, "Yes, I think I will stay for dinner. I'm not expected at the Burrow until tomorrow and the flat will be quite lonely tonight. Thank you."
Mrs. Granger smiled warmly and grabbed her daughter in another hug, "I love you, darling."
"I love you too, mum," she whispered, stepping back and gasping when she bumped into someone. She turned to see her father standing there, an unreadable look upon his face. She took a step back, fingering her wand, contemplating Disapparition.
After spending a few awkward seconds looking at his daughter's anxious expression, Robert Granger hung his head and spoke softly. "I was standing there…in the doorway the whole time. I heard everything you said. I had no idea things had been so devastating and I can't tell you how sorry I am for the way I've been treating you."
As he finished speaking, Robert looked up at Hermione, desperately hoping to see at least a flicker of forgiveness. Their eyes met and the young woman's mouth turned into a faint smile. "Thank you," she whispered.
He held out his arms and she rushed into them.
"Welcome home, darling. I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Daddy. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas to you too, Hermione."