"Knees up, Mother Brown.Knees up, Mother Brown! ..." Hermione was barraged
by a rowdy chorus as she descended the chairs of her childhood home. She
sighed in trepidation as a most unusual, shrill voice belted above the
others. Hermione figured it must belong to her loony old aunt, Agg.
Agnes Belcher was indeed the oddest oddity to ever come out of the Granger
family. She was a bulbous, short little thing, rising to a height barely
above Hermione's elbows. Always clucking her tongue against her teeth when
not lashing it at other people, always in orange, and never without her pet
pig, Agg had retained quite a reputation. So, as Hermione peered down to
see the old hag with an empty wine glass in one hand, song book in another,
surrounded by at least five cheering cousins, it took all the willpower
left in the young lady not to hightail it back upstairs. But, retreat
proved impossible. While Hermione was pondering various escape routes,
Aunt Agg had already stopped singing and headed for the bottom of the
staircase.
"What are you doing there, Child? Come join the rest of your cousins, and sing a few carols. Lighten up! Now, I know you do not possess the most musical tone- but you should join us all the same. You have a low voice like a lad's- join Cousin Edwin on the bass line." Agg chirped.
Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Hermione softly whined, "I need a drink."
A drink, though, did not seem to alleviate the pains of a Granger reunion. Her chosen alcohol was not nearly potent enough to blur her surroundings, Hermione realized. She was simply chugging on a bottle of beer. The Granger parents looked down upon heavy alcohol intake. Sure Uncle Felix had brought over six bottles of Whiskey and nine of rum. But, had Hermione even dared to reach for a sip of the good stuff, Gladys Granger would surely have made a fuss, reminding and reprimanding that alcohol was the source of all evil.
Ms. Granger was suddenly stormed with memories of a man whose beliefs paralleled her mother's, but she immediately reminded herself that to linger on the handsome face would be to ensure her own ruin. Fortunately, for a sure distraction, a rude and whimsical cousin approached Hermione.
"Oy, Mandy!" a very intoxicated Hyacinth blurted out.
"Hello Hyacinth." Hermione braced herself as her cousin breathed a large blast of foul breath in her direction.
"Did your hair get big, Mandy?" Hyacinth yanked on a loose curl of Hermione's that had wandered from the tidy pony tail.
Hermione immediately pulled her relative's hand away and corrected the loose strand. "I have been letting it grow, lately. I should be in for a cut soon, I suppose." The cousin was about to interrupt with another "Mandy." However, Hermione beat her to the punch. "And do stop calling me Mandy..." There was a long pause. Hyacinth tilted her head to one side and hiccupped.
"Hermione?" Hyacinth sounded as though she had just wakened from deep slumber.
"Right."
"Oh, of course! I knew that, of course, of course! Mandy was that tart me brother's been shacking up with lately. I know I knew that! Oh well, you simply have one of those faces that gets easily mixed up with all the rest. Of course, of course! I remember: we used to frolic through those meadows, behind grandmother's house, and pick wild flowers all the colors of the rainbow: pink and blue and yellow and red and violet. Ah, those were the days."
Irritation bubbled to Hermione's calm surface. She never did enjoy humoring the smashed and bumbling. Glaring at the ceiling tiles, "I have no idea what you're talking about. First of all, Gram has lived in the city all her life- where there's not a patch of grass in sight, least alone a meadow! Secondly, we never did bond as children, as I attended a year- long private school near London, remember?"
Unfazed, "Right-O, Love- I must have been thinking of me pup, Herby, out in the field with me. He's around here some where, most likely sniffing around people's crotches.You know, a couple more drinks down the tube, and I just might have to join him- dumb mutt! How's that sexy husband of yours, Luv?"
"Alright, well, catch you later. I really must go and get, um, get a .thing."
"Tootles!"
Hermione practically sprinted to the other end of the house, desperately trying to search her mother out of the familiar crowds. Finally, upon entering the gigantic family room, Mrs. Gladys Granger was spotted, fiddling with a Muggle movie-projection machine called a DVD player. Hermione motioned to her, summoning Gladys to her side. Mrs. Granger, in turn, impatiently flapped her hand and contorted her face in concentration, attempting to make the home videos of last year's reunion appear on the screen.
A cordial uncle by the name of Wilbur patted a small, vacant patch of couch next to him, signaling Hermione to take a seat. Reluctantly, she did, wringing her hands uncomfortably. Uncle Wilbur was a kind, old man, but Hermione was simply dying for a route out of the Granger house, out of Liverpool, out of England!
With the aid of one of the more technically-gifted Granger cousins, the scenes of yester year began to play on the large television screen. Hermione hoped she finally had the chance to speak to her mother, but the determined woman boomed, "The movies are running! Every one, get in here!"
Soon, Hermione did not even have enough space to lift off the couch, let alone confront her mother. Small, tall, loud, and quiet Grangers were all scrambling for chairs, or lining against the walls, watching the TV screen expectantly.
The videos were narrated by Mr. Granger, so his calm and steady voice, not to mention smooth stride, guided the camera from one scene to the next. First, there appeared Gladys Granger, a year younger, scrambling about the house in a frenzy, trying to tidy up before all the relatives arrived. Albert Granger's voice emanated from behind the recorder, "Dearest, calm down. The house looks wonderful, and so do you." Gladys' head peeped from around a corner, in return, seeming mightily pleased.
"Now Alby, you must promise not to antagonize your brother this year. Blood is very difficult to remove from carpets; you're very fortunate our daughter is a witch!", the comely woman warned. Then, gingerly whispering, she admonished, "And besides,
erectile dysfunction is no laughing matter."
"Really, my darling, you paint such an insensitive portrait of me. I would never bother Donald."
Hands on hips, Mrs. Granger reminded sarcastically, "Last Easter, after Don had the audacity to criticize the size of your camera .
Albert finished for her, "I said: Well, at least mine works properly!" Mr. Granger's face relaxed into contentment from the memory.
"Want to know the part that sticks out most in my mind? Two terribly tempered brothers roughing around on my dining room table!" Gladys narrowed her eyes at the particular memory, but all tension melted as Albert soothed his agitated spouse.
"Well, I promise no foolishness this year." Mrs. Granger lit up at his words of comfort.
She plopped the dusting rag she had clenched in her hand down on the nearest counter and floated over in front of the camera, brandishing a flirtatious grin. Of course, the scene then ended. Hermione rolled her eyes as she caught her mother blush from across the room. Mr. Granger then finally left his fishing conversation with Donald to share a knowing glance with his wife. He had kept his promise of peace this year, after all.
Next on the film were drinking games, cricket in the backyard, and embarrassing karaoke stunts. 'All good blackmail material,' Hermione noted warily.
All of a sudden, Ms. Granger felt panic grip her body. She needed to get out. - On screen, were two people, very much in love, kissing passionately in a secluded corner of the hallway.
Misery, absolute misery was all Hermione could feel. Every thing else was numb. She did not hear her mother's shrill voice calling for some one to hit fast forward. However, Hermione did notice when a small nephew up front, instead of pushing fast-forward, accidentally set the machine on pause.
There, on the TV, was an extraordinarily handsome man looking adoringly into the eyes of an ever-so-happy Hermione.
Seated on the over-stuffed couch, she felt queasy and trapped. Of course, then Aunt Agnes simply had to blurt out, "Where is that good- looking bloke of yours, Hermione? Couldn't make it this year? You'd better keep a tight leash on that one." Just then, the young woman's self-control burst in an awkward rush.
"WE'RE NOT TOGETHER ANY MORE. WE'RE SEPARATED- PROBABLY GETTING A DIVORCE WITHIN THE YEAR! DRACO AND I ARE DONE."
After practically spitting out the last phrase, Hermione collapsed back onto the couch, lacking the strength to retreat to the sanctuary of her room.
Wishing she possessed the nerve to suffocate herself with the pillow she held over her face in agony, Ms. Granger resorted to shouting obscenities into it, instead. Breaking an uneasy stillness that followed the outburst, Gladys calmly glided over to her daughter and removed the pillow from Hermione's clamped hands. In the meantime, many relatives had managed to squeak out an excuse and hastily vacate the room. As a direct result, there were incredibly long lines to the bathrooms.
Besides her husband, Gladys was then alone in the room with her beloved daughter. "Dear, I'm sorry about Aunt Agnes. You know she has an abnormally large mouth. Gods know I've had to deal with it for too long!"
Hermione looked into her mother's eyes, dry tear streaks lining the girl's cheeks. "I can't believe I just did that. I never lose control like that - especially not to crazy old coots like Agnes. God, every one probably thinks I'm bonkers."
Petting her daughter's worried head, "No they don't. It's my fault for not telling the lot of them about your separation. It's just that I.well, I."
"You thought we were only having a little spat and would get back together soon? ... Don't feel bad. I did, too, at first. But, it turns out we have irreconcilable differences; we just can't go on together. I was stupid to believe we could handle marriage. I should have listened to my friends. Flamel's Grave!- The whole Wizarding World was aware we would never make it. I should have listened to reason. I'm a very logical person, you know."
Gladys cut her emotionally-charged daughter off, "Yes, of course I know you. You need to relax, Honey. Ease off for a while. Oh, I know! - We'll go on holiday! And when we come back, maybe you'll be calm enough to see that an end of a relationship does not mean the end of the world. We need to get your back on your feet."
"Alright, Mum. Let's look on the bright side: at least now I won't have to make any awkward phone calls or cowardice letters. No, no- I preferred to inform with a psychotic outburst - very Hallmark, indeed."
"You've always worried too much, Snap. Life isn't so damn awful. There are plenty of fish in the sea."
Exasperated, Hermione took her mother's hands in hers and finished, "Mom, I don't think I'll be fishing again for a long time!"
The Next Day
(Hermione used to live with Draco in the Wizarding World. After their
separation, however, she moved back to Muggle society to live near her
parents.)
Back at her new apartment, Hermione dragged herself into the nearest
chair. After a five minute nap with her face rested sideways on the
kitchen table, she popped up, renewed, and decided the house could use
a little tidying. She removed her face from the attached newspaper
and moved on. First, though, Hermione slammed into her bedroom and
tidied her hair in front of the mirror. Facing her disgruntled
appearance, she whispered to no one, "I'm a divorcee at twenty-four.
That is who I am."
Shameful tears welled in the young witch's eyes once more that
night as she collapsed onto her burgundy bed. On the night stand,
directly facing her, was a beautiful gemstone snake with golden
markings. In disgust, Hermione reached over, grabbed the valuable
object, and hurled it into the wall. Sobs broke out of the woman as
she heard the snake shatter. And, just as Hermione believed things
could not possibly grow more pathetic .
"That was mine." An all-too familiar voice echoed from across
the room.
"What are you doing there, Child? Come join the rest of your cousins, and sing a few carols. Lighten up! Now, I know you do not possess the most musical tone- but you should join us all the same. You have a low voice like a lad's- join Cousin Edwin on the bass line." Agg chirped.
Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Hermione softly whined, "I need a drink."
A drink, though, did not seem to alleviate the pains of a Granger reunion. Her chosen alcohol was not nearly potent enough to blur her surroundings, Hermione realized. She was simply chugging on a bottle of beer. The Granger parents looked down upon heavy alcohol intake. Sure Uncle Felix had brought over six bottles of Whiskey and nine of rum. But, had Hermione even dared to reach for a sip of the good stuff, Gladys Granger would surely have made a fuss, reminding and reprimanding that alcohol was the source of all evil.
Ms. Granger was suddenly stormed with memories of a man whose beliefs paralleled her mother's, but she immediately reminded herself that to linger on the handsome face would be to ensure her own ruin. Fortunately, for a sure distraction, a rude and whimsical cousin approached Hermione.
"Oy, Mandy!" a very intoxicated Hyacinth blurted out.
"Hello Hyacinth." Hermione braced herself as her cousin breathed a large blast of foul breath in her direction.
"Did your hair get big, Mandy?" Hyacinth yanked on a loose curl of Hermione's that had wandered from the tidy pony tail.
Hermione immediately pulled her relative's hand away and corrected the loose strand. "I have been letting it grow, lately. I should be in for a cut soon, I suppose." The cousin was about to interrupt with another "Mandy." However, Hermione beat her to the punch. "And do stop calling me Mandy..." There was a long pause. Hyacinth tilted her head to one side and hiccupped.
"Hermione?" Hyacinth sounded as though she had just wakened from deep slumber.
"Right."
"Oh, of course! I knew that, of course, of course! Mandy was that tart me brother's been shacking up with lately. I know I knew that! Oh well, you simply have one of those faces that gets easily mixed up with all the rest. Of course, of course! I remember: we used to frolic through those meadows, behind grandmother's house, and pick wild flowers all the colors of the rainbow: pink and blue and yellow and red and violet. Ah, those were the days."
Irritation bubbled to Hermione's calm surface. She never did enjoy humoring the smashed and bumbling. Glaring at the ceiling tiles, "I have no idea what you're talking about. First of all, Gram has lived in the city all her life- where there's not a patch of grass in sight, least alone a meadow! Secondly, we never did bond as children, as I attended a year- long private school near London, remember?"
Unfazed, "Right-O, Love- I must have been thinking of me pup, Herby, out in the field with me. He's around here some where, most likely sniffing around people's crotches.You know, a couple more drinks down the tube, and I just might have to join him- dumb mutt! How's that sexy husband of yours, Luv?"
"Alright, well, catch you later. I really must go and get, um, get a .thing."
"Tootles!"
Hermione practically sprinted to the other end of the house, desperately trying to search her mother out of the familiar crowds. Finally, upon entering the gigantic family room, Mrs. Gladys Granger was spotted, fiddling with a Muggle movie-projection machine called a DVD player. Hermione motioned to her, summoning Gladys to her side. Mrs. Granger, in turn, impatiently flapped her hand and contorted her face in concentration, attempting to make the home videos of last year's reunion appear on the screen.
A cordial uncle by the name of Wilbur patted a small, vacant patch of couch next to him, signaling Hermione to take a seat. Reluctantly, she did, wringing her hands uncomfortably. Uncle Wilbur was a kind, old man, but Hermione was simply dying for a route out of the Granger house, out of Liverpool, out of England!
With the aid of one of the more technically-gifted Granger cousins, the scenes of yester year began to play on the large television screen. Hermione hoped she finally had the chance to speak to her mother, but the determined woman boomed, "The movies are running! Every one, get in here!"
Soon, Hermione did not even have enough space to lift off the couch, let alone confront her mother. Small, tall, loud, and quiet Grangers were all scrambling for chairs, or lining against the walls, watching the TV screen expectantly.
The videos were narrated by Mr. Granger, so his calm and steady voice, not to mention smooth stride, guided the camera from one scene to the next. First, there appeared Gladys Granger, a year younger, scrambling about the house in a frenzy, trying to tidy up before all the relatives arrived. Albert Granger's voice emanated from behind the recorder, "Dearest, calm down. The house looks wonderful, and so do you." Gladys' head peeped from around a corner, in return, seeming mightily pleased.
"Now Alby, you must promise not to antagonize your brother this year. Blood is very difficult to remove from carpets; you're very fortunate our daughter is a witch!", the comely woman warned. Then, gingerly whispering, she admonished, "And besides,
erectile dysfunction is no laughing matter."
"Really, my darling, you paint such an insensitive portrait of me. I would never bother Donald."
Hands on hips, Mrs. Granger reminded sarcastically, "Last Easter, after Don had the audacity to criticize the size of your camera .
Albert finished for her, "I said: Well, at least mine works properly!" Mr. Granger's face relaxed into contentment from the memory.
"Want to know the part that sticks out most in my mind? Two terribly tempered brothers roughing around on my dining room table!" Gladys narrowed her eyes at the particular memory, but all tension melted as Albert soothed his agitated spouse.
"Well, I promise no foolishness this year." Mrs. Granger lit up at his words of comfort.
She plopped the dusting rag she had clenched in her hand down on the nearest counter and floated over in front of the camera, brandishing a flirtatious grin. Of course, the scene then ended. Hermione rolled her eyes as she caught her mother blush from across the room. Mr. Granger then finally left his fishing conversation with Donald to share a knowing glance with his wife. He had kept his promise of peace this year, after all.
Next on the film were drinking games, cricket in the backyard, and embarrassing karaoke stunts. 'All good blackmail material,' Hermione noted warily.
All of a sudden, Ms. Granger felt panic grip her body. She needed to get out. - On screen, were two people, very much in love, kissing passionately in a secluded corner of the hallway.
Misery, absolute misery was all Hermione could feel. Every thing else was numb. She did not hear her mother's shrill voice calling for some one to hit fast forward. However, Hermione did notice when a small nephew up front, instead of pushing fast-forward, accidentally set the machine on pause.
There, on the TV, was an extraordinarily handsome man looking adoringly into the eyes of an ever-so-happy Hermione.
Seated on the over-stuffed couch, she felt queasy and trapped. Of course, then Aunt Agnes simply had to blurt out, "Where is that good- looking bloke of yours, Hermione? Couldn't make it this year? You'd better keep a tight leash on that one." Just then, the young woman's self-control burst in an awkward rush.
"WE'RE NOT TOGETHER ANY MORE. WE'RE SEPARATED- PROBABLY GETTING A DIVORCE WITHIN THE YEAR! DRACO AND I ARE DONE."
After practically spitting out the last phrase, Hermione collapsed back onto the couch, lacking the strength to retreat to the sanctuary of her room.
Wishing she possessed the nerve to suffocate herself with the pillow she held over her face in agony, Ms. Granger resorted to shouting obscenities into it, instead. Breaking an uneasy stillness that followed the outburst, Gladys calmly glided over to her daughter and removed the pillow from Hermione's clamped hands. In the meantime, many relatives had managed to squeak out an excuse and hastily vacate the room. As a direct result, there were incredibly long lines to the bathrooms.
Besides her husband, Gladys was then alone in the room with her beloved daughter. "Dear, I'm sorry about Aunt Agnes. You know she has an abnormally large mouth. Gods know I've had to deal with it for too long!"
Hermione looked into her mother's eyes, dry tear streaks lining the girl's cheeks. "I can't believe I just did that. I never lose control like that - especially not to crazy old coots like Agnes. God, every one probably thinks I'm bonkers."
Petting her daughter's worried head, "No they don't. It's my fault for not telling the lot of them about your separation. It's just that I.well, I."
"You thought we were only having a little spat and would get back together soon? ... Don't feel bad. I did, too, at first. But, it turns out we have irreconcilable differences; we just can't go on together. I was stupid to believe we could handle marriage. I should have listened to my friends. Flamel's Grave!- The whole Wizarding World was aware we would never make it. I should have listened to reason. I'm a very logical person, you know."
Gladys cut her emotionally-charged daughter off, "Yes, of course I know you. You need to relax, Honey. Ease off for a while. Oh, I know! - We'll go on holiday! And when we come back, maybe you'll be calm enough to see that an end of a relationship does not mean the end of the world. We need to get your back on your feet."
"Alright, Mum. Let's look on the bright side: at least now I won't have to make any awkward phone calls or cowardice letters. No, no- I preferred to inform with a psychotic outburst - very Hallmark, indeed."
"You've always worried too much, Snap. Life isn't so damn awful. There are plenty of fish in the sea."
Exasperated, Hermione took her mother's hands in hers and finished, "Mom, I don't think I'll be fishing again for a long time!"
The Next Day
(Hermione used to live with Draco in the Wizarding World. After their
separation, however, she moved back to Muggle society to live near her
parents.)
Back at her new apartment, Hermione dragged herself into the nearest
chair. After a five minute nap with her face rested sideways on the
kitchen table, she popped up, renewed, and decided the house could use
a little tidying. She removed her face from the attached newspaper
and moved on. First, though, Hermione slammed into her bedroom and
tidied her hair in front of the mirror. Facing her disgruntled
appearance, she whispered to no one, "I'm a divorcee at twenty-four.
That is who I am."
Shameful tears welled in the young witch's eyes once more that
night as she collapsed onto her burgundy bed. On the night stand,
directly facing her, was a beautiful gemstone snake with golden
markings. In disgust, Hermione reached over, grabbed the valuable
object, and hurled it into the wall. Sobs broke out of the woman as
she heard the snake shatter. And, just as Hermione believed things
could not possibly grow more pathetic .
"That was mine." An all-too familiar voice echoed from across
the room.