The Long and Winding Road

by Clover Bay

Summary: War and peace, love and loss . . Hermione's return to wizarding Britain has been marred by both. More than three years since travelling to Australia to find her parents, she comes back to the Burrow with her young son. For Hermione, she seeks to reconnect with her old life and find happiness once more.

Disclaimer: All characters and setting references belong to JK Rowling. No infringement is intended.

Chapter 1 - Return to the Burrow

The curving gravel road in the rural country-side that led to an equally topsy-turvy house, ironically enough, described Hermione's feelings upon returning to her favorite wizarding home in all of Britain. For the better part of the last four years, she journeyed half a world away to retrieve her parents from the Australian life she imposed on them when it was no longer safe in London. At least that's what she led the Weasleys and Harry to believe when she made time to write them. Certain information was too important, too sensitive, and well, too personal to simply list on a piece of parchment.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley held a special place in Hermione's heart, and that, perhaps, made today's return to the Burrow all the more unnerving; they never failed to treat her as one of their own children when she had stayed in their home as a school girl. The summers she spent visiting Ron, Ginny, and Harry revealed even more of the quirkiness, squabbling, and loving family than could ever be described by Ron's stories or the numerous howlers the twins received in school. It was the war that cemented this family as an extension of her own; she caught glimpses of Molly as a woman trying to care for her family while still struggling with the losses of war. Hermione saw an inner strength in this woman that superceded the image she'd previously known as simply Ron's mum.

Hermione was nervous about returning to the Burrow this afternoon; her omission of so many vital changes in her life twisted her heart, making her feel as though she had somehow betrayed her second family. But, she had managed the best she could at the time. It was that thought that helped to strengthen her resolve and assure her that, somehow, the Weasleys could sympathize with her circumstances and not judge her too harshly.

As the final turn in the road approached, her gait began to slow until her pauses between steps were longer than the small steps she managed to take. Her feet felt heavy, as if the secrets she'd been carrying for so long had somehow materialized into a physical weight that was holding her still, rooted to the ground. Hermione hoped they understood; she had to believe that they would still be accepting of her despite the things she'd withheld from them.

The toddler in Hermione's arms began to squirm as he craned his neck to see what had caused her to stop walking. Letting him down gently, Hermione took his tiny hand in hers, giving him a kind, reassuring smile that offered much more comfort than she truly felt. The three-year old grinned at her, having forgotten his earlier restlessness.

When the house came into sight, he started pointing excitedly with the hand that wasn't being securely held by Hermione. "Mummy!" he said in a wondrous tone. The Burrow's crooked shape looked more like one of the small boy's creations when he and grandpa Granger piled his blocks high only to knock them down again.

"We're almost there, sweetie. Do you remember what I told you this morning?"

Nodding, he recited as much of her earlier description as he could. "Bu'ow. We go to see Chaw-ly's family."

"And . . ." she prompted.

"And mummy's friends."

At her smile, he started skipping and hopping while still holding her hand. Hermione laughed as her son congratulated himself on getting the answer right.

"Yes, this is the Burrow," she enunciated clearly for him, "and we are going to see the Weasleys."

OoOoOoO

The cheery yellow kitchen curtains had faded, worn spots in the middle two panels from being pulled aside to look into the back yard so many times over the years. Molly's anxious fingers had moved the curtains no fewer than three times in the last half-hour. The most recent letter she received from Hermione hinted that she would be visiting sometime this weekend; as it was Sunday, that left little room for error as Molly gently tugged the curtains again.

Since the end of the second great war against Voldemort, Molly attempted to keep her family close either by having dinners prepared for them or remaining in contact through letters, as was the case with Charlie who insisted on returning to Romania and resuming his career.

She had been surprised when Hermione began to write; she bore witness to countless owls that navigated their way to the Burrow, some of which came from Hermione and were addressed to the boys and Ginny. But, about a year after Hermione left, letters began arriving directed to her, even when there were no others for her children. It warmed her heart to be remembered, so much so that Molly replied quickly. Their correspondence, she noticed, continued much more frequently than did any of the others, though they weren't often enough to keep her from worrying about Hermione and her parents. Maybe it was because of the letters rather than verbal conversations, but Hermione sounded much more mature, older perhaps, than the girl who departed those months ago to find her parents.

Reaching for the curtains, again, Molly gasped at the sight of the young woman approaching the Burrow. Attached to her outstretched arm was a small boy with dark brown hair, hair so dark it almost looked black. He was swinging Hermione's arm while singing a song that she couldn't decipher.

In all of the letters that had been exchanged, there had never been so much as a mention of a child. It tugged at Molly's heart that Hermione had kept this from them; mustering as much optimism as she could, Molly took solace in the knowledge that Hermione chose to bring the boy on this, her first trip back to the Burrow.

She couldn't help but search to find some semblance of her son in his small face. The little boy, though, looked nothing like any of her own sons; but Hermione's dark hair could easily have been passed on to her child. Molly squinted as the two grew closer to the Burrow. Another thought quickly passed through her mind before she dissuaded herself. No. Absolutely not. It could not be his child; he and Ginny had been inseparable for so long.

As she was processing the sight of Hermione approaching the Burrow, a knock sounded on the back door followed by a softer tapping at a lower point on the door.

Molly pulled Hermione into a strong hug, gently scolding her for knocking. "Family is always welcome, without needing to be announced." She sniffled and continued, "And you, dear, have been family for years."

Hermione wiped her watery eyes as she stepped back and smiled at the sight of the matriarch of her favorite family in the wizarding world. "I've missed you, too," she chuckled as her voice regained its strength.

"And who is this young man?"

"This," Hermione knelt, putting her hand on his slender shoulder, "is my son, Alex." She and Alex shared a grin that reassured Hermione that he was comfortable so far. "Alex, this is Mrs. Weasley."

Molly pulled the small boy into a hug just as they heard the loud commotion of the others streaming into the house from the door closest to the orchard. The weekend quidditch match must have just ended and at any moment the kitchen would be filled with Weasleys and Harry.

"Hermione!" Ron's unmistakable voice reverberated through the room. Six red-haired and smiling faces moved en-mass toward her before stopping at the sight of Alex. Ron's face, always so expressive, showed his surprise and confusion that left him with eyes wide open, head tilting slightly to the side. It was a sign of his increased maturity that he didn't blurt out the question that was so obviously fighting to be asked.

The absence of noise from the boisterous group made the room feel even more quiet than it had been when Hermione and Alex first arrived. Alex closed the gap between him and his mum, wrapping his hand around Hermione's leg and leaning into it.

"Ron," Hermione began and took a half step forward but didn't want to dislodge Alex. With her arm outstretched, Ron closed the gap, and his mouth. His movement seemed to awaken the others who looked as though they were unfrozen. One after another they embraced Hermione tightly. Ron and Harry held onto their newly returned friend the longest, whispering their relief at finally seeing her after so long.

After Fred and George squished Hermione and a giggling Alex into their second sandwich hug, Molly shooed them all into the living room while she went to find Arthur and prepare tea.

An awkward silence followed the group, broken only by the soft chatter of Alex as he tried his best to reach the pictures and, in his eyes, the undiscovered treasures located high above him on the fireplace mantle. Not knowing where to begin, Bill broke the ice by asking about Hermione's parents.

Before forming an answer, Hermione's thoughts drifted to those early days after the war.

A few weeks after she arrived in Australia Hermione found her mum and dad, easily reversing the memory block she cast. To say that they were upset would be a mild interpretation of their outbursts. As far as her parents knew, Hermione had never been anything but truthful and honest with them. Discovering that their only child had taken it upon herself to make decisions about their welfare disturbed and, frankly, scared them. It was beyond the threat of Voldemort and their safety, though; time and again her mum kept repeating that the very action of choosing the actions that would keep them alive hurt more than anything.

"Until your life has been dictated by someone else, you'll never truly know what we're feeling," Jane Granger spat at her daughter during one of the earliest conversations in Australia.

They hadn't known at the time that their daughter knew all too well the feeling of having the happiness and course of her life altered by something outside of her control. The life she envisioned in the few short months before she found them had been both the best and most crushing of her life. A happiness she never knew she was missing, suddenly thrust itself into her life when she, Harry, and Ron made their camp in the Eastern European countryside. For those few days, nothing compared to the excitement, thrill, and joy she felt.

Until Jane was awoken in the early hours by her daughter's morning sickness, it seemed as though their relationship was never to be fixed. But, the bond between them began to mend.

Smiling at Bill's question and thoughtfulness, she answered, "Mum and dad are doing really well. But what you're probably wanting to ask is who is the adorable little man I brought with me."

At their silent nods, she began to introduce him. "This is Alexei . . ."

"Hermione! Good to see you again." Arthur's warm welcome preceded his familiar face. He looked just as he had the last time Hermione saw him, except his hair was a bit thinner.

Once Arthur and Molly settled into the worn recliners closest to the fireplace, a silence descended upon the room again. Their eyes held questions that none felt comfortable asking with such small ears in the room. It was Fred and George who leapt, literally, into action.

"Hey Alex, you wanna join us outside? We can chase the gnomes?" Fred's question held the excitement that was contagious to the three year old boy.

"Can I mummy?" Pleading brown eyes met Hermione's.

Looking over her son's head, she told Fred and George, "Don't let him get bitten; I remember those gnomes getting aggravated pretty fast. And, keep an eye on him, he disappears quickly." Her smile, though, let the twins know that she trusted them with her son.

"Yay!" chorus three voices as Alex trotted after the red-heads.

"So, Hermione . . ." Ron began.

Thanks for reading! This story may have a familiar feel to other things I've written in the past. I have about 10,000 words written so far and will be updating as finished and polished chapters are ready. Reviews make me smile :) so I'd love to hear from you!

~Clover