*Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. I only
this fanfic, which you should not plagiarize. Please don't sue.
*Thank you for visiting this story. It's turned into my baby! I love working on it. There's more chapters to come very shortly. Please visit back and read.
*If you could spare the time, please review after you read the chapter. I'd much appreciate it. Constructive criticism, in my eyes, in wonderful.
It's always quite hard for children to understand their parents. Hermione Granger was one of the millions of kids who just couldn't figure out what those adults were thinking sometimes. A psychologist might have suggested that it was the age gap, different views, or a bad diet...or it just might have been that Hermione Granger was a young witch while her parents were Muggles.
Of course, the Grangers usually got along brilliantly. They were a wonderful family with wonderful values. Hermione's parents loved her very much, and Hermione loved them right back.
Some days though, it just didn't work like that.
Hermione rubbed her eyes sleepily and stumbled down the stairs of her house. She was still dressed in her pajamas, which were a light, cottony green. It was great to be home from Hogwarts. She missed school and her friends, of course, but at least she got to be with her parents.
"Mum? Do you want me to make breakfast this morning? I know you're terribly busy, with all your paperwork and having to go to your office today. Oh, you really do have to go shopping today too, don't you?" Hermione had migrated over to the pantry, opened the door, and looked inside momentarily, saying, "Tsk, tsk. We need more tomatoes. And I'd love some flour to make biscotti with. Oh, Mum, remember that biscotti in Italy? It was delicious! Could we make so-"
"Hermione, please. Please, just sit down for a second," Mrs. Granger said, cradling her head in one hand and looking quite tired. "There's something I really must tell you."
Hermione's eyes widened a bit, along with her mouth, as she took a seat. She wondered what was wrong. Her mother never did this, especially when she was home from Hogwarts. "What is it?"
Mrs. Granger sighed. "I know how much you enjoy being home for your summer break. Your father and I really love you coming home. You're always at that school."
"You're not making me quit Hogwarts," Hermione told her mother, her voice quivering slightly.
"No, no! Of course not, dear. We'd never make you quit." The woman sighed again. "It's just that your father and I decided to take a vacation."
"What's wrong with that? It sounds great! Where are we going?"
She hesitated. "Your uncle in Sweden just had a heart attack and his wife's taking it horridly. We're leaving sometime this week. We're going to stay with her for as long as she needs. If you came, you might miss quite a bit of your school year. It's just better if you didn't come."
Hermione frowned. "I could come. I could stay until summer vacation ended and then fly back."
"Dear, we may have enough money to live nicely off of, but it wouldn't be good for our account if you just came with us to stay for a week or two."
With that, Hermione left her seat and started to pace silently through the kitchen. How could her mother do this to her? They had always taken all their trips as a family before.
"It just wouldn't be plausible for you to come. Besides, we won't be leaving you alone. You'll be with your friends."
"My friends?" Now that was a different story. "Who?"
Mrs. Granger strolled to the desk, pulled out a drawer, shuffled through it, and revealed a postcard they had gotten last Christmas. It had a non-magical photograph on it, complete with nine shining red-heads.
"The Weasleys."
Hermione coughed suddenly to give herself time to think of something to say. In the end, it didn't work. Her head was still blank as ever.
"The Weasleys?" she finally repeated.
Her mother fumbled nervously, sliding the postcard back. "Well, yes. Is there something wrong? I thought you liked the Weasleys."
"I do, I do! It's just...not what I expected."
"So you'll go?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course."
Packing for a magical vacation proved to be hard. The Weasleys would be taking Hermione in for the remainder of the holiday and taking her to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She would have to pack enough for roughly a two months of vacation plus for the school year. It would all have to fit in her trunk.
She started with what she would usually pack for Hogwarts. She didn't have many robes that still fit, but she put in all her good ones. She stacked everything else she might need into the truck. By the time she was done packing the things she'd need for Hogwarts, there wasn't much room left for anything for the vacation.
After changing, Hermione put her pajamas, along with another set, inside. She stuffed the trunk full of whatever else she could fit. Then she pushed the top closed, struggling to lock it.
"Mum!" she called, pulling the heavy trunk down the stairs. "Where should I put this?"
"You should clear it first with the Weasleys. I haven't called yet," her mother told her.
Hermione ran upstairs again, leaving her trunk where it was. She paced around her bedroom. How was she going to do this? She needed to contact the Weasleys soon. She had no owl, the Weasleys had no phone, and the post took too long. How could she ever manage this?
*Thank you for visiting this story. It's turned into my baby! I love working on it. There's more chapters to come very shortly. Please visit back and read.
*If you could spare the time, please review after you read the chapter. I'd much appreciate it. Constructive criticism, in my eyes, in wonderful.
It's always quite hard for children to understand their parents. Hermione Granger was one of the millions of kids who just couldn't figure out what those adults were thinking sometimes. A psychologist might have suggested that it was the age gap, different views, or a bad diet...or it just might have been that Hermione Granger was a young witch while her parents were Muggles.
Of course, the Grangers usually got along brilliantly. They were a wonderful family with wonderful values. Hermione's parents loved her very much, and Hermione loved them right back.
Some days though, it just didn't work like that.
Hermione rubbed her eyes sleepily and stumbled down the stairs of her house. She was still dressed in her pajamas, which were a light, cottony green. It was great to be home from Hogwarts. She missed school and her friends, of course, but at least she got to be with her parents.
"Mum? Do you want me to make breakfast this morning? I know you're terribly busy, with all your paperwork and having to go to your office today. Oh, you really do have to go shopping today too, don't you?" Hermione had migrated over to the pantry, opened the door, and looked inside momentarily, saying, "Tsk, tsk. We need more tomatoes. And I'd love some flour to make biscotti with. Oh, Mum, remember that biscotti in Italy? It was delicious! Could we make so-"
"Hermione, please. Please, just sit down for a second," Mrs. Granger said, cradling her head in one hand and looking quite tired. "There's something I really must tell you."
Hermione's eyes widened a bit, along with her mouth, as she took a seat. She wondered what was wrong. Her mother never did this, especially when she was home from Hogwarts. "What is it?"
Mrs. Granger sighed. "I know how much you enjoy being home for your summer break. Your father and I really love you coming home. You're always at that school."
"You're not making me quit Hogwarts," Hermione told her mother, her voice quivering slightly.
"No, no! Of course not, dear. We'd never make you quit." The woman sighed again. "It's just that your father and I decided to take a vacation."
"What's wrong with that? It sounds great! Where are we going?"
She hesitated. "Your uncle in Sweden just had a heart attack and his wife's taking it horridly. We're leaving sometime this week. We're going to stay with her for as long as she needs. If you came, you might miss quite a bit of your school year. It's just better if you didn't come."
Hermione frowned. "I could come. I could stay until summer vacation ended and then fly back."
"Dear, we may have enough money to live nicely off of, but it wouldn't be good for our account if you just came with us to stay for a week or two."
With that, Hermione left her seat and started to pace silently through the kitchen. How could her mother do this to her? They had always taken all their trips as a family before.
"It just wouldn't be plausible for you to come. Besides, we won't be leaving you alone. You'll be with your friends."
"My friends?" Now that was a different story. "Who?"
Mrs. Granger strolled to the desk, pulled out a drawer, shuffled through it, and revealed a postcard they had gotten last Christmas. It had a non-magical photograph on it, complete with nine shining red-heads.
"The Weasleys."
Hermione coughed suddenly to give herself time to think of something to say. In the end, it didn't work. Her head was still blank as ever.
"The Weasleys?" she finally repeated.
Her mother fumbled nervously, sliding the postcard back. "Well, yes. Is there something wrong? I thought you liked the Weasleys."
"I do, I do! It's just...not what I expected."
"So you'll go?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course."
Packing for a magical vacation proved to be hard. The Weasleys would be taking Hermione in for the remainder of the holiday and taking her to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. She would have to pack enough for roughly a two months of vacation plus for the school year. It would all have to fit in her trunk.
She started with what she would usually pack for Hogwarts. She didn't have many robes that still fit, but she put in all her good ones. She stacked everything else she might need into the truck. By the time she was done packing the things she'd need for Hogwarts, there wasn't much room left for anything for the vacation.
After changing, Hermione put her pajamas, along with another set, inside. She stuffed the trunk full of whatever else she could fit. Then she pushed the top closed, struggling to lock it.
"Mum!" she called, pulling the heavy trunk down the stairs. "Where should I put this?"
"You should clear it first with the Weasleys. I haven't called yet," her mother told her.
Hermione ran upstairs again, leaving her trunk where it was. She paced around her bedroom. How was she going to do this? She needed to contact the Weasleys soon. She had no owl, the Weasleys had no phone, and the post took too long. How could she ever manage this?