I Never Knew You

Summary: AU. Imagine a world where the brightest witch of her age isn't a witch, but a muggle. What if Hermione Granger never received a letter from Hogwarts, but her twin brother Henry did instead? What happens when her brother dies in the war against Voldemort, and Hermione tries to venture into the wizarding world to discover more about him through his best friends?

Author's Note: Thank you to my reviewers. Keep putting a smile on my face. I need it. I would like to answer some questions that were asked in reviews:

Addressing Ron's arrogance: I agree, it is very unlike Ron's character. However, keep in mind, Ron is one of seven children, and has always had a sense of jealousy to him. I picture him trying to speak highly of himself in letters to friends', attempting to make himself "cooler." Additionally, this is Hermione's opinion through letters only, and therefore, his true personality does not show through. She will not have this same opinion of him when she meets him.

Can I make the chapters longer: As a FF reader myself, I understand the desire for longer chapters. It always sucks when there is an update and chapters are not as long as we wish. However, I am comfortable with the length of my chapters. I feel if I were to make them longer it would be a lot of unnecessary filler and make them boring. I will try my best however.

Additionally: I am not 100% pleased with this chapter. I feel as if I did not do justice to either Harry or Hermione's characters. They are both very complex characters and cannot always be understood. Hopefully, this chapter does not disappoint. I may also be unhappy with myself, because I am struggling to modify events of the books to fit my plot line. I want to stay as canon as possible, but obviously, a certain bushy haired witch has to be edited out and a BOY put in her place. Doesn't leave room for all the fun sexual tension. HAHA. Anyways, Ron will be in the next chapter, and from there, the R/Hr romance we all yearn for will begin to develop.

Disclaimer: I do not, and will not claim to, own Harry Potter, its characters, places, or themes.

CHAPTER THREE

"So," Harry started. "What would you like to know?"

It was a loaded question. What did I want to know? I wanted to know the man Henry had become. I wanted to know about what he had learned in his time at Hogwarts. I wanted to know what his favorite things to do had been. I wanted to know who his friends were. I wanted to know more about Parvati, his girlfriend. I wanted to know why he had chosen to fight. I wanted to know why and how he had died. Most important, I wanted to know if he had ever thought about me, if he had ever talked about me. Instead of overwhelming Harry, I answered as simply as I could.

"Everything."

Harry chuckled, as if he had expected this response. We had left the café, our breakfast finished. After my crying episode, Harry did not press me, and I appreciated the silence he allowed me. We ate quickly and quietly and at his suggestion, left promptly after we had finished. I had not realized it, but the café was now an uncomfortable setting, having been witness to my break down. Without words, we had agreed to just walk, heading towards the park a few minutes away. Luckily, it was the perfect day to do so, and the weather put me at ease.

"Everything could take a while," he said.

"I know." I sighed, searching for the words. "It's my fault," I whispered, "that I need to know everything. I ruined our relationship. I never gave him a chance to share his life with me."

Harry nodded. "Henry always told me you were very stubborn." I stopped walking and looked at Harry.

"He said that?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I did not mean to offend you."

I shook my head. "I'm just surprised. When—when Henry came home, that last time, he told us we would be safe because he hardly mentioned us."

"Yes, to the rest of the wizarding world," Harry agreed, "but to us, he talked about you all of the time. He always told us how much he missed you, especially, and how much he wished you were at Hogwarts too. The first year or two, he was very upset. He never understood why he had magic and you didn't. He spent most of our first year in the library, looking for answers. He also asked everyone. No one could give him a satisfying answer."

I started walking again, trying to process the information. Henry had never shared any of this information with me, and to the best of my knowledge, our parents either. He never mentioned in his letters that he wanted me there too. I was surprised and sad. I had always assumed Henry was much happier in his new life—without me.

"I—I never knew that," I stammered. "But," I admitted, "I barely spoke to Henry after he left. I regret it more than anything now."

We had reached the park now, and we sat together on one of the benches.

"Tell me about his first year," I said. I settled on the bench, ready to learn everything I could about my brother.


Harry and I stayed on that park bench, talking and laughing, for hours. As requested, he began to tell me about their first year at Hogwarts. They had met on the train. Harry and Ron had already met and were sharing a compartment, when Henry had barged in. He had been looking for another boy's toad, which had escaped for the "fourth bloody time and it's getting rather annoying." Without an invitation and abandoning his previous search, Henry sat down next to Harry when he noticed Ron was attempting a spell—trying to turn his rat yellow.

"When Ron couldn't do it, Henry gave him a funny look and laughed. 'I don't think that's right,' he had said. Ron was really upset. You see, he is the youngest brother of the family, and he thought he never did anything right. Ron later shared with me he wasn't so sure about befriending your brother. 'Bit of a showoff, isn't he?' he had asked. In fact, it was partly Ron's doing that delay our friendship—even though we all shared a room.

"Henry was always studying, and he had all of our textbooks and then some read within the first month we were there. Being muggleborn never stopped him from receiving top marks, and Ron wasn't the only jealous one. All of the first years were jealous of his talent for spells, including myself. Our jealously, I think, went to his head. On Halloween of that year, during dinner, a troll had somehow managed to make its way into the castle. While the entire school panicked, I had noticed Henry's eyes light up and immediately knew he was up to something. While Ron tried to rush to the common room as instructed by our professors, I noticed Henry slip off down the corridor where hushed voices rumored the troll to be. I had grabbed Ron, much to his displeasure, and followed Henry.

"Sure enough, we found that Henry had gone off to find the troll, but the troll had found Henry first, cornering him in the girls' bathroom. Regardless of all of Henry's accomplishments in class, he obviously was no match for a troll. Then again, neither were Ron and I, but without hesitation, we both ran in and tried to help him. It had been awful; none of us knew how to fight him off; Henry was trapped under the destroyed sinks, and Ron and I were rubbish at spells."

I listened intently as Harry depicted the tale. I remembered Henry's version, in one of the first letters he had ever written my parents. However, I found a small smile, also remembering that Henry had painted a very different picture—one where he was the hero.

"Through all of it, Henry had yelled at Ron, reminding him of the levitation spell we had only just learned that afternoon. Henry had been the only one to accomplish it while in class; Ron and I could barely get our feathers to move. Anyway, Ron had reacted more quickly than me, and performed the spell with ease, levitating the troll's own club. He managed to knock the troll out cold, just in time for the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, and a few of our professors to discover us." Harry paused, laughing. "We all covered for one another, never revealing the truth to how we all ended up in the girls' bathroom with the troll. We had served in detention for weeks afterwards."

I laughed along with Harry, recalling the aforementioned detention as detailed by Henry. He had went on for almost a page about how much he hated detention, and upset that was the thanks they had received for defeating a dangerous troll.

After Harry had told me the story of their first Halloween together, he continued to share about their first year and the growing friendship with my brother. I also began to learn about Harry, and why he attracted so much trouble. You-Know-Who actually had a name—I always assumed he was nameless since Henry had never given us one. Lord Voldemort had tried to kill Harry when he was only a baby, believing a prophecy he had been given information about. Harry continued to detail the adventures at the end of their first year, and Voldemort's first attempt at killing Harry.

I could not believe how brave Henry had been—sticking by his best friends' sides, ensuring that Harry was safe. I was intrigued by the things they had to do to secure a stone that would allow Voldemort to live forever—I had to stop myself from laughing, because really, who could really live forever?

"Without Henry, his endless thirst for knowledge, and his skills, I would not be here today," Harry admitted sadly.

I studied his face carefully after he made this statement. Many emotions were written there—appreciation, sadness, regret, guilt. His watering eyes matched my own, but I told myself not to cry again. I had to remember that placing blame on someone for Henry's death would not bring him back. Harry, especially, was not the person to blame. He had loved and cared for my brother very much, that much was apparent. The way Harry spoke of Henry was very respectful and full of admiration.

"I only wish," Harry was saying, holding back his own tears, "that I had had enough of those same skills to have saved him."

This time, I took his hand, trying to extend the same comfort he had given me hours before. We fell into silence again, both lost in our own thoughts. Of all of my brother's traits, I had never really considered him brave. After all, I never really knew how brave he had been in his short life. Due to my closed mind, I had refused to really see everything my brother was doing while he was away at school. I had missed even more than I had thought.

Harry cleared his throat, composing himself. "It's such a small part of his life, our first year. It seems like it happened so long ago, but really, it wasn't. Despite what we did at the end, we were still so innocent, carefree. I wish that things could have stayed that way. My teenage years were robbed from me by a selfish wizard, and in turn I robbed my friends of theirs as well."

I shook my head, disagreeing. "Last week, after I sent you that letter, I decided to go look through Henry's things. I found letters, every letter Henry had received, and every letter we sent to him. I read them all, Harry, and I do not believe for a second Henry thought he was being robbed. You should see the letters he wrote my parents. Always so animated. He loved the things he was doing! That had always been the difference between Henry and I. While we both loved books, I was content in living my life through them, while Henry wanted to experience them."

Harry nodded in agreement and then looked at his watch. "Merlin! It's almost three."

"Oh, my. I need to get home. I haven't left the house for anything other than work since Henry's death," I admitted sheepishly. "I know my parents understand my love of the library, but I am not quite sure if they will believe I was there this entire time."

Harry gave me a puzzled look. "You didn't tell you parents you were meeting me?"

My cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "No," I admitted. "I wasn't quite sure how they would react. Much like myself, their healing process has been slow, but they have been coping much better. I didn't want to mess that up for them."

"What will you tell them when we met again?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Well, I only told you about our first year. That's hardly everything about Henry." He paused. "And," he added quietly. "We are all interested in you as well."

"We?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said. "After I heard from you, I told Ron, and Ginny, and then naturally, everyone knew I was coming to meet you. Ron wanted to come, but I had told him no. I didn't want to overwhelm you. But, they all expressed their desire to meet Henry's sister. Like I said, Henry may not have divulged his life with the wizarding world, he told us everything about you."

I did not respond, unsure of what to say. Henry's friends were interested in knowing me?

"In fact, if you want to know everything about Henry, you should probably talk to his other friends too. Mrs. Weasley wanted you to come to the Burrow—stay a couple of days—but I knew that was a little over the top. However, in time, I think it would be best to meet some of them, on your own terms, to learn about Henry. I can only share what I know, but Henry touched a lot of people." He said all of this very quickly, as if he was worried about my reaction.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

"Ron's mom."

"Yeah, but she wants me to stay where?"

Harry chuckled. "Oh, that's right. The Burrow. It's their home."

"Oh."

"What do you say we meet again next Saturday? Maybe make an entire day of it? I'm sure I can cover two or three years in a day's time." He laughed, as if he had just told a very funny joke. I shook my head. "Oh," Harry said quietly, looking disappointed. "Well, I understand. It was silly of me. I wasn't thinking—this is a lot for you to take in and—"

"Harry," I interrupted.

"—you probably want some time to process—"

"Harry," I repeated, louder.

"Yeah?"

"I want to go to the Burrow."

I was not quite sure what I was doing. Harry was right—perhaps I should give myself time, give myself space, to process everything. I should be giving it a few weeks, and then meeting with Harry again, in a place I was in control of. But, as painful as it was, listening to stories about my brother, it was oddly satisfying. I wanted more. Yet, could I not just continue to meet with Harry? I did not know Mrs. Weasley or their family, and I probably should not trust anyone who names their house the Burrow. At the Burrow, I would not be in control of my surroundings. However, Henry had spent his summers there, I remembered, and regardless of information overload, I wanted to see the place Henry considered his second home.

"You do?" Harry looked dumbfounded. He obviously had extended the invitation assuming I would not accept the offer.

I nodded fervently, before I could change my mind. I was not quite sure if it was a good idea, to impose on someone else's family. I also knew it probably was not idea to put myself in a situation where I would inevitably be uncomfortable. What could it hurt though? I had wasted a year of my life, alone, thinking about what had been. In that moment, I could not think of a better way to restart my life, among the people who had known my brother best, the people who could help me reconnect with him.


When I returned home, I found my parents in the den, watching a documentary on some wild animal. I would normally try to sneak past them and slip up the stairs to my bedroom. Today, I found myself stopping the doorway, watching them. In the months after Henry's death, my parents isolated themselves. I had noticed immediately they were not sharing their room anymore, not riding to work together or generally speaking to each other at all. I assumed the only time they were even around each other was when they were at the office, but I could not be sure. We were all coping with our loss in very different ways, unable to console one another.

I was not sure if my parents had been arguing, unable to find the love they shared while they no long had their son. Their lack of conversation and affection would generally point to that conclusion. I never investigated though, too immersed in my own sorrow. I had barely noticed when they began to heal, still unable to do so myself.

Watching them from the doorway—my father's arm around my mother's shoulders, her head in his lap—I knew they had come to terms with Henry's lost. They had finally reached their peace and accepted that their son was no longer with them. I smiled sadly, both content and jealous of this notion. I wondered how they had reached this point; this point of healing. How were they different from myself? Why did I feel a need to know Henry before I could let him go? Granted, my parents had known more than I had, but after talking with Harry today, I knew there was much more to Henry then what could be conveyed in letters.

I was not sure how they would react to my most recent decision, especially since I had neglected to tell them about my meeting. After telling Harry that yes, I did want to visit the Burrow, we agreed that I would stay for the upcoming weekend. I did not think my parents would be objective to me spending two days away from home—if I had been the least bit sociable, in the past year, and in my entire life. I had never gone to sleepover parties or overnight camps. And, even if I had, this was still very different. I was going to say with Henry's friends, people I had never known, people my parents had never met. Regardless of my age, and that I was a consenting adult, I did not believe they would be the least bit happy with me.

I noticed the documentary was coming to a close, and as the credits began to roll, I cleared my throat, allowing my presence to be known. Startled, both of my parents jumped slightly before turning their attention to me.

"Hermione, dear," my mother said, her voice full of worry, "we were wondering when you would be home."

I swallowed. "I'm sorry." It's now or never, Hermione.

"What are you sorry for?" My father asked, as he pat the cushion, signaling for me to join them.

"I lied to you."

"Lied?" my father asked, his brow furrowed. "Why would you have reason to lie?"

I sat down in between my mother and father and began to play with my hands. I could not do this. It was all beginning to be too much. I would send Marge to Harry in the morning, explaining that I could not come to the Burrow after all. I would thank him for his time, but unfortunately, he was right. I was overwhelming myself. I felt my mother place her hand on my back, rubbing small circles in between my shoulders, trying to comfort me. I felt the tears coming. Give me strength, Henry. Please, I need you.

"I—I wasn't at the library today."

"You weren't?" my mother questioned. "Well, did you go into the restaurant?"

I shook my head. "No, I went to see Harry."

"Harry…" my father trailed, confused.

My mother had stopped her fingers on my back. "Isn't that one of Henry's friends?" she whispered. She had choked on Henry's name, but continued. "The one who told us?"

I nodded silently. I could already feel the emotion shift in the room. I started to doubt myself again.

None of us spoke, processing our own thoughts. Finally, my father said, "Hermione, is everything okay?"

I sobbed, unable to hold back my tears for the second time that day. Instantly, I felt both of my parents fumble to put their arms around me, holding me. I had created a very awkward situation for ourselves. My parents had not had to comfort me since I was a little girl.

"I'm ready to start healing," I said after a couple of minutes. "I know if Henry—" I paused, thinking about what I was about to say. Is this what Henry would have wanted? I wanted to feel the reassurance I had been given before, the reassurance I was sure Henry had given me before. I felt nothing, but continued anyway. "I know if Henry were here, he would be really upset with me. What have I done with my life? Nothing! I have wasted away in my room and I don't want to do that anymore. I will always miss Henry, but I'm not getting him back. I need to be able to mourn him openly, but still go on with my own life."

I had not voiced these feelings to anyone before, and once I was finished, I felt a sense of relief, and oddly enough, the reassurance I had hoped for only seconds before.

"I went into Henry's room," I admitted. I searched my mum's face first; I expected to see hurt, anger, sadness on her face. I was met with support. I looked at my dad next, and found the same unwavering support. "I realized that I have had a hard time letting go because I do not know what I am letting go of. I didn't know Henry. And I regret the way I treated him so much. But, now, I have to know about him. I can't let him go until I know the wonderful person he was.

"He saved the letters. All of them, even the letters he told us he needed to destroy. I hadn't realized how unreceptive I had been. I didn't believe him and the world he lived in, and I never knew that while I was receiving short letters from him, I was missing out on the amazing stories he was telling you. I was able to learn a little about him through those letters. But, even before I had made the decision to go look at Henry's things, I had sent a letter to Harry, asking to meet with him. I thought the best way to learn about Henry and his life was through his best friend. Harry didn't write me back right way, and I thought he never would. That is why I went through Henry's things. I never expected to find those letters."

"Can—can we see them?" my mother asked slowly. I nodded.

"At first, I wasn't even going to tell you. I wasn't sure how you would handle it."

"What changed your mind?" my father asked.

"Well, after meeting with Harry this afternoon, I decided to go stay with the Weasleys—Ron's family." I saw both of my parents begin to object, but I continued. "I know you don't think this is a good idea, but this isn't about anyone else except for me and my closure with Henry. It's not easy to let go, and I don't think I ever will. I need this step to finish my recovery. Then, maybe, I can continue with my life again."

"Hermione, I'm not so sure that is a good idea."

"Mum, I have to do this."

"I just don't understand. I know it has been a long time, but your father and I were able to heal…" her voice trailed off.

I looked away, not wanting to see my mother's face at the moment. I knew it seemed illogical, but it was the only thing that made sense.

"I'm doing it," I said sternly. "With or without your approval."


Beta Request: Before posting Chapter Three, I was rereading through chapters one and two and realized I had quite a few mistakes. Obviously, my self-editing is not very efficient, regardless of reading chapters multiple times before posting. I have always been told it is much harder to find your own mistakes than the mistakes of others. Therefore, I am requesting a second set of eyes. I need a beta to proofread my chapters before posting, looking for spelling/grammar mistakes, mistakes in reference to the Harry Potter world, and mistakes in general. Also, it would be nice to have a second brain to make suggestions here and there, even though I have the general plot of this story mapped out in my head. If you are interested in this task, please let me know.

Author's Note: I have been very quick to update this story because I am currently on Christmas vacation. I will be returning to work on January 3rd, and I anticipate getting at least one more chapter (Chapter Four) posted before I return to work. Unfortunately, I work 10-12 hour days, M-F, and almost always bring work home with my on the weekends. Therefore, my updates will become less frequent. I cannot make any promises, but if the story continues to flow easily from my brain, then hopefully I can update every two weeks. As always, please review. :)