A/N: Sorry that I've made you wait a bit longer than usual for an update, but I've just gotten back to school, so I have things other than writing for pleasure to do (sigh). I still love my reviewers, but according to my stats there are way more people reading this than reviewing, so leave me one and join in on all this love!!
Now back to JK's motley crew…
Chapter Four: Truths
Hermione's first thought upon waking was, "where am I?" She took in the Quidditch and Weird Sisters posters on the walls, the pink, flowery curtains blowing slightly in the breeze, and the narrow trundle bed on which she was sleeping. Slowly it all came back. Meeting with Professor McGonagall. Seeing Fred, Tonks, Remus, and Sirius alive again. Meeting Harry's parents.
Parents.
"Oh BLOODY HELL," she shouted, smacking herself on the head and jumping out of bed. "No no no no no no no no!" she muttered as she found her school skirt and threw it on.
Ginny groaned and rolled over. "What in the world is going on?" she whined from underneath a pillow.
"I forgot my mum's birthday!" cried Hermione as her head emerged through a green Weasley sweater with her monogram embroidered in the corner. "Where's the nearest pay phone?"
"How would I know?" asked Ginny, who was checking the time. "Hermione, it's 8 in the morning. Mum'll be making breakfast soon. Why don't you go down there, get yourself some coffee and some sanity, and calm the hell down?"
"I'll ask your dad!" Hermione shouted, having obviously ignored Ginny's taunts.
Soon, Hermione was jogging into town in search of the corner of Scott Road and Reynolds Street. She was thinking about how the magical world would do well to mandate physical education as she wheezed down the main street when she saw a red box in the distance; the same booth where Ron had placed an infamous phone call to Harry one summer.
She hastily inserted the change she had found in the bottom of her purse into the slot and punched in her parents' phone number.
"Hello?" said her father's voice.
"Daddy!" she shouted, a little too enthusiastically. "Daddy, I'm so sorry that I forgot to call Mum yesterday, but I have a really really really good reason."
"Does it have to do with how your lot are in the business of taking perfectly lovely, normal children away from their parents forever?"
Hermione shuddered at the phrase "your lot." Her parents were always a little wary of magic, but they had never demonstrated Dursley-esque attitudes like this before.
"Daddy, please don't. There was a war on, I couldn't let you die when I could do something about it."
"Why couldn't you have at least told us? Just because you're a...a…you know, doesn't mean that you're not still the child and we're not still the parents."
"Because I couldn't have looked you in the face and cursed you. It would have felt too wrong."
"But doing it in our sleep was ok then, was it?" he shot back.
Hermione was about to respond when the mechanical operator's voice interrupted her. "You have 30 seconds remaining," it droned.
"Daddy, I'm out of change, but I'll be home in a minute. I want to talk about this in person."
He hung up on her before her time ran out.
Lily was sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place, chatting with Kreacher while he made her some eggs. She had intended to make breakfast for everyone, but had found the house elf already hard at work when she entered the kitchen.
"Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs. Potter?" he had said sweetly, with a little bow.
She had accepted, and as she watched him cook he regaled her with tales of her son's heroism and told her that he was an excellent master, even if he wasn't a Black.
"Where's my mother's portrait?" Sirius asked as he walked into the kitchen.
"Master Harry told me I could keep it in my room if I wished, Bad Master Sirius," said Kreacher.
Sirius looked struck. He hadn't realized that Kreacher was still in the house. "You evil little elf, I'll KILL YOU!"
As he lunged for the elf, Harry came racing into the room and pulled his godfather back. "Sirius, no! He was mistreated, he didn't know what he was doing then."
"Oh yes he did!" spat Sirius through his teeth.
"What in the name of Merlin is going on here?" asked Lily, who had been enchanted by the little elf. "Why are you trying to kill such a sweet little thing, Sirius?"
"Because he tried to get Harry killed. Almost succeeded, but I died instead."
There was a rather awkward pause, which Kreacher finally broke. "Master Harry, you and Mister Weasley only keep one of the upstairs bathrooms open. Perhaps I should go ready another?"
"That's an excellent idea, Kreacher," said Harry, looking somewhat relieved. "You go do that. Breakfast looks great."
The elf scampered off, with a scarred look over his shoulder at Sirius.
"So how did a house elf get you killed, Sirius?" asked Lily. "Outsmart you?"
And so Sirius and Harry were forced into telling the rather complicated story of his encounter with Voldemort during his fifth year. They ended up giving her quite a bit of background, ranging from the saga of the Sorcerer's Stone to occlumency lessons with Snape. Lily looked rather pointedly at the inside of her teacup whenever her old friend was mentioned.
She had remained silent for the whole story. Once Sirius and Harry finished, she said, "I just have one question. How was Voldemort able to maintain this connection with you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" asked James, coming into the kitchen from where he had been lurking in the hallway. "Harry was a horcrux.
Hermione had appeared in a clump of bushes in her backyard, just as she'd intended. She'd never apparated to her childhood home before, but she imagined that the thick branches would give her enough cover to prevent suspicion from the neighbors.
She jogged around the house to the front door, pulling leaves out of her hair as she went. She steadied herself before ringing the doorbell.
Her mother answered. "Your father said you might be over," she said, stepping to the side to allow her daughter in.
"Mummy, I'm so sorry that I couldn't come home for your birthday. And I'm even sorrier that I forgot to call."
"Why is it you were able to get away today?" asked her mother.
"Professor McGonagall sent Ginny and me ho- to the Burrow for the weekend," she said. She had seen the way her mother squeezed her eyes shut when Hermione had referred to someone else's house as her home. "It's good news, Mum, really. There was some sort of magical phenomenon that granted Harry gifts of sorts."
"Oh?" said her mother, with a hint of malice in her voice. "What kind of 'gifts,' Hermione?"
"7 people who died in the wars with Voldemort came back to life, including Harry's parents and Ron and Ginny's brother!"
Her mother looked remarkably unphased at the news that people could actually be brought back from the dead. "But you're not related to any of them. Why were you sent to the Burrow, too? I though Hogwarts had such strict rules about leaving."
Hermione felt cornered. She had just begun muttering, "special circumstances," under her breath when her father entered.
"Hermione. You're here. Your skirt is wrinkled and you have leaves in your hair. What in the hell happened to you?"
"I had to apparate into the bushes so the neighbors wouldn't see me appear out of thin air, Daddy," she said.
Her parents gave each other looks. Hermione could tell that it was going to be a long morning.
She filled them in on the whole story of the return and other things going on in her life. They looked stoic the whole time, unable to be moved by events so inherently connected to a world they could never be a part of. Hermione had just begun to talk about Ron when she said, "speaking of which, I'm sure Mrs. Weasley is worried about me. I left rather, erm, abruptly. I should go back so she doesn't get panicky."
"She's not your mother," said her mother, through pursed lips. "Why would she get panicky over you?"
"She hasn't been able to get out of the panic mode since the war," said Hermione, defensively. "She lost a son, Mum. And almost lost more of them. And she cares about me, and I would never do anything to hurt her."
"You hurt US, Hermione!" yelled her father. "When will you understand that just because the Weasleys are wizards and we're mere, what's the word?"
"Muggles," spat Hermione.
"Whatever. We're still your family. We come first. We had a right to worry about you during that war. You took it away from us. If you had just talked to us about it, we would have taken you into hiding with us. You're just a child, Hermione, and we're responsible for you!"
"I'm not a child, Dad. I was involved in this war before it started. Since I was eleven I've been helping Harry fight Voldemort. I've been an adult in the magical world for over a year. I'm an adult in your world too, now. And I'm making the adult choice to leave now. I'll call you once I'm back at Hogwarts." And she turned on her heel and disappeared from the middle of the living room.
Lily was having a hard time grasping the fact that her son's childhood had really not been a childhood at all. He had been given adult responsibility as a little first year, and it had only gotten worse as time went on.
She and James were taking a walk together around the little park in the middle of Grimmauld Place. As a child visiting London she had always wanted to live on one of those fancy, rich-people blocks with the private parks in the middle, because the people inside the parks always looked glamorous and deliciously happy. But she was anything but. Dressed in clothes that were obviously 20 years past their date and much in need of a haircut, she was anything but glamorous. Being armed with the knowledge that her son had been so scared by Voldemort, both literally and figuratively, did nothing to improve her mood.
"Lily, sweet," said James tentatively.
"Yes?" she said quietly.
"We can't change what happened to him."
"I know."
"So you shouldn't dwell on it. Just be glad that we're here to help him have a normal adult life."
"I thought you hated that you weren't involved in his life, that it was other people who raised him, and not the people we chose!"
James looked thoughtful. "I did feel that way, but Harry told me something interesting last night."
Lily looked confused. "I couldn't sleep, and I went to get some water, and I ran into Harry in the kitchen. I think I spooked him in that old dressing gown, and he shot a patronus at me."
"What?" Lily said, confused.
"You know how he was telling you about the dementors in his third year? Well, turns out they were, and still are, one of his biggest fears. Moony taught him how to cast a patronus. And guess what, Lils? It's a stag."
She looked speechless.
"We did matter, Lily. Your sacrifice kept him alive even after you were dead. And I was alive in him enough to protect him from evil, too. We were there for him as much as dead parents could possibly be, and I think I'm okay with that now."
Lily looked a little skeptical. "I can't forget about what happened, though. I love Molly Weasley, really I do, but it's hard to accept that she knows my little boy better than I do. That when he cried when Voldemort came back, it was on her shoulder."
"He wouldn't have had tears to cry if it weren't for you. He would have been dead. You're a remarkable mother, Lily."
She didn't feel like arguing, so she didn't respond.
"Come on, love. Let's go have some fun with our son."
A/N Pt. II: That was the longest chapter yet! How about the most review yet, hmmm?