A/N: Enjoy everyone!
o.o.O.o.o
Harry looked up as Professor Snape entered the library. He'd tried catching the man's eye earlier, when he'd arrived for the Order Meeting, but hadn't been entirely sure that Snape had really seen him. He put his book down and stood. It was strange, but without Hermione there to nag at him, he found himself reaching for books more often rather than less. It reminded him of her.
"You said that if I had questions, you would try and answer them for me," Harry said, having been stewing ever since he'd read Hermione's letter. Everyone around the house had been watching him nervously, unsure why he'd withdrawn from them so much.
"I will attempt to, Mr. Potter. We may not have a lot of time, so let's try and be brief." Snape said.
"Is she really safe with them?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter. I do believe that she is," Severus said. "I have not seen her since she gave me the letter, but she is back in Britain and living with Theodore Nott and his father. From what I have been able to learn, she is recovered from the battle and just adjusting to her new life."
"So it's all true, that he's really her father and that the Headmaster and the Weasleys were all involved?" Harry wanted him to say no, so badly. This had to be one of Voldemort's tricks.
"He is her father, and while the Headmaster was directly involved, I believe only Molly was aware of what they'd done. Arthur and the children are blameless in this," Severus said, some softness sneaking through his expression.
"If they're behind that, what else are they hiding?" Harry felt tears stinging his eyes.
"That, I don't know." He took a deep breath. "Once you are back at school, come to my office and I will start filling in the blanks and share those things that I believe you deserve to know. Those conversations are too private to be had here," Severus said after a moment.
"I'll see you there." Determination practically oozed out of his pores. He was going to get to the bottom of everything, once and for all.
"Your support for Hermione will mean a great deal amongst your fellow Gryffindors. This will be a very difficult year for all of you," he warned.
"I'll do what I can." Harry said.
"Reach out to Mr. Longbottom, and your other dorm mates. Best to get ahead of things, rather than let the situation spiral out of control." He gave him some advice. "Just do not advertise to anyone here that you're doing it. They might not…understand."
"She's my best friend; I'll do whatever I have to in order to protect her." His jaw set stubbornly.
"See that you do, Mr. Potter."
o.o.O.o.o
Hermione staggered, nearly falling onto her ass as the portkey landed her in a grassy field. Only Dolohov's hand on her elbow managed to keep her on her feet. Her stomach was churning violently and she squeezed her eyes tightly, trying not to be sick.
"Just breathe deeply and the sensation should pass. Long distance port keys can be hard on the body," he said gently, releasing her once she seemed steady on her feet.
The urge to vomit passed and she opened her eyes, looking around. They were standing on the edge of a vast field of lavender, the smell of the blossoms filling the air. Far off in the distance was a village, but her father motioned to a narrow lane that led away from the village.
"Where exactly are we?" she asked.
"A little Southeast of Avignon," he said. "My mother's family were from this part of France, and I inherited this property from my Grandmother. It's been secret kept for the better part of thirty years," he explained, as they walked up the lane. He leaned over and whispered an address in her ear, and a beautiful old stone house appeared, shimmering into view. "It was built back in the late 1600's, and I always thought if I needed somewhere to hide, it would be here."
Hermione found herself smiling. "It's beautiful."
"One day it will be yours," he said and walked forward, opening the wrought iron gate. "I thought you might like to spend the weekend here. I'll remain so that I can return you to England after the visit, but the house is large enough that you and the Grangers can have some privacy."
Hermione looked at him, seeing how careful he was trying to be. "Thank you, I…it means a lot to me that you've protected them." She knew it would have been an easy thing to just stand aside and let the Ministry or the Headmaster obliviate them, to let the blame rest completely on them.
"They were good to you, I owe them a great debt for that," he said simply, and started up the crushed stone path towards the house. He'd forgone the usual wizarding robes today, wearing a pair of worn black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He looked quite…ordinary.
Hermione followed, having been surprised when he'd appeared at her uncle's Oxton home early that morning with a bag of muggle clothing for her and an invitation to go and visit her family. Inside had been jeans, runners, and casual wear. It had felt incredibly liberating to shed all the 'prim and proper' clothes that Narcissa had provided her with and just feel like herself again. The stones crunched under her feet as she took off running when the main door opened. Her parents were standing there, waiting for her.
"MUM! DAD!" she cried out and threw herself into their arms. They hugged her tight, and she couldn't help the tears that started streaming down her face. She didn't want to ever let go of them.
"It's ok pumpkin, we've got you." Her dad dropped a kiss on the top of her head and pulled back looking at her. "Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine…I've just been so worried about you." She scrubbed away her tears, looking at them for any sign that they'd been mistreated.
"We're ok sweetheart, really." Her mum tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's go inside and have some tea, mmm?"
"Ok, that sounds good." Hermione sniffled a little, knowing she had to look a mess. She didn't know how some girls were able to cry and still look pretty, her face got all splotchy, her nose ran, and her eyes got really puffy.
"Will you be joining us, Mr. Dolohov?" Mrs. Granger asked, an arm wrapped protectively around her daughter's shoulders.
"No, I'll be staying in the coach house if any of you need me. Enjoy your visit," Antonin said, nodding to the Grangers before heading away from the main house.
Hermione turned her head to watch him walk away, but let her mother lead her inside. The hall was bright and airy, vases of lavender perfumed the air and light streamed in the windows. The timbers in the ceiling added character and Hermione found herself feel strangely comfortable here. There was a tea service sitting out for them, and she settled onto the sofa with her mother.
"Your biological father told us you'd been badly hurt, are you really ok?" Her mother asked again.
"I am, they had the best healers looking after me." She hated lying to them, but some things were just better left unsaid. She'd been liberally editing her life ever since starting at Hogwarts. "What did he tell you?"
"That someone had modified our memories in order to hide you after your mother's murder. He brought us here to protect us, in case anyone came to try and do that again. It's been…strange, but he comes and checks on us and makes sure we have whatever we need. There's this delightful little creature called Kimsy that sees to our meals and the housework, a house elf I believe he said." Her mother fixed a cup of tea for them both.
"So, he hasn't hurt you?" Hermione bit her bottom lip.
"No dear, of course not," Mrs. Granger said. "We talked a lot about you. He wanted to know everything about your childhood. While it's been a shock, I can't imagine what he must have gone through for all those years."
"You know he was in prison, right?" Hermione lifted her eyebrows.
"He did tell us," Mr. Granger said. "He promised me that he would do everything he could to make sure that you weren't impacted by his past. He asked our permission to get to know you, and I think that shows a good deal of respect."
"I guess." Hermione nodded and sipped her tea.
"Let's just have a nice weekend, mmm? Try not to worry too much about it all. You have all the time in the world." Hermione's mother said, seeing the tension on her daughter's face. "Everything will work itself out, in its own time."
o.o.O.o.o
Hermione spent the day with her parents and slowly, as Antonin stayed out of sight, she began to relax. She'd been reluctant to say goodnight, afraid that if she lost sight of them they'd disappear, but she made herself kiss them goodnight and head up to bed. Her bedroom was…luxurious, if she had to choose a word. The plaster walls were a deep red, the bedding done in Gryffindor crimson and gold. She couldn't help the small smile that crossed her lips when she saw it. It was more something she could imagine Harry or Ron wanting than most girls. It was pretty cool though.
Exploring, she found all her things from her parent's home had been placed here with care. Her muggle awards, pictures, and all her books. Every single thing of hers was placed here with care. There was only one thing she didn't recognize, a single wizarding picture in a heavy silver frame. It was a beautiful woman cradling an infant in her arms, smiling and rocking her in a cozy little nursery. Hermione picked it up, recognizing the woman's features as similar to her own. It was her mother. She traced her finger over the glass, feeling a sudden tightness in her throat. She carried the picture over to her bedside table, and settled it down there, right beside the picture of her and her parents at the beach when she'd been eight. Both of her families now represented, just with one missing piece.
Hermione ran a hand through her hair and walked over to her window, looking out towards the coach house. There was a light on and she wondered what he was doing, and what he was thinking about.
"Goodnight, Antonin," she whispered to the glass before turning away to get ready for bed. It was hard trying to reconcile all the disparate pieces of her life, but maybe they could all co-exist together without needing to be actively at war. Just maybe.
o.o.O.o.o
At her mother's urging, Hermione headed outside to explore the gardens after breakfast. She was secretly glad for the excuse because it was beautiful out here. She followed the path that wound through carefully organized beds of flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. Butterflies and song birds flitted through the air and she felt some of the heaviness of the past weeks lifting away from her shoulders. She couldn't believe that one day this would all be hers. The future she'd been preparing for, no longer existed. Her entire future had been mapped out to overcome the bias against muggleborns, to make it impossible for them to deny her what she wanted. She didn't need to do that anymore. She was one of the pureblood princesses that she'd been sneering at for years. The irony wasn't lost on her.
"Good morning, Hermione. I hope you slept well."
A voice startled her, and she turned to see Antonin sitting on a bench reading a book. She tried to compose herself and nodded.
"I did, thank you. My room is beautiful." She had a feeling that he'd been the one to thank for it. Neither of her parents had ever been fond of bold colours.
"I had worried it would be a little too much." He chuckled and marked his place in the thick book, setting it aside. "It's a beautiful day; I thought I'd spend it out here getting caught up on my reading. I understand you're quite the avid reader yourself." He moved to one end of the bench and gestured for her to join him.
"I always have been, since I was small." She walked over and settled down gingerly.
"What is your favourite book?" he asked, looking honestly interested.
"Hogwarts: A History." She blushed darkly, knowing how it sounded. "I've read it hundreds of times."
"Your mother loved Midran's Complete Herbology Copendium. She read it all the time." He chuckled. "It was even funnier because she had a black thumb. I swear she could kill grass."
Hermione couldn't help it, she started laughing at the mental image. Dolohov was laughing too and she found it was actually a pleasant sound. He looked younger when he smiled.
"I can't fly to save my life," she admitted.
"It was never my best thing either," he said.
"Would you….I mean, will you have dinner with all of us?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.
"I would love to. Have you been having a nice visit with your parents?" he asked.
"Yes. Thank you, for all of this."
"You never need to thank me for this, they are part of your family too." He met her eyes. "For muggles, they're actually very nice people."
"There are a lot of really nice muggles." Her eyes narrowed.
"I'm sure there are, but I've never had much cause to know any." He held up his hand. "There are very real reasons for keeping our worlds separate, Hermione. They vastly outnumber us, and if they were ever to learn about our existence, I think you know full well what would happen. They tried to eradicate us once, we'd be foolish to give them a second chance."
Hermione wanted to argue, but she knew he wasn't exactly wrong. Instead she just nodded sullenly.
"Your parents are a wonderful, rare exception. Not all muggles are so kind to their children when they start to prove that they're different," he said gently. "You have to understand that your upbringing is the exception, not the rule."
Hermione thought instantly of Harry, and nodded quietly. Maybe she had been incredibly lucky.
"They helped you grow into an intelligent and capable young witch. Your mother would have been so very proud of you, as I am," he said, voice catching a little.
"Even if I never support your Dark Lord?" She raised her eyebrows.
"I'm your father, all I want is for you to be safe. I don't want you near either side of this ugly war, to be perfectly honest." He raked a hand through his hair. "You're nearly an adult in our world, so you'll have to make your own choices. I just want you to be careful; promise me that you will."
"I promise," she said after a heartbeat. His indifference to her loyalties was…unexpected. In the end, given what Dumbledore and the Order had done, she didn't think she could support them. It was equally as unlikely that she'd ever help Voldemort. She had no idea where that actually left her, other than caught in the middle.
