Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to the Queen, J.K.

Super shoutout to my wonderful Beta!: Dreamingofstars85


CHAPTER NINE

When Hermione met Professor McGonagall in her office, the older witch had given her a stern reminder that she, under no uncertain terms, was required to keep any information she had learned as an Order member a secret. Including, but not limited to, what she had learned about her parents.

Hermione had reluctantly agreed, already missing the ability to talk to Draco about all of this.

And Draco— What was going on there?

Her stomach was still in knots as she stood in the office while the Professor readied her things to take Hermione home.

"Miss Granger, are you feeling under the weather?"

"What? No professor— " Hermione tilted her head in confusion.

"You look flushed."

"Oh— I uh, I was running a little behind, um, packing my trunk, so I— I ran here."

"I see," was all the professor had to say. Hermione blushed further, hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions.

After another moment tidying her desk, the older witch turned to Hermione and informed her they would be Flooing to the Three Broomsticks, and apparating from there. She motioned Hermione to the Floo powder, and waited for the young witch to head through the fireplace.

When they landed near her parents' house after having Apparated away from the pub, the two witches made the short walk to her home, where she was immediately assaulted with hugs and kisses. Richard and Helen both began bombarding her with questions about school, her friends, and apparently every possible other subject they could possibly think of.

Professor McGonagall had sent in a request to the Ministry to have the Grangers added to the Floo Network, for special occasions only. It was a quick process to set up the connection, as all you needed was the properly filled out and stamped paperwork from the Ministry. The Professor had agreed to make the connection for the initial set up, so Hermione led her into the living room, where the older witch did some quick wand waving and an incantation. After she had Floo Called the Ministry's Floo Network Department to verify the connection had been established, Professor McGonagall informed Hermione that she had an opening from ten o'clock to eleven o'clock the following Sunday morning. The Ministry would open the Granger's to the Floo Network, and Hermione would be able to depart to The Burrow.

After a quick goodbye to Professor McGonagall, Hermione had to explain again to her parents the ins and outs of the Floo Network. Richard and Helen nodded their heads, and made noncommittal noises during her impromptu lesson, but Hermione knew they would have to see it in action to better understand. After answering more questions about school and life, Hermione feigned exhaustion, and headed up to her bedroom, ready for some much needed space and quietness.

The interesting turn of events that morning nearly had her forgetting about everything she had learned about her family since the last time she'd seen them, but being back home pulled it all back to the forefront of her mind. She found even answering mundane questions about Harry and Ron, or Ancient Runes class was bringing her close to tears, so she excused herself in order to get a grip, before her parents started noticing something was very off with her.

She flopped onto her bed staring up at the ceiling, and allowed herself a moment to let go. She knew her parents would leave her be, at least for a while, so it was as good a time as any to have a small breakdown.

Hermione cried until her tears ran dry, and then just lay curled on her bed staring at nothing while her questions, doubts, and fears swam rampant in her mind. She knew Draco was right. Whatever the situation was that brought her into Richard and Helen's lives, they did love her, and biological or not, they were her parents. Blood couldn't change that.

But a family tree wasn't the only thing she was worried about. Hermione had deep concerns about the traits she had, that clearly weren't from her adoptive parents. Fed up with that line of thought, she pushed herself to sitting and decided that if she had repressed, or otherwise not acted upon, those less desirable traits of hers for the past almost 18 years, she could continue to do so.

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione resolved to spend the little time she did have with her parents enjoying their company, rather than fretting about the unknown and unchangeable. With that in mind, she cast a cooling charm on her face, hiding the evidence of her tears, and headed downstairs.

xXxXxXx

After giving her parents loads of made-up details about school, classes, Harry, Ron, Hogsmeade, and even some of the girls in her dorm, Richard and Helen were satisfied their daughter was living a well-rounded, happy life, and began to relax into their normal routine. They had family time in the den, Hermione helped her mum with dinner, and Richard read them both the evening paper.

They had a quiet meal together, where Hermione asked her parents about their jobs, family friends, relatives, and their general well being. Her parents wanted to know more about the work she had been doing with Professor McGonagall. Did she want to go into teaching? Was she getting extra credit? Had she volunteered or was she asked? Over dessert, they asked about the wedding— Who was Bill again? Where was Fleur from? Why did Hermione have to head over there so early? On and on and on.

Most people would consider it a wonderful family conversation, but by the end of the meal, Hermione was feeling the weight of her lies heavy on her heart, and excused herself. She bid both her parents goodnight, and walked up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, she shut and locked her door, turning to lean back on it, and slid to the floor. Hermione was suddenly very glad she only had one week with her parents before she went to the Burrow. Although, hiding this from Harry and Ron wouldn't be the easiest task either, but at least she could blame it on the Order, Horcrux problem, stress about keeping her parents safe— oh gods, that was another thing she had to think about; a plan in case she had to Obliviate her parents — there were really plenty of things to blame her stress on, without even touching the topic of Draco or Rodolphus.

She closed her eyes, sinking further into the floor if that was possible, and let her mind wander back to earlier that morning.

Back to Draco.

What was she going to do with him?

Now that she was distanced from him, she finally had a moment to actually think about everything that had happened between them since Professor McGonagall had given her this...task. She was able to admit to herself now that she had no doubts about where his loyalties were, or whose side he was really on. It was clear that he wanted to be with the Order, and for the right reasons.

It was also clear that underneath that layer of arsehole he wore for everyone else, was a genuinely good man. Hermione knew that Draco had yet to realize that he was, in fact, good, but she felt determined to make him see that, and she was nothing if not stubborn.

xXxXxXx

Hermione had readied for bed, brushing her teeth and throwing on her coziest— albeit ugliest— pyjamas, before grabbing a book and crawling under the covers.

She had just opened the worn novel when she felt a sudden warmness under her shirt. Gasping, and grabbing the Galleon that hung there, she held it out and watched as a message appeared.

HI

Hermione let out a small laugh, and picked up her wand from the bedside table. Pausing, she took a moment to think of what to send back, before tapping the Galleon.

Miss me already, Malfoy?

She desperately wished she could see his face when he read that one. She felt a little smug at her quip, and a little giddy— though she would never admit it out loud— that he had been the one to send her a message first. It only surprised her a little when his reply came almost immediately.

Just making sure you weren't pining away for me, love.

Hermione smiled as her belly filled with butterflies, wondering what he was doing, but too afraid to ask. Before she could reply, he sent another,

Seriously, are you handling them alright?

She knew he was talking about her parents, but she didn't know what to say. No, I've locked myself in my bedroom because I can't bare looking at them, or better yet, I'm hiding because I can't hold a proper conversation without crying.

No, he didn't need that right now.

I'm managing. Reading. You?

Short and truthful, but still misleading. That worked.

It was a few minutes before his reply came. When it did, Hermione felt her heart break.

I'm sinking.

xXxXxXx

She hadn't known how to respond to him at first. Knowing Draco, he wouldn't want reassurances that it would be alright, and he wouldn't want to talk about it. Because it wasn't alright, and talking about it wouldn't solve anything. What he was being forced to do wasn't okay, and they both knew that.

Instead, she had simply replied with:

I won't let you.

She didn't get any response after that, though she hadn't expected one, really. Hermione rolled over in her bed, unable to focus on her book any longer. She let her mind wander, wondering what Draco was doing. She wanted to know what was going to be expected of him— what he was going to have to do as a Death Eater— but she also knew that if he told her, she would likely pity him at best, and be nauseated and horrified at worst. She wasn't even sure she really wanted to know— not wanting to have to think about the terrible crimes he was sure to be forced to commit.

Hermione felt a tear roll down her face. When had she started crying so much? She wished she could talk to Harry. He probably wouldn't have any idea what to say, but he would at least hug her and tell her that everything is going to turn out okay. It was hard not being able to tell her best friend everything that had been going on. She hated keeping secrets from him. For the last six years Harry had known almost every detail of her life, and now he knew almost nothing. She went on a broom for Godric's sake! Harry would have paid good Galleons to see that! He'd be gutted if he found out he missed that sight.

Letting out a quiet laugh, she wiped the tear away and shimmied down the comforter until just her face was peaking out. She took a moment to clear her mind, checking her barriers because she knew she had to keep using the skill in order to continue improving… or at least so she wouldn't lose it. Plus, she knew Draco would be quite put off next year if she wasn't at least as good as when they had parted.

Satisfied that her mind was still occluded, Hermione started counting backwards from one thousand. It was actually hard for her to focus on the counting, and not let her mind wander. Eventually, she felt herself getting drowsy, and, somewhere in the seven hundreds, she fell asleep.

xXxXxXx

The days were passing in a blur, and Hermione found that while being with her parents was tough, it was also a much needed distraction.

They kept her busy most of the time, and when she was busy, she had less time to think about all the problems in the Wizarding World, and her personal little bubble.

Her mother had begged Hermione to help her in the garden, though she insisted on doing it without magic. She was convinced that using magic was sure to harm the plants, no matter how many times Hermione tried reassuring her that wizards and witches had gardens which they managed magically. They re-potted plants that had outgrown their homes, organized the herbs alphabetically, and even set up a trellis for roses along the house. By the end of the afternoon, Hermione had almost forgotten her woes completely. At least her magical ones. She had been covered in dirt and aching from a day in the sun doing manual labor. But it was a good ache. It reminded her that she was alive, and sometimes she needed that.

Her father had her help him in his home office, organizing papers, and charming the file cabinet to hold more than it should. They talked a bit about how the ladies working in the main office were doing, how both he and Helen nearly had more patients than they could handle, and that he was starting to consider retirement.

That had surprised Hermione, but she knew her parents had done very well over the years, and they wished to travel before they got too old to have the adventures they had put off to go to school and start a practice.

There had only been one depressing moment that day, when her father had told her the first place he and Helen wanted to visit was Australia; Hermione decided that that is where she would send them, if and when the time came, to disappear.

It was on her fourth day home that Hermione's parents had expressed their concern about her eating habits.

"I'm just saying I'm worried, sweetie. I've hardly seen you have more than tea, maybe some fruit for breakfast, lunch is questionable, and you pick at your dinner every night." Helen had sat her down after dinner that night, her voice filled with concern.

"Honestly mum, I've just been stressed from end of term finals, worrying about taking the N.E.W.T's next year—"

"Darling, you need to take better care of yourself! Your father and I worry about you, and when you're gone all year at school, we just—"

"Mum, I promise I will take better care of myself. Mrs. Weasley all but stuffs food down our throats when we are there, anyways. I'm sure I will gain at least a half stone while I'm at the Burrow." She assured her mum, mentally berating herself for being so careless again. Though she wasn't really sure if she was being careless with her health, or careless for getting caught.

Her mum sighed, rubbing Hermione's cheek before standing up, and starting on dinner. Her father had sat quietly during her mum's speech, and simply patted her shoulder, as he stood, giving her a kiss on top of her head before joining Helen at the stove.

Hermione watched her father wrap his arms around her mum's waist, kissing her lightly on the cheek, and standing holding her while she stirred the pot. She had always loved seeing how much her parents loved each other; it made her believe in happy endings again.

She made an effort on dinner that night, though it was hard, because she honestly wasn't that hungry. She mostly shoved food around her plate, and passed it down to Crookshanks when no one was looking. At least his appetite never failed.

Hermione was glad she had decided to send her cat home after Dumbledore's funeral, even though she missed him terribly. The last couple of weeks at school had been busy, and she'd known he would get more attention from her mum than she would be able to give him with everything that had been going on. It was clear that he was basking in that attention, as he was even fatter than he had been three weeks ago. She was going to have to exercise the damn cat.

xXxXxXx

The evening had passed much the same as the others that week. While Richard and Helen retired to watch the telly together after dinner, Hermione showered and dressed for bed, grabbing a book before huddling down in her bed.

Draco had sent her a quick message, checking on her, She sent one back letting him know she was okay, and asking him if he was alright. He responded that he was safe, and that was it. They hadn't had a longer conversation since that first night. She would wait all day to hear from him, and when their entire conversation consisted of three short messages, she found herself pouting like a child.

It was depressing that her life had come to that. It was embarrassing, and a tad unsettling, to admit that she waited all day to hear from him. To admit that she missed him.

When had that happened? She tried to pinpoint the moment when things had changed, but she wasn't able to. Sometime between finding out about Rodolphus, and drinking Firewhisky with him, things had shifted. It was disquieting.

Hermione read until her eyelids drooped. She checked her Galleon one last time, like she did every night, and just like every night, there was nothing. Rolling over, she closed her eyes and hoped for a dreamless sleep.

XXxXxXx

On her last morning at home, Hermione's mum made cinnamon rolls breakfast, with fresh apples, and orange juice. Both Helen and Richard were visibly unhappy at their daughter's impending departure, but it was clear they were trying to make the most of their time with her. Hermione did the best she could to eat breakfast, but still fed quite a bit to Crookshanks, who was more than happy to help.

They took a short family walk mid-morning, and when they returned, Hermione packed her trunk. She tried to tidy her things, but was soon sitting on her bed, crying. With everything that had been going on lately, she knew this could be one of the last times she saw her parents. She knew there was a possibility that they would have to be Obliviated, for their protection, and while Hermione desperately hoped for a future where that wouldn't have to happen, she knew the probability was high. This could be their last goodbye, and she was heartbroken, and a little bitter.

Casting a cooling charm to hide the evidence of her tears, Hermione shrunk down her trunk and headed downstairs to the fireplace where her parents were waiting for her. They shared a tearful goodbye with promises of writing and assurances that they would soon see each other again, because Christmas hols really weren't that far off.

Hermione reached into her beaded bag and pulled out another small pouch, filled with Floo powder. She shouted "The Burrow!" and stepped into the flames, leaving her parents behind.

Richard and Helen watched their daughter disappear into the green of the fire, before turning into each other, and embracing. Helen continued to let a few tears fall, while Richard whispered reassurances to his wife. Neither knew why, but that had been the hardest goodbye yet.

xXxXxXx