An Unconventional Fairytale: Daughters
Warren Granger slipped on his shoes as he got ready for work. They didn't need to be at the office until ten this morning. Wendell and Monica, rather. He and his wife had talked about it some last night, and again this morning after breakfast, which had been a quiet affair. Attempting to keep the conversation light had been a challenge. They finally settled on Hermione's cooking skills, which apparently she hadn't been able to properly show off this last year, much to Ron's dismay.
Ron. Deep down Warren always knew this day was coming but he tried to ignore it. For so long Hermione seemed more interested in her studies than boys. Margot tried to prepare him; pointing out how often he was mentioned in Hermione's letters, that she didn't stay with his family in the summer for the magic, and finally two Christmases ago when the boy had broken her heart.
He that would have been the end of it, but no; Margot just gave him one of her infuriating smiles and said, "Not yet." Sure enough, by the end of the term they were friends again. That was the first time he saw it.
They had gone to King's Cross to pick up Hermione at the end of term. Before she had noticed him and Margot approaching; she was saying goodbye to Harry. Warren was actually thankful that she wasn't more than friends with him; poor boy had more black clouds over him. He watched as Hermione turned to Ron. They didn't hug like she had Harry. They just looked at each other. She spoke, he nodded and answered. She turned to push her trolley, but looked back and gave him a little nod. He watched her walk away.
Warren knew that look. That look told him he had a rival for Hermione's heart. He saw that look again, just last night but this time Warren knew Ron was no longer his rival; he was his replacement. Hermione would no longer turn to her father when she was sad or scared.
Is this what his own mother felt the first time he brought Margot home?
But isn't this what he had raised her for? Didn't they teach her respect, decency and self-reliance so she could leave home and stand on her own? Wasn't that a parent's job?
And it's not like he was losing her completely. Becoming a witch didn't stop her being his daughter, and this wouldn't either.
Warren stood to fix his tie in the mirror. He looked at himself and sighed deeply. So, it was Ron then. He hadn't spent too much time with the lad, but his parents were good people. He never would have let his daughter go and stay there if he believed otherwise. It was time to sit the boy down, have a little chat. Find out if he was good enough for his Hermione.
But then, was anyone?
0*0
Warren heard Margot and Hermione talking in the guest room, so he went downstairs in search of Ron. He found him in the study, brow furrowed whilst pondering the old standard typewriter Warren insisted on keeping around.
"It's called a typewriter. You feed a sheet of paper through the rollers and press the keys of the letters you want it to print for you."
"Really? Sort of like a transcribing quill." Ron shook his head in wonder. "I'm starting to understand my father's interest in Muggles."
"Yes, I remember when he asked me the purpose of Hoovers." Warren sat in one of the chairs and sized up the boy before him. He is awfully tall, isn't he? Warren nodded to his chess set, "Hermione tells me you're quite the chess player."
"Well, wizard's chess, yeah, but the rules are the same. I'm pretty good."
"From what she tells me you're better than good. We'll have to play a game, maybe tonight."
Ron looked a bit nervous, "Ah, sure. Yeah." Unsure what to do with his hands, Ron fidgeted.
"I have a question for you, Ron. Have a seat before you pass out, this isn't an inquisition."
Ron let out a nervous laugh and sat in the other chair, "I was sorta expecting one."
Warren gave a small smile, "don't worry, I'll get around to it." He paused for effect and Ron gulped. "I have a different question first. Margot told me that she heard Hermione crying last night. That she had a nightmare. I'm not asking you to betray her by giving me specifics, because I know you won't, but just answer me two questions. Yesterday, she didn't tell us everything that happened, did she?"
"No."
Warren leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees. "I know what you three did was dangerous, but just how close to death did she come?"
Ron thought hard about his answer. He could feel the lump rise in his throat as echoes of her screams rang in his head, "Closer than I care to think about."
Before Warren could form an answer, Ron pressed on. "I know you've accepted her reason why she changed your memory, sent you here, but I can tell you're still unsure. I could see at breakfast, you're questioning if it was necessary to change your names, your lives, and send you here. I'm telling you, it was. The Death Eaters knew who she was, knew she's Harry Potter's best friend. They wanted to get to him, so they would try any way they could." Ron paused for a breath and looked down, almost ashamed. "My family, they're all wizards so they could protect themselves, and... and we're pure bloods, you see. Death Eaters, they've got this crazy idea that only pure bloods are worthy to have magic but there aren't too many truly pure bloods left, so they watched my family, but didn't hurt them."
Ron closed his eyes and shook his head slightly before looking up again. "But you, Hermione, well, that's different. There wasn't anything to hold them back. They would go after her to get to Harry, and they would go after you to get to her."
He looked out the doorway and back. Ron leaned forward and lowered his voice, "They did go after you. She'd probably hex me if she knew I was telling you this. We checked on the house before we came here. They had come looking, set a trap. If you had been there, they would have taken you. I really don't want to think about the things they would have done to you to get to her and then what they would have done to her to get to Harry. So, while this might be a bit inconvenient, trust me she really didn't have another choice."
Warren sat in silence and absorbed what Ron had just confided in him. He knew enough about Muggle war to imagine the horrors Ron alluded to. "I see."
He realized that his perception of this young man had changed, "You love her, don't you?"
Ron looked into Warren Grangers eyes, and with confidence, said, "Yes."
"What are your intentions towards my daughter?"
Ron hadn't specifically thought about intentions but he knew what the answer was. He also knew that this was the most important question he'd ever been asked, he had to get it right. In his mind's eye he conjured up her beautiful face as it smiled at him.
"I would spend the rest of my life with her, if she'll have me. I don't know if I'm worthy of her, but then I don't know if anyone is. What I do know, is that I'll never stop trying." Ron took a deep breath before continuing, "I found out what life would be like without her, and I never want to feel that way again. I like who I am when I'm with her, she makes me better. Makes me want to be better. I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."
Warren didn't speak straight off, nor did he look away. Ron could feel a bead of sweat form on his forehead.
"I don't know if you're worthy either. But I know my daughter, and if you're the one she wants, I'm not foolish enough to try to tell her otherwise. She'd probably, what is it? -hex me?"
A laugh released the breath Ron had been holding, "Yeah, hex. She's rather brilliant at them too."
"So I hear." Warren smiled kindly, "Look after her Ron. She's strong, intelligent and stubborn but there's a vulnerability underneath it. She cares a great deal, so she can be hurt if one knows where to aim." He looked at Ron pointedly, fully aware of their past transgressions.
"I will. I promise."
"Good. And for God's sake, make sure to get her out and have fun! That girl could hole up in a library for weeks if you let her."
"Heh, yeah. She had her own table at the Hogwarts library. I think they put her name on it."
The two men laughed, connecting over shared love of the same brilliant witch. Warren breathed a bit easier; maybe his replacement was worthy after all.
0*0*0
Margot left her husband to finish getting ready for work and walked into the guest room to quite a sight. Clothes were flying out of a small handbag sitting on the bed and folding themselves into drawers and fitting onto hangers in the wardrobe. Hermione was sifting through a small pouch of what looked like toiletries when she looked up.
"Oh, sorry Mum." With a swish of her wand the clothes stopped.
"Don't stop on my account. I was enjoying the show." She looked at the elegant twist of wood on the dresser. "Did you get a new wand?"
"Yes."
"Something wrong with your old one?"
Hermione hesitated, "No, it's just... it was taken, when we were caught. I had to get a new one."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart; I remember how proud you were when got it. Does this one work as well for you?"
"Oh, yes. It's excellent; we connected straight off."
Margot arched her eyebrow, "You make it sound like the wand is a living thing."
"Well, in a way they are. The magical elements within them give them something akin to consciousness. A year ago I would have said that was rubbish but I've had my eyes opened to a few things this last year."
Margot brushed Hermione's hair from her shoulder, "Guess it goes to show we never stop learning. For instance, I had no idea you could use magic to fold and hang clothes then put them away, and from a bag that looks like it couldn't hold a toothbrush. Will it do the wash for you too?"
Hermione chortled, "In a way. You have to put the clothes in the wash basin, then charm the wash board and brush to do the cleaning but you have to be careful as not to overdo it, or the clothes will be washed down to threads."
"Fascinating. I would love to see it sometime. Actually, just being able to finally watch my daughter perform magic routinely would be a treat." She took a seat on the bed, hoping to witness more of her daughter's magic.
Hermione didn't turn to face her mother, "I thought it would make you uncomfortable."
"Oh, goodness no. I'm sorry if we ever gave you that impression, sweetheart. Of course, much of it is a mystery and we don't understand how it's done, but that doesn't mean we're afraid of it. It would be awfully silly of us to let our daughter go off to school to be a witch and then tell her she can't perform magic at home. And based on your grades and the letters from Professor McGonagall we've received over the years, you're quite accomplished."
Hermione still hadn't looked up to meet her mother's eye. "So, you and Dad, you're alright with all this? It's just… I realized during this last year how little time I've spent with you since going to Hogwarts. You're not… upset?"
Margot rose so she could lift her daughter's chin. "Hermione, your Father and I have only ever wanted one thing for you -to be happy. Yes, we taught you manners and the value of education, and to be respectful, but all of it was towards the goal of you being happy."
She affectionately stroked Hermione's hair, "For so long you struggled. You didn't fit in with children your age, mostly because you behaved more maturely then they did, so you spent even more time with us, which made you behave even more maturely, which distanced you from your peers even more. Then there were all those odd things that would happen around you.
"Honestly, when we found out you were a witch, it was definitely shocking, but it was also something of a relief. It explained many things but, we also saw it as an opportunity. It could be a fresh start for you, new children, new things to learn."
She smiled warmly, "Going to Hogwarts has given you things that we couldn't. I still have the letter you sent in your first year telling us about your new friends, Harry and Ron. Your father was a bit worried about you having boys for friends, but I understood. You were never a girly girl. I used to laugh when your letters would complain about how they would drag you from your studies to go outside, or do other things. They were good for you."
"Hogwarts gave you friends. You also found yourself there, found your purpose. I can see it now," Her arm pointed out, framing an imaginary scene. "My daughter all dressed in proper business robes, standing before a panel of old stodgy wizards and witches, giving a rousing speech on the virtues of house elf rights."
Margot put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Being a witch, it's who you are. It makes you happy. We came to terms with this a long time ago Hermione. We knew as time passed you'd want to spend more and more time in that world. It's where you belong. It would be terribly selfish of us to keep you from it. Besides, it's where your heart is."
Hermione rolled her eyes a bit, turning her head down and blushed.
"So, how long now?"
"Not very; a couple of weeks."
"Oh? So all that time alone?"
Hermione shook her head and shrugged, "Not really. Harry; he means well, and is a wonderful friend, but he can be really oblivious sometimes. And no, nothing happened. It wasn't really conducive to romance."
"Fair enough." She stroked her daughter's cheek, "But, at last, your fairytale finally came true."
Hermione furrowed her brow, "Pardon?"
"Your fairytale. You used to believe in them. The beautiful princess isolated from the world. Then something fantastic, magical, would happen to her and she'd be swept away. Along the way she would meet her prince, and be rescued from her isolation and they would live happily ever after."
She still looked skeptical.
"Not that you're the damsel in distress type. More of the self-rescuing princess. And Ron may not be your conventional Prince Charming, but he is yours."
Her cheeks became warm. "Yes, that he is."
"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. I told you he'd come around."
Hermione smiled with a sigh, "Yes, you did. It wasn't easy. He tried his hardest to foul it up."
Margot squeezed her shoulders. "Ah, typical teenage boy. But tell me, was he worth waiting for?"
"Yes."
"Then that's all that matters." Margot turned serious. "I assume you're familiar with the various forms of Muggle contraception, and I presume any magical ones? Are there magical ones?"
Hermione's eyes shot open and her cheeks brightened to scarlet. "Mum!" Her eyes darted around for a moment before looking down and away. "Yes. And yes. There's a charm and a potion."
"Are they used together?"
Her voice reduced in volume even further. "No. The charm only lasts about an hour, and you have to get it right. The potion is fairly straight forward to make, but it must be taken daily; similar to the pill."
Margot only felt a little guilty over her daughter's discomfort. "Ah. Have you made this potion?"
Hermione was officially mortified. "Mum… not… yet."
"Well, if you need to get anything or use the kitchen..."
She looked at her mother incredulously, "Are you actually... encouraging me to have… sex… with my boyfriend?"
Margot smiled knowingly, "Sweetheart, if this was some boy you had just met, then this would be a very different conversation. But it's Ron, the boy you've fancied since you were thirteen. The boy you've been falling for since fifteen. The young man you're in love with."
She smoothed the hair back behind her daughter's ears. "I see the way he looks at you. He loves you. Real, adult love; not just teenage infatuation. With all you've been through together, you've had to grow up too quickly. He loves you, for who you are. Just as you are. He respects you. He makes you happy. A parent couldn't wish for better. Sweetheart, after seven years, no one can accuse you of rushing things."
Hermione looked up to her mother with glassy eyes. "I love him, Mum, so much."
Margot embraced her tightly. "I know. He's your Prince Charming." She leaned back to look into Hermione's face. "So, have you two had a chance to go on an actual date?"
"Well, there was this picnic we took but that's all we've had time for."
"Well, while your here, you should go on a proper date. Maybe dinner and the pictures. Oh, I know, there's this family amusement centre: games, bowling, that sort of thing. It's indoors, so the weather's not a problem. You should go, show him the Muggle games, share an ice cream, snog in a dark corner…"
"Mum."
"Go! Have fun! Be typical teenagers for a change."
Hermione knew when she had been outmaneuvered. "Ron probably would enjoy the games."
"We can drop you off on the way to the office, no sense you two just sitting around the house all day." Margot got up and moved to the doorway. "I think I have some cash in my purse."
Hermione followed her mother into the hallway. "Do they serve food there?"
"I'm almost certain, but there are plenty of places nearby in case they don't."
"Good. I swear, some days all Ron thinks about is food."
Margot raised an eyebrow to Hermione's retreating back, recalling the looks Ron had been giving her earlier. "Something tells me there's more on Ron's mind than lunch."
A/N:
I have broken the 3000 word count, making this the Biggest Chapter Yet! I thought about splitting it in two, but the two bits really belong together. Oddly, this may also be my longest author's note.
And now, Credit where it is due:
HalfASlug, the usual. Have you read "The Longest Start" yet? You should.
The part about Ron saying that he isn't sure if he's worthy of Hermione; I'm almost certain I've read something like this before, but cannot remember where. If you know the name of the story this comes from, let me know so I can credit them.
The part about Hermione's Fairytale; I read a story here at Fan Fiction about Hermione comparing herself to fairytales and other stories (including Eliza Bennett from Pride & Prejudice), but after much searching I cannot find it again. Same holds true for this as the last: if you know it, please let me know.
I return your attention to Drappleluv's adorable comic found here: (drappleluv. Tumblr .c_ /post /22776780327 /love-is-like-a-fairytale) Take out spaces, and complete the url after "Tumblr" correctly. This comic and the story whose-name-I-cannot-remember inspired the title of this fic and the corresponding part of this chapter.
The Title of this chapter is inspired by John Mayer's song of the same name. Several lines of that song make me think of this part of the story, thus the title. And Ron has kindly informed me that he is looking forward to the chapter in which I am inspired by "Your Body is a Wonderland."
My Reviewers. I have 84 reviews as of this posting and they are all positive. And while I am amazed and flattered, somehow I don't feel like you've "made it" until you've been flamed. Maybe I'll change my tune once I've been flamed, but it still feels like an initiation thing.
Finally, the ubiquitous disclaimer:
If J.K. Rowling didn't take issue with fifty Mary Poppins's defeating Lord Voldemort, then I doubt she'll take issue with my ramblings.
P.S.
Happy Birthday, Joe and Harry. May your Magic live on, always.
