Chapter 12
Hermione barely slept that night. She laid down and must have dozed off, but she could only remember tossing and turning until it was seven. Draco had somehow slept better than she and was snoring when she slipped out of bed and dressed for breakfast.
The hotel had an elegant cafe where breakfast was served, and as Hermione entered the cafe she saw Miranda sitting with Nicholas and her aunt Charlotte. Miranda happily waved Hermione over.
"Good morning!" Miranda was bright and chipper. "I'm a bit surprised to see you up this early after last night." It took Hermione a moment before she realized that Miranda meant that they had been at a club, rather than what happened after.
"Oh, yes," Hermione said as a starched waiter came by with coffee. Hermione took a deep sip, letting the rich bitterness brace her before she continued the conversation. "It was a rather late night, but I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"I'm glad you went out with Imogene," Nicholas said, leaning forward. He looked disheveled, like he wasn't really a morning person, compared to Miranda who's hair was neatly set. "We're," he gestured to himself and Miranda, "are not really club people, and I know Imogene was dying to dance."
Aunt Charlotte sniffed. She looked like her daughters, but her curls were held back in tight pins and she had deep frown lines around her face.
"Imogene needs to settle down and become more serious," Aunt Charlotte said. "I would have thought that you were more willing to set a good example." She looked at Hermione as if Hermione had personally disappointed her.
"With all due respect, Aunt Charlotte," Hermione began, "Imogene is twenty-one. She doesn't need any good examples, and going to a club doesn't make one unserious."
Aunt Charlotte stared at Hermione, unconvinced. Behind her Miranda was elaborately rolling her eyes for Hermione's benefit. The waiter returned to the table and Hermione requested a breakfast of sausage, grilled tomatoes, and a croissant.
"That's quite a bit of fat in your breakfast," Aunt Charlotte said. Hermione gave her sweetest smile.
"Yes, indeed. It's enough fats to absorb the nutrients present in the food. Your body can't metabolize vitamins and minerals correctly without fat." She pointedly raised her eyebrows at Aunt Charlotte, who had no response. Aunt Charlotte instead icily sipped her tea.
"Hermione, Miranda was telling me that you and Draco went to the baths yesterday," Nicholas broke the silence. "Would you recommend a visit?"
"If you're interested in history I think it's a must-see." Hermione truly liked Nicholas. He seemed to have an instinct on how to calm hostile situations. "It's fascinating."
"Then it's settled," Nicholas pronounced and smiled at Miranda. "We'll have to head there today."
"We have the goodbye luncheon with your grandparents today," Aunt Charlotte warned. "It wouldn't do to miss it."
"No, no," Nicholas agreed. "We'll head away after."
"Miranda, I thought you were returning with us." Aunt Charlotte said.
"I never agreed to that Mum," Miranda said, her voice quiet. "When you asked I told you that I would be going back to our flat." Aunt Charlotte looked wildly around then turned to Hermione.
"I'm very sorry," Aunt Charlotte said. "Miranda seems to be forgetting that it's not appropriate to share family arguments in public."
"Mum, this isn't an argument," Miranda said. Miranda was so calm and collected that Hermione could not even imagine her in an argument. "We've moved in together. If you don't care for my choice then you don't have to come visit."
"It's unseemly to live with a man before you are married. I'm certain Hermione agrees." Aunt Charlotte turned to Hermione. "You would never let a man live with you before a wedding, wouldn't you?"
Hermione thought back to all the tense conversation she and Draco had together. She remembered him calling her rigid as she told him about her timetable. No engagement before three years together, no living together before an engagement. She thought about Ginny rolling her eyes at Hermione's rules and her mum's gentle reminders that her Aunt Françoise and Uncle Luc were still not married after over twenty years together, and there was nothing wrong with that. She thought about Draco apparating away to his cold, sparsely furnished apartment every morning for a change of clothes. She thought about how she would justify it to herself- it was fine if they were almost living together as long as they weren't because they still needed more time.
"Actually," Hermione heard herself saying before she had caught up with her thoughts, "Draco will be moving in with me in a few weeks."
Behind her mother Miranda had a triumphant smile. The waiter arrived again with Hermione's breakfast. Another waiter darted around the table, refilling their coffee cups.
"And how does your mother feel about this?"Aunt Charlotte demanded as Hermione bit into a piece of sausage. It was rich and fatty and was perfect after last night. Hermione suppressed a moan.
"She adores Draco."
"Yes, yes, a mother can love her children but she can still be concerned about them. Your mum must have warned you about what people will say."
"I find worrying what people will say to be a waste of time." Not that it ever stopped her, but still. It was something worth working towards. "Besides, my mum is thrilled that Draco and I will be living together."
Aunt Charlotte sniffed. Hermione took another generous bite of her sausage. "And your father? He's much less-"
"French?"
"Radical," Aunt Charlotte settled on, "than your mother."
"My father is happy that I am happy, Aunt Charlotte," Hermione said, and something about her quiet tone made Aunt Charlotte drop the topic. Aunt Charlotte quickly finished her coffee and left soon after.
"Thanks for that," Miranda said. "She's been a fright about this recently. She's unhappy about Imogene's modeling career, and ever since she's been regressing in her views on everything."
"She'll come about," Nicholas said and began rubbing Miranda's back. "So. You and Draco are moving in together?"
Hermione let out a sigh. "I suppose so. I just have to tell Draco." Miranda's eyes grew wide.
"You didn't!"
"I did," Hermione confessed, and felt a smile stretch across her face. Nicholas held up his coffee cup.
"To lies that become the truth."
"I'll drink to that," Hermione said, and the three of them touched their glasses together.
Hermione made her exit quickly after that. It was after eight now and she was hoping to catch Imogene.
She knocked on the door and wasn't surprised to see Imogene answer right away.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," Imogene said. Her hair was a mess and she still was in pajamas.
"I'm sorry, Imogene. Can I come in?"
"If I say no," Imogene said, her face twisting, "I have a feeling you'd make your way here anyway."
"If you say no I'll respect your wishes," Hermione said softly. "But we do need to talk sometime today."
Imogene opened the door wide and stepped aside. Hermione walked into Imogene's room. "Thank you."
Imogene said nothing, just let Hermione settle on the couch and then closed the door. She sat opposite of Hermione, crossed her legs, and stared.
"Where's Cormac?" Hermione finally said.
"He's somewhere. Disappeared straight from the hotel room. He had the decency to do it in the bathroom- said he didn't want to startle me again. He should be back before lunch."
"Did you two talk much?"
Imogene's face twisted into something close to a smirk. "What do you think?"
"I'm sure you have questions."
"A few."
"I'll answer any of them you want."
There was a long pause. "Fine." Imogene leaned forward. "Why you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you so special that you get to have magic? How was being the smart girl not enough? Who decided that you weren't already special enough?" Imogene's voice was cold and calm, like Miranda's but without her warmth.
Hermione took a deep breath. This was going to be more unpleasant than she had anticipated.
"No one's sure," Hermione admitted. "Most people who have magic- we call ourselves wizards and witches- come from a magical family. Draco does. Cormac does. Ron, who you met yesterday, does. But not everyone. I'm what's called muggle-born. My parents are muggles- they don't have magic. But I'm a witch. It happens, and no one's sure why. And sometimes people in magic families are born without magic. They're called squibs. The most current theory is that there's a genetic mutation. When two muggles with this recessive gene have a child, the child can be born magical. But it's complicated. My friend Harry's mum was a witch. Her sister wasn't. They were torn apart after they found out."
"Like sickle cell," Imogene murmured.
"Exactly like sickle cell," Hermione agreed.
"And so your world just tore them apart when Harry's mum realized she was a witch?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. His aunt was consumed with jealousy and cut her sister out of her life. They weren't speaking when Harry was born."
"So it's just genetic luck that you're different?"
Hermione shrugged. "Genetic luck, sure, maybe. There are some pretty horrific things that I've seen because of being a witch."
"Like what?" Imogene asked, her voice sharp. "Like suddenly disappearing and people with sticks coming to threaten you?"
Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was not Imogene's fault. She had no idea.
"Like a race of creatures magically bound into slavery, passed from parent to child for generations." Hermione's voice was flat, but once she had started speaking it seemed she couldn't stop. "Or evil wizards that can enchant dead bodies to attack people. Like a fire that never stops burning, or a spell that makes you be in such pain you feel as though your bones are breaking and your lungs are crushing and you'd rather die than endure one more second." Hermione began rolling up the sleeve of her sweater. The glamour that Daphne had attached last night had faded. Imogene's eyes grew wide at Hermione's scar.
"Or like a crazed, powerful witch who uses that spell on you to get information from you, then carves a slur into your arm with a cursed blade so it will never go away, and you can never forget her, even after she's been dead for years. So that you can still have nightmares about her sometimes, even after you beat her. So that when you saw her die all you could feel was emptiness, and you hated her in that moment more than when she was torturing you because she had stolen some innocence and goodness from you."
Imogene was silent for a long time.
"What does mudblood mean?" Imogene asked after a long silence where her face had gone through an extraordinary transformation of fear to anger to sympathy to blankness.
"Dirty blood. It's an insult to muggle-borns like me."
"Why?"
"Do you really want to know? Things like these- they're one of the reasons that wizards and witches went into hiding." Imogene nodded. Hermione took a deep breath. "Alright."
And Hermione told her. She explained about the International Statute of Secrecy, and about how wixen went into hiding after witch burnings and trials. She told her about Grindelwald and the deathly hallows, and their ties to Nazi Germany. She explained about Voldemort, and about the war, and horocruxes and the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. And she told about her history- her part, and Harry's and Ron's, but also Cormac's and (with great hesitation) Draco's.
"Why?" Imogene asked at the end. "Why did you want to stay and fight for this place that didn't want you?"
Hermione began to gently rub her scar. "It was never everyone who wanted me gone. And it was my world too. I wasn't going to give up on it."
"But you could have."
"I could have, but I couldn't," Hermione said, and something about how Hermione said that made Imogene understand. She nodded.
"That's why we're not allowed to share," Hermione said. "It's terrifying." She hesitated, then decided that Imogene needed to know this.
"My parents still don't know everything. The year I was fighting- they were memory charmed in Australia. They know it was bad. They know about the nightmares. But they don't know everything."
"Because they can't."
"They are my parents. We are allowed to share with parents and partners. But I couldn't tell them."
Imogene nodded. "I wish Cormac had told me. I wish you hadn't had to."
"Me too," Hermione said. The two of them sat in silence.
"So what now?"
"There are a few choices moving forward. You could agree to marry Cormac, which would protect your knowledge. We could pull some strings to get you a job that would necessitate knowledge of both the muggle and magical world, which would also protect your knowledge. Or-" Hermione hesitated.
"Or you will have to remove my memories like you did for your parents," Imogene said bluntly.
Hermione sighed. "Yes."
"But what for us?"
"What do you mean?"
"We can't go back. So what now? Are we still enemies?"
"Are you going to still tease me for being plain and boring?" Hermione asked in a deadpan voice. Imogene looked at her in astonishment.
"Are you forgetting something?"
"What do you mean?"
"You would always tease me for being stupid. You told my mum that you were worried about my future when I was six because I spoke with a stutter."
"I was worried!" Hermione protested. The memory came back- she had not thought about it in years. Imogene was pretty even as a kid- her own mother used to coo over how precious she was. And she would follow Hermione around. But she couldn't pronounce her r's, and would call her Mione.
"And you would make fun of me for not reading."
"You never wanted to read books with me!"
"I couldn't!" Imogene burst out. "I couldn't read until I was seven. And you were always so mean about it. I adored you, and you were so cruel. And so finally I started lashing back."
"I didn't-" But the memories kept coming back. Hermione laughing at Imogene. Hermione making Imogene go away. Hermione telling Imogene that she was lucky to be pretty because she'd never be smart.
"Oh my God," Hermione whispered. "I did it all."
"I remember," Imogene said dryly. "I was there."
"I'm so- so sorry, Imogene."
Imogene shrugged. "What's done is done."
"How can I make this right?" Hermione asked, her voice pleading.
Imogene looked at her, and suddenly it was like Hermione was looking at Miranda. The same calm gaze. The same wise eyes. And she spoke something that Hermione had often thought about life after the war.
"I don't know, Mione," Imogene said. "Maybe there are some things that can't be made right."
a/n Sorry for the delay in getting this out. There is an Important Sporting Event happening in my city this weekend, and because of that everything in my life is in chaos right now. Good chaos, but still chaos. But keep your eyes peeled, because I'll be releasing a new Ransy one-shot in this same world, hopefully next week.
