A/N: Personally, I like this one. I hope you do too. :D

Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. I also probably don't own a few not recognizable things either.

Memories

Hermione had charmed the laundry to be as light as a feather, but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable to lug up the stairs. She reached the top of the stairs and entered Rose's room, surprised to find her there. It was a warm summer day, and Ron and Hugo were outside, perfecting some Quidditch move. Hermione was going to just fly the clothes to their respective places, but she tucked her wand away when she saw Rose.

If Rose thought it was strange that her mother was putting clothes away by hand, she didn't say anything. As it was, she was absorbed in some book and was lying on her bed, her feet in the air. It was nearly still but not silent in the room, the warm sounds of summer floating through the window.

Hermione's mind was left to wander, and she began to think of the summer she had at Rose's age. After fourth year, she found herself at Grimmauld Place with the Weasleys and the rest of the Order. As far as she had remembered, she had spent a good part of it cleaning, Harry had been attacked by Dementors and Hedwig had nearly pecked off part of her finger. She sighed softly. Times were so much easier for her children.

"Mum?" Hermione looked up from the robes she was putting away and turned to Rose. The fifteen year old was looking up at her, a question at the tip of her tongue. Her auburn hair frizzed down her back, the tips a clashing white. It was a Transfiguration spell gone wrong, but she refused to change it back to normal. It showed her faults, she said. Hermione wondered if she had ever been like that, but she knew somehow she hadn't.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Rose.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Mum, what was it like when you and Dad fell in love?" If there was question Hermione was expecting, it certainly wasn't this one. She leaned against the dresser with a sigh, choosing her words carefully.

"It's really complicated," she started. Rose was evidently expecting this, and launched another question.

"When did you first know that you were in love with him?" Hermione paused for a minute to think.

"Well… sixth year, I guess. That's when it hit me, mostly."

"But…?" Rose pestered.

"I'd had a crush on him since third," Hermione replied sheepishly. Rose gaped at her.

"Third? That's… a while." She paused for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. "And you never dated anyone in between?" Rose asked sharply. Hermione shook her head.

"Of course I did! There was Viktor Krum in fourth year," she replied. Her mind was suddenly being swamped with memories – after the second task, at the Yule Ball, always with Ron in the corner of the vision.

"You dated Viktor Krum! Mum, I can't believe you've never told me that! He was one of the best seekers in the world!" Rose exclaimed.

"Well… it was complicated," Hermione explained. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Everything seemed to be complicated back then, Mum," she said.

"Anyway, Rose, it never worked. Your dad and I… we're good together." She smiled as she glimpsed Ron fly past the open window. She turned to Rose.

"Anyway, why do you ask? Is there a boy I should know about?" she asked, and Rose groaned.

"Mu-um…"