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Chapter Two

Miss Andrew's classroom wasn't too large in size, but it was quite nice-looking to those who entered it. The walls were a light blue with painted white clouds and the classroom door was of a bright and glossy yellow on the inside. The teacher's desk was next to a large window with a shelf underneath it bearing a few flower pots, knick-knacks that were gifts from former students and a large pencil holder. Her desk had a pink table lamp and the chair seemed comfortable enough. Behind her was a large blackboard with the words 'Welcome to Year 1!' written in neat round letters.

"Good morning, children! Please, go ahead and choose your seats!" The children, all looking a little bit lost and a little bit nervous looked around and at each other, before a little boy wearing glasses rushed to take the desk in the very front row.

Lily had her eye on the desk by a large window, on the other side of the classroom, from where she could look out to the playground and gardens. She smiled to herself and hurried to it before any of the other kids took the perfect seat from her. However, as she was almost reaching the spot, she bumped into a curly-haired boy and was beat to it by another girl whose light brown hair were in the prettiest braids Lily had ever seen.

"I wanted that seat…" Lily muttered, with a frown, so upset she might even cry. The girl with braids' eyes widened as her brown eyes landed on Lily.

"Oh. I didn't know, I'm sorry." She barely looked at Lily as she scrambled out of the seat and sat in the only remaining desk behind her, which still had a view of the window, just not as good. Lily was surprised the girl had allowed her to keep her desired seat and thought that perhaps school wouldn't be nearly as bad as she thought.

"Th-thank you for letting me sit here." Lily said with a shy smile. She opened her backpack and pulled out her brand new pencil box and gave the girl the only chocolate frog she had which was inside. It was a treat daddy had given her for today's lunch hour, to celebrate her first day. She knew it wasn't something she should give anyone as it was a top secret special chocolate, but the girl had been kind. "I'm Lily Potter!"

"Oh, Lily, but it's a chocolate frog!" The girl enthused though in a whisper, with a huge grin and twinkling dark eyes, "I'm only allowed them on the weekends, mummy brings them for me from London when she goes…" She felt so happy that the nerves she'd been feeling just now completely melted away. She slipped the chocolate frog inside her cardigan pocket, patting it appreciatively, "I'm Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bea."

The day was nice and pleasant enough that Hermione felt the urge to cycle the thirty or so minutes to the town of Arundel. She enjoyed the fresh air in her lungs, the sensation of freedom it gave her, as the wind blew back her curls. She also loved the adrenaline of the narrow, curvy road and having to swerve from cars and giant trees along the way. Arundel was a fairytale city, it's what Hermione and Beatrice both felt anyway, so it was no surprise that the bustling historical area surrounding Norfolk Castle was rapidly becoming Diagon Alley's rival in terms of wizarding commerce and economy, as well as an area that greatly attracted wizarding tourists from all over who wished to enjoy the quaint English countryside, the fields of flowers that grew in West Sussex and the cozy bed & breakfasts in Arundel and surroundings.

The accessibility of roads and train stations also attracted muggle tourists to the area, so whichever way she turned, muggle or magical, Hermione and her beloved Bewitchery were winning. Sales were good and, of course, so was the flow of customers, which had prompted her to enlist even her mum to help her in the shop after her retirement from dentistry. Hermione's great pride was that her enterprise marked the very entrance of Castle Crescent, but unlike the other glamoured strictly magical shops, hers was also accessible to muggles who wished to buy medicinal and herbal teas, scented candles, natural soaps and perfumes that she either produced or imported. The handicraft and vintage factor in terms of packaging, branding and decoration helped wonders and often enough people would enter to take photographs or sometimes even make reservations to hold private tea parties and celebrations.

The second floor of her ancient building was now a mix of wizarding bookshop à la Flourish & Blotts, but with Hermione's special eye for rarities and international titles of varying subjects. There was also an entire section dedicated to wizarding curios and a wide arrangement of products that went from trinkets and gifts to antiques, flying broomsticks, paintings and handmade crystal and gemstone jewelry. It was from the large Victorian Era fireplace from upstairs that wizards and witches from all over Britain could floo into Castle Crescent, having to go down only a flight of backstairs to access the small but charming shopping square. This second floor was the so-called Restricted Section, and Hermione had always been quite fond of those. The third and top floor was accessed through a manual iron elevator, so small it could only fit two at a time. It comprised of a smaller-sized area which contained a rooftop with stunning views of the castle and historic Arundel. It was something of a slowly on-going project, though Hermione had been improving the infrastructure and building a rooftop garden with Neville Longbottom's guidance. Hermione wasn't sure of the purpose it would serve but was nevertheless waiting for the perfect idea to hit her. Meanwhile, she was busy enough.

As on every morning, Hermione found her mother already wearing their signature apron and perched behind the wood and glass antique counters, the entire back wall covered with small niches, drawers, boxes, delicate glass jars and little wicker baskets containing their herbs, dried leaves and potion ingredients. Her mum's silver curls were piled up on her head in a Brigitte Bardot fashion, with flowers and more flowers wondrously giving her mum a look of belonging to the shop's decoration. She was just finishing up with a young wizarding couple replenishing on household herbs when Hermione walked in, putting on her own apron.

"Morning, love!" Rosalind Granger called with a smile and a little wave as she nodded her customers goodbye. "How was our Bea's first day?" Hermione smiled.

"A rollercoaster of emotions, mum, but I'm certain she'll survive." Rosalind nodded, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Good, good-I'm certain she will. Speaking of survival, though, a Mr. Fletcher came by asking for you…" She raised her eyebrow knowingly in that way that mothers did when they indiscreetly 'implied' that perhaps there could be hopes of romance for their spinster daughters. "I'm sure I needn't remind you of the perks of having one of the opposite sex…" Her mother's smile was bordering on obnoxious.

"Rosalind Granger, what did you do?" Hermione's mother wore a smile as sly as a fox's on her face, eyes sparkling with mischief, no different from her little granddaughter despite the sixty years between them.

"I said, oh, Mr. Fletcher, my daughter will be delighted to go on a third date with you-you do know what a third date implies, don't you, Hermione? And heaven knows you need it!" Hermione's eyes went wide in horror and she could hear Olivia's giggles all the way from the tea room upon hearing Rosalind's outrageous words. Hermione didn't have time to release the much desired and angry string of curses towards her mother as a swarm of customers flooded in that they had to attend to.

...

Hours later, they were sat on the rooftop enjoying their lunch break with some lasagna, salad and iced-tea courtesy of Rosalind. The afternoon breeze and the view were just what Hermione needed to replenish her energies and wind down for a bit.

"What do you think of him, truly?" Olivia asked her out of the blue, sipping her drink.

Olivia was the closest thing Hermione had to a younger sister, no, actually they were sisters, just not the conventional sort. Olivia had been adopted by the Granger's in Australia after they'd been sent there by Hermione herself. Of course Rosalind had been Monica Watkins then and her father, Richard, had been a Wendell. Olivia was eight-years old and then nearly a decade old by the time Hermione located her parents in Melbourne, which meant going through the shock of discovering herself no longer an only child, and meant a shock for Olivia as well, for everything until that point had been a fabrication. Nevertheless, Monica or Rosalind, Wendell or Richard, they were the parents Olivia had always dreamt of and quickly the whole Watkins ordeal became a thing of the past. She'd returned with them to England as Olivia Granger, and had been so ever since.

"Eric?" The twenty-four year old nodded. "He's nice. Fun to talk to, great to look at, I don't know… Perhaps it's too soon to know for sure?"

"You know I'm no expert of the things of the heart," Olivia was actually an expert serial-dater and a Cambridge undergraduate in the Romance languages too, but actual committed romance? "But, shouldn't you be feeling something for him? Sexual desire or just wanting to spend time with him? Does he make your heart flutter, that sort of ridiculous thing?"

"It's a good question…" Rosalind added, looking at her eldest with curiosity. "You're young, brilliant, beautiful-I worry, you know. Life shouldn't end because your marriage ended in divorce, there are millions of men in the world… However, you must open your heart to it, my darling, or a second chance at love might escape you entirely!"

"I know mum, I know… I just-Eric is lovely, I enjoy his company, I really do, but I often wonder if that's enough to let him in, not for my sake but for his own. I've baggage mum, and it's not a lot of people who are capable of understanding or accepting, even… And I'm not just referring to Bea. I still have nightmares sometimes, about the war, about things that happened, things that could have happened. Eric is a perfect porcelain teacup, I, on the other hand, am not. I have cracks and I've been pieced back together with super glue…"

"Well cheers to that most brilliant analogy!" Olivia exclaimed sarcastically, raising her glass. Hermione couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. It was bitter, but it was the truth.

Rosalind reached out and squeezed her daughter's hand.

"Come to me, love, you can always come to me." Her eyes were beginning to turn watery, but Hermione decided she would have none of that. Their family had suffered far too much due to her life as a witch and her troubles, they all still suffered, but they had come a long way and the love they felt for one another was much, much greater than the darkness and resentments of the past. Hermione squeezed her mum's hand in return and then curved up in a sincere smile.

"I'll go on that dinner date this evening, if one of you agrees to fetch Bea from school…" She eyed her sister with those big doe eyes that she used when convenient and Olivia rolled her own blue ones.

"Mum's the doting granny, she'll do it. Pick up is at three o'clock isn't it?" Hermione nodded with a chuckle as Rosalind turned to glare at her youngest.

"Olivia Mary, I have a date with your father to the pictures!" She protested.

"Choose a cartoon, then!" With that, Olivia sauntered off carrying their lunch dishes to the kitchen sink, which Hermione had conveniently charmed to do the washing up automatically.

"That sister of yours, honestly…" Rosalind muttered under her breath, but Hermione wasn't blind to the smile forming on her mum's face. "Have fun with, Eric, darling… And do us a favor and look pretty?"

"I'll think about it, Rosalind…" Her mum smiled capriciously as they entered the ancient lift, way passed the time to reopen Bewitchery's doors for the afternoon crowd.

Hermione was just finishing up with the cashier when Eric waltzed in looking smart in his work suit. His strawberry blonde hair was a bit more out of place than usual, as it probably had been a long day at the law firm. He was handsome though, so handsome he was bordering on sinful as he smiled at Hermione with both his mouth and the bright green of his eyes. For some reason she'd always had an attraction to green-eyed men, and Eric Fletcher's weren't lacking in beauty, although if Hermione was perfectly honest, no pair of green eyes could ever match those of her friend Harry's… Those haunted her even today.

"Hopefully, your mother let you know of our date?" Hermione rolled her eyes and half-snorted, which made him laugh. She was quite something, Hermione Granger. Eric then remembered the small bundle of flowers he was carrying and handed them over to her. She took them with an appreciative sigh, taking in their delicious scent. It was a mix of deep-magenta dahlias, sunflowers and peach-colored gerbera daisies, bright, summery and lovely.

Hermione rounded the counters and a part of her hoped to surprise him, as she'd swapped clothes with her sister last minute and now found herself in a pretty and lively green halter dress which she'd transfigured to pass her knees for decency's sake. On her feet were leather and not-too-high platform sandals, tied to her ankles, and she managed to do something about her curls with bobby pins. It was all very simple and casual, but good enough for an early-evening outing. She felt rather out of place for these things, like she was somehow too old for the whole dating scenario… But like her mum had said, Hermione needed to make an effort, not because of Eric, but because of herself.

It was far too easy for the always self-sufficient Hermione Granger to dig herself her own pit of solitude and misery in the name of independence, but even she was aware of the fact that she wouldn't always have Beatrice around to make her company at home, and that the age of thirty-five, as she was just about to turn, was the new twenty... This according to Olivia.

"You look beautiful…" Eric complimented, and Hermione believed him as he took her hand into his and walked her the three blocks down to the small Italian tavern that she loved, complete with stringed lights and tables and chairs set on the sidewalk. They chose however to sit inside, by the window, as the evening promised to turn chilly.

Vivaldi's was a pleasure and Hermione always appreciated how it was right across the narrow cobblestone road to the playground where she often brought Bea to play when in Arundel, with it's huge centennial tree right in the middle. The sun was still yet to set and parents watched as their children played. It made her long for home, for her daughter whose first day of school had been today. Hermione wanted to hear all about it as they munched on cookies and sipped on warm milk before bed. She wanted to snuggle with Bea in her room as they watched the Wizard of Oz for the millionth time. She longed to feel the watermelon scent of her children's shampoo, letting her girl's light snoring lull her to sleep.

Conversation was easy and ordering had taken a matter of seconds, Hermione always asked for the same thing: spaghetti al ragù with a side of salad and garlic bread, accompanied by a nice bottle of Barbera d'Asti. Hermione wasn't a snob, but she sure as hell knew her wine and Eric was duly impressed.

A bit over an hour later, right when dessert arrived, Eric's cell phone rang and he excused himself to go outside to answer it, explaining that it was from an important client. As soon as he turned around, Hermione relaxed into her chair and took a bite of her apple pie with vanilla ice cream, savoring it as she always did. She stared out the window towards the 7 o'clock sun beginning to set and her eyes once again landed on the playground. She watched the parents with their smiling and energetic children, hoping this date could end already, as surprisingly pleasant as it was, so she could apparate home. That's when a certain head of raven caught her eye. He wore a dark sweater but it was his scarf of yellow and deep red that made her lean forward to get a better look. He had a small redheaded girl with him, no older than four from what she could tell, and he was tossing her in the air playfully, making her laugh and giggle with utmost delight. Hermione couldn't help but smile. When he turned on his side, however, and she noticed the shape of his nose and the glasses on his face, it was as though she'd gone cold and stopped breathing altogether. Hermione knew that face, she knew that perpetually messy hair, that smile, that scarf, that face… It was him, and for a long moment she thought herself hallucinating.

She nearly jumped out of her chair when it fully dawned on her that it was indeed him, almost knocking said chair over on the floor. She could tell he was about to leave and watched as another little girl albeit with black hair like his, took his hand happily. It was Harry, it was Hermione's Harry… She felt she might burst from excitement and joy.

And then she felt it slowly invade her mind, her insecurities and she felt a tightness in her chest, butterflies flying about her stomach, though not pleasantly.

Did he know she lived around here? Would Harry even be interested in seeing her again?

Hermione would be lying if she said Harry Potter hadn't broken her heart a bit when he'd stopped answering her letters, until her pride got the best of her and she quit sending them some five years ago, in a time where Beatrice had still been a baby.

Before she could run after Harry, however, Eric unknowingly blocked Hermione's passage and her confusion and mess of feelings were such that she couldn't muster any words or coherent thought, allowing herself to be tenderly led back to their dinner table, even though it wasn't her heart's desire.

...

A while later Hermione arrived home. All was dark and silent but for the yellowy light of the lampshade on the end table by the sofa. She climbed up the stairs and found her parents already fast asleep in the guest bedroom, having left a crack in the door just in case Bea needed them. Hermione's daughter, however, was spread out on Hermione's bed, her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Hermione kicked off her sandals, slipped off the green dress and pulled each bobby pin out of her hair until her mass of curls were completely free. She walked towards the small porcelain wash basin behind the Moroccan screen and splashed some water on her face, slipping on her silk camisole that she'd left hanging this morning. Her mind was reeling from shock and really, as much as she tried to take solace in her baby girl's snores and in the delicious scent of her hair, there would be nothing capable of making her sleep tonight… Not when Harry Potter was all she could think about. Minutes or hours later Beatrice stirred.

"Mummy," Beatrice mumbled, half-asleep.

"Yes, bumble-bee?"

"I made a friend today…" Hermione couldn't see it, but she knew by the way her daughter said it that there'd be a drunken-with-sleep smile on her daughter's face. "Her name's Lily and she gave me a chocolate frog..." That was all the confirmation Hermione needed.


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