A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry this installment took so long to get out, but I've been working quite diligently on my Draco/Hermione story. I'm still claiming Ron and Hermione as my ship of choice, though, so don't worry! Draco/Hermione is just more fun if you want to write smut... Anyway, please let me know what you think of this and if you're still interested! Thanks again!!!!!
Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters that are mentioned anywhere in any of the Harry Potter book series. So please do not sue me. Thank you kindly.
Hermione awoke the next morning to find that the power problem had been fixed. The digital clock that rested beside her bed was blinking annoyingly at 12:00. She quickly glanced at her watch and reached over to set the clock to the proper time: 6:43 AM.
6:43...
She jumped out of bed quickly and raced up the stairs to her eldest child's room. Emileen was sleeping peacefully under her yellow canopy coverings, her blonde hair splayed across her pillows in a rather unruly manner.
"Emmy," she prodded, shaking her daughter gently. "Emmy, wake up."
The little girl rolled over and groaned. Her eyes opened slowly to reveal silvery-blue orbs. "Mum, I don't feel well," she managed to croak.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are going to school," she declared as she pulled the matching yellow comforter away from her child. Emileen was not nearly as eager to learn as she had been at that age.
Emmy groaned again and sat up rather slowly. "Please, Mama. I really honestly don't feel well." She gave her mother a pitiful look with huge, pleading eyes.
Hermione reached out to test her daughter's forehead and was met with absolutely cool skin. "You aren't running a fever."
"But my tummy hurts," she whined.
Hermione looked sternly at the little girl. "Emileen, if you are lying to me, you will be in big trouble."
Emileen remembered the last time she had conned her mother into letting her stay home when she hadn't really been ill. Her mum had caught her dancing to the radio while she was supposed to be resting with a sore throat. She hadn't been able to sit properly for hours after that.
But she figured she could get away with it if she weren't so stupid this time.
"I'm not lying," she declared, her eyes wide with feigned honesty. "It really hurts."
Hermione sighed. "Fine. Lie back down, and I'll go get you some medicine."
Emileen nodded and followed her mother's directions by lying back down in her bed and closing her eyes. Hermione watched her for half a moment before getting up and exiting the room. She walked back down the stairs to the kitchen where she opened a cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of pink liquid. She smiled softly, thinking how different this remedy was from the ones that had been forced on her for seven years of her life. Who would ever have known that chocolate was as good of a cure for a stomachache as anything? Putting the bottle back into the cabinet, she turned the heat of her stove on and set a pan of milk on it to boil. As the tiny bubbles started to reach the surface, she filled a mug with powdered cocoa and added the milk.
As Hermione carried the steaming mug of hot chocolate back up the stairs to her daughter's room, she peaked into the room of her little boy. Her three year old son Kyle was still sleeping peacefully in his toddler bed. She decided against waking him that early and continued onto Emileen's room.
Emmy looked up at her as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Holding the mug out, she said, "Here, drink this."
Emmy took the mug and stared at it curiously. "Hot chocolate?" she queried.
"Just drink it."
Emileen secretly complimented herself on a brilliant plan that didn't even result in the nasty tasting pink stuff her mother usually forced down her throat. She lifted the mug to her lips and smiled slightly as the warm liquid coated her throat.
After swallowing, she looked back up at her mum. "The power's back," she observed.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, it is."
"I did it." Emileen implored her mother to believe her.
But Hermione just shook her head. "No, you didn't. Now stop talking about it." There was a definite tone of finalization to her voice, but either Emileen did not hear it or either she did not care.
"Yes, I did. I do a lot of things like that." Her gray eyes were widened, "And sometimes it scares me."
Hermione closed her eyes briefly. She could not deal with this. "Emileen, I am not telling you again. Drop this nonsense right..."
"You know, don't you?" The tiny girl suddenly stared up at her mother accusingly. "You know, and you won't admit it."
Hermione was a bit shocked at her daughter's sudden accusation, but she quickly recovered. "You will not talk to me like that, do you understand?"
Emileen did not care. "You do. You know what I'm talking about, and you're lying."
Hermione didn't know whether to punish her child or commend her for unfaltering claims. "You are this close to being in big trouble, do you know that?"
"What are you so afraid of?" Emileen set the mug of hot chocolate on her nightstand and, momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to be ill, got onto her knees and looked her mother directly in the eye. "Why won't you tell me?"
"There is nothing to tell!" Hermione's voice had suddenly taken on a rather loud urgency. "You are making up silly nonsense, and you know I do not approve of that."
"But Mum, I'm not making it up! I really did make it happen, and I've done it before, too! It's almost like... like magic!"
Hermione flinched at the word. She hated lying to her daughter like this, but it was for her own good. "You do not live in a fairytale world, Emileen. This is real life. There is no such thing as magic."
Emileen just stared up at her mother curiously for a moment before saying very clearly, "Yes, there is. And you know it."
Hermione was in a near stare-down with her ten year old child. "Go to sleep. I'm going to check on your brother."
"Wait!" Emileen was out of the bed before Hermione could protest. She hurried across her room to a small trunk, and she lifted the lid easily, removing what appeared to be a small piece of paper. "What is this?"
She handed the paper to her mother who reluctantly turned it over and gasped. Staring back up at Hermione was a younger version of herself standing between two boys, one with dark hair and glasses and the other much taller with red hair and freckles. It was a photograph.
And it was moving.
"Where did you get this?" Hermione demanded of her daughter as soon as he had gotten over the initial shock.
Emileen suddenly appeared quite nervous. "I... um... I..."
"Where did you get it?" Hermione demanded again, this time louder.
"I found it in your room. I wasn't snooping!" she added quickly. "But I needed a pen, so I checked in your desk, and this was in the very back, so I... so I took it." She looked sheepishly up at her mum. "Why is it moving like that? And who are those boys?"
Hermione stared at the faces which were grinning up at her. She had missed those two faces more than she had ever thought possible, and seeing them again was like looking at two ghosts. She turned to her daughter and fiercely said, "Lie back down. If I hear one peep out of you, you will be punished, and then you will go to school. Do you understand?"
Emileen nodded obediently, obviously knowing not to push her mother anymore than she already had that morning. "Yes, ma'am."
She climbed back under her comforter and watched her mother silently exit the room for the second time. She felt warm tears creep into her eyes. Why had her mum gotten so upset?
Why was she lying?
She knew Emileen was causing all of these things, and she wouldn't admit it. What was she hiding? Why wouldn't she just be honest?
Emileen cried softly as she drifted back into an early morning slumber.
************************************
Hermione stared at the photograph in her hand for hours. Memory upon memory came flooding back to her.
She remembered meeting them for the first time on the Hogwarts Express when she was only ten years old. She remembered the first time they had ever saved her life while battling a twelve-foot mountain troll. She remembered the first time she had ever saved their lives with her extensive knowledge of Herbology. She remembered the horrible feeling that had filled her when she had thought briefly that her two best friends were being expelled for crashing a flying car onto the school's grounds. She remembered spending a month crunched into a tiny bathroom stall with the two of them and a crying ghost while mixing up a terribly difficult potion. She remembered being dragged underground with the two of them and being faced with an escaped prisoner who just happened to be a convicted murderer thirteen times over. She remembered how awful it felt when the two boys were fighting and she was stuck in the middle and how wonderful it had felt when they had finally put their differences behind them and forgiven each other. She remembered how terrifying their last years at school had been while the Dark Lord Voldemort was gaining power and closing in on his main target which seemed to be the wonderful little trio she had belonged to.
And, of course, she remembered Ron for other reasons as well. She remembered the way it had felt when he had kissed her for the first time during Christmas break of their final year at school. She remembered the way his eyes had been welling with unconscious tears as he stuttered about and told her for the first time that he was in love with her. She remembered the way their hands fit perfectly into each others.
She remembered everything.
And God, how she missed it. She missed everything about Ron, and she missed everything about Harry. She hadn't seen them in ten years.
She didn't even know if they were still alive...
No, she refused to believe that they might be dead. They had made it through seven years of dangerous feats without getting themselves killed, now didn't they? She wondered exactly where they were and what they were doing.
She pictured Harry married to Ron's little sister Ginny and smiled. They had dated for the last two years of school, and they'd been absolutely perfect together. She wondered if that had worked out, and if they were indeed married. The smile grew broader as she pictured a houseful of tiny redheads running around their parents.
Then the smile faded.
She was supposed to have a house full of redheads, too. But she didn't. She had a brown-haired, brown-eyed little boy and a blonde-haired, gray-eyed daughter. It was the second of the two that bothered her. Not that she didn't love her children; she loved them more than life itself. But she couldn't pretend that she didn't see Draco Malfoy staring back at her every time she looked into her daughter's eyes. She had even contemplated dying Emileen's hair just so she wouldn't have to stare at the silvery-blonde silk flowing gracefully down her back, but she had quickly realized that this was a stupid idea. The eyes would always be there, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
But she couldn't allow herself to think about what might have been between her and Ron. Ten years had passed- ten long years. He was probably married with a load of children by now. It didn't matter anyway. She knew for a fact that she was married with children, and that certainly wasn't changing anytime soon. She would just have to force herself not to dwell on the past and what might have been.
But she realized that before long she was going to have to face her past head-on. She might have thought that she had done a good enough job of keeping herself hidden from the wizarding world for the past decade, but she knew as well as anyone that you couldn't stay invisible forever. Her daughter's name had been down on Hogwarts acceptance list since the moment she was born despite Hermione's denial, and this September Emileen would be expected to show up at Platform 9 3/4 whether Hermione liked it or not.
But that would mean that everything from Hermione's past would soon be put on display for the entire wizarding world. Emileen's paternity would come out. The news that Hermione Granger had a daughter at Hogwarts would spread like wildfire. And she'd have to face it all.
She'd have to face her old Professors. She'd have to face her old classmates. She'd have to face her parents. She'd have to face Draco Malfoy.
And she'd have to face Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters that are mentioned anywhere in any of the Harry Potter book series. So please do not sue me. Thank you kindly.
Hermione awoke the next morning to find that the power problem had been fixed. The digital clock that rested beside her bed was blinking annoyingly at 12:00. She quickly glanced at her watch and reached over to set the clock to the proper time: 6:43 AM.
6:43...
She jumped out of bed quickly and raced up the stairs to her eldest child's room. Emileen was sleeping peacefully under her yellow canopy coverings, her blonde hair splayed across her pillows in a rather unruly manner.
"Emmy," she prodded, shaking her daughter gently. "Emmy, wake up."
The little girl rolled over and groaned. Her eyes opened slowly to reveal silvery-blue orbs. "Mum, I don't feel well," she managed to croak.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are going to school," she declared as she pulled the matching yellow comforter away from her child. Emileen was not nearly as eager to learn as she had been at that age.
Emmy groaned again and sat up rather slowly. "Please, Mama. I really honestly don't feel well." She gave her mother a pitiful look with huge, pleading eyes.
Hermione reached out to test her daughter's forehead and was met with absolutely cool skin. "You aren't running a fever."
"But my tummy hurts," she whined.
Hermione looked sternly at the little girl. "Emileen, if you are lying to me, you will be in big trouble."
Emileen remembered the last time she had conned her mother into letting her stay home when she hadn't really been ill. Her mum had caught her dancing to the radio while she was supposed to be resting with a sore throat. She hadn't been able to sit properly for hours after that.
But she figured she could get away with it if she weren't so stupid this time.
"I'm not lying," she declared, her eyes wide with feigned honesty. "It really hurts."
Hermione sighed. "Fine. Lie back down, and I'll go get you some medicine."
Emileen nodded and followed her mother's directions by lying back down in her bed and closing her eyes. Hermione watched her for half a moment before getting up and exiting the room. She walked back down the stairs to the kitchen where she opened a cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of pink liquid. She smiled softly, thinking how different this remedy was from the ones that had been forced on her for seven years of her life. Who would ever have known that chocolate was as good of a cure for a stomachache as anything? Putting the bottle back into the cabinet, she turned the heat of her stove on and set a pan of milk on it to boil. As the tiny bubbles started to reach the surface, she filled a mug with powdered cocoa and added the milk.
As Hermione carried the steaming mug of hot chocolate back up the stairs to her daughter's room, she peaked into the room of her little boy. Her three year old son Kyle was still sleeping peacefully in his toddler bed. She decided against waking him that early and continued onto Emileen's room.
Emmy looked up at her as she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Holding the mug out, she said, "Here, drink this."
Emmy took the mug and stared at it curiously. "Hot chocolate?" she queried.
"Just drink it."
Emileen secretly complimented herself on a brilliant plan that didn't even result in the nasty tasting pink stuff her mother usually forced down her throat. She lifted the mug to her lips and smiled slightly as the warm liquid coated her throat.
After swallowing, she looked back up at her mum. "The power's back," she observed.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, it is."
"I did it." Emileen implored her mother to believe her.
But Hermione just shook her head. "No, you didn't. Now stop talking about it." There was a definite tone of finalization to her voice, but either Emileen did not hear it or either she did not care.
"Yes, I did. I do a lot of things like that." Her gray eyes were widened, "And sometimes it scares me."
Hermione closed her eyes briefly. She could not deal with this. "Emileen, I am not telling you again. Drop this nonsense right..."
"You know, don't you?" The tiny girl suddenly stared up at her mother accusingly. "You know, and you won't admit it."
Hermione was a bit shocked at her daughter's sudden accusation, but she quickly recovered. "You will not talk to me like that, do you understand?"
Emileen did not care. "You do. You know what I'm talking about, and you're lying."
Hermione didn't know whether to punish her child or commend her for unfaltering claims. "You are this close to being in big trouble, do you know that?"
"What are you so afraid of?" Emileen set the mug of hot chocolate on her nightstand and, momentarily forgetting that she was supposed to be ill, got onto her knees and looked her mother directly in the eye. "Why won't you tell me?"
"There is nothing to tell!" Hermione's voice had suddenly taken on a rather loud urgency. "You are making up silly nonsense, and you know I do not approve of that."
"But Mum, I'm not making it up! I really did make it happen, and I've done it before, too! It's almost like... like magic!"
Hermione flinched at the word. She hated lying to her daughter like this, but it was for her own good. "You do not live in a fairytale world, Emileen. This is real life. There is no such thing as magic."
Emileen just stared up at her mother curiously for a moment before saying very clearly, "Yes, there is. And you know it."
Hermione was in a near stare-down with her ten year old child. "Go to sleep. I'm going to check on your brother."
"Wait!" Emileen was out of the bed before Hermione could protest. She hurried across her room to a small trunk, and she lifted the lid easily, removing what appeared to be a small piece of paper. "What is this?"
She handed the paper to her mother who reluctantly turned it over and gasped. Staring back up at Hermione was a younger version of herself standing between two boys, one with dark hair and glasses and the other much taller with red hair and freckles. It was a photograph.
And it was moving.
"Where did you get this?" Hermione demanded of her daughter as soon as he had gotten over the initial shock.
Emileen suddenly appeared quite nervous. "I... um... I..."
"Where did you get it?" Hermione demanded again, this time louder.
"I found it in your room. I wasn't snooping!" she added quickly. "But I needed a pen, so I checked in your desk, and this was in the very back, so I... so I took it." She looked sheepishly up at her mum. "Why is it moving like that? And who are those boys?"
Hermione stared at the faces which were grinning up at her. She had missed those two faces more than she had ever thought possible, and seeing them again was like looking at two ghosts. She turned to her daughter and fiercely said, "Lie back down. If I hear one peep out of you, you will be punished, and then you will go to school. Do you understand?"
Emileen nodded obediently, obviously knowing not to push her mother anymore than she already had that morning. "Yes, ma'am."
She climbed back under her comforter and watched her mother silently exit the room for the second time. She felt warm tears creep into her eyes. Why had her mum gotten so upset?
Why was she lying?
She knew Emileen was causing all of these things, and she wouldn't admit it. What was she hiding? Why wouldn't she just be honest?
Emileen cried softly as she drifted back into an early morning slumber.
************************************
Hermione stared at the photograph in her hand for hours. Memory upon memory came flooding back to her.
She remembered meeting them for the first time on the Hogwarts Express when she was only ten years old. She remembered the first time they had ever saved her life while battling a twelve-foot mountain troll. She remembered the first time she had ever saved their lives with her extensive knowledge of Herbology. She remembered the horrible feeling that had filled her when she had thought briefly that her two best friends were being expelled for crashing a flying car onto the school's grounds. She remembered spending a month crunched into a tiny bathroom stall with the two of them and a crying ghost while mixing up a terribly difficult potion. She remembered being dragged underground with the two of them and being faced with an escaped prisoner who just happened to be a convicted murderer thirteen times over. She remembered how awful it felt when the two boys were fighting and she was stuck in the middle and how wonderful it had felt when they had finally put their differences behind them and forgiven each other. She remembered how terrifying their last years at school had been while the Dark Lord Voldemort was gaining power and closing in on his main target which seemed to be the wonderful little trio she had belonged to.
And, of course, she remembered Ron for other reasons as well. She remembered the way it had felt when he had kissed her for the first time during Christmas break of their final year at school. She remembered the way his eyes had been welling with unconscious tears as he stuttered about and told her for the first time that he was in love with her. She remembered the way their hands fit perfectly into each others.
She remembered everything.
And God, how she missed it. She missed everything about Ron, and she missed everything about Harry. She hadn't seen them in ten years.
She didn't even know if they were still alive...
No, she refused to believe that they might be dead. They had made it through seven years of dangerous feats without getting themselves killed, now didn't they? She wondered exactly where they were and what they were doing.
She pictured Harry married to Ron's little sister Ginny and smiled. They had dated for the last two years of school, and they'd been absolutely perfect together. She wondered if that had worked out, and if they were indeed married. The smile grew broader as she pictured a houseful of tiny redheads running around their parents.
Then the smile faded.
She was supposed to have a house full of redheads, too. But she didn't. She had a brown-haired, brown-eyed little boy and a blonde-haired, gray-eyed daughter. It was the second of the two that bothered her. Not that she didn't love her children; she loved them more than life itself. But she couldn't pretend that she didn't see Draco Malfoy staring back at her every time she looked into her daughter's eyes. She had even contemplated dying Emileen's hair just so she wouldn't have to stare at the silvery-blonde silk flowing gracefully down her back, but she had quickly realized that this was a stupid idea. The eyes would always be there, and there was nothing she could do to change that.
But she couldn't allow herself to think about what might have been between her and Ron. Ten years had passed- ten long years. He was probably married with a load of children by now. It didn't matter anyway. She knew for a fact that she was married with children, and that certainly wasn't changing anytime soon. She would just have to force herself not to dwell on the past and what might have been.
But she realized that before long she was going to have to face her past head-on. She might have thought that she had done a good enough job of keeping herself hidden from the wizarding world for the past decade, but she knew as well as anyone that you couldn't stay invisible forever. Her daughter's name had been down on Hogwarts acceptance list since the moment she was born despite Hermione's denial, and this September Emileen would be expected to show up at Platform 9 3/4 whether Hermione liked it or not.
But that would mean that everything from Hermione's past would soon be put on display for the entire wizarding world. Emileen's paternity would come out. The news that Hermione Granger had a daughter at Hogwarts would spread like wildfire. And she'd have to face it all.
She'd have to face her old Professors. She'd have to face her old classmates. She'd have to face her parents. She'd have to face Draco Malfoy.
And she'd have to face Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.