A/N: THANK YOU to all who left feedback for the last chapter! You guys are the best!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, so don't sue me.
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Hermione Winston stared out of the window of the townhouse she had lived in for the past few years. She was thankful that Kyle had went down for his nap early, and she was even more thankful that Emileen had not so much as uttered a peep since she had left her in her room earlier that morning. She was in no mood to answer any of her daughter's questions.
Emileen knew too much as it was.
She couldn't quite believe that the ten year old had been hiding that picture of her and her best friends in a trunk. Emileen may not have been the studious book lover that Hermione was, but she wasn't stupid by any means. She was intelligent enough to know that something wasn't right about that picture. She was intelligent enough to know that the only possible explanation for a moving picture like that was quite simply magic.
Magic.
Hermione had done her best for the past ten years to not think of the word too much. It was difficult. Not a day had passed since her graduation that she hadn't thought of Ron and Harry. But she tried her best to focus on the memories that did not involve so much of the supernatural world she had come to accept during her seven years as a practicing witch. Thinking of magic made her think of the danger she had so narrowly escaped before her first child was born.
Thinking of magic made her think of Draco Malfoy.
Damn Malfoy and all of his Death Eater shit. She wasn't stupid. She knew that Malfoy had raped her only out of a need to prove that he had some sort of perverted power over something that Harry Potter depended on. She was a bit surprised that he hadn't killed her immediately after taking her most precious gift from her. Back then, she wished that he had. She'd wanted nothing more than to die after he'd abused her body in that horrible way. In fact, if Malfoy had tried to kill her after that, she was quite positive that she wouldn't have even tried to fight him.
She wanted to die.
She was so hurt. So humiliated. So ashamed that she had allowed Draco Malfoy to put not only his hands on her body but to put his entire self on her body. He'd stolen her innocence from her, and that was a more painful thought than she cared to relive. She'd lost that which she had silently promised to Ron to their worst enemy, and that was enough to shame her into her desire for death.
But then she'd found out that she was pregnant. She still remembered the day the horrible reality had sunk in. The way she'd felt when Malfoy had raped her was nothing compared to the way she felt when she realized that she now had a part of him growing inside of her. She was carrying his child. To her, that was as bad as carrying the demon spawn- in a way, she felt that she actually was carrying the demon spawn. He was inside of her. His vicious little offspring was growing and thriving inside of her body.
She'd wanted to kill it.
Hermione winced at the memories she was suddenly reliving. She hadn't thought about these things in so long, and it was proving to be rather difficult. Guilt was pouring over her.
Yes, she'd wanted to kill her child.
She'd searched every book she could find, and to her dismay, there was nothing in any of them about using magic to make a baby disappear. She'd then started looking into all the ways that Muggles used to dispose of unwanted pregnancies. Abortion seemed to be the only option, and she'd made an appointment without the tiniest feeling of guilt. How was she expected to feel guilty when she was saving the world from yet another evil little Malfoy brat?
Two days before her appointment, though, things had changed. The baby had kicked. And Hermione, for the first time, realized that she couldn't go through with terminating her pregnancy. Even though the baby inside of her was half Malfoy, it was half Granger as well. And Hermione made up her mind right then and there that the baby would be born, but it would never know its father, and it would never know the world in which its parents had become acquainted.
The first time she'd held the precious little bundle that was her daughter, Hermione had fallen in love. She'd never known that being a mother could cause such wonderful feelings to erupt inside of a woman. Emileen was absolutely perfect, and Hermione had never once regretted her decision to keep the child.
But now her plan was swaying off-course. She should have known that she couldn't hide her daughter from the world that she was destined to be raised in. It wasn't fair to hide the truth from Emileen any longer. The child needed honesty, and Hermione made up her mind that she would stop with the lies and tell Emileen everything she needed to know. It was only fair.
But first, there were a few things Hermione needed to do.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the telephone and dialed 0. She closed her eyes and held her breath while the operator asked for the city she would be needing the assistance of. It was an off-chance, but it was all she had to go on.
"London."
"Listing?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Potter. Harry Potter."
It seemed like an eternity while the operator searched, and Hermione was positive that her only lead had turned into a dead-end. Harry had obviously given up his Muggle heritage and decided to live completely in the wizarding world. The only reason she'd thought differently was the fact that she knew he was planning to move to Muggle London after graduation. Of course, she hadn't seen him since, so she had no idea what had become of that plan.
But then the operator's voice returned and gave her a telephone number and address. "Can I be of any other assistance?"
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she jotted the information down onto a sheet of paper. "Um... No, thank you."
She hung up the telephone and stared at the paper in front of her. It was time to start facing her past.
***********************************
She'd left Kyle and Emmy with Mrs. Bennett, the elderly lady from next door. Tom wasn't due to be home until late that evening, so she didn't have to worry about him coming home and finding her gone. Thank God.
The trip to London didn't take very long; she was used to making the trip into the city for shopping and other reasons. And before she knew it, she was turning her car onto the street whose name was reflected on the piece of paper that rested on the car seat beside her.
"367," she said to herself as she peered at the house numbers. 365... 366... 367.
It was a blue house that looked nearly identical to the ones surrounding it. She stopped the car and looked at it for a long moment, battling with herself over whether or not she was doing the right thing. She knew, of course, that she was. Without waiting long enough to allow herself time to chicken out and turn the car around, she opened the door and stepped out onto the street. She was doing the right thing. She knew she was.
This knowledge did not make the trip from the car to the front door or 367 any easier, though. She wanted desperately to run back to her car and go straight home, but somehow, she managed to force her feet up the stairs to the house and to force her finger to hit the bell.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Hermione found herself looking down at a little girl. The child looked to be about seven or eight years old, and she was dressed in overalls and a pink shirt that clashed horribly with her bright red pigtails. The little girl peered up at Hermione expectantly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the stranger.
"Um..." Hermione swallowed. "Hi."
The little girl didn't speak. She just continued to stare up at the woman in front of her.
"Uh... Does Harry Potter live here?" she asked timidly.
The child narrowed her eyes even more. "Who are you?"
"I'm... an old friend of his. Does he live here?"
Finally the little girl nodded. "Yes, he does. He's my dad."
Hermione smiled fondly. "Really? Is he here?"
His daughter shook her head. "No, he's at work."
Hermione was about to ask where he worked when a woman's voice suddenly sounded from inside the house. "Crystal, who's at the door?" And before Hermione could even comprehend what was happening, the owner of the voice appeared in the doorframe and stared back at her.
Two pairs of brown eyes connected, and for a moment, neither woman could even speak. Finally, the mother of the little girl spoke.
"Her... Hermione?"
"Ginny?"
Crystal was stuck in the middle of the sudden embrace the women engaged each other in. Their arms flung around each other immediately, and Hermione was quite sure she hadn't felt this happy since she'd left the wizarding world ten years before.
When the women finally stopped hugging each other, Ginny pulled away and motioned for Hermione to enter the house. "Come in; come in!"
Hermione entered the house to see three more redheaded children gathered around what she immediately recognized as a game of Exploding Snap. Two boys looked to be maybe a year younger than Crystal and were unmistakably twins. Another child, a girl, looked to be barely three years old and was watching her older brothers curiously.
Their heads all looked up in the direction of the stranger entering their house, but none of them bothered to ask who she was. Hermione smiled at Ginny. "Following your mum's example, I see."
Ginny laughed. "This is Crystal," she said, placing her hand on the head of the oldest child. "And that's Michael and Elliot," she said, motioning towards the twin boys. "That one's Alyssa," she said, and the smallest little girl grinned. "Brandon is the baby; he's down for his nap."
"And another on the way?" Hermione asked, eyeing Ginny's undeniably bulging belly.
Ginny covered her stomach with her hand and nodded, a grin covering her face. "All I need is two more to beat the family record."
Hermione laughed and was about to ask more questions about the children when Ginny grabbed her hand and started yanking her toward the kitchen. "Let me make some tea, and then you can tell me everything about what you've been up to," she said hurriedly. "We've all been wondering where you disappeared to, Hermione. We've been worried sick!"
Hermione followed the redheaded woman into the kitchen and felt a twinge of guilt at worrying the people closest to her. She sat down at the table Ginny directed her to and prepared herself for the flock of questions that were sure to erupt at any second.
Before Ginny had a chance to begin her interrogation, though, several loud squeals were heard from the living room. Ginny glanced in the direction of the noise but before she could comment, a man walked into the kitchen carrying the smallest little girl on his hip. He had the same untidy black hair that he'd had ten years before, and his glasses still sat a bit askew on his nose.
Hermione felt the breath catch in her throat as she watched her best friend greet his wife with a kiss. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the guest at the table yet. After pulling away from his wife's lips, he sat his daughter on the ground and turned his head, obviously wanting to see what his wife was staring at over his shoulder.
The moment their eyes connected, Hermione felt as though she were finally coming home from a long trip. Neither of them could speak as they stared at each other. Hermione forced herself to stand up, but she found that working her legs was harder than she had expected. The two people looked at each other for the first time in ten years, taking in each other as though making sure the other was actually real.
Finally, Harry managed to find his voice, though forming complete sentences was a completely different story. "What... Hermione... How..."
She just laughed as she rushed to him and threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly, willing this to not be a dream. She'd wanted to hug him for so long now, but she hadn't been able to. Now that she was in her best friend's arms, she wanted to do nothing except revel in the emotions that were flooding her body. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist instantly and hugged her just as tightly. They must have embraced for a good two minutes before they were interrupted by another male voice.
"Virginia Anne Weasley Potter, I cannot believe that you won't let my precious little niece have a chocolate frog before dinner. Don't you know sweets are what keep a child healthy?"
Hermione's heart stopped at the voice. The breath caught in her throat as she slowly pulled away from Harry and turned her head to view a very tall, very handsome redheaded man holding the hand of the precarious Crystal.
Ronald Weasley.
He stopped his journey into the kitchen, though, when he noticed the scene surrounding him. His eyes fell first on his sister who was smiling fondly at something across the room, and then his eyes fell on his best friend and brother-in-law who was hugging a woman tightly.
A very familiar woman.
"Hermione?" he asked, almost as though he were unsure that he was really seeing what he thought he was.
Hermione felt her heart leap at the sound of her name on his lips. She just stared at him, and she almost felt as though all of the air was leaving her lungs. She managed a weak nod, but she couldn't make herself speak.
Their eyes locked with each other, but neither of them seemed to breathing properly. Hermione didn't run to Ron and fling herself into his arms as she had Harry. He didn't greet her as enthusiastically as Harry had, either.
They just stared.
And then all at once, Ron stepped to her and put his arms awkwardly around her. The moment they touched, though, it was as if they melted into each other's embraces. It wasn't the embrace of old best friends; it was the embrace of a lost love found again. Hermione reached up timidly to put her arms around her neck, and she buried her face into his chest, as though she needed to be as close as possible to make sure she wasn't really dreaming. She inhaled his scent and was not surprised at all to find that he still smelled of the same sweetish spicy scent that he had years before when they'd all been schoolchildren.
"Why does everyone know her except for me?!"
The voice of a little girl caused Hermione and Ron to pull apart rather quickly. A very curious-looking Crystal was staring up at her uncle and the stranger; she had her hands placed on her hips, and she was obviously very intent on getting an answer to her question.
Ron laughed a little as he grinned down at his niece. Ginny suddenly appeared quite embarrassed and grabbed her daughter's hand.
"Uh, Harry, can you bring Alyssa?" she started toward the door of the kitchen. "Excuse us, Hermione, but it's time for the children's afternoon lessons."
Harry smiled once at Hermione before lifting the smallest girl into his arms. "We'll be back," he assured her as he followed his wife from the room.
Hermione and Ron were left alone in the kitchen, and immediately, a strange silence filled the air.
They once again stared at each other uncertainly. She was a bit taken with how little he had changed in the decade since she had seen him last. His hair was still a blazing scarlet, and his face was still speckled with freckles here and there; they'd started to fade in their later school years but were still quite evident. He looked to be the same height as he'd been when she'd last seen him ten years before, but he was more built. He was no longer lanky; he was a bit more muscular, but he still had the same boyish good looks he'd donned years ago.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of horrible silence, Ron spoke. "I can't believe you're really here. Hermione, where have you been?"
Hermione looked down at the floor and frowned. "It's a long story," she said quietly.
Ron just studied her curiously. "Well, I'm listening."
She shook her head. "No, this isn't the time."
Ron suddenly looked angry. "If you weren't going to tell us where the hell you disappeared to ten years ago, then why the hell did you bother showing back up at all?" His voice wasn't even the least bit friendly.
Hermione felt as though she was going to burst into tears at any given moment. "Please, don't be angry," she begged quietly, not willing herself to meet his eyes.
Ron actually laughed at her plea. "Don't be angry? Are you serious, Hermione?"
"Ron, I had no..."
She was cut off as he rambled on. "Do you have any idea how many nights I laid in bed worrying about you? I had no idea if you were alive; for all I knew, you could have been lying at the bottom of a ditch somewhere dead!" His blue eyes caught hers dangerously. "And then when I wasn't worrying about you, I was wanting you. I used to dream of you every single night. Every damn night! And then I'd wake up thinking you would be laying beside me. But you know what? You never were, Hermione. Never."
Hermione felt the tears well into the corner of her eyes, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't force them to disappear. "I'm sorry," she managed to squeak as she tried to keep the tears from falling.
Ron glared at her, a disgusted look on his face. "You can save the apologies for Harry and Ginny and your parents and everyone else you hurt by running away. I don't want to hear them. I don't need to hear them, Hermione."
Hermione felt one thick, fat tear fall from her eye before the others followed rapidly. "Ron, please," she begged him urgently. "You have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you! That's the last thing I ever wanted to do!"
"Do you know that I loved you, Hermione? Do you know that?" He was standing very close to her now, his face more angry than she could ever remember seeing it.
She nodded meekly, tears still falling freely down her cheeks.
He just continued to glare at her. "You were the single most important thing in my life ten years ago. God, I would have died for you!"
"I know," she whispered through her tears.
"But you didn't even care enough about me to give me a 'kiss my arse' when you decided to disappear without any kind of notice!" He wasn't exactly yelling, but his voice was raised and bounding with anger.
"Ron, please," she was begging him anxiously. "I couldn't tell you! I couldn't tell anyone! You don't understand!"
"And you won't even give me a chance to," he stated quickly. "But you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm glad you're alive because at least Harry and Ginny can stop worrying, and your mother can stop lighting that damn candle for you every night. Yes, I'm glad you're alive, but I never want to see you again."
Hermione stood dumbstruck at his words. How could he be so viciously cruel to her? He had no idea what had happened ten years before, and he wasn't willing to give her the time she needed to sort out her thoughts enough to put them to words.
He was so damn selfish!
"Fine!" she yelled angrily. "I hope you have a nice life!"
And with that, she stormed from the kitchen through the living room and to the back door. She heard Harry yell her name as she started to make her exit, but all she could do was yell an apology before running to her car and driving away from his house.
Away from Ron.
Away from her friends for the second time in her life.
She began crying again the moment she reached her car, and she cried all the way back to her house.
When she entered her own living room, she was met with Mrs. Bennett, the baby-sitter.
"Oh, hello," the old woman greeted her. "The children are both down for naps, and I've left the mail on the kitchen counter." She smiled and bid Hermione good-bye before disappearing to her own house.
Hermione was thankful that her children were asleep. She needed a good cup of coffee, so she made her way to her kitchen. As she pulled the filters from the cabinet, she glanced down at the stack of mail. She sorted through it unconsciously.
Bills... Bills... Junk... Postcard...
"Oh, my God," she gasped quietly as she stared down at the letter at the very bottom of the pile.
It was addressed to "Miss E. Granger," and the seal on the back was all too familiar.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
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So? Please reply!!!! It means everything!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, so don't sue me.
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Hermione Winston stared out of the window of the townhouse she had lived in for the past few years. She was thankful that Kyle had went down for his nap early, and she was even more thankful that Emileen had not so much as uttered a peep since she had left her in her room earlier that morning. She was in no mood to answer any of her daughter's questions.
Emileen knew too much as it was.
She couldn't quite believe that the ten year old had been hiding that picture of her and her best friends in a trunk. Emileen may not have been the studious book lover that Hermione was, but she wasn't stupid by any means. She was intelligent enough to know that something wasn't right about that picture. She was intelligent enough to know that the only possible explanation for a moving picture like that was quite simply magic.
Magic.
Hermione had done her best for the past ten years to not think of the word too much. It was difficult. Not a day had passed since her graduation that she hadn't thought of Ron and Harry. But she tried her best to focus on the memories that did not involve so much of the supernatural world she had come to accept during her seven years as a practicing witch. Thinking of magic made her think of the danger she had so narrowly escaped before her first child was born.
Thinking of magic made her think of Draco Malfoy.
Damn Malfoy and all of his Death Eater shit. She wasn't stupid. She knew that Malfoy had raped her only out of a need to prove that he had some sort of perverted power over something that Harry Potter depended on. She was a bit surprised that he hadn't killed her immediately after taking her most precious gift from her. Back then, she wished that he had. She'd wanted nothing more than to die after he'd abused her body in that horrible way. In fact, if Malfoy had tried to kill her after that, she was quite positive that she wouldn't have even tried to fight him.
She wanted to die.
She was so hurt. So humiliated. So ashamed that she had allowed Draco Malfoy to put not only his hands on her body but to put his entire self on her body. He'd stolen her innocence from her, and that was a more painful thought than she cared to relive. She'd lost that which she had silently promised to Ron to their worst enemy, and that was enough to shame her into her desire for death.
But then she'd found out that she was pregnant. She still remembered the day the horrible reality had sunk in. The way she'd felt when Malfoy had raped her was nothing compared to the way she felt when she realized that she now had a part of him growing inside of her. She was carrying his child. To her, that was as bad as carrying the demon spawn- in a way, she felt that she actually was carrying the demon spawn. He was inside of her. His vicious little offspring was growing and thriving inside of her body.
She'd wanted to kill it.
Hermione winced at the memories she was suddenly reliving. She hadn't thought about these things in so long, and it was proving to be rather difficult. Guilt was pouring over her.
Yes, she'd wanted to kill her child.
She'd searched every book she could find, and to her dismay, there was nothing in any of them about using magic to make a baby disappear. She'd then started looking into all the ways that Muggles used to dispose of unwanted pregnancies. Abortion seemed to be the only option, and she'd made an appointment without the tiniest feeling of guilt. How was she expected to feel guilty when she was saving the world from yet another evil little Malfoy brat?
Two days before her appointment, though, things had changed. The baby had kicked. And Hermione, for the first time, realized that she couldn't go through with terminating her pregnancy. Even though the baby inside of her was half Malfoy, it was half Granger as well. And Hermione made up her mind right then and there that the baby would be born, but it would never know its father, and it would never know the world in which its parents had become acquainted.
The first time she'd held the precious little bundle that was her daughter, Hermione had fallen in love. She'd never known that being a mother could cause such wonderful feelings to erupt inside of a woman. Emileen was absolutely perfect, and Hermione had never once regretted her decision to keep the child.
But now her plan was swaying off-course. She should have known that she couldn't hide her daughter from the world that she was destined to be raised in. It wasn't fair to hide the truth from Emileen any longer. The child needed honesty, and Hermione made up her mind that she would stop with the lies and tell Emileen everything she needed to know. It was only fair.
But first, there were a few things Hermione needed to do.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for the telephone and dialed 0. She closed her eyes and held her breath while the operator asked for the city she would be needing the assistance of. It was an off-chance, but it was all she had to go on.
"London."
"Listing?"
Hermione took a deep breath. "Potter. Harry Potter."
It seemed like an eternity while the operator searched, and Hermione was positive that her only lead had turned into a dead-end. Harry had obviously given up his Muggle heritage and decided to live completely in the wizarding world. The only reason she'd thought differently was the fact that she knew he was planning to move to Muggle London after graduation. Of course, she hadn't seen him since, so she had no idea what had become of that plan.
But then the operator's voice returned and gave her a telephone number and address. "Can I be of any other assistance?"
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she jotted the information down onto a sheet of paper. "Um... No, thank you."
She hung up the telephone and stared at the paper in front of her. It was time to start facing her past.
***********************************
She'd left Kyle and Emmy with Mrs. Bennett, the elderly lady from next door. Tom wasn't due to be home until late that evening, so she didn't have to worry about him coming home and finding her gone. Thank God.
The trip to London didn't take very long; she was used to making the trip into the city for shopping and other reasons. And before she knew it, she was turning her car onto the street whose name was reflected on the piece of paper that rested on the car seat beside her.
"367," she said to herself as she peered at the house numbers. 365... 366... 367.
It was a blue house that looked nearly identical to the ones surrounding it. She stopped the car and looked at it for a long moment, battling with herself over whether or not she was doing the right thing. She knew, of course, that she was. Without waiting long enough to allow herself time to chicken out and turn the car around, she opened the door and stepped out onto the street. She was doing the right thing. She knew she was.
This knowledge did not make the trip from the car to the front door or 367 any easier, though. She wanted desperately to run back to her car and go straight home, but somehow, she managed to force her feet up the stairs to the house and to force her finger to hit the bell.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Hermione found herself looking down at a little girl. The child looked to be about seven or eight years old, and she was dressed in overalls and a pink shirt that clashed horribly with her bright red pigtails. The little girl peered up at Hermione expectantly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the stranger.
"Um..." Hermione swallowed. "Hi."
The little girl didn't speak. She just continued to stare up at the woman in front of her.
"Uh... Does Harry Potter live here?" she asked timidly.
The child narrowed her eyes even more. "Who are you?"
"I'm... an old friend of his. Does he live here?"
Finally the little girl nodded. "Yes, he does. He's my dad."
Hermione smiled fondly. "Really? Is he here?"
His daughter shook her head. "No, he's at work."
Hermione was about to ask where he worked when a woman's voice suddenly sounded from inside the house. "Crystal, who's at the door?" And before Hermione could even comprehend what was happening, the owner of the voice appeared in the doorframe and stared back at her.
Two pairs of brown eyes connected, and for a moment, neither woman could even speak. Finally, the mother of the little girl spoke.
"Her... Hermione?"
"Ginny?"
Crystal was stuck in the middle of the sudden embrace the women engaged each other in. Their arms flung around each other immediately, and Hermione was quite sure she hadn't felt this happy since she'd left the wizarding world ten years before.
When the women finally stopped hugging each other, Ginny pulled away and motioned for Hermione to enter the house. "Come in; come in!"
Hermione entered the house to see three more redheaded children gathered around what she immediately recognized as a game of Exploding Snap. Two boys looked to be maybe a year younger than Crystal and were unmistakably twins. Another child, a girl, looked to be barely three years old and was watching her older brothers curiously.
Their heads all looked up in the direction of the stranger entering their house, but none of them bothered to ask who she was. Hermione smiled at Ginny. "Following your mum's example, I see."
Ginny laughed. "This is Crystal," she said, placing her hand on the head of the oldest child. "And that's Michael and Elliot," she said, motioning towards the twin boys. "That one's Alyssa," she said, and the smallest little girl grinned. "Brandon is the baby; he's down for his nap."
"And another on the way?" Hermione asked, eyeing Ginny's undeniably bulging belly.
Ginny covered her stomach with her hand and nodded, a grin covering her face. "All I need is two more to beat the family record."
Hermione laughed and was about to ask more questions about the children when Ginny grabbed her hand and started yanking her toward the kitchen. "Let me make some tea, and then you can tell me everything about what you've been up to," she said hurriedly. "We've all been wondering where you disappeared to, Hermione. We've been worried sick!"
Hermione followed the redheaded woman into the kitchen and felt a twinge of guilt at worrying the people closest to her. She sat down at the table Ginny directed her to and prepared herself for the flock of questions that were sure to erupt at any second.
Before Ginny had a chance to begin her interrogation, though, several loud squeals were heard from the living room. Ginny glanced in the direction of the noise but before she could comment, a man walked into the kitchen carrying the smallest little girl on his hip. He had the same untidy black hair that he'd had ten years before, and his glasses still sat a bit askew on his nose.
Hermione felt the breath catch in her throat as she watched her best friend greet his wife with a kiss. Obviously, he hadn't noticed the guest at the table yet. After pulling away from his wife's lips, he sat his daughter on the ground and turned his head, obviously wanting to see what his wife was staring at over his shoulder.
The moment their eyes connected, Hermione felt as though she were finally coming home from a long trip. Neither of them could speak as they stared at each other. Hermione forced herself to stand up, but she found that working her legs was harder than she had expected. The two people looked at each other for the first time in ten years, taking in each other as though making sure the other was actually real.
Finally, Harry managed to find his voice, though forming complete sentences was a completely different story. "What... Hermione... How..."
She just laughed as she rushed to him and threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly, willing this to not be a dream. She'd wanted to hug him for so long now, but she hadn't been able to. Now that she was in her best friend's arms, she wanted to do nothing except revel in the emotions that were flooding her body. Harry wrapped his arms around her waist instantly and hugged her just as tightly. They must have embraced for a good two minutes before they were interrupted by another male voice.
"Virginia Anne Weasley Potter, I cannot believe that you won't let my precious little niece have a chocolate frog before dinner. Don't you know sweets are what keep a child healthy?"
Hermione's heart stopped at the voice. The breath caught in her throat as she slowly pulled away from Harry and turned her head to view a very tall, very handsome redheaded man holding the hand of the precarious Crystal.
Ronald Weasley.
He stopped his journey into the kitchen, though, when he noticed the scene surrounding him. His eyes fell first on his sister who was smiling fondly at something across the room, and then his eyes fell on his best friend and brother-in-law who was hugging a woman tightly.
A very familiar woman.
"Hermione?" he asked, almost as though he were unsure that he was really seeing what he thought he was.
Hermione felt her heart leap at the sound of her name on his lips. She just stared at him, and she almost felt as though all of the air was leaving her lungs. She managed a weak nod, but she couldn't make herself speak.
Their eyes locked with each other, but neither of them seemed to breathing properly. Hermione didn't run to Ron and fling herself into his arms as she had Harry. He didn't greet her as enthusiastically as Harry had, either.
They just stared.
And then all at once, Ron stepped to her and put his arms awkwardly around her. The moment they touched, though, it was as if they melted into each other's embraces. It wasn't the embrace of old best friends; it was the embrace of a lost love found again. Hermione reached up timidly to put her arms around her neck, and she buried her face into his chest, as though she needed to be as close as possible to make sure she wasn't really dreaming. She inhaled his scent and was not surprised at all to find that he still smelled of the same sweetish spicy scent that he had years before when they'd all been schoolchildren.
"Why does everyone know her except for me?!"
The voice of a little girl caused Hermione and Ron to pull apart rather quickly. A very curious-looking Crystal was staring up at her uncle and the stranger; she had her hands placed on her hips, and she was obviously very intent on getting an answer to her question.
Ron laughed a little as he grinned down at his niece. Ginny suddenly appeared quite embarrassed and grabbed her daughter's hand.
"Uh, Harry, can you bring Alyssa?" she started toward the door of the kitchen. "Excuse us, Hermione, but it's time for the children's afternoon lessons."
Harry smiled once at Hermione before lifting the smallest girl into his arms. "We'll be back," he assured her as he followed his wife from the room.
Hermione and Ron were left alone in the kitchen, and immediately, a strange silence filled the air.
They once again stared at each other uncertainly. She was a bit taken with how little he had changed in the decade since she had seen him last. His hair was still a blazing scarlet, and his face was still speckled with freckles here and there; they'd started to fade in their later school years but were still quite evident. He looked to be the same height as he'd been when she'd last seen him ten years before, but he was more built. He was no longer lanky; he was a bit more muscular, but he still had the same boyish good looks he'd donned years ago.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of horrible silence, Ron spoke. "I can't believe you're really here. Hermione, where have you been?"
Hermione looked down at the floor and frowned. "It's a long story," she said quietly.
Ron just studied her curiously. "Well, I'm listening."
She shook her head. "No, this isn't the time."
Ron suddenly looked angry. "If you weren't going to tell us where the hell you disappeared to ten years ago, then why the hell did you bother showing back up at all?" His voice wasn't even the least bit friendly.
Hermione felt as though she was going to burst into tears at any given moment. "Please, don't be angry," she begged quietly, not willing herself to meet his eyes.
Ron actually laughed at her plea. "Don't be angry? Are you serious, Hermione?"
"Ron, I had no..."
She was cut off as he rambled on. "Do you have any idea how many nights I laid in bed worrying about you? I had no idea if you were alive; for all I knew, you could have been lying at the bottom of a ditch somewhere dead!" His blue eyes caught hers dangerously. "And then when I wasn't worrying about you, I was wanting you. I used to dream of you every single night. Every damn night! And then I'd wake up thinking you would be laying beside me. But you know what? You never were, Hermione. Never."
Hermione felt the tears well into the corner of her eyes, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't force them to disappear. "I'm sorry," she managed to squeak as she tried to keep the tears from falling.
Ron glared at her, a disgusted look on his face. "You can save the apologies for Harry and Ginny and your parents and everyone else you hurt by running away. I don't want to hear them. I don't need to hear them, Hermione."
Hermione felt one thick, fat tear fall from her eye before the others followed rapidly. "Ron, please," she begged him urgently. "You have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt you! That's the last thing I ever wanted to do!"
"Do you know that I loved you, Hermione? Do you know that?" He was standing very close to her now, his face more angry than she could ever remember seeing it.
She nodded meekly, tears still falling freely down her cheeks.
He just continued to glare at her. "You were the single most important thing in my life ten years ago. God, I would have died for you!"
"I know," she whispered through her tears.
"But you didn't even care enough about me to give me a 'kiss my arse' when you decided to disappear without any kind of notice!" He wasn't exactly yelling, but his voice was raised and bounding with anger.
"Ron, please," she was begging him anxiously. "I couldn't tell you! I couldn't tell anyone! You don't understand!"
"And you won't even give me a chance to," he stated quickly. "But you know what? I don't care anymore. I'm glad you're alive because at least Harry and Ginny can stop worrying, and your mother can stop lighting that damn candle for you every night. Yes, I'm glad you're alive, but I never want to see you again."
Hermione stood dumbstruck at his words. How could he be so viciously cruel to her? He had no idea what had happened ten years before, and he wasn't willing to give her the time she needed to sort out her thoughts enough to put them to words.
He was so damn selfish!
"Fine!" she yelled angrily. "I hope you have a nice life!"
And with that, she stormed from the kitchen through the living room and to the back door. She heard Harry yell her name as she started to make her exit, but all she could do was yell an apology before running to her car and driving away from his house.
Away from Ron.
Away from her friends for the second time in her life.
She began crying again the moment she reached her car, and she cried all the way back to her house.
When she entered her own living room, she was met with Mrs. Bennett, the baby-sitter.
"Oh, hello," the old woman greeted her. "The children are both down for naps, and I've left the mail on the kitchen counter." She smiled and bid Hermione good-bye before disappearing to her own house.
Hermione was thankful that her children were asleep. She needed a good cup of coffee, so she made her way to her kitchen. As she pulled the filters from the cabinet, she glanced down at the stack of mail. She sorted through it unconsciously.
Bills... Bills... Junk... Postcard...
"Oh, my God," she gasped quietly as she stared down at the letter at the very bottom of the pile.
It was addressed to "Miss E. Granger," and the seal on the back was all too familiar.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
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