Author's note: One woman in three. One man in four. Teach our children that
love respects boundaries.
I am a survivor, not a victim. --A.L.
The day before leaving for school
"Hermione! Mail!" The yell came from downstairs, and Hermione turned from contemplation of her trunk and its contents. All thoughts of whether she needed to take that particular book or not were forgotten as she hurried down the twisting staircase from her room at the Burrow. She was as adept as the Weasleys at avoiding the creaky stair, and pelted into the kitchen and dropped into a chair, holding her hand out to Hedwig. The owl accepted the caress, and nibbled her fingertips affectionately.
"Here's your letter, 'Mione," Harry said. "From your father, it looks like."
"Great!" Hermione said. "He hinted last time he wrote that he was going to send me something. I wonder...."
She opened the letter, and smiled as a check fell out in her hand. "Oh, how wonderful of him! I have instructions to spend it ONLY on robes and makeup and other girlish things, not on the dreary necessities of life."
"I thought robes and makeup WERE dreary necessities of female living," Harry said, deadpan, and ducked the blow she mimed at his head.
"He thanks everyone again for the hospitality, and says he can still taste your carrot cake, Molly," she continued, shooting a look at her friend's mother, who was frowning at a recipe at the other corner of the table. At that, Molly smiled.
"He was a delightful guest, dear heart. Now I know where you get your sense of humor."
"And...Oh." She stopped, and said, "Well, somehow I saw it coming."
"What?" said Ron, pointing his wand at a particularly stubborn spot on the pan with a muttered incantation. "They getting a divorce?" Everyone in the room ducked as the spell bounced off the pan and hit the ceiling, where it removed the years-old stain left by a game of Exploding Snap.
"Try leaving it to soak five minutes while the plates wash, Ron. Muggle tricks do occasionally work," she said. "Yeah, I guess him going off here without her was the final straw."
"She WAS invited," Molly said. "We all know that."
"Yes, well, considering how she is about magic, and everything else....did you really think she'd come?"
"Well, no," Molly said. "I presume she felt her no extended to both of them. I wonder what's wrong with her."
"I don't know," Hermione said with a sigh. "She's my mother, I see her face in my mirror...but she's awfully hard to love."
Molly stood up and gave her a hug. "Just so you understand her issues are hers, and not yours, dear."
"I know," Hermione said, leaning happily into the hug. "What's Ginny doing?" "Probably doing her usual dithering over what to include," said Ron, leaving the dishes to finish themselves and coming over to steal the latest issue of "Quidditch Today" out from Harry's pile. He was reading a letter from his godfather and reacted a second too late.
"Hey, that's MINE, Ron!"
"You weren't reading it!" Ron shouted over his shoulder as he escaped into the front room with his prize.
Harry muttered something about revenge and went back to reading his letter. "Are you all packed, Ron?" his mother called.
"All but what I've got on, my pajamas, and my robes for tomorrow," he called.
"You might want to grab the bath before the girls decide they want it," his mom said. "We'll be off early, and you don't get up well." Ron's preference to sleep until the absolute last minute, whether before departing or morning Potions class, was well known to all of them, and he took the suggestion, heading upstairs, the stolen magazine still open as he read.
Harry watched, waited for the gurgle of water to come from upstairs, and then hastened upstairs, coming down again with the magazine and a look of triumph. "It's MY subscription, damn it, " he said, and opened it with an air of satisfaction as Ginny came downstairs.
"Everything packed, dear? her mother asked, and Ginny nodded.
"I'll probably think of something once I get on the train, of course."
"I"ll owl you anything you think of, dear, you know that."
"Yeah, but...I suppose it's just nerves," she said, stealing Hermione's coffee.
"Get your own, Gin!" Hermione said, stealing it back with a laugh. "Really!"
Ginny laughed, and looked down. "Letter from your father? May I?"
"Yeah...they're splitting."
"Oh, honey," Ginny immediately said. "Are you..."
Hermione nodded. "After what happened this summer, I'm not who I was. Dad and I are still working out how to relate to each other, adult to adult, and...well, I know you write my Mom once a month or so to let her know what's going on, but otherwise I don't talk to her, and Dad had been saying that she's changed for the worse since he had the bypass done."
Ginny was scanning the letter. "I don't know how she can say she loves him and treat him like this," she said.
"Not everyone knows how to love, Ginny," her mother said. "You did say she had issues, and if they're deep enough they can poison and twist you for a lifetime."
Hermione nodded. "I'm better now...you all know that...but I still sometimes have to work to not hear my mother in the back of my head, telling me that hugging is for babies, to grow up and act like a lady, all that stuff."
"Out of curiosity, Hermione, when did that start?" Molly asked.
"I was around...oh, nine or ten, I think, " Hermione said. "Why?"
"I just wondered what her issue could be," Molly said.
"What I know is that she got really protective of me in a hands-off way," Hermione said. "She changed her hours at the office so that she was always home with me when I was, and she took me with her when she went anywhere rather than leave me home...not that she went anywhere, much. And she started having bad insomnia about then. I mean, I'd wake up and she'd be looking in my room, and if I got up to visit the loo in the night she'd be up and ask me if everything was okay. Strange."
"But it sounds like he's feeling good," Ginny said, looking up from the letter. "Said he sent you a present....Hey!" Ginny said, giggling. "You're going to have fun the first Hogsmeade weekend!"
"No, WE'RE going to have fun. Did you see the dress robes in the latest issue of Witches Weekly?"
"No...."
"Come on, there's one I think would seriously suit you...."
The two girls went upstairs, and Harry looked up from his magazine.
"Trying to figure out Hermione's mum?" he asked. Molly was frowning off into space. She jumped and smiled ruefully at his question.
"My besetting sin, I'm afraid," she said. "I always did want to be a mediwitch, but, well, the kids came too quickly."
"You'd be a good one, " Harry said sincerely. He was impressed by his friend's mother, both her cheerful organization of anyone in sight and her impressive insight. "It's not impossible...we're almost all out of the house, so you could go back to school."
"I've considered it, I'll admit," she said, as a roar came from upstairs.
"HARRY! Damn it, Harry, I was halfway through that article on chasing!"
Molly and Harry's eyes met, fell to the magazine he had been reading, and they both giggled.
"Work it out, you two," she said. "I'm going for a walk in the garden."
The noises of the house receded as Molly took herself outside and looked at the twilight shades of her garden. Her roses were the best they'd been in years; of course, this was at least as much due to the fact that there were no small children about to trample them as to any improved care system. A burst of giggles drifted from an upstairs window, and some raised voices indicated that the difference of opinion over the magazine were continuing. She was going to miss them, she reflected. The last summer was over. Even if they came home next summer, it would be a mere waystop on the way to their own place, their own lives. Ginny still had a year to go, of course, but she knew that if their relationship this summer was any indication, Ginny would spend a good part of next summer in Hermione's apartment. And, of course, there was the war.
Arthur hadn't said anything he shouldn't. But he was looking tireder and older, and working longer hours. The caliber of enchantments that he was running into had changed; fewer harmless jokes like the coffeepots that dispensed beer, and more actively dangerous things. He was having to work more closely with the wizards on the front lines, and Arthur had never been one for open conflict, if he could help it.
Percy had been promoted, but he didn't seem interested in discussing much of anything with anyone except his father. And those conversations broke off when anyone came in the room. He kept conversation with his mother and siblings firmly on the state of their favorite Quidditch pro teams and, recently, the happy distraction of Penelope's turning out pregnant. Molly smiled. Grandchildren were a happy thought.
Bill and Charlie were a constant worry, though. If she thought too much about the Chinese Fireballs and Norwegian Ridgebacks Charlie handled, she'd be a nervous wreck. But then again, he'd been blessed from birth with an ability to come up smiling and whole from truly spectacular mishaps. And Bill....well, he was someone she didn't worry about too much, but he was alone, and she knew he wouldn't be truly happy until he found himself a guy to love. Then again, taking care of him when he'd managed to get in the way of a truly spectacular booby-trap about a month back had reawakened all her maternal protective instincts toward him, and her initial distrust and dislike of his job. He'd scoffed, pointing out that he'd done this for years and this was the first injury he'd had to take time off for, but it hadn't helped.
And then there were the twins. Despite herself, Molly smiled. The joke shop was certainly prospering. The twisted genius that had made them a byword at Hogwarts was bearing fruit in all manner of joke items that were becoming a small fad in the wizarding world. Molly was personally just glad it was out of their bedroom in HER house. Amazing the house was still standing, she thought to herself. But they were good boys. Scarcely a week went by that one or the other didn't Floo over for a visit, sometimes staying for dinner.
Molly sighed, and looked out at the sunset, and enjoyed the peace, until someone called, "Mum! Dad's home!" and she returned to the comfortable chaos of The Night Before Going Off To School with a fairly happy heart.
I am a survivor, not a victim. --A.L.
The day before leaving for school
"Hermione! Mail!" The yell came from downstairs, and Hermione turned from contemplation of her trunk and its contents. All thoughts of whether she needed to take that particular book or not were forgotten as she hurried down the twisting staircase from her room at the Burrow. She was as adept as the Weasleys at avoiding the creaky stair, and pelted into the kitchen and dropped into a chair, holding her hand out to Hedwig. The owl accepted the caress, and nibbled her fingertips affectionately.
"Here's your letter, 'Mione," Harry said. "From your father, it looks like."
"Great!" Hermione said. "He hinted last time he wrote that he was going to send me something. I wonder...."
She opened the letter, and smiled as a check fell out in her hand. "Oh, how wonderful of him! I have instructions to spend it ONLY on robes and makeup and other girlish things, not on the dreary necessities of life."
"I thought robes and makeup WERE dreary necessities of female living," Harry said, deadpan, and ducked the blow she mimed at his head.
"He thanks everyone again for the hospitality, and says he can still taste your carrot cake, Molly," she continued, shooting a look at her friend's mother, who was frowning at a recipe at the other corner of the table. At that, Molly smiled.
"He was a delightful guest, dear heart. Now I know where you get your sense of humor."
"And...Oh." She stopped, and said, "Well, somehow I saw it coming."
"What?" said Ron, pointing his wand at a particularly stubborn spot on the pan with a muttered incantation. "They getting a divorce?" Everyone in the room ducked as the spell bounced off the pan and hit the ceiling, where it removed the years-old stain left by a game of Exploding Snap.
"Try leaving it to soak five minutes while the plates wash, Ron. Muggle tricks do occasionally work," she said. "Yeah, I guess him going off here without her was the final straw."
"She WAS invited," Molly said. "We all know that."
"Yes, well, considering how she is about magic, and everything else....did you really think she'd come?"
"Well, no," Molly said. "I presume she felt her no extended to both of them. I wonder what's wrong with her."
"I don't know," Hermione said with a sigh. "She's my mother, I see her face in my mirror...but she's awfully hard to love."
Molly stood up and gave her a hug. "Just so you understand her issues are hers, and not yours, dear."
"I know," Hermione said, leaning happily into the hug. "What's Ginny doing?" "Probably doing her usual dithering over what to include," said Ron, leaving the dishes to finish themselves and coming over to steal the latest issue of "Quidditch Today" out from Harry's pile. He was reading a letter from his godfather and reacted a second too late.
"Hey, that's MINE, Ron!"
"You weren't reading it!" Ron shouted over his shoulder as he escaped into the front room with his prize.
Harry muttered something about revenge and went back to reading his letter. "Are you all packed, Ron?" his mother called.
"All but what I've got on, my pajamas, and my robes for tomorrow," he called.
"You might want to grab the bath before the girls decide they want it," his mom said. "We'll be off early, and you don't get up well." Ron's preference to sleep until the absolute last minute, whether before departing or morning Potions class, was well known to all of them, and he took the suggestion, heading upstairs, the stolen magazine still open as he read.
Harry watched, waited for the gurgle of water to come from upstairs, and then hastened upstairs, coming down again with the magazine and a look of triumph. "It's MY subscription, damn it, " he said, and opened it with an air of satisfaction as Ginny came downstairs.
"Everything packed, dear? her mother asked, and Ginny nodded.
"I'll probably think of something once I get on the train, of course."
"I"ll owl you anything you think of, dear, you know that."
"Yeah, but...I suppose it's just nerves," she said, stealing Hermione's coffee.
"Get your own, Gin!" Hermione said, stealing it back with a laugh. "Really!"
Ginny laughed, and looked down. "Letter from your father? May I?"
"Yeah...they're splitting."
"Oh, honey," Ginny immediately said. "Are you..."
Hermione nodded. "After what happened this summer, I'm not who I was. Dad and I are still working out how to relate to each other, adult to adult, and...well, I know you write my Mom once a month or so to let her know what's going on, but otherwise I don't talk to her, and Dad had been saying that she's changed for the worse since he had the bypass done."
Ginny was scanning the letter. "I don't know how she can say she loves him and treat him like this," she said.
"Not everyone knows how to love, Ginny," her mother said. "You did say she had issues, and if they're deep enough they can poison and twist you for a lifetime."
Hermione nodded. "I'm better now...you all know that...but I still sometimes have to work to not hear my mother in the back of my head, telling me that hugging is for babies, to grow up and act like a lady, all that stuff."
"Out of curiosity, Hermione, when did that start?" Molly asked.
"I was around...oh, nine or ten, I think, " Hermione said. "Why?"
"I just wondered what her issue could be," Molly said.
"What I know is that she got really protective of me in a hands-off way," Hermione said. "She changed her hours at the office so that she was always home with me when I was, and she took me with her when she went anywhere rather than leave me home...not that she went anywhere, much. And she started having bad insomnia about then. I mean, I'd wake up and she'd be looking in my room, and if I got up to visit the loo in the night she'd be up and ask me if everything was okay. Strange."
"But it sounds like he's feeling good," Ginny said, looking up from the letter. "Said he sent you a present....Hey!" Ginny said, giggling. "You're going to have fun the first Hogsmeade weekend!"
"No, WE'RE going to have fun. Did you see the dress robes in the latest issue of Witches Weekly?"
"No...."
"Come on, there's one I think would seriously suit you...."
The two girls went upstairs, and Harry looked up from his magazine.
"Trying to figure out Hermione's mum?" he asked. Molly was frowning off into space. She jumped and smiled ruefully at his question.
"My besetting sin, I'm afraid," she said. "I always did want to be a mediwitch, but, well, the kids came too quickly."
"You'd be a good one, " Harry said sincerely. He was impressed by his friend's mother, both her cheerful organization of anyone in sight and her impressive insight. "It's not impossible...we're almost all out of the house, so you could go back to school."
"I've considered it, I'll admit," she said, as a roar came from upstairs.
"HARRY! Damn it, Harry, I was halfway through that article on chasing!"
Molly and Harry's eyes met, fell to the magazine he had been reading, and they both giggled.
"Work it out, you two," she said. "I'm going for a walk in the garden."
The noises of the house receded as Molly took herself outside and looked at the twilight shades of her garden. Her roses were the best they'd been in years; of course, this was at least as much due to the fact that there were no small children about to trample them as to any improved care system. A burst of giggles drifted from an upstairs window, and some raised voices indicated that the difference of opinion over the magazine were continuing. She was going to miss them, she reflected. The last summer was over. Even if they came home next summer, it would be a mere waystop on the way to their own place, their own lives. Ginny still had a year to go, of course, but she knew that if their relationship this summer was any indication, Ginny would spend a good part of next summer in Hermione's apartment. And, of course, there was the war.
Arthur hadn't said anything he shouldn't. But he was looking tireder and older, and working longer hours. The caliber of enchantments that he was running into had changed; fewer harmless jokes like the coffeepots that dispensed beer, and more actively dangerous things. He was having to work more closely with the wizards on the front lines, and Arthur had never been one for open conflict, if he could help it.
Percy had been promoted, but he didn't seem interested in discussing much of anything with anyone except his father. And those conversations broke off when anyone came in the room. He kept conversation with his mother and siblings firmly on the state of their favorite Quidditch pro teams and, recently, the happy distraction of Penelope's turning out pregnant. Molly smiled. Grandchildren were a happy thought.
Bill and Charlie were a constant worry, though. If she thought too much about the Chinese Fireballs and Norwegian Ridgebacks Charlie handled, she'd be a nervous wreck. But then again, he'd been blessed from birth with an ability to come up smiling and whole from truly spectacular mishaps. And Bill....well, he was someone she didn't worry about too much, but he was alone, and she knew he wouldn't be truly happy until he found himself a guy to love. Then again, taking care of him when he'd managed to get in the way of a truly spectacular booby-trap about a month back had reawakened all her maternal protective instincts toward him, and her initial distrust and dislike of his job. He'd scoffed, pointing out that he'd done this for years and this was the first injury he'd had to take time off for, but it hadn't helped.
And then there were the twins. Despite herself, Molly smiled. The joke shop was certainly prospering. The twisted genius that had made them a byword at Hogwarts was bearing fruit in all manner of joke items that were becoming a small fad in the wizarding world. Molly was personally just glad it was out of their bedroom in HER house. Amazing the house was still standing, she thought to herself. But they were good boys. Scarcely a week went by that one or the other didn't Floo over for a visit, sometimes staying for dinner.
Molly sighed, and looked out at the sunset, and enjoyed the peace, until someone called, "Mum! Dad's home!" and she returned to the comfortable chaos of The Night Before Going Off To School with a fairly happy heart.