Disclaimer: I don't own anything you probably recognize in this story. However, the plot is copyrighted © to me, jaeEun. You plagiarise, you die.
'Until then…until then…until then…'
These last words echoed around Hermione, reminding her of a promise, as she came to awareness of her surroundings. The last thing, the last sensation, which remained of the memory-movie was that of mingled anticipation, joy, wariness, sadness and of a long waiting nearing its end. She had no idea what this could mean – had she been adopted? That woman – Saphe – looked too much like me to be coincidence, even though her hair was much, much nicer. And besides. Hermione isn't that common a name. Was I that baby? Why…for what reason…did Dumbledore take me away from my parents? And he said something like 'seem to be doing this a lot lately'?? She narrowed her eyes. Harry? Taking babies away from parents…I can only think of Harry…especially that year, when Harry and I were both born…She considered the porridge she had been eating, decided it was too puffy and watery to eat, and, after stabbing it with her spoon to see whether the liquid would ooze out of it, she dumped it in the sink. She'd been appreciating how good the Hogwarts food really was more and more these past weeks.
Sighing, with a day of nothing planned to look forward to, she settled in her chair near the open-ended fire [she'd gotten connected to the Floo Network a couple of years ago], and started to finish reading Hogwarts: A Detailed History.
"Derig, do I look presentable?"
"As presentable as always. You look like the reincarnation of Rowena Ravenclaw. Beautiful, sharp, intelligent…Nothing to worry about."
"I look like Rowena because I'm her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter. Hermione's her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great granddaughter. I wonder what she looks like… We haven't been allowed any contact at all, even though I did send her some form of warning this morning…"
"Always prepared," Derig laughed, apprehension ringing in his voice, even though he hid it well. The only reason Saphe heard it was she'd been his wife for too long for him to hide anything from her. The fact that she was unnaturally inclined towards perceptiveness helped her, as well.
"Well then. Let's go, shall we?"
Derig did not answer; instead, he inclined his head in a mock-servitude way, indicating that they should head towards the fireplace.
"Hermione de – Granger, 23 Safonia Lane, [suburb in England], England!" Derig spoke clearly into the fire. As expected, it turned a sparkling green colour, and Saphe and Derig de Vuis stepped into the fire – one more fireplace towards their soon-to-be-reclaimed child.
Hermione lifted her eyes from Hogwarts: A Detailed History and looked out the window. It was summer, so therefore the sun was shining brightly, determined to give summer its all before inevitably losing to the calls of winter. She would have gone out, but she was feeling too lazy today – and it was quite, exceptionally hot. There must be days for even the hardest worker to rest, to slack off. Today was one of those days for Hermione. She would sit…and read…and lounge…and eat…and read… those thoughts were so lazy, and surrounded her in a cool haze which gave her brain time to cool off and relax, that in normal circumstances she would have slept, but as this was too hot a day…
Something – someone – two someones…had just appeared from the fireplace. No – 'appeared' wasn't the exact word for it. They had the simple certainty which said they knew they were making an entrance – the air of one who had been born this way.
The woman – she had a midnight-blue mantle on, with her hood drawn so that it covered her head, so Hermione couldn't see, and therefore recognise, her face, but the man who'd stepped out just behind her was tall, and carried himself in a self-assured way. Not cocky, but just self-assured. He was still noticeably handsome, but Hermione was able to see that he would have been much more handsome in his younger years – someone that would turn heads anywhere they went. Once he was fully out of the fireplace, he glanced around, seemingly superficial curiosity, but his eyes shone, taking in details. On noticing Hermione, he grinned, and winked.
Also surveying the room, the woman removed her hood from her face. Her dark blue eyes rested on Hermione, strong, loving. Her hair was the same dark, dark blue as the woman in her dream's had been –
Hermione's eyes widened slightly, as she considered this small detail. Yes – her eyes were the same – large, with slightly tilted-up corners that made her look more like a cat than an Asian. Creamy white skin, a contrast to the transparent white of some, and also contrasting with the light tan of Hermione's. She was of medium height, and slender, so she looked taller than she really was. Long, but slightly thin, dark lashes framed her eyes, and the finely defined eyebrows completed the picture. Her nose was pointed upward, so that she seemed to have a snobby air. Pale, full lips and high cheekbones only added to her beauty. This woman. What do I feel? She's sad…a lingering sadness…which has only recently begun to fade…
"Hermione – er – Granger, I believe?"
Hermione simply lifted her eyes to meet the man's clear gaze. Why did he falter when he said my surname?
"If you know my name, why don't I know yours? I don't think we've been introduced…?" the last was said with a hint of a question.
"Oh...that's easy… Derig de Vuis, Miss Hermione." Hermione inclined her head. The woman saw this, and noted that indeed, the de Vuis and the Ravenclaw blood did run in her. That slight inclination of the head – it had been exactly the same as her own would have been.
"Saphe de Vuis ni Ravenclaw, Hermione," a soft smile accompanied this introduction.
"You are…a descendant…of Rowena Ravenclaw?"
Saphe smiled. Darn her…why is it that the beauty of the world is not evenly distributed? "Yes," her smile got wider, more childish, as a dimple appeared in her right cheek. "And so are you."
Hermione blinked. "Pardon? I – Pardon?" All that Hermione seemed capable of doing now was to rapidly blink her eyes.
Saphe raised her eyes to Hermione's. "Hermione de Vuis…it's been so long."
Hermione de Vuis…why is that name so familiar…?
They're remainders of a past, long forgotten, only to be remembered again.
Yes…I was a baby. My birth…was long, and tiring. I think…I almost died? Did Mum?
Did you – did she? Sift through these memories…
No…no, she didn't…and I obviously didn't…
A fireplace…a hearth…so warm.
You were…both…so happy…Father…Mum…
I could feel it, day after day…
But…tears…always threatening to spill…
Poised…brimming…
A dam…
You…were crying…
Someone…took me…
Did you let it happen? What was I to you?
You…were my child. You are my child.
The ribbon which joined us…
While weaving itself…
A soft, pastel…pink…soon to become bright red…
Fading…as the distance grew greater…
Faded…
That ribbon…it was on the verge of bright red…
It frayed…and faded…
Dull…
Faded…
Pulled, and stretched…
Unrecognisable…
Forgotten…
Snap!
The ribbon…floated away…
Then…that dream?
It wasn't a coincidence.
Coincidence…coincidence…coincidence…
A woman…her hair the exact same shade as yours…her eyes…the same emotion…suppressed now…
A man…his hair identical to mine…but, even messy…it's classy…his posture…the same…
The missing pieces of the puzzle – have just slotted into their places.
Saphe smiled again; Hermione had never met a person whose feelings could be expressed in so many smiles. Her eyes overflowed with emotion.
Hermione must have had a question in her eyes, or perhaps Saphe just wanted to confirm it – for herself, as well as Hermione.
"Yes…What you are thinking now…You will find that it is true."
"Then…but that means…"
"That…we are your birth parents," Derig finished.