Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the HarryPotter universe: please don't sue me for my trifle of a fan fiction :)

author's note at the end...

Chapter 10: His Father's Son

The next day at the bookstore, Hermione had the horrifying sensation that everything was going to become infinitely worse. The books seemed in order, the shipments on time, and the customers buying in droves, yet she couldn't' shake the feeling that something terrible was going to change. Before leaving for her normal lunch break, she talked with Sallie about the next day's schedule, as Hermione would have to be gone most of the day with the funeral and whatnot.

"Bring us some bread, would ya?" Ron called out to her as she walked closer the door.

"You can buy your own bloody bread, Ronald Weasley." Hermione called back with a sneer and a laugh.

"That's our Hermione, full of holiday cheer."

"Be back in a bit." Hermione waved and set out into the cold. Her intentions were to stop at the store, get some groceries (including bread) and then head back to the bookstore. This was her plan indeed, but then the bakery was having fresh cinnamon buns and she couldn't resist the sticky sweetness. She stayed in a chair at a lonely table for an hour and a half eating her buns and drinking hot chocolate. Such supreme beauty couldn't exist anywhere else then on a winter's day with hot chocolate and a nice, intelligent book.

"Would you like some more, Miss?" The waitress asked leaning down into Hermione's face to catch her attention.

"No thank you, I fear I've been gone long enough." Hermione said, smiling to the kind waitress and standing, though rather haphazardly. Her stomach knocked the table a bit and spilled the remainder of her cocoa.

"Sorry about that, I keep forgetting I have this belly." The waitress giggled a bit and watched Hermione leave the bakery. With her plan in mind, Hermione headed to the store and finished her shopping in time to make sure the bookstore was closing.

"I'm sorry I was out so long, they had fresh buns at the bakery." Hermione offered as she entered the bookstore and sat at her desk.

"You've not been out that long, Hermione. Besides, we can handle it all." Ron said, wondering if she'd managed to buy any bread.

"I've bought bread, Ron."

"You read my mind every time."

"I'll be leaving around twelve tomorrow for the funeral. We have shipments in the morning, but after that, please take a day off." Hermione said returning to the main room, eyeing Ron and Sallie who seemed up to some mischief.

"Have I something on my dress?" Hermione asked, looking down at her dress. They both seemed to be staring oddly at her.

"We've not seen you look so lovely and happy in a long time." Sallie said joyously, standing to hug Hermione tightly around the shoulders.

"Are you joking? I have gained another fifteen pounds and if you can believe it my hair is frizzier."

"But you look adorable." Ron joked, fainting the same hug as Sallie.

"We know that you've lost your Mum and that this holiday was difficult without Wallace, but since his death and your arrival here, you haven't seemed happy at all. Not that it wasn't explainable or understandable, I guess I just haven't seen you like this before." Sallie patted Hermione's hand and smiled towards her again, this time it was more than genuine. Sallie's smile was like a sister to another on her wedding day.

"That's very kind, Sallie, I guess it's the weather. I love winter." Hermione pulled her scarf around her neck again and thought about the long trek home. Her feet ached tremendously, but she knew the exercise was good for her baby, though she didn't relish it as she had in the beginning. Her dancing had become less emotionally fulfilling and more emotionally draining than she had ever imagined.

"Let me walk with you home, Hermione." Sallie said, grabbing her own scarf and gloves and kissing Ron neatly on his rose-red lips. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy she hadn't ever felt before, both of her best friends were in relationships; yes Harry was experiencing difficulty, but he still had love, he still had Susan.

"Thank you, Sallie." They walked in relative silence at first; Hermione couldn't form any words that didn't seem too intrusive, too invasive.

"Uncle Severus doesn't want you to go to London alone. He asked me to accompany you tomorrow, but I don't think it would be any wiser than you going alone."

"Why is he concerned?" Hermione asked, wondering if he perhaps knew something she was unaware of that minute.

"Pregnant women are most susceptible to theft and attacks. I believe he is concerned for your safety. Not that he said that in so many words, but I know that's what he meant."

"I will be just fine on my own." Hermione replied with a tone in her voice that begged Sallie not to pursue the subject further. With the weight of her mother's death on her shoulders and also a new year without her husband, Hermione stopped in the virginal snow, pallid, untouched. She knelt down slowly, awkwardly and touched it, wondering what it felt like to touch the gloriousness of purity. It felt bitter in the arches of her fingers, bitter and indifferent to her touch.

"Ron is concerned too, Hermione. We don't want anything to happen in your condition." Sallie offered, helping Hermione stand again.

"Ah, I see now. It's the Order then, the Order wants me to be protected."

"Not necessarily." Sallie lied, running her spider-like fingers through her growing brown hair. Her hair wasn't nearly as dark as Severus's or Michaels. It was almost honeyed in its appearance, but for the most part it seemed a russet of sorts.

"Who is to accompany me then, if you aren't going to?" Again, Sallie's fingers ran through her hair, Hermione deduced that it was some form of anxiety. Hermione felt anxious too, standing knee deep in fresh snow with a friend who was trying to explain her safety.

"Uncle wanted to, but he is speaking a symposium at Oxford and cannot break his appointment. Ron and I are planning on taking care of things here for you, so we cannot go." Sallie's face seemed worried, more worried then Hermione had seen before, not that she had ever truly seen Sallie worried.

"Is it Harry then?" Hermione asked, looking towards the north paddock where Henry and Atticus were flying on their brooms. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of debilitating stress her almost thirteen-year-old son was experiencing. As an adult, the pain of losing a loved one was great, but to someone who didn't understand death so much, it was devastating.

"No, Harry is not a wise choice either."

"Who, then, so I don't keep guessing?"

"That's it, they don't know yet. I was told to inform you to be aware that someone will be escorting you to London and they will arrive promptly at ten o'clock."

"Thank you for telling me, not that I am all that pleased about the situation. Why do I need protection, bloody Voldemort is dead, gone, deceased. Why does someone need to accompany me to London to see my dead Mum? She's dead too, she can't hurt anyone anymore. Why can't the Order actually help people who need them instead of bludgering people who have little sanity enough to deal with them? These people are supposed to know me, they are my superiors, I know them, they should know that there is no threat on my life anymore." Hermione sat abruptly in the snow, her bottom sinking in the icy mass. She had no care of it, though.

"I am sorry this bothers you, Hermione."

"I'm just confused and irritated, Sallie and I shouldn't be taking this out on you. You are only their scapegoat. It's just relentless, these feelings I have whenever I have them. This morning I cried over a spot on my shoes and then over the post. I cried because the post was ten minutes late." Hermione balled the snow in her fist and made a small ball. It reminded her instantly of her snowball fight with Henry, how he had seemed so mischievous and conniving.

"I had those feelings too. Sometimes, I would start crying at things people would say that were lovely or worse cross. One morning, I remember clear as day, Uncle Severus told me my hair was lovely. I couldn't believe he thought my hair was lovely, or that he was really capable of true feelings like those. I mean he's never been married that I am aware of, so I couldn't believe he meant what he said. I cried for a good hour, afraid he was trying to make me not cry. I was so confused, you know, so sensitive to everything." Hermione's eyes met Sallie's in immediate understanding. Again Hermione realized how distinctly similar their situations were.

"Thank you, Sallie, sometimes nothing helps but a good talk." Hermione stood laboriously and looked at her house, covered in the unspoiled snow.

"Did you say he'd never been married?" Hermione asked, just then catching the phrase in her recollection of Sallie's words.

"Not ever. I thought when I was very small that he would marry and become loving like my Dad was. But Uncle Severus never married; he remained unloving and cruel until we were forced upon him. I believe Harrison had a lot to do with his change. It's not noticeable to everyone, but I notice little things in him that are different." Sallie stopped brusquely and faced Hermione. It was as though she wanted terribly to ask Hermione a question, but Hermione had no idea what it could be. So, they stared at each other for a brief moment and continued to Hermione's doorstep. Hermione craved the answer to the person Eleanor. If she wasn't Severus's wife, who could she have been?

"Hermione, please let someone go with you tomorrow. I know you don't think you need the assistance, but I do and so do many others. We care for you, whether you chose to believe us." Sallie smirked a trademark Snape smirk and turned to go up the beaten pathway to Snape Manor.

"Wait, Sallie, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Who is Madame Eleanor?" Hermione asked, trying to gauge Sallie's reaction.

"Madame Eleanor? I have no idea, why do you ask?"

"She's in a painting with Severus. I was just wondering. I saw it on Christmas Eve, down the corridor to the bathroom and I have been meaning to ask you about it, but keep forgetting all the same." Sallie's face seemed pensive, as if she was trying desperately to conjure the thought of the woman.

"I'll try to locate the painting tonight."

"Thank you." Hermione turned the knob of the door and the image of the woman came into her mind again. She was thin, not too short as her head was at least equal with Severus's collarbone. Her skin had seemed like porcelain, white and untouched, like the snow.

"Austen! Austen, dinner time." Hermione called out to the kneazle probably up to no good in the cellar again. That night, she, Henry, and Ron ate in silence. Ron was worried about Hermione, her strength and patience was growing thin. He wondered how many more months she could handle the stress of both her family and the bookstore. Henry was toying with the idea of asking his Mum more information about her time at Hogwarts as sometimes he felt as though he really didn't know much about her from before her marriage to his Dad.

"Let's get some sleep tonight, boys, tomorrow is going to be a long day." Hermione cast scourgify on the dishes and headed for her rooms.

"In the morning, all fresh and new, I will 'waken, from dreams of you." She heard the memory of Wallace's voice in her head. He'd whispered the mantra every night before bed, every night except the one prior to his death. Facing the dawn, Hermione closed her eyes and prayed to whosoever could grant her guidance and vigour to survive the dusk.

WWWWWWWWWW

The next morning, at exactly ten o'clock, a knock came to the household of Stuart. Hermione walked passively to the door, acutely aware that the person probably wanted free of the assignment as much as she did.

"Remus!" Hermione yelled in perfect surprise.

"I thought it would ease you to know that I could be here, instead of a stranger." Remus stepped forward and hugged the young woman, the once student of his who had changed so much in the nine years since her third year.

"Thank you, for coming I mean." Hermione beckoned Henry into the foyer and they left for London.

"We are taking a muggle car for protection." Remus divulged, patting Hermione's hand softly.

"How is Tonks?" Hermione enquired, peering at him through the blacked veil falling from her hat.

"Difficult as ever. Can't seem to tame her, I guess."

"She is lucky to have you, dear, really."

"Now who's trying to get on someone's good side? I still have to accompany you, Hermione Granger Stuart, whether you agree to the matter or not." Hermione scoffed and turned to the window. Sometimes she hated riding on the left side. All the good scenery seemed to be on the right.

"I am not trying to inflate your ego, I am merely stating that being in a relationship with love and a devoted spouse is more agreeable than being in a relationship with a wall, or pillow or lamp." Hermione retorted, her hands resting on her face covering the puffiness of her eyes. She hadn't slept well in three nights. It seemed the moment she laid down to sleep, her mind would fill with questions and ideas. She would feel the baby inside her kick and then feel exceedingly guilty. She wanted so much to enjoy every minute of her infants growth and yet she couldn't quite give all of herself to the idea.

"Is this it?" Remus asked, looking towards a large brownstone surrounded by a glorious garden.

"This is it." Hermione said. She was home, or at least where she had spent the first eleven years of her life. She stepped out of the car and walked in the direction of the rear door.

"I'll just be a minute." Hermione walked into the home and instinctively walked the two flights of stairs to her room. She had stored many important things in the room in her lifetime, but none more important to her then her wedding album of both wizard and muggle photographs and Wallace's research papers, which she'd brought to London before moving into the house on Sedna Station.

"I've gathered my things." Hermione said politely opening her door and taking her seat. They drove off towards the funeral parlour and spent the remainder of the day with distant family and friends.

That evening, when everything was finished, they returned home to Hogsmeade Hermione moved all of her belongings from her Mum's home into the cellar and magically warded the area. She didn't want anyone, especially Henry discovering all of Wallace's findings.

"Thank you for coming today, even if you were sent to accompany me." Hermione said, pecking Remus on the cheek and opening the door for him. He smiled sweetly in her direction and apparated away.

"Henry, we'll eat out tonight." Hermione called out to Henry from the bottom of the stairs.

"Be right down, Mum." They headed through the snow with warmed boots to Magnus's Tavern, a newer restaurant where they had eaten a couple times. Hermione felt no desire to cook or be bothered to clean dishes and knew Henry was ready for some assorted meals.

"Would you like some cider with your dinner, Miss?" The young waitress asked Hermione looking over the top of her notepad. Hermione noticed she seemed rather exhausted, so she made her order simple, she wanted a filet of steak and didn't care either way what came with it.

"I liked the flowers cousin Bart sent for Grandmum, they were quite pretty." Henry said, slowly chewing on a crust of bread,

"Yes, they were all quite lovely." Hermione fiddled with her silverware and smiled with regard to the flowers, she had quite enjoyed the flowers.

"Did you and Grandmum not get along very well?" He asked, lowering his voice.

"Sometimes we did not get along very well, but then other times I couldn't imagine life without her. I think that's how Mum's and daughters are, sweetheart. It's not like sons, Mums and sons always grow together. Mum's and daughter's grow apart until the daughter has a daughter of her own."

"I will miss her."

"I will too." Hermione's heart ached for the boy in front of her. He was so innocent and unaffected by the horribleness of the world. He didn't know of the disasters of War, like she did. Minutes later, their order came and they ate in silence, but Hermione had a feeling that Henry had many more questions to ask. As they left the tavern, Hermione warmed their boots once more and held tightly to the boy who seemed to be growing larger by the day.

"Do you still love Dad?" Henry asked, not able to face his Mum.

"Of course I still love Dad."

"It's just that sometimes, I feel like loving Dad is keeping you alone."

"What?" Hermione slowed her pace, wondering what her son could possibly mean by his words.

"When will you meet someone new? If you still love Dad, how will you love someone else? Don't you want to love someone else?" The stars glowed bright that night as they walked back home some two kilometres from their evening meal. Hermione's hands felt frozen against the supple fabric of her jacket.

"I don't know the answer to those questions, Henry. I love Dad, I miss Dad, and I am not ready to try to replace him with some substitute. And I know that if I find someone that I truly care for, he will understand that I have enough room in my heart to love both he and your Dad. He isn't worthy of my love if he doesn't" Hermione squeezed the edge of Henry's shoulder and the walked through the door to their house.

"I want you to feel happy like you did with Dad."

"I will someday. I have you and this little one to worry about, and that's enough for anyone."

"I miss Dad too, Mum, but I don't want you to be upset. I know everyone has their own way to deal with death and I know it must be harder when you really love someone like Dad." He smiled a smile that reminded Hermione so much of Wallace that her heart leapt.

"You've thought this out then?"

"I know from feelings I get. Like how much I worry about Michael on the pitch against Gryffindor. He's my best mate and I know I would be upset if he were hurt or worse dead. I know that the feeling must be different when you've spent a life with someone. Like real honest love." The smell of the hot cocoa filled the room as Hermione admired her son, his honesty and tenacity to tackle such a subject with his own Mum. She poured a cup of tea for him and sat on the couch in the den.

"You have surprised me today. I never thought you understood relationships like mine and your Dad's so well. I worried you would be confused by it all." Hermione said, her eyes meeting his grey ones in understanding.

"I know that I miss Dad and I know that he's not coming back. I guess that's why I have been able to move on a little. He'll be my Dad forever and I know I will always miss him, but I know that I have to let go or I'll never live like I need to. He wouldn't want us to suffer." He leaned into his Mum's arms and they held each other, crying a little and suffering for one more instant. Hermione wiped his eyes with the sleeve of her robes and then her own.

"I will take you to Hogwarts tomorrow, in the morning." Hermione kissed his cheek before blowing out the candles around the den.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked as he floated through the doors from the kitchen.

"Better. Henry and I had a productive talk."
"That is good." Ron came to her side and sipped from her cocoa.

"Sallie sends her best wishes. She wanted to come by but didn't want to disturb your mourning." Ron's removed his boots and sweater with the flick of his wrist and settled on the couch beside her.

"I am going to ask her for tea tomorrow."

"Well, I am exhausted, let me know when you're taking Henry to school, I'll go too. Bill wants to see me about Mum's birthday anyway."

"Goodnight, Ron." She smiled to him as he seated himself back in the chair and floated up the stairs to his room.

"Goodnight, Hermione." She nodded and went to the sink to place her cup and saucer in the cupboard after a quick cleaning spell. In the night, she did most of her thinking. Tonight, her thoughts were plagued by her son's words. He wanted her to love someone else. He wanted her to be happy.

Before turning in to bed, Hermione checked Henry's room and found him sound asleep. She stared at him for a good five minutes before closing the door. The ashen moon illuminated his face.

"In due time, Henry, in due time." She closed the door and vowed to open her eyes to the world again. It had been nearly seven months since Wallace's' death and she knew she had to move on and become a fully functioning human again. She laid flatly in the middle of her large bed and sighed a heavy sigh before turning on her side. She could barely see Snape Manor from her window, but wondered briefly if anyone begging sleep could see her home. While she didn't get her answer, the supreme idea that she'd even though it gave her hope for the next day.

Author's note:

mysticdarkraven:thanks!!

armor:we'll see about that dream...

anarane anwamane:thanks

makalani astral: i guess my own relationship with my Mum makes me write Hermione's Mum that way. Presumably, that's what i know. Eleanor's identity will be revealed soon.

amsev: Thanks for your review. I have been worried about Severus's character staying in character because he has had to raise these children. I want him to be himself while still being able to care for his family...so thanks for that review, it made me worry a little less

tweetyiscool: thanks for the review...I am glad you like the story. I enjoy writing it.