A/N: I AM SO INCREDIBLEY SORRY! To everyone who has been waiting for this chapter, and for those who stumbled across my stupid mistake at the beginning of this week and read my planning. You know what happens at the end now, don't you! I'm so sorry. I really can't believe I did that. I was so excited to post that I posted the wrong document.

Thanks so much to the reviewers who were brave enough to tell me what I'd done. Thankyou to everyone who seemed so scared for my sanity. Thankyou, also, to those people who still said they enjoyed the chapter, though that makes me slightly scared for YOUR sanity. Kidding, by the way.

Now, if you did read this at the beginning of the week, then you could just skip to the last thousand words or so, which is the real ending, thanks for clicking on the link again and reading this!

I would love to hear what you think of the chapter, and the real ending!

And remember, always feel free to pm me, alright? I love talking to strangers!

Luv u all, sorry!

Ella xXx

Hermione smiled as she entered the three broomsticks pub, in the village of Hogsmeade. It was all up to him now. He could come, or he could stay away forever. Nothing she could say would be able to change either decision. If it were the first then she wouldn't have wanted to change it. If it was the second…

The door swung open. Hermione's heart pounded dangerously. She could have sworn that the lady in the corner of the pub, with the long grey plait hanging down her back was staring at her in that scared way because she could hear her heart beating. Then again, maybe the years hadn't changed her all that much. Maybe she could remember the brainy little girl who used to run around these parts with two boys in tow, causing all sorts of strife and getting them out of trouble. Maybe the starers even remembered her as Harry Potter's friend, the one who helped save the wizarding world.

And maybe; Hermione knew, deep down, that this version of the truth was the most realistic; maybe she was just imagining that the bystanders' eyes fluttered her way more than was normal. In any case, when that door opened, she couldn't help but jump.

A tall man, wearing a thick over coat, who Hermione had never even seen in her life entered the pub, and rose a finger to Rosmerta behind the bar, as she poured him a drink, before he had even taken a seat. Ron still wasn't there.

The clock on the wall ticked over to one o'clock, and Hermione sank lower in her seat, and slumped her head forward, so that it was rested on the warm, polished tables. Although it wasn't more than five seconds past the hour, and Ron Weasley had never been known to be punctual, at the sight of the clock ticking past their meeting time caused Hermione's stomach to drop lower than the polished floor boards that covered the room.

Hermione's thoughts began to wander. She had a tendency to over analyse things, and this was no exception. An internal battle between her common sense and her wishful thinking was taking place inside her brain, and the confusion that it welled up inside her was not at all pleasant.

He could have been held up.

On a meeting to find out about his own daughter? He's not coming.

He might not understand the full story.

Harry had said that he understood enough…

But Harry might have gotten the time wrong. Or the day…or maybe the month

Harry's not that stupid. He knew how much this meant.

He could have gone back to Katie.

Without telling me?

Why would he tell me?

He loves you?

He doesn't

Perhaps-

He's not coming.

Hermione stood from her seat so fast that her knees banged on the table that she sat at, and she fell to the ground, in pain. The woman who she had been sure was watching her caught sight of this, and rushed over.

Hermione at up, brushing herself off, kneeling on the ground, tears of pain shining unshed in her eyes. The lady helped her up, and went back to her seat. Hermione stayed kneeling, for just a moment, her eyes level with the side of the table.

As you get with any place that is frequently visited by hormonally charged high school students, the edges of these tables were not completely devoid of romantic (and sometimes crude) etchings and carvings, made by bored lovers and whimsical wishers. One whimsical wisher, Hermione noticed with a shallow sob, had taken the time to carve a rough, and rather boyish heart into the side of the table, with the initials HG inside it. Hermione would know that handwriting anywhere. She got up and ran from the pub. He wasn't coming. Why would he?

Why would you? Ron asked himself, as he got his cloak on to head off to Hogsmeade.

Why wouldn't you? A tiny voice in his head answered back.

You have a daughter.

She doesn't know…

You love her mother…

She left me. She didn't tell me.

She was eighteen.

That's no excuse

She regrets it now.

She shouldn't have done it.

You could always forgive?

Why? So that she can run away from her problems again?

She would never do that again. You know it.

Ron argued with himself over whether or not to go for quite some time. The voices inside his head got louder and louder until he couldn't take them anymore. He clapped his hands over his ears and screamed loudly, though this didn't help at all. The voices could talk as loud as they liked.

He stood there, in the middle of his living room, for what seemed like an hour, taking his cloak on and off, pacing, throwing things, hitting his head against the wall, and finally, after a long time and tedious amounts of self torture, sitting himself down with his back against the bottom of the couch, and staring at the watch that was slung around his wrist.

A hour after he was meant to have met her. Was he thinking too much of himself to expect her to have waited around. Harry had told him; he didn't have to turn up if he didn't want to. He could always stay right where he was, and Hermione wouldn't know anything different.

At the time, Ron had been sitting, opened mouthed, in the Potter's living room

His mouth hanging slightly open, a mug of mulled mead clasped between his hands, at one in the morning, as he listened to as much information as he could bare about Hermione and Jessie, trying to store the tiniest details that he could in pockets in his mind, so that he felt like he knew Jessie the tiniest bit more. He could tell some things already; just from the short conversation he had shared with her in the hospital wing. He had replayed that conversation over and over again in his head what must have been a thousand times since it had occurred, and he still didn't feel any closer to Jessie, no matter how much he tried to. She was still an almost stranger with hair simular to his. Except for the fact that she was his daughter. And he might not ever meet her. In fact, he wouldn't meet her, if he didn't go now, and patch things over with Hermione.

When it all came down to it, the last two weeks imagining what Jessie Granger might be like had been pure torture for Ron, and if he didn't put his anger aside, and forgive Hermione for an eleven-year-old mistake then the rest of his life would be spent with that horrible wondering. Ron pulled his cloak back over his shoulders, and appearated to Hogsmeade.

The air in the village was so cold and crisp that it could be seen willowing around people as they walked about, rugged up in preparation of the coming season. The cold grasped onto their breath, and formed clouds in front of them, making the overcast pearly white sky a forecast for the approaching weather.

Ron pulled his cloak even tighter around himself, and grasped it together at the neck, pinching it to keep in the warm air. He was aware of everything that he was feeling; his feet, I his boots, hitting the pavement in an almost meditative beat, with a heavy and practically excited purpose. His eyes, as they darted across to the direction of the castle, whose turrets could just be seen to peek over the village, watching from a great distance over the top of hills and trees. He was aware of his hand, which was curled into a fist over his wand, and his grip was nervously tight. He could feel the beat of his heart, in time with his feet, echoing through the hollowness that filled his body, the hollowness that came with the horrible wondering.

Ron through back the door to the Three Broomsticks, hoping that he wasn't too late, and that Hermione would still be there, waiting for him to come, and tell her that everything would be all right.

The pub was full of strangers. Real strangers, and not old friends pretending to be strangers. Ron's beating heart sank, and his grip loosened on his wand, as he let it slacken in his hand. Some people in the crowded bar turned to look at him as he entered, but most didn't notice.

Ron sighed, and made his way over to the empty table that he, Hermione and Harry used to rush for, and claim as there own, when they visited the pub. They had spent many a cold afternoon holed up in here, watching Ron act smitten with Rosmerta and Hermione scold.

He slumped down in a chair, which had a clear view of the bar, and felt at home again, like he was fifteen years old, sipping an innocent butterbeer, though their lives had been far from innocent. Leaning back, Ron caught sight of a tiny etching, carved into the side of the table. He would know that handwriting anywhere.

It was his own.

True, it had more bumps and slopes that it did now days; the love heart drawn around the clumsily formed letters was one that he could vividly recall etching, years ago, on his first trip to Hogsmeade. It had just been he and Hermione then. They had spent most of the day worrying about Harry, and how he was doing.

He had been so excited, as had the rest of the third years, spilling into the village well before any of the other, older students had. They were itching to get there, desperate to have the touch of freedom that came with Hogsmeade visits.

Ron had always wanted to visit Zonkos, and Honeydukes- he barely gave a thought to the kinds of places that Hermione fancied to visit; the Shrieking Shack, the post office, the book stores. He had, however, followed her all day, asking what he had hoped were intelligent sounding questions. It was perhaps this day that he had first realised that he had loved Hermione; though it would be years before he would admit it to anyone, even Harry.

Ron knew that he had done the right thing coming back to the pub that night, even if no one else knew that he had returned.

And now he knew where to find Hermione.

Ron walked down the embankment that led to the Shrieking Shack. The fence that cut it off from the rest of the world was still in tact, though it supported many holes that had been formed by kids who wanted to see how close they could get to the decrepit house without being haunted.

It was no surprise to Ron that there was someone already sitting there.

What was a surprise was this person's appearance.

Hermione was dressed in a full-length cloak. Her hair sat around her shoulders in thick, brown curls that made her face look healthier and fuller than her thin blond locks had done. She looked so simular to what Ron remembered that he found himself lost for words, and merely gaped at the side of her face for a moment. Hermione heard someone coming and turned her head, where she sat on the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron asked her, dully. Hermione gasped, and though she couldn't cry again, she clamped up inside herself, and trembled. Ron's face wasn't angry. It was deserted, and disappointed, and she hadn't expected it to be where she was, but it wasn't red with anger, and his ears were gratefully pale. Hermione stood up, steadying herself, and attempted a small smile. Ron still stood a fair way away.

"I thought Harry told you-"

"Since when have we talked through Harry Hermione?" Ron asked, sitting on the ground. Hermione slowly moved closer, and sat down beside him. Ron didn't want to hear the story again, but no matter what happened, he knew that he wanted to hear it from her, no matter how much he felt like screaming.

Hermione talked for a long time. The sun went down. Most people would be scared of being so close to the shrieking shack at night, but for those who had been inside it then this was nothing. Ron was sitting in exactly the same position he had been when he had first found Hermione, and his face was still directed firmly forward. He hadn't glanced at Hermione once, through her whole address. He didn't move now, even when she was finished, and ended her apologies with a sigh. He stared straight ahead.

Ron was determined not to let his emotions show. Ron hated the fact that Hermione knew him better than he even knew himself, and he knew that if he were too open with his features then she would be able to tell what he was thinking, even before he knew.

Because Ron didn't know what he was thinking- or more he was thinking so many things at once that none of them seemed fair, or logical. Hermione, however, continued to talk, and explain her life away, a pleading desperation in her practically hollow voice. She finally stopped, and a silence fell that Ron was determine he would not be the first to break. He continued to stare straight ahead.

Hermione seemed to slump.

"Chocolate mint." Hermione said, in barely a whisper, though retaining her matter of fact air. Ron gave up staring forward, and jarred his neck from disuse as he spun finally to face her. "That's her favourite flavour of milk shake. She likes to shop, read, and watch the football. She goes for the team with orange and black banners, and has recently attained a passion for Quidditch. She owns a white cat called Lily."

Ron smiled. Hermione didn't flinch, or turn away as he continued to stare into her eyes, blankly, piercingly.

"There are so many more things Ron. I couldn't tell you all of them if we sat here all night. She'd love to tell you them herself though." Ron gave a smile. The corners of his mouth curved slowly but surely upwards, in a way that was barely noticeable, but Hermione noticed. She always did.

"We can visit her in the morning. At Hogwarts. She should know the truth." Hermione continued. "That is, if you want to. She's a really great girl though Ron, you would love her."

The smile fell from Ron's face, and something clenched at his heart again, "Yes, I never said that I wouldn't Hermione. I never thought I gave you the impression that I wouldn't."

"You know that I got the wrong impression. I'm sorry for that."

"I know. I'm sorry for that too. Actually, I'm not, it's Lavender who should be sorry for that, but…"

The smile had come back to Ron's mouth, and Hermione held her breath. "Lots of people do stupid things at that age, don't they. You can't hold a grudge forever."

Ron got up, and walked away, back the way that he had came, towards the village.

"Where are you going?" Hermione called after him, panicked that he might not care after all of that, that all of her worrying and fretting and explaining her life away would have been for nothing. Ron just looked back at her lightly, his eyebrows raised.

"To the Three Broomsticks. We'll need a place to stay if we're visiting our daughter in the morning."

Ron didn't know if he was doing the right thing when he agreed to head up to the castle the next morning. Hagrid was nothing short of shocked when he saw Ron and Hermione standing on the other side of the school gates, when he went down to unlock them the next morning. They had spent the night in the inn, in separate rooms, and barely spoken since their conversation the previous night. Hermione was almost scared to talk. There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of them now; that he would neither love her, nor hate her, for the time being, though this was as delicate as butterfly wings, and she was scared that she might break it with one wrong word, or stupid comment.

"Hermione? Is that you?" Hagrid asked, squinting through the early morning air at the pair, who were trotting up to the gates, Ron's face ruddy with anticipation. They were walking a fair way apart from each other, and were far from holding hands, but Hagrid, who's eyes had misted over at the sight of Hermione let out a boom of surprise when he registered the red blob he was seeing as Ron Weasley's hair. Hagrid fumbled with the lock of the large gate, his large hands working it open in a way that no normal sized person would have been able to manage. He stood, then, in the middle of the open gates, for a split second, his eyes twice their normal size, a bemused smile evident through his bushy beard.

Hermione didn't wait any longer. She through her arms around Hagrid's legs in greeting, and chocked back tears of joy at being able to be herself again. Hagrid didn't ask any questions, just stroked Hermione's frizzy hair with one of his fingers, and exchanged a surprised look with Ron.

"I suppose you're here to see Jessie then are yer?" Hagrid asked, leaning down a little to speak to Ron and Hermione, as they walked up the castle grounds, heading upwards, the castle looming down on them, calling them almost. Hermione nodded, and willed Hagrid with her eyes not to say any more. Ron looked up, resigned, to see Hagrid's guilty face, and though he felt the anger rise inside of him for a moment, he couldn't find the drive in him to get mad at Hagrid as well. Harry had already told him about Hagrid's help, it was no shock.

"They'll just be getting out of bed now I would say." Hagrid said, slowly, looking up at the castle with a fatherly expression on his face. He was proud of this school, like he was proud of nothing else, except perhaps Grawp. "I could invite her down to breakfast, if the two of you would like. Alone." He added. Hermione smiled, and let her shoulders relax slightly, breathing in the magic of Hogwarts, and feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, the warmth of the spells and charms that were cast all around her tingling through her.

Ron could feel it too, though he felt magic every day. Maybe it didn't have anything to do with magic at all, for either of them. Maybe it was just the feeling that everyone gets, wizard or not, when they return to the place where they have been the happiest.

"That would be great. Thanks Hagrid." She said the last part in a way that clearly said for everything, without having to unnecessary refresh Ron's memory. Ron knew that his memory did not need to be refreshed, but he kept that thought between himself and the clenched fist that he hid in his pocket. It was all in the past. He had to remember that it was all in the past…

"Come on then, we'll go back ter my place." Hagrid said, and they set off towards the tiny hut that Hagrid still liked to call home, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

When they got to the cabin, Hermione couldn't help but smile.

The interior was the same as it always was. The homely yet slightly frightening contents of the small room could belong to none but Hagrid. Hermione noticed the pictures on the mantle piece, and turned to look at Hagrid again, curious.

"Didn't Jessie see these?" She asked him. Hagrid, who was taking off his large, heavy coat and draping it over the back of a chair, gave her a rueful smile.

"Of course she did. Asks a lot of questions too, that girl does." Ron gave a humoured snort, and Hagrid's smile widened as he caught Ron's eye. "Reminds me of someone she does."

"We were never nosy Hagrid!" Ron argued, laughing, reminiscing gleefully. He was careful not to look at Hermione while doing so; if he did then he might find himself wanting to be friends with her again.

If his eyes had strayed to the woman then he would have noticed that she was not sharing in their laughed. She was looking concerned.

"But- But Hagrid, she didn't notice anything about them, did she? She didn't recognise me, or, or…"

Hermione trailed off. Hagrid shook his head, and relief flooded Hermione's features rapidly.

"Nuh, she was ruddy curious at times though. Jade too. She wanted to know who the woman in all the pictures in her house was." He continued. Hermione flashed Ron a quick glance, which he was careful to avoid. She was a little put out b this piece of information.

In all the years that she had maintained her muggle status, and kept away from her old life, she had assumed that her old life was happy and content enough to stay away from her. If Harry and Ginny still had pictures of her hanging around the house then she had been fooling herself to think that Ro would have just forgotten about her. Of course, it didn't show weather he felt anything for the woman smiling in the photographs at any point through the eleven years she had been only that, but at least she knew that she was there. It comforted her, in a weird, selfish way.

"And Jessie knew that she had seen the woman before. Didn't put it all together of course; who would have been able to, what with the way you changed yourself. I doubt even Ron here would-" Hagrid stopped. He didn't know how the pair had been reunited again, but the tension in the air was enough to steer him away from making any such comparisons.

"In any case, I wouldn't have recognised yer; I didn't, that day we met in Diagon Ally, and so the girls and little Daniel Lupin went running around the school trying to find you in a bunch of old records. Nearly would have, too, if I hadn't hid the old Head Girl records." He winked at Ron and Hermione. Ron barely cracked a smile, and Hermione gave Hagrid a grateful grin.

Hagrid looked between Ron and Hermione, and then back again. He could feel the tension in the air like a thick morning fog, and it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere, when Ron was already bracing himself to meet his daughter.

Technically, he had already been introduced to the girl, but this time it would be different. This time she would know.

This time I will know. Ron thought, savagely. Then he saw Hagrid looking at Him.

Hagrid looked away quickly. He turned his gaze, and stared out the window for a moment, apparently lost in thought. Standing abruptly, he moved suddenly to the door. The sun was well and truly up now, staring through the window mockingly, it's clam, steady nature arguing horribly with Ron's jittering heartbeat.

"I'll go and get Jess for yer." Hagrid said, when he was half way out of the cabin. "She should be up by now."

Hermione nodded, calmly. The door swung slowly shut behind him.

Ron stole a glance at the woman out the side of his eye. Hermione was standing, straight backed, by the mantle place, staring into the flicking flames of the fireplace, mesmerised, as it fluttered and pranced in the grate. Her nose was turned down wards, and her eyes were almost closed, so that her lashes lightly licked the top of her cheeks. She let her hair fall down haphazardly over her face, with a tiny strand of it hurled back behind her ear, restraining the rest of its masses. It was the same face, he realised, that he had fallen in love with. Her eyes were a little more creased, and her cheeks much less rosy, but it was the same woman that he was best friends with, no matter what mistakes she had made.

Hermione had scarcely made mistakes; it seemed that sooner or later she was bound to make a rather large one.

A tiny tear, invisible unless it was expected, slid down Hermione's cheek and off onto the smouldering ashes of the fire, making a soft, and barely recognisable sizzling noise. Ron started. He hadn't expected her to cry. Maybe he just didn't want her to cry. Whatever the reason, he didn't know how to stop her crying without forgoing the icy disposition that he had vowed to maintain throughout the whole meeting. He couldn't give in and embrace Hermione because of one tear. He just couldn't.

The one tear, however, turned into considerably more than that.

They built up on top of each other, slowly, and before he knew it he could hear a soft sniff, under the hair. Ron put a shaky hand on Hermione's shoulder, still standing just far enough away to not fall in love again. Hermione gave a twitch, and all her muscles seemed to seize up.

"Er…" Ron tried to start. Crying girls never were his speciality, and he hadn't gotten any better at handling them as the year wore on. "It'll be alright you know." He added, gruffly. Hermione stifled a sob, which could have almost come from a laugh. Ron's woman skills, or lack there off, obviously hadn't gone unnoticed by Hermione. But she was glad that he had had an attempt and it was enough for her to0 pull herself together.

Smiling sadly, and wiping her eye vigorously, Hermione turned. Her eyes fell on the window. Two dots; one large, moving quickly, and one small and wandering lethargically, were skidding there way across the grounds and to the hut. They were coming. Hermione took out her wand, and pointed it at her face, making the tears dry up immediately, and took a seat around Hagrid's dining table. Ron followed suit.

When Jessie Granger walked into the cabin, she let out a small squeal. She knew that there had to have been something special about the lady in the pictures. She had known from the minute she had laid eyes on her, and had racked her brain ever since, trying to determine where it was she had known her, without avail. There must have been something special about her- she knew now- why else would Hagrid have brought Jessie here, to meet with her and-

Jade's uncle? Sure, she had wondered about his abrupt departure from the hospital wing, all those weeks ago, but why he was here now, looking awkward and a little nervous was beyond her.

"Hagrid-" Jessie begun apprehensively, turning to look at the man. Hagrid shook his head slightly, and smiled. He was waiting for Hermione to say something.

"Jessie, sweetie, I want you to hear me out, before you say anything…"

Jessie's eyes grew wide, and she felt her voice choke up in her throat. Even if she had wanted to say something then she knew she wouldn't have been able to. The voice that had come out of that woman's mouth had been obviously and without a doubt her mothers, though she didn't know why. She looked at Ron Weasley for an answer, but his eyes revealed nothing. They seemed to be a little glazed over, and he was staring at Jessie, surveying her up and down with a tiny, proud smile covering his lips.

"Please?" Hermione asked, seeing that Jessie was confused. She didn't want to have to come right out and explain who she was. Not yet.

Jessie turned to the woman, and looked her flat in the eye. That was when she noticed it. That was when she felt like crying.

The woman's eyes were her own. Even more importantly; this woman's eyes were her mothers. The lady from the pictures was Hermione Granger. Jessie didn't know how, and she didn't know why she was here, but it was her, she was sure of that.

Jessie nodded, bewildered, and sat opposite Ron and Hermione at the over large table. Hagrid smiled, at the door, and left, quietly, walking back up to the castle, to have breakfast.

"Jessie, I was a witch, before you were born. This is what I look like. I used magic to change myself, mainly so that Ron here couldn't find me-"

Jessie gave Ron a fleeting glance. His ears had gone red. Just the way that hers did, when she was embarrassed or angry. It made them melt into his flaming red hair naturally, and Jessie started to cry, when she realised who this man was. Hermione didn't have to say anything- Jessie couldn't even take in the words coming out of her mothers mouth anymore. They jumbled together, and didn't make any sense. Nothing made any sense anymore, but everything meshed together so well that Jessie knew that this was the truth. It was a twisted truth, very different to everything that she had been taught, all of her life, but it made her belong, and it made her seem a lot more normal than she could have ever hoped for.

Hermione was explaining something about a misunderstanding, and running away, when Jessie's brain slid back into action, and she stopped staring backwards and forwards form Ron's red hair to Hermione's brown eyes. The words that brought her back to earth resonated in her ears with earth splintering resound.

"-and I ran away. You cant blame Ron honey, you cant, he had no idea, I never told him." Hermione surveyed the expression on her daughters face for a very long time. It was oddly vacant, and, without Hermione realising, it morphed slowly into one of anger, confusion and hate, until she jumped from her seat, and ran out the door. Hermione stood, quickly, to try and chance after her, but Ron put a firm hand on her arm, and lowered her back into her seat, slowly.

"Let her run." He said, quietly. "I would too, if I'd heard something like that. Let her go for a while. She'll come around. She's just- in shock, that's all."

He hoped that the words that he spoke were true, because from just those moments they had spent together, as Hermione told their story, and from the minute Jessie had entered the cabin at Hagrid's side, Ron had known that he had more in common with his daughter than he had ever fathomed, and he didn't need to have spent eleven years with the girl to know her- he could tell who she was already.

Jessie felt the wind whoosh through her hair rapidly, and let her toes skim the top of the trees, as she flew over the top of the forest. The school brooms- old nimbus two thousands, weren't all that great for flying aimlessly, and quickly, which Jessie liked to do when she was scared, or angry, but they did the job, and first years weren't allowed their own broomsticks, at any rate.

The feeling that she got from flying was one of ecstasy. The sensation of soaring through the air, of magic whooshing among her, holding her up, nothing there to catch her if she fell. Even though this thought was there, on Jessie's mind, she couldn't help but feel safe when she was flying. She could escape from any problem, and rise above all her fears if she only stayed upon that broomstick.

Jessie stayed up in the air for quite some time. The sky began to darken. The sun disappeared behind the mountains that surrounded the school and made their edges singe with purple and orange light. Stars speckled the not yet black sky, and yet Jessie continued to fly, lower now, hoping no one would look out of their dormitory window and see her, but she was still in the air, letting everything pass her by, letting the magic that she knew now had been emerged in her since she was born. The air cooled, and the rushing wind that blew at her face stung and dried her tears too her flushed cheeks.

Jessie was angry. She was afraid, afraid to touch back down, meet the woman she had never known was her mother, and the man she had never known was her father, and try and accept them the way that they wanted to. There were moments, while she was flying up there, that she shot through the air so fast that she almost forgot that she was fuming with anger and betrayal, and actually began to imagine what it would be like if he, her father, and Hermione got back together. If she were to forget how mad she was, and just accept the fact that she had been lied to all her life, then she might actually have the real family that she had secretly dreamed of all of her life. If she could forget about the mistake that her mother had made, then maybe Ron Weasley would too. If he had come all the way up to the school and met her then he must want to get to know her, or have something to do with her life; and he isn't, at least, the horrible man that she had had pinned as her father for all these years, thinking that he had run out on them. He hadn't known a thing about anything. It wasn't his fault, at all, and she shouldn't be punishing him for a mistake that Hermione had made.

These thoughts would come, and then they would leave again, as quickly as Jessie would pass by the trees that turned into a green blur at her feet. The anger would come back at double the strength; just thinking about all of the lies that she had been told- not only when she was growing up, but while she had been at Hogwarts; was enough to make her fuming mad again. Hermione mustn't have been the only one who had known.

Slughorn, McGonagal- they had all taught here when Hermione had been at the school. When she had been head girl at the school. When she had been one of the people to defeat the dark lord- so many people must have been keeping it quiet. Hagrid included, and Jade's parents. Even Daniel's family must have known the truth, and Suzie…

The list continued on forever, being exaggerated in her young mind, her thoughts floating out into the darkening night sky and disappearing into nothing.

The thing that hurt the most, Jessie decided, was the fact that her mother, who she had thought she had been closer than anyone with, was a lye- she was a witch, and she had been all her life. If she had known that- known all about this other life, then she might have been able to accept and forgive her for what she did, but now…now it felt as though she had been raised by a woman that she didn't even know, and now she was revealing it all like some horrible, sick joke.

"Jess, come on down, we need to talk."

Jessie didn't turn around. She could feel Jade fasten behind her, picking up the pace so that soon she was a dark blur beside her cousin, a frown invisible in the nights dim light.

"Jess, please?" the desperation in Jade's voice was evident, and Jessie even slowed the broom down just a little.

"Jess, we need to talk, you need to tell me what happened, I am really worried about you." She said, speaking loudly over the wind that was rushing past their ears and blocking all the sound out, but for the thumping of their won hearts.

Jessie didn't turn around.

"No, I can't Jade, not right now."

"Please?" Jessie was scared. She didn't even know why she was flying away from Jade so intently. She wouldn't hurt her; She hadn't been the one to lye so horribly to her for eleven years. She was her best friend, if anything she could help.

She was her cousin.

Jessie turned the broom around, and soared back down to a sloping patch of grass, Jade hot in pursuit.

Jessie returned to her dormitory that night, red eyed, her red hair horribly windswept and frizzy from the long fly, and her cheeks flushed and cold from tears and chill. Jade was down in the common room, talking to Daniel. Jessie didn't think that she could face telling the story again. Telling it once, to Jade, was traumatic enough for one night.

She drew back the curtains around her bed. It was odd. She had thought that she had left them open that morning- she had left in such a hurry, Hagrid coming up to the common room and telling her that he had something to show her, down at his cabin had made her so curious that she hadn't even had time for breakfast, let alone straightening out her room.

There it was. The book that she had waited for so long to see, laying on her pillow. The one that Hagrid had taken all those weeks ago.

And it wasn't the only one. Under this book, there were many others. One cover took Jessie completely by surprise. Hermione Granger- her mother- the woman she felt that she had just met today, had her name inscribed on the cover of it- she was the author. On the front was a picture of Hogwarts. The book didn't look that old, but it wasn't exactly new. Jessie picked it up. The date on the inside cover was the year before she had been born. It seemed to be about their lives, growing up- her parents, and Jade's. About how they grew to defeat the Dark Lord. About what happened to them along the way.

It may have been true, Jessie thought, as she lay down on her bed, still in her robes, that she didn't know anything of her mothers life, however, it seemed to have been a pretty great one. And she had given it up, all because she was doing the right thing for her daughter. It had been a pretty bad mistake to make- but it had been a mistake all the same, and maybe- just maybe- she would be able to grow to forgive her.

Because according to the first page of the book that Jessie was reading, by the candle that burned softly on the small table beside her, her father was a pretty remarkable man.

A/N: I hope that you all liked that! It wasn't too much of a let down? I hope not, because there is about a page of writing left- a little epilogue, to let you all know what happened! But I thought that I would post it separate, because it does work better that way. Please let me know what you thought of the story, and of this chapter in particular! I was so stressed about posting it, I didn't know if you would hate me for not summing up Hermione and Ron properly yet, but it didn't seem real! Thankyou to everyone who is reading this ,because it means that you have taken the time to read all of those chapters, and believe me, I am very very grateful to you all!

Thanks forever!

Luv Ella xXx