When Hermione woke on Saturday morning, she'd felt more rested than she had in months. The previous night she'd been exhausted from the week she'd spent dealing with the aftermath of Skeeter's article. Despite her attempts to quash the rumors about her and Harry, the media had not let up and there was no foreseeable end to the chaos. Everywhere Hermione went, she was followed and bombarded by reporters, asking her questions about her true relationship with Harry, as if it weren't already hard enough to keep him off her mind.

Hermione had hoped that after a few days, the memories of being with Harry would fade, but she'd been wrong. Whenever she had a free moment she found her thoughts drifting back to the Forest of Dean and the seductive sensation of Harry's lips on her skin. The amount of times it had crossed her mind in just one day made her feel like a hormonal teenager. It was embarrassing, and Hermione had been relieved that she hadn't seen Harry much during the week. She was glad to have the weekend to get a hold of herself.

Having slept in for the first time since becoming Minister, Hermione rolled out of bed and stretched her limbs before heading downstairs. Desperate for caffeine, she entered the kitchen where her gaze immediately fell to Rose and Hugo sitting at the island, huddled together and whispering. When the two saw their mum they both immediately froze.

Hermione eyed them suspiciously as she poured herself coffee. It was rare that her children got out of bed before her, even when she occasionally slept in. They were up to something.

"What are you two reading?" She asked, casually walking over to them.

"Nothing," Rose said as Hugo closing the magazine in front of them and put his elbow on top of it.

"Oh really?"

"Just our weekly horoscopes," Hugo said quickly.

Hermione didn't buy it. She knew her kids too well and she always had a hunch when they were hiding something.

"Hugo," she said sternly as she held out her hand. "Let me see."

Rose and Hugo exchanged a worried glance before he reluctantly lifted his elbow off the magazine and sliding it towards Hermione.

As Hermione picked it up, her eyes widened when she saw who was on the cover of Witch Weekly. In the bottom right corner there was a photo of Rose at Platform 9 & 3/4 with large words reading: Could Rose Weasley really be Rose Potter? - Find out on page 12. Quickly Hermione opened the magazine and flipped to the column, her eyes angrily skimming the words. She was drawn to a bolded paragraphin the middle of the page.

"Rose Weasley, the only daughter of famous war heroes, Minister Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, recently caught the Wizarding World's attention when it was pointed out that she looks nothing like her father. In fact, the only trait Rose seemed to inherit from the Weasley side is their signature red hair, which one could argue proves she is Ron's daughter, but what if it came from somewhere else? Red hair is also a trait that runs on Harry Potter's muggle maternal side through the Evans family linage. Comparing a picture of Rose with a picture of the late Lily Potter (née Evans), there is an undeniable resemblance. Could it be that Rose is actually Harry's daughter? Knowing that Granger and Potter were once lovers, it certainly is a possibility, and a scandalous one at that. Owl us to share your thoughts about who you think Rose Weasley's father really is and you could win a free subscription to Witch Weekly for a year."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Witch Weekly was insinuating that Rose was Harry's child instead of Ron's? The idea was laughable. She remembered the night she and Ron had conceived Rose after many weeks of discussing if the two were ready to be parents. Harry he been away on assignment and hadn't even been in the country. Even if they'd had an affair, timing wise it would have been impossible.

Trying to control her outrage, Hermione gently set the magazine down.

"I hope I don't have to tell you this isn't true," she said with a sigh, looking between her two uncomfortable children. "You are both Weasleys. Always have been and always will be."

Hugo refused to meet his mum's eyes, and stood from his stool.

"Whatever," he said quickly and then hurriedly left towards the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower."

Hermione wasn't surprised Hugo abruptly excused himself. He hadn't wanted to talk to her or Ron about what had happened at Harry's party or what he'd since learned. Hugo had walled himself off, and Hermione hoped he'd let her back in soon, or at the very least return to his normal self.

Rose hadn't been much better either. She'd hardly looked in Hermione's direction all week. The house had been an uncomfortable and tense place over the last seven days, and this magazine column certainly wouldn't help matters. The media had kept the children out of photos and news stories up until this point. Rose had never been the subject of speculation or discussion in the Wizarding World, and Hermione knew first hand how unsettling the unwanted attention could be.

Now sitting alone with Rose for the first time since they'd talk after the party, Hermione took the opportunity to break the ice.

"Are you okay?" She asked her daughter with motherly concern.

"I'm fine," Rose mumbled, taking a bite of her toast while she avoided Hermione's eyes.

"You're sure?"

"Seriously, mum," Rose answered with an eye roll. "It's not a big deal. It's just some dumb magazine."

Hermione exhaled loudly, frustrated with Rose's guardedness. She knew her daughter well enough to know she was rattled by what was written in Witch Weekly. It was all over her face.

"You and I haven't really talked since last weekend. I didn't love how we left things," Hermione said cautiously, her hands tightly wrapped around her coffee mug. "Anything you want to get off your mind or ask me?"

Rose gave her mother a hard stare, one that was mixed with hurt and annoyance.

"Nope."

Hermione was quiet, and for a moment she said nothing. Rose was stubborn just like Ron. She wore her heart on her sleeve and Hermione had always been able to comfort her. This time was different though, and it was hard for Hermione to give Rose the time she needed to process. It felt as though their relationship was deteriorating right in front of her, and Hermione was fearful the damage was too far gone to repair.

"Look, I know your dad and I haven't shared much about our lives before we had you," Hermione began quietly, getting Rose's attention. "I don't talk about the war often because it's not something I care to revisit. It really was the worst time of my life, and I'll never be able to fully describe to you how awful and daunting each day was for me." Hermione paused to collect her thoughts before continuing. "The night Uncle Harry and I were together, we were very scared and very lonely. We didn't know if we would live or die. I think after going so long with so much loss and despair we'd both become numb, and that too was quite a distressing feeling. In the moment, it felt good to feel cared for and to forget what lied ahead for us. I promise you that's all that night was about."

Rose stared at her mum thoughtfully, considering what she'd just been told. It was the most Hermione had ever shared with her about her time during the war. Everything Rose had read about her parents made it seem like whatever they'd done, they done so effortlessly. It was sobering to hear her mum say that it had been the worst time of her life rather than the exciting adventure Rose had always imagined it to be.

When Rose said nothing, Hermione continued.

"I know that's not exactly a clear explanation," she said with a small frown. "But it's the best I've got."

"How did you lose the baby?" Rose asked suddenly, her eyes fixated on the kitchen table, unable to meet her mum's eyes.

Hermione had been expecting her to ask that eventually and knew exactly what to say.

"I wasn't taking care of myself," she answered carefully, not wanting to reveal more than her daughter could handle. "I was underweight and had suffered some injuries during the war. I didn't know I was pregnant until the baby was already gone."

"What kind of injuries?"

"Nothing major," Hermione replied, hoping she came across casual.

"Were you sad?" Rose asked timidly. "About losing the baby?"

Hermione felt a knot in her stomach. Now having her memories back of her time in St. Mungo's, she remembered how she'd cried in her bed for her entire hospital stay. All she wanted was to forget how horrible and guilty she'd felt for not knowing of her pregnancy sooner.

"Yes," Hermione answered honestly. "I was very sad."

Rose paused for a moment. There was still one linger thought on her mind that had been bugging her all week.

"You and Uncle Harry..." she began awkwardly. "It really was only that one time?"

Hermione swallowed hard. She wanted to answer honestly. It was true that they'd only slept together once, but they had shared a confusing kiss one year later at Grimmuald Place on New Year's Eve. She and Harry had never talked about that, and he'd been so drunk Hermione wasn't sure if he even remembered. Did it count as anything worth mentioning? It would likely only cause further pain and mistrust.

"Yes," Hermione answered matter-of-factly. "We were only together that one time."

"Okay," Rose said quietly, her blue eyes rising to meet her mum's. "It still really weird and like... so so gross... but I believe you."

Hermione's posture relaxed. It was the nicest thing Rose had said to her all week, and she'd take that as a win even if it was only slight progress.

Hermione turned to the coffee pot and topped up her cup. There was something else she'd been meaning to talk with Rose about, but she'd been putting it off until they were on better terms.

After taking a large sip of her freshly poured coffee, Hermione gently set her mug on the island and looked seriously at her daughter.

"Are you and Scorpius dating?"

Rose's eyebrows shot up and her mouth opened in shock.

"No!" she cried, her ears flushing bright red as she looked at Hermione in mortification.

"Okay, okay. Relax," Hermione said quickly, putting her hands up. "It was just a question."

"Why would you think that?" Rose asked, still looking thoroughly shaken.

"Well, you two have been spending a lot of time together and you looked rather cozy at Harry's party," Hermione replied while she continued to observe Rose's discomfort. "Plus you're getting older. It's only normal that you'd take an interest in boys."

"Well we're not," Rose said firmly, now her entire face flushed. "Dating."

Hermione stared at her daughter disbelievingly.

"If something does happen and you find yourself more than friends, you'll let me know?"

"I guess," Rose replied quietly, fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat. "Is it okay if I got over to Lily's? I promised her I'd help her prepare for Chaser tryouts."

Hermione wasn't fooled by Rose's sudden change of the subject, but she knew there was no use continuing her line of questioning while her daughter wasn't being entirely truthful. The reaction Rose had when she'd asked her about Scorpius was telling; something was definitely going on, but what that was wasn't clear. Hermione decided she'd try to talk to her about it again another time. They'd had enough heavy conversations for one day.

"As long as you're home by five," Hermione replied, picking up Rose's empty plate off the island.

...

Hermione spent her Saturday afternoon getting lost in a novel. It was a needed escape from reality that she'd been looking forward to for days. With the kids gone off to their friends and with Ron away taking inventory at the Shop, she was enjoying a quiet day alone. She was halfway through her book and was casually sitting on the sofa with her feet up when she heard a key turn in the front door lock. Hermione lifted her head and turned her attention to the entrance just as her mother stepped inside the house.

On Tuesday evening Hermione had asked to have diner with her parents. She'd shared with them what had transpired over the last few weeks, leaving out some intimate details they didn't need to know. She'd revealed exactly what she'd told her children: that she had been pregnant with Harry's child in 1998, but that the rest of the article written about her had been untrue. To say her parents had been astonished would be an understatement, and neither had said much except for the occasionally word of encouragement and support. She'd left their house knowing that her mother would have questions once she got over her initial shock, and she'd been avoiding her calls since.

Hermione watched as her mother set her purse down near the front closet and approached the sofa.

"Honey," Jean said with a warm smile.

"Mum," Hermione said with surprise as she set her book down on the coffee table. "Hi."

"I hope I'm not intruding," she said gently. "I just wanted to check in on you. You didn't look so good when you came by the other day and you've hardly answered any of my texts."

"Sorry it's been crazy. I promise I'm fine," Hermione answered as she stood, gesturing for her mother to take a seat in the living room. "Can I get you some coffee or tea?"

"Tea, dear," Jean answered as Hermione walked into the kitchen. "With cream."

A few minutes later Hermione returned with two mugs in hand. She gave one to her mum before curling up on the sofa across from her.

"Not that I mind, but what's with the spur of the moment visit?" Hermione asked, staring at her mother intently.

"I know you told me not to, but I read the article," Jean replied, flashing her daughter a guilty look.

"Muuuum," Hermione whined, bringing her hand to her face with embarrassment. It was the one thing she'd asked her not to do.

"You can't tell me that you're in the middle of a sex scandal and expect me not to read and thing or two about it," Jean responded defensively. "Honestly."

"There is no scandal," Hermione countered sharply, and then groaned in frustration. "It's just the media blowing thing way out of proportion."

"Regardless, you left in such a hurry on Tuesday I never got to ask if you were okay. I'm worried about you, love."

"I'm fine, mum," Hermione responded dismissively. "Really, I am."

"That article was sure filled with nasty lies," Jean said with a frown, leaning forward towards her daughter. "How did Ron and the kids take it?"

Hermione exhaled loudly and looked down, trying to control the emotions she'd successfully suppressed for days.

"Hugo is angry and worried about our family, Rose is hurt and mortified, and Ron is hardly speaking to me and not at all to Harry," Hermione replied sadly. "It was hard enough for him to accept what really had happened and now I think the article has put a few more ideas in his head."

"Can't you sue that Skeeter woman for defamation?" Jean asked sympathetically, putting a comforting hand on her daughter's knee. "Or at least for illegally accessing your private medical records? I know you don't need the money but maybe it will get everyone else in the media to back off."

"Unfortunately no," Hermione sighed. She'd already had the same thought and had inquired with her executive assistant earlier in the week. "Freedom of the press protects Rita Skeeter, and she didn't actually publish my records, she just revealed what she'd seen. It's someone else that has illegally obtained them and Skeeter apparently has a journalistic duty to protect her anonymous source."

"Pity," Jean said, patting her daughter's leg. "I know it can't be easy for you to have all these terrible things said about you."

Hermione gave her mother a shrug and brought the rim of her mug to her lips before taking a small sip. The two women silently drank their tea for a few moments, both consumed with their own thoughts.

"I'm sorry you had to go through a miscarriage alone," Jean began with a faint sadness in her voice. "It must have been terrible. I wish you would have told me."

Hermione frowned slightly. She didn't want to talk about it, especially not with her mother. She'd spent the last few weeks agonizing over it on her own.

"It was a long time ago," Hermione murmured, quietly before adding. "I'm okay. I promise."

"You certainly have your share of secrets," Jean said with a slight smile. "I mean, you and Harry?"

Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken.

"What about us?"

"Well I was pretty surprised when you told me and your dad that the two of you had engaged in relations during your teens," Jean began, looking at her daughter curiously.

Hermione wanted to die when she heard the word 'relations' leave her mother's mouth. They'd never discussed sex, and she didn't want to start now.

"You aren't the type of girl who sleeps with just anyone," Jean continued, watching her daughter squirm with discomfort. "You must have had some feelings for him, or at least an attraction."

Hermione flushed a deep red. She supposed she couldn't deny she'd been attracted to Harry. At the time, he'd been good looking, in fact he still was, but just because she'd been physically attracted to him didn't mean she had feelings for him. There was a distinction.

"Mum," Hermione said in a hushed tone. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life with you."

Jean's hazel eyes bore into Hermione's, peering at her dubiously.

"Hermione..." She began hesitantly. "You don't still have feelings for him?"

"No!"

Hermione's cheeks burned at the suggestion. How could her mum have asked that? She was a happily married woman with two kids. Sure during that night many years ago she'd felt a strong connection with Harry, a magnetic pull towards him that she couldn't stop, but it had been circumstantial. Yes, she currently couldn't get him out of her head either, but that was only because the memory of being with him was so intense. He had made her feel things in a way she'd never felt before, but that certainly didn't mean she had real feelings for him, did it?

Hermione quickly wrapped up the visit with her mum, not wanting to continue the uncomfortable conversation any longer. Alone again, Hermione returned to the escape that her book offered her, desperate for a distraction to stop the unwanted thoughts zooming through her mind.

...

Hermione had just finished washing her face and brushing her teeth when she climbed into her freshly laundered bed. As she settled in under the covers, she noticed Ron watching her from their bedroom doorway.

"You look comfy," he stated quietly with crossed arms.

"I am," Hermione replied giving him a curious look. Why wasn't he in his own bed? "Everything alright?"

Ron shyly looked to the floor, and mumbled something inaudible.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," Hermione said, staring intently at her husband.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?" Ron asked, his voice cracking as he nervously shuffled. "With you?"

Hermione was surprised. He'd gone all day without so much as glancing towards her. She never would have imaged he'd choose this night to return to their bedroom.

"Ron, this is your room as much as it is mine," she replied softly as she slide over in their bed to make room for him. "You can stay here anytime you like."

Ron gave a small smile before slowly making his way over to the bed. Once he crawled in next to her, an uncomfortable silence followed.

"I've missed you," Ron finally said as he turned to her. "I hate how things have been between us."

"Me too," Hermione breathed, relieved that he was finally saying what she'd been hoping he would all week.

"I'm so tired of being angry," Ron sighed, and then tenderly tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ears. "For tonight can we just pretend this last month never happened?"

"That may be your best idea ever," Hermione replied with a genuine grin, looking fondly into his blue eyes.

Suddenly, Ron was kissing her forcefully, taking Hermione by surprise once again. She quickly pulled away, staring at him questionably.

"Where did that come from?" She asked softly, hoping her question wouldn't drive him away.

"I just really need to be close to you," Ron breathed, grabbing her hand and bringing it close to his chest. "Is that okay?"

It was more than okay; it was music to Hermione's ears. She'd been wondering to herself if Ron would ever want to touch her again.

"Yeah," she whispered before Ron captured her lips again and clumsily rolled on top of her.

As Ron's tongue entered Hermione's mouth and his hands roughly grabbed her breasts, the thought of Harry once again inconveniently invaded her mind. She had an overwhelming feeling of self disgust as she played over in her head the sensation of Harry's hands sliding down her thigh and inching towards her knickers. While Ron trailed kisses down Hermione's exposed breasts, she tried to be in the moment and enjoy herself, but she couldn't help but long for Harry's touch.

The sex between her and Ron was quick and hard, and Hermione completely detached herself as she fantasized about being back in the dimly lit tent with Harry hovering over her instead. She was reminded of where she was when Ron grunted and spilled into her before resting his head on her chest momentarily.

"Goodnight," Ron murmured as he rolled away from her onto his side and pulled the covers over him.

"Night," she whispered in return as she laid on her back and stared at the ceiling fan, feeling sick to her stomach as she watched it go round and round.

It was clear to Hermione now, and the realization was slowly sinking in. As difficult as it was for her to accept, there was no denying it.

She had feelings for Harry.