Day Twenty-Two

Hermione nervously guided her parents through the wards of Grimmauld Place and then inside the house. They had accepted the invitation to go to the children's home and help at the Christmas party with her, Harry, and the Weasleys.

They were going to use the floo at Grimmauld because her parents hated apparition, and she couldn't even blame their distaste for magic, side-along apparition was terrible for people with magic, she couldn't imagine the toll it took on a muggle. They'd never been here before, but it was a shorter drive to get here from their house than it was to get to her flat. And on a less practical level it was in line with her resolution to be more open about her life with them.

Harry had gone on ahead because she wanted a few minutes to speak with her parents.

She carefully watched her mum and dad as they stepped into the house. "Is there something wrong?" She asked, taking in their puzzled expressions.

"No," her mother answered, "just not what we were expecting I suppose," she looked at her husband and he nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I was certainly expecting something more…basic."

"What?" Hermione laughed. "Why?"

"Well, I know that this was the headquarters of your Order which was basically a resistance group, correct? Not usually the kind of organization that tends to meet in luxury."

Hermione laughed again and looked around, imagining the townhouse through her parents' eyes. The fact was, despite the changes that Harry had made to it, and that he had simple tastes, the place still reeked of old money.

"Remember I said Harry inherited this house from his godfather, Sirius? And that Sirius is the one who loaned it to the Order?"

They both nodded.

"Sirius came from a very old magical family. A group that call themselves the Sacred 28."

"Purebloods?" Her father asked.

"Yes. The elite of the elite if you will, or so they insist," she smiled wryly and her parents laughed. "Anyway, not all of those families are wealthy, but a lot of them are, the Blacks were," she made a demonstrative gesture around the house. "But I actually tend to forget that because this house had been sitting empty for so long when I first saw it, it was kind of a dump. And then Harry is just so modest about his inheritance…"

"Well," her mother smiled but it seemed a little forced, "he has a lovely home."

"I think so too," she answered quietly. "Well come in, I have some tea waiting for us and some of the biscuits you helped us figure out how to bake, Mum. They're not bad, if I do say so myself. And there was something I wanted to talk to you about before we go."

"That sounds lovely, darling," agreed her father, "there was something we wanted to discuss with you as well, while we have you alone."

Hermione just nodded and led them into the living room, though her stomach was tying itself into knots. Estelle was there, seated on the sofa- in Harry's usual spot- eyeing the tea service as if she was trying to decide if it was something she might like to play with, and Hermione was immediately thankful she'd remembered the kitten and had put a charm up to prevent exactly that.

"I didn't know Harry had a cat," her mother said.

"Oh, that's Estelle. He just got her recently, or should I say, she got him." Hermione chucked to herself.

"Is she friendly, or is she like Crookshanks," her mother asked, her voice laced with humor.

"Hey!" Hermione objected. "Crooks likes you, both of you!"

"He does now," her father laughed, "but that had to be earned. For all we know that's normal behavior for magical cats, and I'd like to stay scratch free myself."

"Well you don't have to worry about that, she seems to love people, the more the merrier so far. We're actually not sure what Estelle is, she could just be a regular cat, she doesn't have any obvious kneazle characteristics. But with the way she glomped onto Harry, I assume she has to be at least part magical creature."

"What do you mean?" Her father asked as they all seated themselves.

"Harry is very powerful, to the point where he attracts other magical beings."

"Is that what attracts you to him?" Her mum's question sounded equal parts curiosity and caution.

"There is precedent for magical compatibility between humans, and Harry's magic is…comforting to me. Our magic trusts each other, but I would say that's more a result of years or friendship and casting on and around each other. It's just like when you get to know somebody well, and you begin to be able to anticipate their thoughts and needs, I suppose. But you know that's not why I love him, right? There's not some magical connection working on me that I have no control over or anything."

Both of her parents looked visibly relieved and the knots in her stomach became weighed down with guilt.

"But you do love him?" Her mother confirmed.

"Yes, of course I do," Hermione answered, more sharply than she had intended, she took a deep breath and made a concerted effort to mediate her tone. "Why, do you not approve?"

"It's not that, Harry's a lovely young man. You've just been very firm in the past that you were only friends and he's been such a constant in your life, probably the most constant thing since you went to Hogwarts. We just don't want to see you hurt, Hermione, if this doesn't work out."

"He told you that he was serious about me," Hermione defended him automatically.

"Yes, and it's not that we didn't believe him, he seemed very sincere. We appreciated his honesty, and it said a good deal about his intentions and about the kind of man that he is that he thought about us and included us in your night at the ballet, and that he didn't hesitate to agree to have a meal with us. But he's not our child, we'd like to hear it from you, alone, where his presence won't influence you."

Hermione bit her lip against another retort. She always wanted to defend Harry, it was instinctual at this point, but her parents hadn't actually said a word against him. And wasn't it natural for them to be concerned? That they would put her happiness first, even if it meant asking hard questions and even upsetting her?

"I'm happy to hear that you don't have any objections to him," she looked up and made eye contact with each of them, in turn. "Because, this is it. He's it for me." She nearly choked on the last sentence and brought her hands to her face.

Hermione recognized her mother's scent before she even felt her arms around her and her weight settling in next to her on the sofa.

"I didn't know it could feel like this. It's so wonderful, he's so wonderful. I don't know when our feelings changed, it happened so gradually, but then sort of all at the same time too. I don't have an explanation for it and I don't even care. Me!" She patted her chest. "There's something I don't know and I don't even care!"

"Well good."

"Good? Good! I'm a sobbing mess and you say 'good?!'"

"Yes good," her mother said, with absolutely no apology in her voice, and she heard her father chuckle. "Do you remember when we had a similar discussion about Ronald?"

Hermione winced reflexively. She'd done a lot of screaming during that talk about how her parents were prejudiced and didn't respect her choices. She was incredibly ashamed of her behavior that night, it had been childish. But mostly, while they probably could have expressed them to her better, their concerns had been valid. Hermione had known it even then but instead of admitting that, she'd lashed out at them.

"Yes," she whispered.

"You were so busy defending him. You didn't once say anything about yourself, about how you felt about him. If you had felt this strongly for Ronald, we would have learned to live with it. We would not have understood it, but we would have found a way to accept it, because that would have meant that there was something there we weren't seeing."

"You really didn't like him," she responded, a little petulantly.

"Not for you, no. He's a fine friend, though he's been rather fair weather in the past, but perhaps he's grown up, I don't know. But he didn't put you first Hermione, not your wants and needs, your ambitions. I'm not saying he didn't care about you, but it wasn't enough for him to put in even a little effort to be able to come out into our world with you. And you were together for years. That's not the kind of person we wanted to be your life partner, you deserve better."

"He's a good guy."

It was her father who spoke this time. "And perhaps we were too harsh on him. We did, we still do find him rather abrasive, but you're right, he seems like a good man. But our only concern was you and not sitting back and watching you trap yourself in a relationship that would only make you unhappy."

Hermione sniffed, the instinct to argue still rising up within her. It was so easy to remember why she had fought them so hard on this. Not because they were wrong, but because they had the courage to say out loud the doubts she'd quietly harbored in her heart for years. And she really hated being wrong. But it was long past time for her to let that go.

"I should have listened to you. I didn't want you to be right and I'm sorry. I also wanted to apologize…I feel like I haven't been good about including you in my life. I told myself that I was trying to be thoughtful and keeping you away from things that make you uncomfortable. But what I really did was cut you out. "

"Is that why you invited us today? You were trying to include us?" Her mother asked, very gently.

"Yes, it was Harry's idea," she admitted wryly.

Her mother laughed, but it was sad. "Well, I think we owe you an apology if we've made you feel like we were so uncomfortable with your world that it was easier to cut us out."

"Or if we've made you feel that your magic is somehow a burden to us," her dad added.

Hermione shook her head, like she could shake off the sentiment. "I took your memories. I messed with your brains on such a fundamental level that you became different people. It's only natural that you would be afraid of me and what people like me can do, and that you don't want to have anything to do with a world full of those people."

"There's more to it than that, this is not entirely your fault." Her father leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them. "We promised you when we found out you were a witch that we would never make you feel like there was something wrong with you. We failed you in that. We don't like what you did, but we understand it, there isn't anything we wouldn't do to keep you safe. I'm not sure that what we feel is fear exactly, Helen, what do you think?"

"Caution, I would say," she sighed, "and resentment that we missed out on so much and that we will never be able to completely understand you or the world that you inhabit."

"But," her father jumped back in, "we don't love you any less than we did when you were a little girl. We accept you, but it continues to be a struggle to know how to navigate having a witch for a daughter. But we won't stop trying Hermione, and you shouldn't feel guilty that we have to try, this is just the way you were born. We know that your children will most likely have magic, and it sounds to me like your husband definitely will, we don't want to miss out on knowing them because we can't be bothered to try."

Hermione sobbed and buried her face in her hands again. After a few minutes she felt her father's arms around her as well as her mother's.

"May I ask what brought this on?" Her mother asked tentatively, brushing some hair out of Hermione's face, "you seem to have been giving all of this a lot of thought."

She shook her head, a little embarrassed. "Honestly, it was Harry. You know that dinner we went to, the one we borrowed your car for?"

"With his relatives?" Her mum asked, her tone suggesting that she had some idea where this was going.

"Yes. Well, I found out that night that they told him terrible lies about his parents. They wanted him to think the worst of them, but he never did. And I just felt so ungrateful. He would do anything to see his parents even once, and I don't appreciate you at all. And then, then, he had to go and say that he knew that any problems we had could be fixed. He said that he knew me, so he knew that I was trying my best. But I wasn't trying my best and I'm so ashamed," she wailed.

"Oh love," her mother rocked her in her arms.

"I think we could all do better," her father added.

They sat there for a while huddled together.

"This boyfriend of yours sounds like a real monster, having faith in you like that," her father teased.

She laughed, appreciating the attempt to break the tension. "You have no idea. He doesn't even know how good and kind he is, it's so annoying."

They both laughed as well.

"I don't mean to change the subject," her mum said after a few more minutes, "but I'm assuming we need to leave soon. Is there anything we need to know before we do?"

"I don't think so," Hermione shrugged. "The kids there are all underage, and most of them are actually too young to go to Hogwarts, as most of the students stayed at school for the holiday. But anyway, that means that they can't do magic, obviously, so it'll just be like wrangling a bunch of muggle kids. And you work on kids' teeth, so I'm pretty sure this isn't anything you can't handle."

"Young patients aren't my favorite," her father mused, but he winked at her.

"I usually sort of stay in the background, do the set up, make sure everybody has what they need, that kind of thing," Hermione admitted. "The kids are more interested in interacting with people like Harry and Ginny because they're famous, and all of the Weasleys are really good with kids," she shrugged.

"I thought you were famous too?"

"I am, but not like Harry, he's practically a legend. But they don't care about the war other than that, which is fine with me. Ginny's famous for quidditch. Anyway," she shrugged, "I'm fine in the background."

"Why? It was our impression that you were rather important in this organization? Didn't you help found it, don't you sit on the board?"

"Well yes, technically. But it's really Harry and Molly's passion project. After the war, there were so many kids without homes, it seemed natural to me that the Order should help establish a place where war orphans, or really any orphans, could go if they didn't have family to take them. In the past the magical world has just depended on some relation on another taking children, even if they were very distant, but there were so many after the war, that wasn't possible. And Harry was rather horrified by the idea that these kids might be forced on somebody who didn't really want them. Molly needed something to do to heal. So, like I said, it was really their doing. It was just an offhand comment of mine, really, and now I do what I can, it is an important cause."

"I think you're being too modest, Hermione. Even if it was just an offhand thought, like you say, it was an important one. And I don't believe that being a member of the board of trustees is a small thing either, you don't do anything halfway. I'm sure these children would be very happy to get to know you, they would certainly be lucky to."

"Thanks Mum," she said with a small smile. "Also," she hesitated, but if she couldn't admit this to her parents, who could she tell? And isn't that exactly what she'd just said she wanted to do, include them? "I'm not very good with kids. It's not that I don't like them, it's just that I don't really know what to do with them."

"You seem pretty close with Teddy."

"Well yes, he's one child, I know what he likes and his history, he's not this mystery I'm supposed to know how to understand on sight. And even with him, well it's not like I'm alone with him often, I usually just go along with whatever Harry or Andromeda have planned. I don't know, most people seem to instinctively know how to behave, all of the Weasleys do. It's embarrassing, so I just stay out of it."

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about, Hermione. This obviously isn't one of your strengths but that's okay, and it's honestly not much of a surprise. You haven't had much opportunity to interact with children. As for the Weasleys, they're a family with seven children, they have built in experience."

"Maybe."

"Yes," her mother insisted, "I know this from personal experience. "

"Alright," she sighed, "but if you see me hanging out in the background don't rat me out."

They laughed "It'll be our secret."

Hermione didn't think that she imagined that her mother sounded a little smug about that.

A few minutes later she sent her parents went through the floo ahead of her, so she was expecting them to be waiting on her, she didn't expect Harry to be there too.

"Harry!" She blurted in surprised pleasure, and then frowned at the expression on his face.

He stepped towards her, arms outstretched. "Are you okay?" He immediately began patting her down, checking her for injuries.

"What are you doing? I'm fine."

"You've been crying," he answered, though his tone of voice sounded more like he'd just said: 'you've been cursed!'

"Oh!" She patted her face. "No, I'm fine, just had an emotional conversation with Mum and Dad. I'm sorry, I forgot to glamour my face."

"And you think I wouldn't notice a glamour?!"

"Right, of course you would. I just meant that I'm sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you."

Her father cleared his throat. "Maybe if the pair of you could just point out where we should go, and you could join us when you're done discussing this."

"No, that's okay," Hermione immediately said.

Her mother shook her head. "Talk to him, Hermione."

Their eyes met and Hermione nodded. "Okay, well, just go out that door," she pointed across the room, "then it'll be obvious."

They nodded and her mum stepped forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. "That's for helping my daughter bake something edible," and with that they both turned and walked out the door.

Hermione watched Harry grow increasingly red until she was certain her parents were out of ear shot. Then she covered her own flaming cheeks with her hands. "Oh gods, I'm going to have to come up with a convincing story about why that made us blush so much!"

"You didn't tell her?"

"No, Harry, I do not discuss my sex life with my mother! And even though I plan to be more open with both of them in the future, it won't be in that area."

He let out a sigh of relief and she slapped his arm.

"Did you seriously think that?"

"I didn't know what to think!" He defended, wrapping his arms around her.

She just shook her head. "The 'thank you' wasn't really about the biscuits anyway, she just didn't want to embarrass you by thanking you for having faith that we could fix our relationship and prompting me to talk to them."

"Oh," he said quietly. "Seriously, are you okay?"

She rubbed her cheek against his chest. "More than okay, and even better now. You didn't have to wait for us."

"It was no problem, I knew when you were planning to arrive and I wanted to tell them 'hello.'"

"Well thanks, you've made some very good impressions on them as my boyfriend."

"Glad to hear it."

He began to toy with the flower she was wearing in her hair. It was the gift in the Advent calendar for today, a red rose. It wasn't what had been in there originally, when she asked him if he knew the meaning of a red rose he had admitted that he did, and he had switched it over the weekend.

"I'm going to keep Neville in business," he commented.

"What?' She asked in surprise.

"I know he's a war hero and all that, so he probably doesn't need me to stay afloat, but if he did," he smirked at her.

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Neville owns a florist," he answered, like that explained everything.

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"Do you remember that night at the pub with Dudley?"

"Of course."

"You were wearing the white rose from the calendar that night. And I remember thinking specifically that if I could convince you to be mine, I'd give you flowers as often as possible."

She rolled her eyes. "You liked seeing me wearing something you gave me?"

"I did," he admitted, completely unabashed.

She whacked him on the arm again. "You are trying to mark me! I knew it, caveman!" She was having a hard time keeping a straight face, even as she berated him.

"Oh you're one to talk. You have a thing for me in my dress uniform, not to mention in an apron, covered in flour. Don't judge!" His lips twitched.

"Fine."

"Fine," he mimicked and then leaned down to whisper in her ear. "We'll keep this just between us then."