a/n: Hi everyone! Welcome to the silly little plot bunny that wouldn't go away. This is based on one of my favorite movies The Parent Trap, featuring my two favorite lovestruck dorks. I own nothing related to Harry Potter, and if you recognize any of the dialogue from TPT, I don't own that either. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! Huge thanks as always to be11atrixthestrange for encouraging this nonsense :)

Hermione stared down at the three letters in front of her. The first was a given; her daughter had been on the rolls for Ilvermorny since they had moved to America ten years earlier. The second, though unexpected, wasn't exactly a surprise: the same green-inked Hogwarts letter that Hermione had received on her eleventh birthday, along with a letter from Headmistress McGonagall, assuring Hermione that Holly would have a place at her school if she wanted it. It was the last one that had thrown her for a loop.

Right on time, Holly bounded into their flat, home from school, and straight to the fridge. "Hi, Mum!" Hermione didn't respond except to hold up the third letter and quirk an eyebrow at her daughter, who gave her an achingly familiar sheepish grin in return and, thankfully, didn't beat around the bush about it. "Beauxbatons is a great school, Mum."

"I know that. The question is, why did you apply to attend there? And better question, why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't even sure I could go." Holly sat across from her at the table. "I didn't want to upset you if I didn't have to."

"And just what is wrong with Ilvermorny?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," Holly said slowly. "I just...think I'd like to go abroad. Are you upset it's not Hogwarts?"

Hermione shook her head, perhaps a bit too fervently. "No, no, of course I don't expect you to go to Hogwarts." That would invite a conversation that Hermione, in the deepest recesses of her mind, knew she would have to have with her daughter eventually, but on the surface, she still operated in a carefully crafted state of avoidance of that particular topic. "But I'll miss you, that far away."

Holly rolled her bright blue eyes, and Hermione's stomach clenched, as it seemed to be doing more and more frequently the older her daughter got; her existence was a walking dissertation on the nature versus nurture argument, because despite not having seen her father since she was a baby, Holly's mannerisms were all his. "You'll see me the exact same amount. I'll just be further away. Not that it matters, seeing as you can be anywhere in the world in less than a minute." Hermione shot her a look. "Besides, if I go to Beauxbatons, you can come over at holidays and we can go skiing. You always tell me how much you miss ski trips with Grandma and Grandpa."

"We can go on holiday any time. Skiing is not a valid reason to send you all the way across the Atlantic for school."

"Et...pour pratiquer mon français?" Holly chirped with a grin.

"You have French classes here."

"Mum, immersion is a much more effective way to learn a language."

Hermione sighed. Her thirst for knowledge and relentless stubbornness were two of the more defining qualities Holly had inherited from her. "I'll think about it, okay?" she relented. "Now get your coat. We're going to be late for your birthday tea."


"Rose!" Ron yelled up the stairs as he tugged his shoes on. "We've got to get going! Grandma will kill us if we're late again."

It took several minutes to get a response, and when he did, it was not his daughter's usual thundering footsteps on the staircase; in fact, she looked downright nervous as she entered the living room. "Dad, can we talk about something before we go?"

" 'Course we can, you know you can talk to me about anything. But unless you want the wrath of Grandma Weasley, we should probably make it quick." Rose chewed at her bottom lip, and Ron forced himself not to focus on, despite her red hair and blue eyes, how very much she looked like her mother at that moment. Ron shook his head and stood up from the couch. "Hey, Rosie, I'm kidding. What's going on?" He pulled his wand out and quickly cast his patronus, which scampered away to deliver his message to the Burrow.

"I don't think I want to go to Hogwarts," Rose said finally, in an unusually small voice.

"Oh, sweetheart, everyone gets nervous before they go to Hogwarts the first time," Ron assured her, wrapping her in a comforting hug. "But you'll have a great time, and meet lots of friends, and—"

"No," Rose cut him off, pulling away. "I'm not worried about going away to school. I just…" She squared her shoulders, looking more like her typical confident self. "I want to go to Beauxbatons instead."

"Beauxbatons?" Ron repeated, as stunned as if he'd never heard the word before. "Why?"

"It's a great school."

"I didn't say it wasn't. What's wrong with Hogwarts?"

"Nothing's wrong with it."

"All your family has gone to Hogwarts. Your cousins will all be there with you in a few years."

"Sort of the point." Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Look, don't take this the wrong way. I love our family, and I love being a Weasley, but there's so many of us. I'll have all these expectations on me the second I walk in the door. It's not exactly easy having a bloody war hero for a dad."

Ron supposed this was not the right time to inform her that her mother was also a hero of said war, and instead corrected ironically, "Don't swear." Rose glared at him. "Alright, just don't swear in front of Grandma, you'll get us both in trouble."

"If I go to Beauxbatons, nobody there knows me. I can just be me. Just Rose. Please say you'll at least think about it?"

Having grown up with five older brothers, not to mention one sister whose very existence as a girl had threatened to overshadow his, and one savior of the wizarding world, he could at least empathize with what his daughter was saying, although he wasn't exactly keen on the idea of sending her so far away. Plus, he remembered those Beauxbatons uniforms, and if any of those French boys got any funny ideas about his little girl, there would be hell to pay. "Yeah, Rosie," he sighed. "I'll think about it. Now get your coat. You're late to your own birthday dinner."