A/N: Hello all. I'm so glad you are all enjoying it. Hopefully, you will enjoy it more as I ramp up the chapter posting. I'm having a fabulous day and if you don't know why then it doesn't matter but WOOO. Ahem. Anyway. Today is a great day.
So here's a chapter. Thank you, as always, to the wonderful Lib McGranger! Tis a mostly thankless job trying to wrangle my words lol
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After breakfast, two cups of tea and a short, careful meander in the garden, Hermione's parents re-emerged. Minerva had been a pillar of strength in the meantime, distracting Hermione from her worries with witty stories and things that had made her laugh.
If anything, Hermione had fallen a little bit more in love with her. She had spent a good portion of the morning trying to teach Hermione how to play chess when Sam came in the door and cleared his throat.
"Dad," Hermione gasped, standing suddenly. The table wobbled dangerously, but Minerva's quick hands steadied it. "Um. Hi."
"Peanut," he winced. "Can we have a word?"
Minerva smiled encouragingly at her as she glanced sideways. Taking a breath, Hermione nodded and followed her dad up the stairs. It was odd, seeing her room as it had been when she'd left. She paused by the door and realised that this wasn't her life anymore. The unsettled feelings she'd had for most of the summer holidays were just that. She tried to figure out when she'd first started feeling like that, but couldn't place it. It seemed, after all they'd been through, that she'd always felt like that. Since the day Minerva had appeared on her doorstep in fact.
That made her pause, even as she moved to her parent's door. She had wondered how easy it would be to remove herself from that particular memory. When she was tiny and she thought Minerva was the most incredible adult she'd ever seen. In retrospect, she found it quite easy. She had always been the child who'd preferred to be where the adults were and that hadn't changed. And, she remembered Minerva's words from earlier. As a witch, Hermione was of age, but she didn't want to rub that in her parent's face. She wanted to have a relationship with them. She wanted to know them and protect them.
Her mission with Harry was more important though.
She knocked respectfully, perhaps for the first time in her whole life, and poked her head around the door. Her mother was sitting at her dresser, looking at her hands, while her dad sat on the bed.
"Hi, Peanut."
"Hey," she said steadily, remembering that she was Hermione Granger; hopeful saviour of the Wizarding World and Prefect of Gryffindor House, even if she was also their daughter.
"We have some questions," her dad said kindly. "And we would like some honest answers."
"Now that I have told you everything I need to, I will be honest," Hermione reassured him. Her mother scoffed but she was well used to her mother's short temper.
"Good," he nodded. "Good."
She stood, her hands behind her back, trying to practise her Occlumency. If she could control her emotions, things might just pan out evenly for her. She was too smart to imagine they'd pan out well.
"Okay. We've had time to think about things. And while we appreciate you coming to us with the truth, we are beyond hurt that you would keep all of that from us."
Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from retorting. She wanted to ask them how they thought she should have come home at the age of 12 and told them that she'd nearly been eaten by a plant, played a violent version of a chess game, in person, and set fire to a teacher's robes. But she didn't. She focused on the vision of Minerva's face as she lay asleep and felt all her worries ebb away.
Her father was watching her expectantly.
"I acknowledge that," she said when he made it clear she was supposed to answer. "I should have told you. But I do wonder, Dad, how you think I should have done that?"
He opened his mouth and then closed it again, looking at her.
"You're right. Had you told us this at the beginning, we might have removed you from the school. I have in mind that might be dangerous?"
"Yes, I believe so," Hermione nodded. "Though Minerva would know the consequences of withholding magical training better."
"Okay," he said steadily. She did like her dad's way of taking care of a problem. Often she found it slow, but it was methodical and rational and she and her mum probably needed a few lessons from him. "Okay. So, putting all that aside, for a later date," he warned, making her understand that they would circle back to that later. "What are you telling us about our immediate circumstances?"
"The evil man who is seeking to kill Harry and plunge the world into darkness -"
"Less verbosity, Hermione, for goodness sake."
She rolled her eyes out of her mother's sight and cleared her head once more.
"Voldemort wants to kill Harry and enslave muggles," she winced. "Non-magical folk. He has already killed a number of people in the last year. The complicated part of it all is that the Ministry of Magic, which is the Wizarding Government, is useless. It is also quite possible that it has already been infiltrated by the enemy."
"Enemy," her mother scoffed.
Hermione snapped.
"Yes, the enemy," she hissed. "The enemy that has already killed one of our friends. He and his cronies have murdered countless people. We are at war, mother. I know that I have not given you much time to understand that and I realise that before today you would have no idea but we are. I am. Though we made errors we did something. We fought. And it hurts every day knowing that even though we ultimately did not lose, we certainly didn't win either. Minerva was in hospital for months. I was there for weeks. Harry lost his Godfather; the one family member he had left that cared for him. Do not illegitimise my experience."
Her mother opened her mouth but refrained from speaking.
"What do you want us to do?" her dad asked her.
"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "Which is why we thought it was best to come together." A look of understanding passed over her dad's face and she shrugged. "There are a few different things we can do. We can protect the house, but that means you'd be vulnerable when you go out. What I'd like for you to do is stop working for a while, perhaps go on holiday or something. We'll hide the house, we'll protect the practice and we'll go from there?"
"You want us to stop working?"
"For a while," Hermione shrugged.
"We have a mortgage to pay, Hermione. We have bills. We need money for food."
"I know it's not perfect Dad, I really do. I just -"
"Perhaps we might take this downstairs?" Minerva's voice said from the landing. "It is obviously not proper for me to join you in there, but I have ideas on how to cope with this." Minerva's sudden intrusion startled them but Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she met the woman's eyes through the open door. "I apologise for the intrusion."
"Right, no, please don't apologise," Sam said with a nod. "Good thinking. I suppose we should have more tea."
"Sam, take Minerva downstairs, I would like to discuss something with Hermione before we join you."
That tone was one Hermione knew well and she stared into Minerva's eyes for a while before nodding for her go. She didn't know what her mother was going to say but it would no doubt be uncomfortable.
They waited for Minerva and her dad to leave before she turned back to face her mum.
"You promised you were going to be honest with me, yes?" This tone was something Hermione had never heard before. A careful, almost hesitant tone. She sat down on the bed near her mum and nodded. "What is going on between you and Minerva?" Hermione's stomach twisted uncomfortably and she stared. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears that she couldn't tell if her mum had continued speaking or whether she was waiting. There was white noise underneath it all that was so loud, she winced. "Hermione?"
"What do you mean?" Her mother looked at her and she knew that was never going to work. Her father was rational and educated but Hermione took after her mother. "I -"
"Is there something inappropriate going on?"
"No!" Hermione objected, insulted on Minerva's behalf. "She would never."
"But there is something?"
"No, no. It's not -" she groaned, putting her head in her hands. "I," she hung her head. "It's me. Not her."
"You're not together?"
"No!" Hermione screeched.
"You're sure."
"Mother."
"But you like her?"
"I," she swallowed. "Do," she nodded. "She's," she smiled, unable to help it. "Amazing."
"Old?"
Hermione shrugged.
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Although," she considered not telling her mum but remembered her promise and sat up, meeting her eyes. "Magical folks seem to age differently," she explained, keeping it simple. "Our ageing is slower, so our literal age is not necessarily a reflection on how 'old' we are."
"She is significantly older than I am, Hermione," Jenny said quietly. "Even if she is ageing slowly."
"I know," Hermione whispered. "But I -" She looked up and stared. "Have you ever loved someone so much that everything you do, you consider them first? That when you speak to them, you feel like they're listening to every mundane thought you've ever had, and they're interested too. And you feel dizzy when they speak? Like there's nothing else in the world you'd rather hear?"
Her mother sighed and sat back, fiddling with the hem of her robe.
"I have," she admitted, getting up and joining Hermione on the bed. "Your dad."
Hermione sobbed, shocked at the sound that came out of her mouth. The weight that she'd been carrying around felt a little lighter and her mother's arms engulfed her tightly.
"It's alright," her mum whispered as she cried. "I may not understand it. I don't know the woman, but I love you. I'm scared for you, for so many reasons, and I'm worried that you are so young and are fighting a war and falling in love with older women and being a generally adultier adult than more people I know socially." Hermione chuckled, wiping her eyes as she pulled away. "But you are my daughter. My only daughter and I would not jeopardise that for anything. I want to wrap you up in cotton wool and hide you away and take you away from there, but I am also coming to understand that," she shrugged. "Your world is not my world and to do so would hurt all of us."
"I didn't mean for all this to happen."
"I know," Jenny nodded sadly. "But it is where we are now, so we're going to have to think about how we're going to move forward."
"You need to hide," Hermione shrugged. "You're really going to have to hide. Until we can defeat him. I know Dad doesn't want to but, I really need you to hear us."
"Well," Jenny said, sighing tiredly. "Let's go and see what your Minerva has to say about it all, shall we?" Hermione blushed. "Come 'ere."
Hermione was pulled into her mother's arms and she held on tightly for a long while. She realised that unseen fallout of the whole mess was that their relationship had suffered under the weight of Hermione's compartmentalisation. She vowed to herself that no matter how awkward and difficult it was to explain or share, she would do so, wherever possible. They were her parents and she loved them and she didn't want to live without them in her life.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you," her Mum answered softly. "Let's go listen to your woman."
"She's not -"
"Darling?" she chuckled, cupping Hermione's cheeks. "There is no doubt in my mind that she will be, once you ask her," she smirked.
"MUM!"
"I'm just saying," she chuckled. "That while I don't know her at all, I saw the way she was looking at you, earlier and now. And if she hasn't realised yet, she will. I don't know what that will mean for you both, but be prepared to put the hard yards in, darling. Just know that you have nothing to fear from us." She paused and then pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead. "About any of that." Hearing that, despite knowing it quietly, made Hermione cry again and her mother chuckled and pulled her back into her arms. "Come on," she laughed. "Nobody wants to fall in love with a wet blanket."
Hermione snorted and shook her head. She wiped her tears and followed her mother down the stairs. The thought that again, someone had noticed that Minerva might possibly share her feelings, or something akin to them, was more than she could cope with, so once more, she pushed it to the back of her mind and prepared to join them all in the living room. There, they would prepare to hide her parents away for an indeterminate amount of time or risk losing them altogether.
