Only Half-Weasley
Chapter 14
A/N: To all of you who wanted a quick update, this is for you! Thanks for the reivews--I am really glad that you are enjoying this story!
"You're son?" Hermione asked unbelievably, staring wide-eyed at the older woman.
The librarian straightened up, peeling her eyes off of her son to look at Hermione. "What do you want to know about my son?" she said suspiciously.
"He married my sister-in-law," Hermione began, unsure of how much she should say. "She has been missing for almost twelve years and we are trying to find her."
"Twelve years?" the librarian said, pursing her lips. "A little late to be investigating her, isn't it?"
"No, I just-"
The librarian closed her eyes and held her hand up. "I refuse to talk about this anymore," she said firmly. "It has been almost twelve years since Alex died. If Ginny did not want you to know, then she obviously had some good reasons behind it." The librarian turned around to leave, but Hermione did not want to give up.
"Wait!" she cried, standing up to follow the librarian. "Please, tell me—does your granddaughter go to Hogwarts?"
The librarian stopped dead still, peering over her shoulder at the brown-haired woman. "How did you know?" she whispered fiercely.
Hermione lowered her voice so that no one else could hear her. "I have met your granddaughter, Holly," she said. "You see, I'm from her world, too."
The librarian turned around to face Hermione, a surprised look on her face. "You're…one of them?" she said.
"Yes," Hermione confirmed.
"Well, you certainly don't look like a witch," the librarian said, eyeing Hermione.
"I am," Hermione assured her. "Please, ma'am, can you tell me more about Ginny? What happened after Alex died?"
"My name is Pam," the older woman said, giving a heavy sigh. "What do you want to know?"
Wednesday morning, Holly, Cynthia, Daniel, and Michael received notes from Professor Potter concerning their detention. "We have to clean the trophy room with Filch tonight," Daniel complained, stuffing his note in his bag.
"That's better than having to sort dung beetles for Professor Vane," Cynthia responded, buttering a piece of toast. "I had to do that all last week."
Holly looked curiously at her note. "You guys are cleaning the trophy room?" she said, glancing at Cynthia's note which was identical to Daniel and Michael's. "I'm meeting Professor Potter."
Michael and Daniel peered at her note. "Lucky!" Michael exclaimed.
"Don't get too excited, Mike," Cynthia warned putting away her note and returning to her food. "I doubt he's going to let her off easy."
And Cynthia was more right than Holly imagined. At a few minutes before seven o'clock, she made her way to his office and rapped on the door. "Come in."
Holly entered cautiously. "Professor?" she called, peeking around the door.
"Come in," Professor Potter responded. "Take a seat."
Holly sat down in the chair across from her teacher, setting her bag on the floor. Professor Potter had been grading a stack of parchment, but stopped when Holly entered. "Sir?" she said, wondering what Professor Potter had in store for her.
"You have a special project today," Professor Potter answered her thoughts. "You will be cleaning out the Owlry. As you might have noticed, the pile of owl pellets has gotten out of control."
"This is a special project?" she asked, scrunching her nose at the idea of cleaning regurgitated mouse skeletons.
Professor Potter put down his quill and stood up. "Yes," he responded. "Your friends will be serving detention with Filch as you might already know. However, since you like using owls and you are the one who executed this plan, you get to clean up the mess—without magic."
Holly stood up and followed Professor Potter out of his office and towards the Owlry. Neither said anything as they arrived and Professor Potter said very little as he gave her a broom, a mop, and a bucket of water. In fact, neither said a word for several hours until Holly, her whole body trembling and aching, finally announced that she was finished.
Professor Potter checked his watch. "I think that will do," he said inspecting the round tower. "You may return to your common room."
Not bothering to look back, Holly sped away from the Owlry, promising herself never to return for any unnecessary reason. Just as she approached the common room, Michael, Daniel, and Cynthia appeared at the other end of the corridor, all three wet with sweat and looking beat.
"So, how was it?" Holly asked them wearily, her own body aching.
Daniel was rubbing his arms gently, a pained look on his face. "Fun," he said with a grimace.
"Loads," Michael answered. "What did you have to do, Holly? Anything exciting?"
Holly shook her head. "I had to clean the Owlry," she told them as the four entered the common room. The room was empty except for a group of sixth year boys sitting at a table on the other side of the room.
"That's gross," said Cynthia, collapsing onto a nearby chair.
"Tell me about it," said Holly as she sat down in a chair next to Cynthia. "I never knew owls could be so…messy."
"They're animals," Cynthia said matter-of-factly. "Do you really expect them to be clean?"
Holly shrugged, watching the twins collapse on a couch on Cynthia's other side. "I can't believe how many trophies there are!" Michael exclaimed. "Wonder how they all fit."
"You're a wizard, Michael," Cynthia commented sarcastically. "It's called magic."
Daniel whacked Michael on the forehead, causing the latter to groan in pain. "Dolt," Daniel said, shaking his head. He stood up, stretched for a moment, and headed towards his dormitory with Michael following behind.
"Going to bed already? Cleaning trophies too much for you?" she teased, her own eyelids feeling heavy.
"We deserve a good rest," Michael announced indignantly.
"Yes, your naivety alone gave us a good headache," Daniel added, disappearing up the stairs with his twin.
Holly laughed, her eyes closing as she rested into her chair. "Was it really that bad?" she asked Cynthia.
"No," she answered, examining her hands carefully. "Oh, and I wanted to ask you; your mother went to Hogwarts, didn't she?"
"That's what she says," Holly responded. "Why?"
"Ginevra?"
Holly sat up. "How do you know my mom's name?"
"Isn't that what you write on your letters to her?" Cynthia said.
"Oh yeah," Holly remembered. "You were looking at my letters to my mum?"
"How can I not when you place them in plain view? Don't worry; I don't read them," Cynthia added quickly, seeing Holly's stunned expression.
"What about my mum?" Holly said again, feeling slightly relieved that Cynthia had at least allowed her some privacy. "Her name was on a trophy?"
"I think so," Cynthia answered. "It was for Quidditch."
Holly looked confused. "That can't be my mum," she said. "No one in my family is athletic."
Cynthia peered over at her friend. "I guess it could have been someone else, but she looks so much like you."
"Really?" Holly asked, getting up.
"Where are you going?" Cynthia asked, watching Holly race toward the exit.
"I want to see!" she said excitedly.
Cynthia jumped up and ran after Holly, barely catching up to her at the end of the corridor. "What are you doing? It's past curfew! Do you want us to get detention again?"
Holly looked around worriedly, but kept walking. "Filch is probably in his office," Holly declared. "We won't get caught."
"Yes, that's what Daniel and Michael said about your little prank and look at what happened!" Cynthia exclaimed.
"Quiet!" Holly hushed her. "Do you want him to hear us?"
Cynthia was about to respond, but closed her lips instead and followed her friend tip-toeing through the corridors. Evading Filch and Mrs. Norris wasn't as easy as Holly had thought. At one point, the two had to duck behind a portrait as they saw the cat coming down the other end of the corridor, sniffing at a suit of amour.
"You're going to get us into trouble," Cynthia reminded Holly as the two went down another corridor.
"Am not," Holly said. "See? We're here. No McGonagall, no Filch, no Mrs. Norris."
Cynthia grumbled, but did not turn back. "What about on the way back?"
"If you keep making so much noises, then we will get caught," Holly hissed. "Where did you see it?"
Walking across the room, Cynthia pointed to a large trophy where a picture of seven individuals, each dressed in red Quidditch robes, were smiling and waving up at Holly and Cynthia. At the center of the picture was a redheaded girl about the age of fifteen and holding a snitch proudly in her hand. There was no mistaking the hair, the eyes, or the grin on her face. It was Holly's mother, younger and happier than Holly had ever seen her.
"So, is it?" Cynthia asked curiously.
However, Holly did not respond. She went on to read the names of the team members.
Gryffindor Quidditch Team
Keeper: Ronald Weasley
Beater: Jack Sloper
Beater: Andrew Kirke
Chaser: Demelza Robins
Chaser: Katie Bell
Chaser: Dean Thomas
Seeker: Ginevra Weasley
Not pictured: Team Captain, Harry Potter
"Her?" Holly gasped, her eyes wide and pointing at the girl in the middle. "That can't be my mum…but it looks so much like her!"
"And she looks so much like you!" Cynthia added.
Holly examined the picture closer. The girl in the picture had Holly's nose, her smile, and even the same red hair that Holly has recently acquired. In fact, had the girl not looked so much older, she could have been mistaken for Holly. "But this girl is a Weasley. My mum never mentioned being a Weasley," Holly said.
"Why not? They're practically famous! The whole family fought against You-Know-Who!" Cynthia exclaimed.
"I don't know," Holly said, shaking her head. "She hasn't told me a lot of things. I'm not even sure she played Quidditch. She never said anything about that, either."
"What are you girls doing in here?"
Cynthia and Holly whipped around, heart pounding in their chest. At the entrance to the Trophy Room was Professor Potter, holding his wand up to light up the room. "Brighton? Miller? What are you two doing out of bed? Again?"
"We were…er…" Holly began, but led her voice drop to nothing.
"You played Quidditch, Professor?" Cynthia asked.
Professor Potter eyed the two skeptically. "What does Quidditch have to do with you two being out of bed? Miller, this is the second time this week."
Holly bowed her head. "I wanted to look at something," she confessed.
"And it couldn't wait until morning?" Professor Potter asked again.
"I didn't know my mum played Quidditch," Holly said truthfully. "I didn't even know she was in Gryffindor."
"What?" Professor Potter asked in confusion.
"At least, I think so," Holly added quickly. "She certainly looks like my mother."
Professor Potter looked behind the two girls at the Quidditch Cup his team had won during his sixth year. He pointed to the picture and turned to Holly. "This team?"
Holly nodded, staring fixedly at the girl in the center.
"I was the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Professor Potter said slowly. "Your mother was not on this team."
"Are you sure?" Holly responded, pointing to the girl in the middle. "Because I think that's her."
Professor Potter looked at the spot where Holly was pointing to and nearly fell over in shock. There, smiling and waving furiously at him, was Ginny Weasley. "That can't be…" he whispered. He shook his head and turned to the girls. "Return to your common room. Ten points from Gryffindor," he said quickly, but did not stop looking at the picture.
Holly and Cynthia scurried out of the room, both thankful to have evaded detention. However, Professor Potter did not follow them. Instead, he continued to stare at the picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Did this make sense? It couldn't be her…could it?
It was late on Wednesday when Ginny returned from a long day at the store. Several customers had come in complaining about the small selection of books which Ginny had to remind them that this wasn't a library and referred them to another store. Later, the girl who worked the evening shift called in sick which meant Ginny had to work overtime. By the time she reached her flat, all she wanted to do was sleep. However, sleep was the last thing she was going to get. As she turned the corner, she noticed a light on in her apartment and it was moving!
She pulled out her wand and unlocked the front door. However, she did not have to search long to discover who had invaded her apartment. Sitting at the table with a cup of tea in one hand was Hermione.
"Hello Ginny," she said lightly. "Or is it Jenny now? I can never be sure."
Ginny dropped her bag on the counter. "What are you doing here?"
Hermione put down her cup. "I thought it was obvious," she answered seriously.
"So you figured it out," Ginny said tiredly, hanging up her coat. "I knew you would. I'm just surprised it took you so long."
"Then why bother hiding it if you knew I would find out?" Hermione countered. "And what did you do with your hair?"
Ginny pulled at one of her blonde locks. "I always thought I would look good in blonde," she said thoughtfully.
"It's hideous."
"Red is hideous."
"At least we would recognize you," Hermione said coldly.
Ginny sat down across from her sister-in-law. "And did it escape your mind that perhaps I did not want to be recognized?"
"No, it did not," Hermione said evenly, putting down her cup.
"I thought so," Ginny replied, sitting back in her chair. "So how did you find out?"
"Library as always," Hermione answered. "I met your mother-in-law there. We had a pleasant conversation about you."
Ginny's face grew pale. "What are you doing talking to my mother-in-law?" she whispered fiercely.
"That should be the least of your worries," Hermione retorted with a scowl. "What are you going to do when I tell your mother that you are indeed alive?"
"Nothing," Ginny said simply, standing up to get herself a cup of water.
"Nothing?" Hermione said unbelievably. "You would do nothing?"
"Why do I need to?" Ginny returned. "It won't make a difference."
"They're your family! They care about you! They have lived these last twelve years believing you were dead!" Hermione exclaimed, turning around in her chair to face Ginny.
"What do you want me to do? Go back to my parents and beg for forgiveness?" Ginny returned, setting herself back down across from Hermione.
Hermione sighed. "No, I want you to be a part of the family again. We've missed you. Why else would I have come here?"
Ginny sat quietly in her chair, spinning her glass of water in her hands. "I know," she muttered, not meeting Hermione's eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"What are you thinking now?" Hermione asked.
"Hardly anything," Ginny said with a sigh. "In a matter of months, I lost both my life and my husband. For almost twelve years, my whole life has been devoted to taking care of my daughter. I don't have time to think about anything else."
"We would have helped you, you know that," Hermione said, placing a hand on Ginny's arm. "You didn't have to go through that alone."
"But I did," Ginny countered. "I did this to myself! I knowingly abandoned my family, married a man that I loved yet hardly knew, and chose to live like a Muggle! I was not about to go crawling back to my parents, widowed and with a baby that I thought was a squib!"
"Ridiculous," Hermione said. "Your own child? A squib? With your magical blood, that couldn't be possible."
"It felt possible," Ginny confessed. "Every second of every day, I felt more sure that my daughter was a squib and as a mother, I could not break her heart by telling her that I belong to an entirely different world full of magic while she must live as an outsider. I couldn't do it, Hermione."
"What about right now?" Hermione asked again.
"What do you mean?"
Hermione threw her hands in the air. "You're still living like a Muggle while Holly is living in the wizarding world!" she cried in frustration. "It's the same thing!"
"This is different," Ginny said quietly. "Half of her life is still in the Muggle world."
"It won't be like that forever," Hermione retorted. "Soon, her life will be in the wizarding world. What are you going to do?"
Ginny looked down at her cup of water and said nothing. After a moment, Hermione continued. "And what were you going to do when you found out Holly was really a witch?"
"I'm still trying to figure that out, aren't I?" Ginny returned, her face showing her exhaustion.
Hermione nodded silently, eyeing her cold tea for a moment. "What about Harry?"
Ginny's heart skipped a beat. "What about him?" she tried to say casually.
"You love him," Hermione said again.
"It's over," Ginny stated sadly. "It was over twelve years ago."
Hermione grabbed Ginny's hand. "It doesn't have to be," she said eagerly.
Ginny pulled her hand away, looking at Hermione squarely. "He knew I eloped," Ginny said quietly. "He knew and he left."
The brown-haired girl sat up in surprise. "He left?" she said incredulously.
"Hermione, it's just better this way."
"No, it's not!" Hermione protested. "Ginny, Harry isn't the only person in the world who cares about you! What about your mother and your father? Don't they have the right to know that they have a granddaughter?"
"Yes, but-"
Hermione stood up. "Ginny, I won't deny that I am upset that you lied to me, but don't make things worse. Your family will find out one day and the only way they won't forgive you is if you don't tell them yourself." The brown-haired woman headed towards the door, Ginny following her.
"Hermione?" Ginny called to her. "Are you going to tell them?"
Hermione stared at Ginny, a wan look on her face. "No," she said finally. "I trust you to make your own decisions. But please, when you do finally decide, remember that we have never stopped worrying about you and we will welcome you back with open arms."
The door shut with a click, but the sound did not register in Ginny's ear. Instead, Hermione's words rang in her ears as she turned out the light in the kitchen, brushed her teeth, changed, and settled into bed. Even as she turned out the light to her bedroom, the images of her family came into view, with Harry in the middle, smiling. Was this possible? Would they really forgive her?
As she fell asleep, her dreams told her of another story. Holly appeared at the apartment, red-faced and angry, demanding to know why Ginny wasn't playing Quidditch. Before Ginny could answer, her daughter's face turned into that of fiery Mrs. Weasley.
"I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT!" her words screamed before she, too, began to morph and changed and Ginny was now looking at a disgruntled Harry.
"You couldn't wait eight months?" he said angrily.
Ginny woke up, cold sweat on her brow and trembling. No, she couldn't see how they could forgive her. Hermione was wrong.