The next morning dawned bright and clear through the upstairs windows of The Pines. Hermione found her mother reading in the living room, the shaft of late morning light illuminating the pages. She walked around behind her and hugged her neck, pressing their faces together before kissing her cheek. Jean chuckled and placed her book on a side table, reaching up to her daughter and attempting to return the hug; both laughed as her attempts failed dismally.

"How did you sleep?"

"Great, thanks love," Jean said as Hermione came to sit on the floor in front of her chair.

"Good, it's great to see you smile again," she replied.

"That tea you made sent me right off to sleep. What did you say was in it?"

"Just a draught Mrs Weasley gave me yesterday. She came by last night and dropped off a hamper of food."

"Oh," Jean trailed off, her features falling a little.

"She also came to ask after us and… to see if we wanted to go and stay with her family for a little while," Hermione added, hesitating slightly. She saw her mother stiffen ever-so-slightly and seemed to refuse to meet her eyes.

"Mum?"

Jean looked at her daughter with an edge in her eyes that Hermione could swear looked cold. "She wants to take you away?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching for her mother's hand. "Mum, no. She wants you to come too, not to separate us."

Jean answered with a faint snort of indignation. "That would go well," she looked at her daughter, sat cross-legged before her. "I know how much she means to you, love, but—"

"But that's the problem, isn't it?" Hermione cut in quietly. Her mum's gaze seemed to soften at her words, but she left a short pause before she replied, nonetheless.

"Yes. I am grateful for how she's looked after you all these years, but… Hermione, I wish I could understand your world. I wish I could be a mother to you in every aspect of your life, not just the boring parts."

"You're always going to be my mum, boring parts or not," Hermione responded with a slight smile. "It's important to me that you know that Mrs Weasley never has been, never will be and has never wanted to be a replacement for you—"

"But love, she understands you," Jean pointed out. "She's the centre of all of your friends and she's a fountain for your magical knowledge. She knows things I never can, and that's always going to hurt, no matter what you do. However well-intentioned she may be, I can't bring myself to live in her house with her magical family. I'm sorry, love. I can't bring myself to go, especially not when I'd have to leave my home."

Hermione looked to the floor, where she realised that she was picking at the carpet to fill a billowing silence. She also realised that she had nothing to say: her mother had valid concerns.

"It's my fault," she started. "And I'm so sorry. I can never apologise enough for what I did to you during the war, and I feel like I never made time for you. I never explained everything that was going on in my other life—"

"It was never your fault, love," Jean held Hermione's head between her hands and gazed fondly at her through welling eyes. "It was never your fault that you were so special, so talented, so busy," she said softly, bringing watery smiles to their faces. "The only problem is me; Molly is lovely and has looked after you so well, like I said. It's because of me that I can't go, not her. Definitely not you. Never think it's your fault, Hermione. I love you so much, and now you're all I have."

Her voice trembled away at this, and the tears began to fall thick and fast. Hermione reached for the box of tissues on the side table and gave her one, moving around to sit on the arm of her chair. She was hurting too, but Molly might have been right: she couldn't stay here. Not like this.

"Mum, I-" she hesitated, unsure how to continue. "I don't want to leave you here alone, but-"

"But you want to go," Jean finished, quietly. There was a pause.

"I just… don't want to be in this house right now. I love you, and I love Dad—loved him… so much, and being here is—" she struggled to find the word. "It's tearing me up inside."

The Jean sat in the chair was a smaller shadow of her former self, but her face wasn't angry. "I understand, love," she said, her quiet voice barely audible. "If you need to go, go. Do what will make it easier for you, you don't have to look after me. You've lost your father," her voice tremored again and burst in her next few words. "I know you've lost your father. Do what you need to do, love."

The tears became too much now—quelling her speech—and Hermione hugged her again. "I'll come and see you every day. I just— I want to sleep again, and if moving is going to help with that, then I should at least try it."

"Of course you should, love. Thank Molly for me when you go," Jean said, patting her daughter's arm now.

"I will, and I'll bring food and some more Drowsy Draught too," Hermione promised, kissing the top of her mum's head.

Hermione's screech owl, Archimedes, soared through the afternoon sky and landed on Molly Weasley's kitchen windowsill, tapping on the glass. The red-haired witch quickly let him in and summoned some owl treats while he settled himself on the kitchen table. As Archimedes gobbled, she untied the letter from his leg and began to read.

Dear Mrs Weasley,

Thank you so much for your visit last night and your offer. If I may, I'd love to come and stay. Mum would prefer to stay at home, so I'll come and go from our house to yours, taking food and Drowsy Draught every few days or so (if that's alright with you.) Speaking of which, thank you for that; sleep came so much easier to both of us last night thanks to you. Can I come over around ten tonight? I'd like to stay with Mum until she heads up to her room before I leave.

Hermione

Molly smiled at the letter and summoned some parchment, jotting a quick affirmative reply before sending Archimedes off again, this time with the note clamped in his beak.

Hi all! Thanks for reading. Please do leave a review if you want to, and there'll be another upload next Friday!

Amelia x