Chapter Three: Differ in Opinion
It had been a few days since their return to the country, and that was even after they'd spent a few more days in Australia cleaning up the mess of alternate identities. It was difficult for Hermione to get a read on her parents, whether they were thrilled to see her again, safe, or if they were absolutely furious with her. Most of the time it was a mixture of both. One minute her mother would wrap her in a tight hug, the next she would be muttering spitefully under her breath about sorting out the mortgage.
Upon their arrival they discovered Hermione's charms to keep other Muggles out of their old home had held up. It was still there, though it was hardly the home they remembered. All the plants were completely dead, abandoned for months without water. The walls and shelves and drawers were bare from Hermione stripping them of any hint of her existence. The furniture was coated with a thick layer of dust.
There was a long stretch of poignant sadness as the family readjusted to their home. It lasted several days as they tried to recover what was lost. Her father was unbelievably ornery and impossible to talk to when he found out Hermione had closed their dental office and he would have to start anew. Their ability to 'understand' was stretched to the limit as Hermione painfully revealed every detail of her scheme, especially when it turned out they had no water or electricity. Her excuse of, "It was for your own good," was losing its efficacy.
She was silent most of the time, especially at dinner. Her head was always low, her movements measured, her words considered carefully and only spoken when she was first spoken to. It was over one such dinner that she told her parents she needed to go back to the Burrow.
"Absolutely not," her father responded immediately, causing her to shrink back into her chair, giving him a fierce stare, her lips pressed together angrily.
Her mother simply looked at her, contemplatively.
"It…it wouldn't be to stay," Hermione defended, smiling faintly as if it would soften him. "I just…I left some things there."
"Well, you've gone this long without them, haven't you?" her father replied. His bad mood was back, though she wasn't quite sure it had ever left. It was unusual for him to be so bad natured. He was avoiding Hermione's gaze, one hand gripping a fork, shoveling food into his mouth, the other closed in a fist on the table.
Her mother set a hand on his.
"What did you leave there?" Cecilia asked softly, turning her softened gray eyes to her daughter.
"Some clothes, my books, Crookshanks…" Hermione listed, barely making eye contact.
"And Ron?" her mother offered, her eyebrows raised haughtily.
Her father swallowed uncomfortably and removed his hand from his wife's grip.
"Your mother and I need to talk," he said with a cough, wiping his hands with a napkin to cover up his discomfort.
Hermione looked to the floor again, blushing profusely as she cleared her dishes from the table and put them in the sink to which the water supply had been freshly reopened. She walked partway up the stairs, then sat and listened out of sight as her parents talked.
"I don't want her to go back," she heard her father hiss. "It's dangerous, Cecilia. Look at everything she told us! It can't be safe. And this Ron, boy, if I could—"
Her mother interrupted calmly, coolly confident. "You thought he was a fine boy the last time you talked to him."
"Don't you see how he treated her?" His voice rose slightly.
"Yes, but there are rough patches in every relationship!" she spat back. "Couldn't you see how much she cares about him when she was telling us what happened? She loves him, and—"
Her father gave a splutter. "It's too dangerous!"
"It's not the magic you're afraid of—it's Ron, isn't it?" she accused.
A prickly silence filled the space. Hermione sighed deeply, reminding herself to breathe.
"She's just going to pick up her things." Her mother's voice was low.
"Fine, but that's it. We'll take her to pick up her things, to…to say goodbye, maybe and—"
"Ambrose," her mother said sternly. "That's not the right way to go about this. Don't cut her off."
"I don't want her to be in danger again!" He shouted at full volume now. Hermione heard a scrape of a chair as he stood. "I just want what's best for her!"
"Don't you remember what it was like for her in our world?" her mother yelled back, anguished. "I don't want her to be that miserable little girl again! She is happy with them!"
Silence again. Hermione felt a lump swelling in her throat. She hoped desperately that her father's proposed banishment from the magical world was only out of anger, of worry, and that his doubts would fade with time. It was not normal for him. Her parents had always been so accommodating towards her "other" life, accepting her, even beaming with pride for her. They were just upset—upset that she'd turned her magic on them, upset that she'd almost died about a hundred times.
"We'll go tomorrow," came her mother's voice through the wall, quiet and low. "We will be civil. We will make pleasant conversation with people who are very important to her. We will not ruin this for her. Agreed?"
Hermione heard a muffled sound of agreement from her father and took it as her cue to go to go to her room for the night, a nagging sense of cold despondency pressing down on her. Only the thought of seeing Ron the next day made her feel any bit of warmth again.
\\*//
Hermione peered out the window of her father's car, filled with both fear and excitement at the sight of the Burrow. She'd had no way of contacting the Weasley's and letting them know she was back in the country; she possessed no owl, they possessed no mailbox or telephone. And so, it would be a surprise. The car pulled up the gravel driveway leading to the chicken coop and garage. As Hermione squinted against the sun and the dust being cast into the air, she saw the front door open and a figure step out.
The car slowed to a stop and Ginny ran over, beaming broadly with surprise as Hermione stepped out.
"Welcome back!" she said brightly, giving her a quick hug before turning to greet her parents. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger! Nice to see you again."
Hermione's father nodded curtly, looking concernedly at the chicken that was approaching their car; his wife grinned sweetly and elbowed him. Ginny shook their hands, still grinning, before turning to Hermione.
"Pig got your letter to Ron, if you were wondering," Ginny said quietly. "I've never seen him so miserable."
"Well, Pig isn't really one for long distance flights."
"Not Pig, Hermione. Ron!" Ginny laughed.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "W-what did I say? I thought that…that—"
But the door had swung open yet again and Mrs. Weasley stepped off the stoop and, arms wide open, hurried over to Hermione and squeezed her tightly.
"Oh, it's great to see you again, dear! And—" She gasped and smiled gleefully. "You've brought your parents, how lovely. Long time no see, Cecilia, Ambrose." Molly let out a little laugh. "You simply must stay for dinner!"
Mr. Granger raised his hand, finger poised in protest, but it was squelched by his wife.
"That would be lovely," Cecilia said kindly, patting her husband's hand.
Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and shared a silent agreement to talk later as the four of them were hurried into the house.
"Oh, Ron will be so happy to see you, Hermione, he's been absolutely impossible while you were gone!" Molly declared as she brought them to the sitting room, hushing up the Grangers with cups of tea.
Hermione shot a glance to Ginny, who responded with an affirming nod and raised eyebrows. Crookshanks scampered across the floor and dove into Hermione's lap, nearly knocking the tea from her hand.
"Where is Ron?" Hermione asked quietly, scratching Crookshanks' ears and trying to ignore her father, sitting like a bristly cat on her right side.
"He and Harry are in Diagon Alley," Molly replied. "A few things to attend to at the joke shop, if I recall." She smiled kindly, then turned to the Grangers. "My sons, Fred and—" Her face froze momentarily before she cleared her throat and started again. "My son, George runs a very lucrative business there, practical jokes and the like." Her voice wavered slightly but she managed to force a smile, raising a quivering cup of tea to her lips. Ginny was looking into her lap.
Mrs. Granger cut in gently. "Yes, Hermione's told us all about it. Nearly killed her father when she asked what he thought of love potions."
A faint giggle passed through the room.
"Oh, look, Ron's on his way back," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, gesturing at the family clock. Ron's hand had moved to 'traveling' and sure enough, within a few moments, the sound of a successful apparation out in the front lawn announced his and Harry's arrival.
Hermione stood abruptly, Crookshanks falling from her lap. She brushed away her father's commanding grip on her hand, quickly hurrying to the door. Harry nearly fell off the landing when she thrust it open.
"Ooh, sorry Harry!" Hermione cried. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," he said through clenched teeth, rubbing the side of his face.
She hugged him quickly, then Ron.
"When did you get here?" he asked quietly, squeezing her tightly.
"Maybe ten minutes ago?" she offered, breaking from Ron and smiling at the two of them. "My parents are here, inside, talking with your mother, Ron," she said, opening the door more widely and allowing Harry and Ron to enter. "I have so much to tell you!"
They crossed to the sitting room, Harry first, Hermione second, hooking a single finger with Ron's and leading him.
"Mum, Dad, you remember Ron," Hermione said, forcing a smile, putting a forceful hand to the small of his back and forcing him to step forward.
He gulped and outstretched his hand. "How are you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger?"
"Please, call me Cecilia," Hermione's mother said, taking Ron's hand.
"You can call me 'Sir'," said Mr. Granger, standing and shaking Ron's hand.
"Very funny, Dad," Hermione replied awkwardly.
"Not a joke." He was giving Ron a very steady stare.
"Mr. Granger would be more suitable, then, don't you think?" Cecilia suggested, pulling on her husband's arm and forcing him to sit once more on the sofa.
Molly cleared her throat. "How were things at the shop, today, Ron?"
"Er, good…they were good. I-I had this idea for, um, to—" He brought his hand up behind his head and messed with his hair. "Well, it's not finished yet or anything and I dunno if it'll be any good, but, sort of a knock off of Skiving Snack-boxes, only for people you don't like much. Like, a chocolate éclair that makes whoever eats it barf slugs, or something…I dunno, it's pretty stupid but I just thought it might add to the practical jokes section."
Hermione led Ron over to the armchair so he wouldn't catch the looks on her parents' faces at the mention of barfing slugs.
"Where did Harry and Ginny go?" Hermione whispered, sitting beside Ron on the arm of the chair.
"Off snogging, I expect," he muttered quietly as the Grangers and Molly continued in a conversation about the family clock.
"You don't know that," she replied, setting her head in her hand.
"You haven't been here."
"Don't remind me," Hermione muttered. "I have so much to tell you…" She glanced over at her parents who seemed to be completely fascinated with Molly's tale. "Come on," Hermione whispered, standing and taking Ron's hand. As they left the room she thought she saw her father try to get up, but he was restrained by his wife gently setting her hand on his knee and demanding he tell Molly about his dental practice.
Hermione and Ron walked hand-in-hand down to the garden as Hermione told him about her time in Australia—how she found her parents, when she lifted the spell, and the past week of trying to avoid their wrath.
"They're so angry with me, Ron. I don't think they know how to feel. They don't like that I used magic on them, but they understand why I did. They're frustrated with having to sort out all the bills and deal with their office." She let out a heavy sigh. "I feel terrible, really terrible…"
"You had to do it Hermione," Ron offered. "They'll calm down eventually."
Hermione paused, leaning against the fence and looking into the green pond.
"My dad didn't want me to come here, Ron. I don't think he'd be satisfied unless I promised never to have anything to do with, well...I'm not so sure he's a fan of y—er, magic…He's not quite so accepting of it now I've used it against him."
Ron breathed, joining her against the fence. He paused, watching as tears sprung to Hermione's eyes. "Well, he's just angry, isn't he? He'll calm down. It's not like he's Harry's uncle or anything. He knows he can't just stamp the witch out of you, doesn't he?"
Hermione nodded. "It's not just that, he—" she stopped. "You know how I said I'd told them everything about our…trip?"
Ron nodded.
"Well, I did. I told them everything…"
Ron creased his eyebrows in thought, trying to remember what 'everything' was. "So…so you told him about…about how…about how I walked out…on you and Harry."
Hermione nodded, breathing slowly to avoid crying. "I just, I thought that—I thought he'd move past it when I told him about all the other things you did for me, but he's sort of…fixed on it."
Ron exhaled heavily through his nose, releasing himself from Hermione's grip and folding his hands on the edge of the fence. "Great…so I wasn't just imagining it. He does hate me."
"My mother doesn't care, Ron; she told my father she knew I lo—that it, um, didn't matter to me and that we'd moved on."
"Did he treat Krum like this?" Ron snapped.
Hermione felt her heart jolt with his harsh tone.
"He never met Krum. I never introduced them," she said steadily, trying to maintain her temper. "I never even told my father about Krum and I; I only told my mother."
Ron made an odd sound in the back of his throat, but said nothing else.
"It's not you, Ron," Hermione tried to assure him. "I'm his only daughter, his only child. It's sort of to be expected. He would have acted the same way with anyone else. And you also have to remember he's been in an impossibly irritable mood lately."
There was a long period of silence between them. Ron softened after a few moments and gently wrapped her hand in his again. They listened to the frogs chortling in the pond, watched as they scampered across the lily pads.
"I told Mum I wasn't going back to school. She's in denial, right now, I think. She keeps asking me to pick up my books whenever I go to help George."
Hermione looked at their hands, avoiding his eyes. She couldn't let him know she was on his mother's side.
"I hope things improve. She got over your brothers dropping out, didn't she?"
"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "But I think she's really determined to get me to go back. I think it was the one thing she'd used to keep her sanity when I told her last year we weren't going to school. She must have figured I'd be going back when we were done…"
Hermione was unsure what to say. She caressed his hand softly, leaning closer into him.
"I really missed you this past week, Ron," Hermione said gently, looking up at him. "I don't know if I could go a whole school year without you there. I keep thinking back on how horrible it felt with you gone and I can't get past it…"
Ron sighed guiltily, looking down at the ground. "Except it's different, because you know I'm coming back, and you know it's not the last time you're going to see me."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, yes, of course. You're right, I'm being silly."
He removed his hand from hers and instead draped it across her shoulders, gently pulling her along as they walked again.
"Ginny said you were upset when you got my letter," Hermione began. "Did I say something to bother you?"
Ron shook his head and laughed a little. "Nah…I just…"
"What?" Hermione prodded.
He turned slightly red. "Well, er, you know…It made me miss you more. And I did sort of wish we were snogging too, not doing the dishes with my mum."
Hermione let out a hearty laugh as they entered the orchard. They sat down beneath a tree, overlooking the wide lawn, the garden, the Burrow itself. His arm was still around her and she'd curled up right next to him, her head tucked beneath his, breathing in his wonderful scent—cedar, like the trunk where he kept his clothes. With a little shot of bravery, she raised her head and kissed him. He reciprocated graciously. Hermione reveled in the moment, cuddled under the tree, well away from the problems called 'Mum and Dad.'
Ron broke away after awhile, brushing a lock of hair from Hermione's face.
"Hermione," Ron began softly.
"Hmm?" she replied through a small grin, still leaning in close, ready to continue.
"I think you're…you're really pretty."
Hermione let out a spluttering laugh.
"What?" Ron cried defensively, leaning away. "Why's that funny? I thought girls liked that!"
She shook her head and placed a hand to her mouth. "Nothing, it's not…just the way you…just the way you said it. You're so—"
"So what?"
She giggled and pressed her forehead against his, staring straight into his eyes. "You're just so—"
"Dead," came a stern voice. Hermione's father was clambering up the path toward them, looking reproachfully at the two of them.
They stood abruptly, Ron shrinking back and Hermione stepping forward.
"Dad, what are you doing here?" she hissed, crossing her arms.
"Trying to find you. Since when is it proper for you to go off without telling someone where it is you're going?"
"You're embarrassing me," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Does Mum know you're here?"
"She's helping Molly cook dinner," he replied, setting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "We should head back; food should be done soon, I expect."
Hermione shook off his hand. "I can get there myself."
Mr. Granger glanced up at Ron who gulped nervously. He then turned back to Hermione and said under his breath, "We'll talk later." With a quick nod in Ron's direction, he turned and walked back to the Burrow.
She looked back pleadingly at Ron. "I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out and taking his hand.
"I think I've finally found something more terrifying than spiders," Ron said with a forced smile.
\\*//
Hermione and Ron sat by each other at the crowded table. Percy and Mr. Weasley had returned from work at the Ministry, George was visiting from the joke shop, Ginny and Harry had reappeared from wherever they'd stalked off to, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were sitting directly across from Ron and Hermione while Mrs. Weasley bustled about, arranging the potatoes, green beans, and pot roast.
"So, Ron, Hermione's told us so much about you," Mrs. Granger said kindly, smiling at him, softly elbowing her husband to keep him from staring at the gaping hole in the side of George's head where an ear ought to have been.
Ron choked on his mashed potatoes and Hermione elbowed him. "Oh," He swallowed. "Has she?"
"It was very kind of you to buy her a new wand," she added, buttering a slice of bread.
Ron grinned cheekily. "Well, she was pretty upset when she lost her old one, so it seemed like the obvious thing to do."
Mrs. Granger nodded approvingly and then turned to Harry. "And Harry, we'll be sure to pay you back for getting Hermione out to Australia. We can't thank you enough."
Harry looked up from his plate and grinned. "No problem. Thanks."
"Sounds like we'll have to make a trip to Gringotts soon," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, finally taking the time to sit down, pulling up a chair and squeezing in at the corner between her husband and Mrs. Granger. "We have to pick up school supplies for Ron and Harry and Ginny, and I presume you'll have to pick up some too, Hermione."
Mr. Granger, Harry, and Ron all made odd noises in the back of their throats and all began to speak in objection at once.
"Mum, I already told you, Harry and I aren't going back," Ron said with exasperation. "George needs my help, and Harry has other plans."
"George needs your help for now," Mrs. Weasley said firmly. "But you need a decent education to pursue something else once the shop's back on its feet, which I expect won't take any longer than the summer, isn't that right George?"
"What's that?" he asked, looking up stupidly with a mouthful of roast. "I can't 'ear you," he added, gesturing at his missing ear. Mrs. Weasley grew red and George winked at Ron.
"She's quite right, you know," Percy piped up. "There are a lot of important positions opening up at the Ministry; you should finish school to be more competitive."
"Shut up, Percy," Ron muttered, though quiet enough that Percy did not hear.
"What about Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley persisted, gesturing at her with her fork.
Hermione accidentally spat her milk back into her cup, looking straight into Mrs. Weasley's eyes, almost undetectably shaking her head, silently willing her to shut up. Hermione had yet to tell her parents she intended to return for another year at Hogwarts.
Mrs. Weasley did not seem to get the message. "How do you think Hermione will feel, back at school with you two off gallivanting about? At least she has a good sense of ambition."
Hermione shook her head more noticeably, mouthing at Mrs. Weasley to quiet herself.
"Mum," Ron muttered, gripping his fork tightly. "Knock it off…"
"Though, Hermione, I do suppose you'll be in the same girl's dormitory as Ginny's year, since you're both technically 7th years, then. Isn't that exciting?"
Hermione threw a forced smile down the table to Ginny, who looked flashed one back unenthusiastically, but their smiles disappeared when Mr. Granger finally got a word out.
"Actually, Hermione's not attending school again this next year," he said, appearing to be under great strain.
"Dad—" Hermione started, but she was interrupted.
"It's simple not safe!" he burst out, but returned to partially maintained civility. "And we're considering sending her to university, in the M-Muggle world. Perhaps pre-dentistry, carry on the family business." He winked at Hermione who only gave him a cool glare in return.
"Ambrose," his wife whispered angrily to him.
"She'd make a good dentist, don't you think?" he asked George casually.
"What's a dentist?"
Mr. Granger's face fell.
"I'm not going to be a dentist," Hermione muttered quietly, half wanting her parents to hear and half wishing they didn't. "And I'm not going to University."
"You'll change your mind," he replied under his breath, taking a forceful bite of mashed potatoes.
"No, Dad, I won't," she grumbled back, stabbing her green beans.
"Yes, you will—"
"Molly, these really are excellent potatoes," Mrs. Granger said shrilly, trying to smile.
"I'm an adult, in two worlds," Hermione argued under her breath, cutting her pot roast with a little extra force.
"Hardly."
"I can make my own decisions!"
"I will not pay for you to turn your magic on us!" he yelled, startling all around the table.
"I wouldn't have to if you weren't so impossible!"
She let out a strangled yell of frustration, shoved back from the table, and stormed out of the kitchen. The sound of a couple scraping chairs reached her ears, but she did not turn to see who was following. Angry tears began to form, hot and stinging, but she refused to let them fall, due to a passive-aggressive need to prove he hadn't gotten to her. It was not often she fought with her parents. To feel their anger bearing down on her for over a week was unbearable and far from anything she was used to.
She stopped at the garden fence and kicked a wooden post, too angry to care about the sharp throbbing in her toe afterward. She stood there for several long moments, crossly sniffing back the tears. Footprints approached behind her and when they did not stop, Hermione buried her face in her hands and choking out a sob with a yell, "Go away!"
The footsteps stopped and she turned around. Ron was standing there, treacle tart in his outstretched hand.
"I'm sorry about my Mum," he said, offering out the treat as some sort of penance. "I figured you wouldn't want to go back, so I brought dessert to you."
Hermione sniffed and sighed, taking it from his palm with a weak smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry about my Dad. I don't know what's gotten into him. When have I ever indicated I might possibly be interested in Muggle dentistry?"
Ron laughed faintly.
"It's too bad we can't switch parents. I'll take the one that doesn't want me to go to school, and you can take the one that does."
Hermione let out a sardonic chuckle. "Wouldn't that be lovely? I'd look up a spell, but imagine how infuriated he'd be if I used magic on him again." She let out an aggravated scoff and leaned into Ron, her head on his chest, hitting it gently, several times.
"Kick the post again if you're feeling violent," Ron said, holding her head in place, causing her to laugh at her own foolishness.
"I'm just so angry," she sighed, smiling, as the feelings of frustration slowly wore off.
"I'm just glad it's not me this time. Are you going to eat that?" He pointed at the tart in her hand.
"No," Hermione sighed and handed it back to him. "But thank you, very much…"
"No fanks needed," he replied, the dessert already shoved into his mouth.