004. Insides

"Hermione? Darling, where are you?"

A heavy sigh. "I'm in my room, mother." Hermione cringed as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. She hastily pushed the photo album under her pillow and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. She picked up her Transfiguration text just as her mother opened the door and entered the room.

Dr. Granger smiled at her only child; she was so proud of her daughter. Although Hermione never really spoke much of what occurred at school, her parents knew that she had already accomplished much in her short life. And yet... Dr. Granger's smile faltered a bit. And yet, there were times when their daughter seemed frightened. Haunted, almost. She longed to ask Hermione what was bothering her.

But Hermione had always been independent of her parents; even as a child, she hadn't really seemed to need them. She had never cried on her mother's lap or pouted until her father bought her a new toy. She had always been able to help herself. And try as her parents might, they had never been able to draw out their daughter. The never-ending quest of finding Hermione... almost a story title.

Dr. Granger opened her daughter's bedroom door and leaned against the door frame, respecting her daughter's wish for privacy. "Your father called," the girl's mother spoke. "He said he'll be home in an hour and wanted to know if you'd like to go out to dinner tonight." The sentence lingered in the air uncomfortably; both women felt as if something was unsaid, but neither was sure how to get it out in the open or if they even wanted to.

Hermione took a deep breath, looking up from her book. "Did you... would you like to come in?" The smile on her mother's face sent a pang of guilt through the girl's chest; she knew she hadn't been spending much time with her family since... well, since she had started school at Hogwarts, really. She didn't think that she'd had a heart-to-heart talk with her mother since she was twelve, and then it had been about how much she wanted a pet, and would it really be a problem if she got a cat. And the last time she'd gone anywhere just with her father had been the five minute drive to and from the grocery store the week before when she had needed a new pack of hair elastics.

It wasn't that she didn't love her parents. It was just that they didn't know her. They couldn't relate to anything that she was going through, although that was hardly their fault. Who expected dentists to know anything about dark marks and horcruxes? And it wasn't like she could ask them for help with homework; not that she needed any help, but what muggle in their right mind would care about the magical properties of flobberworm mucus? On that note, what muggle even knew what a flobberworm was?

"Transfiguration..." Hermione glanced up to see her mother peering down at the text book she held in her hands. "Changing one thing to another? Can you show me a spell?" The teen was about to protest that it probably wasn't the best idea, that she really shouldn't do magic in a muggle neighborhood, but the hopeful look on her mother's face convinced her otherwise. What could it hurt? Hermione was of age, after all.

"Sure, Mother," the girl replied with a half-smile. "Will you hand me that pen?" she asked, pointing at the writing utensil in her mother's lab coat pocket (ever the dentists, the Grangers often remained in their work uniforms while at home). Wordlessly the older woman handed her daughter the pen. A look of concentration crossed the girl's face, and with a mumbled incantation and a wave of the wand, the pen became a yellow daisy. Hermione handed the flower to her awed mother with a smile. "Here. Keep it. Unless you want your pen back...?"

"No, no, I love it," Dr. Granger replied. "It's simply lovely." She tucked the daisy carefully back in the pocket that had previously held a pen, admiring the bright flower as she did so, before looking back at her daughter, then at the book lying open on the bed. "That wasn't what you were reading when I called up, was it?" the woman asked perceptively, running a finger absently over the book's spine. Hermione glanced down at her hand clenched around her wand before shaking her head, confirming her mother's suspicion. Dr. Granger's eyes fell on the poorly concealed photo album behind her daughter and she sighed. "Miss your friends?"

Hermione avoided her mother's eyes as she nodded her response in the affirmative. Neither of her parents knew of her plans for the next school year; the promise she and Ron had made to Harry that they would go with him on the search for the horcruxes weighed heavily on her mind. She didn't want her father and mother to worry about her.

Dr. Granger wanted nothing more than to worry about her daughter. "Could I see a few pictures of you three? I haven't seen either of them since the summer before your third year, when we went shopping with you."

Hermione eyed the book hiding under her pillow. What was the harm in letting her mother look at pictures of her two best friends? The girl reached behind her back and pulled the photo album out, opening it up to the middle. "This is a picture of us in our fourth year," she narrated to her wide-eyed mother, taking time to remember exactly what had been happening in the scene unfolding in the moving picture. Collin Creevy had taken it between the first task and the Yule Ball; Hermione knew this because, in the picture, she and Ron were getting along. The trio was lounging in the common room; the boys playing wizard's chess and Hermione leaning over Ron's shoulder, watching Ron's knight obliterate one of Harry's pawns. The girl smiled wistfully as she turned the page.

"And this one is us at the train station the beginning of fifth year." Hermione really had no idea who had brought a camera with them; Sirius had probably slipped it into one of the twins' pockets. The former Marauder himself was in the picture, albeit in dog form, being said "goodbye" to by Harry. Ron and Hermione were also bidding farewell to Snuffles, but it was a bit less tearful on their parts (though Harry would never admit to crying). Remembering Sirius caused a pang in Hermione's chest and she paused, lingering on the picture a little bit longer than she'd intended. Her mother noticed but said nothing, knowing that her daughter would probably evade the subject if she asked any questions.

"And who are these fine looking gentlemen?" Dr. Granger indicated a snapshot of Hermione being bombarded by identical red-heads. "Your boyfriend's brothers?"

"Ronald isn't my boyfriend," the girl protested softly, shutting the album firmly and startling her mother in the process. "Mother, I've got work due at the beginning of the term that I absolutely must finish."

The dentist merely sighed and stood up from her seat on her daughter's bed. "Alright, darling." The woman hesitated. "Should I call your father and tell him that you're not feeling up to eating out tonight?" she queried.

Hermione closed her eyes and turned her head to face the opposite wall. "Yes, if you don't mind." The teen tried to ignore the look of disappointment and hurt on her mother's face as the older woman left her bedroom. She didn't like hurting her parents' feelings, really... but there was no other choice. They just wouldn't ever be able to understand what was going on in their daughter's life.