Title: Homecoming (12/?)

Rating: R (eventually)

Status: In Progress

Author: maggiemerc

Characters/Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Disclaimer: Do not own them. The only profit I seek is an ego boost from good feedback.

Summary: Hermione's back in England after fifteen years abroad. Harry's hunting for a new dark wizard. Ron's anticipating the arrival of a baby. Ginny is looking for love in new and diverse places. It's a HP/HG tale with much love for those Weasely kids, because they're not bad people.

Author's Note: Damn you Harry Potter movie! I have things I need to be doing besides working on this awesome fic. Oh well. Here's chapter 12. The previous chapters can be found here. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go work on chapter 13.

Also, if anyone has a way of getting in touch with the folks at Portkey I'd appreciate it if they let me know. I applied to submit this fic waaaaay back in January and they still haven't gotten back to me.

#

"But why did I have to come?"

Hermione wondered the same thing. Her oldest was hugging herself for warmth and scowling in a manner that only a teenager could achieve with any effectiveness. Hermione would have thought Rose would be delighted to go to her first real professional Quidditch match, but instead she'd been a brat all the way there.

Hugo, sensing his sister's misery, was trying to be as exuberant as possible and Hermione was a tad worried when she realized he was managing to irritate Rose and herself. It was the little bounce he did. And the little chant. Mainly it was the chant. She'd asked him three times to stop shouting the name of Ginny's team, but Hugo persisted. The child's selective hearing ability was always remarkable to behold.

The only reason she hadn't lost her temper was that it seemed to make her daughter even more miserable, and if Rose wanted to be bratty then she was more then willing to let Hugo be bratty right back. It wasn't the best action she'd ever taken as a mother.

She tried to drown out the chanting and the whining and stood on tip toes in the hopes that she'd catch a glimpse of Harry's dark hair. The stadium looked to be packed and more people were brushing past her and her children. She felt a shift in the air pressure to her right and turned to find Harry standing there looking a little breathless with Lily firmly in hand.

"Hiya," he said cheerily. His cheeks were bright red from either the cold or the jog he'd just finished.

"Harry," she looked to the girl, "Lily. Did you just apparate?"

"Didn't want to be late. Besides Lily loves to do ride alongs."

"It makes my ears pop," she admitted. "Who's that?"

"This is my daughter, Rose."

Rose nodded at them both and then stamped her feet in a terrible attempt to look like she was trying to get warm.

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked from mother to daughter curiously, but Hermione shook her head and he held back on any question he wanted to ask.

Hugo hadn't stopped chanting "Holyhead Harpies." He had, however, taken both of Lily's hands and was swinging them side to side in time with his chanting. It was probably an attempt to get Lily to share in his Quidditch induced fervor but it looked like it irritated her as much as it did Hermione and Rose.

"He all right," Harry asked a little under his breath.

Lily had pulled her hands away from Hugo. Hugo, not to be dissuaded from his new pre-game ritual, just raised his little fists in the air and continued chanting. Hermione stared at him, "I don't think he'll ever be right again."

"He was never right to begin with," Rose muttered.

Harry looked from mother to daughter again, "Well, aren't you a surly lot." Neither woman or girl responded. Harry scooted forward suddenly and snatched Hugo up and flipped him over his shoulder. Hugo squealed in delight. "Come on boy, let's get you into your first real life professional Quidditch match!"

Hugo cheered. Harry cheered. Then the chanting went up again and Harry joined in. Rose stamped her feet again, louder this time and Hermione just stared at the boy and the man as they walked into the stadium chanting like idiots.

"Mrs. Thomas?"

She looked down to find Lily looking up at her with a pair of startling green eyes.

"My mom says it's just the boys in our family that are idiots about Quidditch. That's not true is it?"

#

They were halfway through the match and Hermione's feet were starting to fall asleep. As soon as the snitch was released the crowd went to their feet and never bothered to sit down again. Hugo and Lily had made their way to the bottom of the box and were talking rather animatedly, pointing and gesturing and insuring that they'd crash as soon as the heads hit the pillow later that night.

Rose, being too mature for the idiocy that was her brother stayed with her mother and was now standing between her and Harry and scowling. If Harry noticed Rose's displeasure he didn't mention it. Though he did have a teenager or two of his own. Was probably used to them by now.

Ginny soared by overhead with the Quaffle clutched beneath her arm. She was flying fast, but still had time to do a little spin on her broom as she raced past Lily and Hugo. Both kids let out a whoop and hugged each other out of sheer joy.

Beside her Rose snorted.

"Not a Quidditch fan," Harry asked. He was still watching the match, hadn't even turned his head and he sounded jovial enough but something about his question, and about the slight edge to his tone had Hermione turning to watch them instead of the match.

Rose shrugged, "It's fun enough, but Hugo's being such a kid."

"He's not even ten. I'd think he's allowed."

Her daughter narrowed her eyes at Hermione's old friend. She recognized that look, and she now recognized that odd tone to Harry's voice. Harry, and Ron too for that matter, had always been stubborn and protective. That protectiveness extended to friends and family and, naturally, Quidditch. Her daughter, on the other hand, was surly and at her current stage of development one of the most sensitive people she'd ever known.

And here they were calmly going about and sending each other into a bit of a tiff.

This was her daughter and her best friend, and when forced to choose she'd choose her daughter in a heartbeat. But further below Hugo was laughing and smiling more genuinely then he had in months and that was the doing of Harry and his daughter. It could never be as easy as simply choosing a sister over a brother or a child over a friend. It had to be complicated. Had to require a delicate hand and patiences.

She could have made this easier. Could have told Rose she was staying home. She'd known after dinner that the girl wasn't too fond of Harry. But Rose loved Quidditch so she'd brought her.

Which begged the question of why she hadn't thought to bring another buffer. Not her parents of course, but Ron or Sarah. Sarah! The perfect choice. The South African witch and Rose got along well enough. It had been Rose, not Hermione, who finally weaned Sarah off her training broom and onto an adult broom. That would have been perfect.

It also would have required forethought, something that seemed to be wholly absent from Hermione's mind when things concerned Harry now. And that was a thought she had no desire to pursue while soaking wet at a Quidditch match near the man and her volatile daughter.

"Harry!"

All three turned at the shout. It took Hermione a moment to recognize Dean Thomas. He'd grown so tall! And distinguished. And that haggard look that had haunted him after the war was gone. Instead he was happy looking with a tinge of serenity that she suspected came from the woman on his arm.

Luna Lovegood had blossomed in the intervening years. Another old friend who proved that the awkwardness of adolescence was just a phase to live through. She still had that dreamy look in her eye but there was a sharp professionalism to the way she dressed and a wryness to her smile.

And she, the editor of the Quibbler, was the first one to notice Hermione. She smiled warmly and squeezed Dean's hand before nodding in Hermione's direction.

Hermione wasn't especially religious. She'd never put a lot of stock in the Church and less so after the war, but at that moment she sent a prayer of thanks up to whatever high being did exist for bringing her some sort of relief.

#

"So you and Harry are dating now?"

Hermione didn't quite squeak. Rose was out of earshot down at the foot of the stands with Hugo and Lily and Harry and Dean had gone to get snacks. So it was just Hermione and Luna, a woman incapable of asking appropriate questions.

"I—why would you think that?"

"You're here, together."

"With our children. Who are friends."

Luna hummed in thought. "So you aren't dating," she finally asked.

Hermione felt eye contact was important here. She turned her head to catch Luna's gaze. "No," she said as emphatically as she could without being too emphatic, "we are not."

Luna nodded and turned back to watch the game, "Pity. I've always thought you should."

"You and half the wizarding world," Hermione muttered.

"Did you ever think of it? Before Ron?"

On the field Ginny was dodging between Bludgers with the Quaffle under her arm. Her hair was plastered to her scalp by the combination of sweat, mist, and broom breeze. She looked focused, but the Quidditch pitch had always seemed to be the place where Ginny Weasley felt most at home. It had never been at the Burrow or even in the shy looks shared with Harry.

"There was never time," she said, "besides Ron…" he'd been wonderful and engaging and he'd loved her so much. It was like those movies she'd always watched nestled between her parents on the couch. The arguing and the idea that he thought she was special had warmed her up. And Harry. Harry had had Cho Chang, and Ginny, and the weight of the world on his back. "Ron was perfect," she finally said.

"And now he's married to a muggle." She wasn't the only one that found shelter from the wizarding world in the arms of a muggle. She thought about saying as much but that would have meant talking about John more and what she absolutely didn't want to do was talk about John. Not while she stood in the stands watching a Quidditch match with her kids.

Harry and Dean soon returned with what looked like a bucket of Ever Popping Popcorn. A treat Hermione knew for a fact Harry had always hated. Something about corn kernels irritated him beyond means. Maybe that was why he was scowling. And he was definitely scowling. But Dean didn't seem oblivious. He looked…awkward.

"They must have had a row," Luna said in that dreamy tone of hers.

Before they were quite back to Luna and Hermione Harry paused and caught Dean by the arm. He said something. It was hushed and quick and positively forceful. And Dean, usually a happy sort of fellow, turned to stone. The only movement was a firm shake of his head. He left Harry and hopped up the stairs to them.

Luna reached out to sooth her husband. He nodded to Hermione, "Afraid we've got to leave. It was good seeing you again Hermione."

She nodded, "You too Dean. Luna."

Luna brushed a hand across Hermione's arm as a farewell and they walked past Harry who was climbing the stairs with that scowl still smeared across his face.

"You and Dean disliking each other," she asked as soon as soon as he was in earshot, "how recent is that?"

He stared at her. Then the scowl turned into a blank look. "What?"

Hermione took the popcorn from him and popped a few kernels into her mouth. "You two go off for snacks and come back practically ready to kill each other. I thought Ron was the only man who could get you that riled."

"It was work stuff. He gave me a bit of news I wasn't keen on getting."

"Everything all right?"

He shook his head, "it's not important Hermione." She hoped her long stare was enough for him to realize she wasn't letting it go. "Really," he insisted, "it's work stuff that Ron and I will deal with tomorrow."

Out on the pitch Ginny seemed to have every Bludger and Beater on her tail. She swerved between the balls as the Beaters leaned into their brooms to pick up speed.

"Wow," Harry said, attempting to defer the conversation, "they've really got it in for Ginny."

The Beaters were just behind Ginny now and had set up a rhythm with the Bludgers so that one always seemed to be flying at Ginny's head. She was constantly ducking and the movement was slowing her broom down.

"Where's her team," Harry muttered, "come on," he shouted when one Bludger seemed to graze the top of her head.

"Harry," Hermione reached out to grasp his arm. It was taunt beneath her fingers. Solid and full of unspent energy.

"Well they're letting her get massacred out there," he argued.

Down the field the other team's Chasers were doing some amazing broom work and keeping Ginny's fellow Chaser and Beaters from helping her out.

It was crazy enough that even Hermione, a self-avowed Quidditch neophyte, could say "this can't be legal."

At the bottom of the stands Lily and Hugo were hugging the railing and watching with wide eyes. Rose had stepped in-between them and had an arm around each child's shoulder. She turned back to her mom.

"Harry," Hermione said, never taking her eyes off her daughter, "the kids."

At some point her hand had drifted down his arm and was now clasped firmly within his own. He squeezed it. "Maybe we should—"

Then there was a sound like a melon hitting pavement and Ginny went tumbling from her broom.

Just above her Rose noticed her mother holding hands with Harry and her normally bright face darkened.

Not a good night.