Building Barriers: The bricks may be of misunderstanding, but the mortar is of love.

Chapter 5: The Alternate Course

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Today's dinner conversation was—well—nonexistent. It seemed as if yesterday's explosion had frightened her parents into silence, despite the earlier friendly talk with her mother. All that could be heard around them was the air, buzzing and swirling. Hermione picked a bit at her food before deciding that she should probably eat something. She should probably eat something quickly, for the more quickly she ate, the faster she could get away from the table. These thoughts were foremost in her mind when her father broke the silence.

They conversed—her mother and father—in short bursts about Mrs. Corne's gum disease and Mr. James' root canal, and how if little Susie didn't eat less candy and brush and floss more, she would end up with a mouth full of cavities. After a half of an hour, Hermione asked to excuse herself.

Her father sighed deeply, setting down his fork and tapping his finger on the table. "I didn't mean to be hard on you yesterday. But we do things for you. When you get into the real world, you'll learn that things in life don't always have a quick-fix."

The real world. The real world. Her parents were the ones who didn't know about the real world. Hadn't she glossed over the real events at Hogwarts to protect them? They remained ignorant of the fact that a non-human murderer lived and breathed for one purpose: to dominate, even--and it seemed especially--if the path to domination required killing. She was the one who lived in the real world—The Wizarding world.

It slightly shocked Hermione, this revelation that, sometime during the past four years, the Wizarding World and Hogwarts had replaced her current address as her true and natural home. She felt out of place on the lane. Interestingly enough, it was this place that no longer stood as her home that made the Death Eaters despise her. Her parents were staring. How could they know?

Her father's words echoed in her head once again. "We do things for you . . . the real world . . ."

Hermione smiled—whatever she thought, however she disagreed, she felt angry at herself for her outburst the previous night, and she vowed to exercise a greater self control. "I know dad." More than you could possibly imagine, she finished to herself.

Her father looked as if he wanted to continue. Underneath the table, Hermione felt an odd urge to imitate one of Ron's rude hand gestures. Frowning as her fingers twitched, Hermione mentally rebuked herself and repeated her request to be excused, this time citing tiredness as the excuse.

In all honesty, she was tired. Deadly tired of arguing and trying to defend herself, her point of view, her way of life. While waiting for her father to respond, Hermione mused over the thoughts of her future.

What would she do? No idea. Something that helped others, if she could. That bettered the world. That is, if world survived. If felt odd to not know where she would be in five more years--to not know every detail of her life. Still, she couldn't see any way that she could know. At the moment, there was no way she could know if she would be alive then.

Hermione shifted focus immediately. She did know that Ron would be coming for her. Or rather Mr. Weasley. She had told her mother that the Weasley's had invited her to a "safe house" for the summer.

While that wasn't exactly true, she had received a letter saying that they were going to pick her up at the end of the week. The Burrow could qualify as a safe house, she supposed. Right now, that was as much into the future as she could see. Ron had something he would tell her when they arrived. She had also received a letter from Victor. Her mother had asked her about him again. Her mother. Hermione looked across the table to find Mrs. Granger looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry. I was thinking about something else."

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to visit the Robb's later tonight. Mrs. Robb has been asking after you. I think she is going to ask you to mind Jane and Brian."

Suddenly, Hermione felt guilty. Very, very guilty. Here she sat, contemplating whether or not she would live to come of age and condemning her parents for wanting to maintain their Muggle normalcy. She was a hypocrite if ever there was one.

They deserved to be free of this burden. She may not get along with them all of the time, but she couldn't stop talking to them just because they remained in the ignorance that she kept them under.

"Sure," she sighed, standing up. "But I don't know that I'll be able to do that. You know. I don't think I'll have the time." Hermione had never really liked minding other people's kids very much. Especially when those other people were the Robbs. Not the best behaved or the most academically gifted of kids. Worst of all, they were downright wild and rude. Hermione liked being a mentor, but policing those kinds of children all day was exhausting.

"I'll be upstairs if you need me." Halfway up the stairs, Hermione decided that, before she left for the Burrow, she would tell her parents all that she could. Whether they would listen . . . that was another story.

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A/N: Yes, I know it's short. But it's been forever since I updated and since I wrote this chapter; I just wanted to get it up. I happened upon in in my effort to finish this story. I suppose I intended to add to it & what I had previously became AU because of DH... So, excuses made. Sorry it's been forever.