A/N: Written for QLFC round 5, The Mystery Boxes.

Muggle box: Setting: The Granger household

Hermione's Secret

Frank Granger looked over at his daughter again. The Granger family was sharing their dinner; Hermione had returned only a week before from her sixth year at magic school – 'Hogwarts, dear', he could mentally hear Martha, his wife of twenty-two years, correct him.

His seventeen year old daughter and only child was fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt in that oh so familiar way; it being a habit she had inherited from her mother.

He caught his wife's eyes and realized that she, too, was watching their daughter struggle with something.

Frank let out a sigh. It was obvious Hermione wanted to tell them something, but at this rate it would take forever before she actually spoke up.

"Honey pie, what is the matter?" he asked her, failing to hide the concern in his voice.

Hermione looked up as if shocked. "Wha – what? Nothing, nothing is wrong, Dad." Frantically she looked at him, and then, her mother. "I am fine, really!"

"You and I both know that isn't the truth, honey," Frank said, smiling comfortingly at her. "You've hardly eaten since you sat down, and your mother and I both heard you pacing in your room until very late last night. You can never sleep when you are worried about something."

"I – That is I – It's nothing," his daughter stammered, then rose from her seat. "Mum, Dad, may I be excused? I'm not that hungry."

"Oh, muffin, I know what it is," Martha said, standing up herself. She walked around the table and hugged her daughter from behind. "It's obvious, really."

"It is?" Hermione half gasped. "But… but how? I thought I –"

"A mother knows," Martha said, smiling knowingly. "I had my suspicions when your father picked you up from London last week, but I thought you needed the time to figure out how to tell us both."

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that," Hermione said, relaxing in her mother's embrace. "I was so worried you wouldn't understand or that we'd have a fight about it."

Frank looked his wife in the eyes, she might know what was going on, but he definitely didn't. Martha mouthed something at him and for a moment he was confused, then, he was shocked.

"Oh, good lord," he muttered. Frank let out a sigh, then sat up straight and gave his daughter a – hopefully – encouraging smile, asking, "How long have you known, honey?"

He could see Hermione nibbling her lower lip for a moment as she mulled over the answer. "It was obvious after the Headmaster's funeral, I guess," she said. "But in a way, I always knew it'd have to be this way."

"The boy – Harry, was it? – Does he know?"

Hermione let out a half-hearted laugh. "Of course, Dad. How could he not?"

'How indeed,' Frank thought. "Well, at least it's Harry," he said aloud.

"Huh? What do you mean, Dad?"

"I can't say I'm that happy, you're only seventeen after all, but better Harry than that other guy. The ginger."

"Ron?" Hermione sounded confused. "Why would it be Ron? Ron is our best friend sure, but Harry's the Chosen One."

"Is that what they call it these days? I need a drink," Frank muttered, adding in a more audible tone, "Martha, I'm getting a glass of ale, would you or Hermione like something?"

"Just a water for us both," Martha replied. She took the free chair next to her daughter, turning it slightly so she was facing her child.
"I always knew you'd end up with him, ever since my little muffin came home with an entire book store's worth of books about one Harry Potter," she said, smiling.

Hermione just nodded, smiling a little. Frank returned with their drinks, and Hermione took a sip of her water just as her mother said, "I wish you would have waited, though. I am not old enough to be a grandmother yet."

Hermione nearly choked on her drink, coughing as the water shot down the wrong hole.

"A grand – Mum! What?"

"It'll be fine, muffin," Martha said, smiling. "Your baby bump isn't that visible yet, so you can have the wedding without any scandal."

"Baby bump?" Hermione's voice seemed to have gone up an octave as she stared at her mother, wide-eyed. "What baby bump?"

Martha placed her hands on Hermione's stomach, carefully. "I first thought you'd gone a little pudgy from all that fat food you eat at Hogwarts, can you believe that?"

Hermione shot to her feet. "Mum! I am not pregnant!" she cried, indignantly. "How can you even believe that?"

Martha was just confused. "You're not? But I thought –"

"So I've gained a little weight, so what! Merlin, how could you even think I would get knocked up?"

"There is no need to shout, honey pie," Frank spoke up. "It's a logical conclusion, after all you are at that age, and you always come back with stories full of 'Harry this' and 'Harry that'."

"I… I… No! Just, no!" Hermione yelled. "Gods, I can't believe you two! Harry and I haven't even kissed, let alone done… that! Besides, I'm with Ron now and –" Mortified, she clamped her hands on her mouth, then sat back down, taking a deep breath.

After a pregnant pause, Martha said, "Ron? Really? What is wrong with Harry?"

"Muuuuuuum!" Hermione complained. "Please, don't say another word, I feel embarrassed enough already."

"All I want to know is why you –"

"No, no, no!" Hermione stood up quickly and ran out of the room.

"That went well," Frank said.

"Shut up, Frank," Martha replied.

"Yes, dear," Frank answered. It was only much later that he realized they still hadn't gotten Hermione to tell them what was really bothering her.