She's a loaded gun, in my shakin' hands.
Am I in hell, or the promised land?

I'll show you what I got, when you tell me what you need;
So put ya money where your mouth is.
When the beat goes on, she knows that nothing's wrong
She goes down; like the setting sun.

- Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is, Jet

"So darling, how has school been? Hopefully frightfully better than last semester," Mum giggles in her twinkly manner as we zoom along the London traffic.

I laugh nervously, trying to keep her suspicions at bay. Not that she has any at the moment.

She has no idea the extent of the horror that was last year. When I found Mum and Dad in Australia, it was suggested by Kingsley to modify their memories into thinking something different, something more pleasant, than what had actually occurred; ignorance is bliss. So I decided I'd let them remember I was at school for a few months, and then went off with Harry to find the Horcruxes. But I also made them believe that I was with most of the Order too. 'We' decided we'd visit Melbourne for a nice summer vacation.

I know this makes me a terrible child, manipulating their emotions like that. I was guilty for weeks. But I was so worried about their sanity. They're the most important people in the world, and I know they feel the same way about me. They actually truly care and love me. At the same time though, they just wouldn't understand.

They can tolerate a lot of things, but I've never been very rebellious (in their eyes, anyways), so they wouldn't know what to think if they found out I was a wanted fugitive for a Wizarding government. Not that they would've lasted long enough to find out; they surely would've been captured and interrogated within the first month of our disappearance. I certainly couldn't have told them that that might happen should I go hunting for dark objects; I couldn't even tell them I was to be finding dark objects.

Besides, they've always had a good relationship with the establishment. They knew Voldemort was bad, but I couldn't have ever explained to them just how terrible he was. How he took over the Ministry is not the same as a political coup, you can curse someone to control them in the wizard world if you're evil enough; they wouldn't get it. I don't want them to question everything morally they know to be true. And even if they did comprehend anything in the complicated mess, I'd rather them be happy I am a witch than fear it. I wouldn't want them to be running ragged everyday wondering if another Hitler-like figure was storming around in a place they can't access.

Because they liked Harry, Ron, and his family when we met, they didn't get too angry when I told them I'd dropped everything and left to aid them. They knew I had the best intentions at heart. Which is true. I made them remember that You-Know-Who was a large threat; in their minds he is equal to every dictator that's ruled with fear tactics, though they don't need to know I was the Death Eater's target demographic.

Anyways, having to be re-educated because the school curriculum was completely out of sync at least was something they could take to heart. After all, Dad wants me to follow his practice someday. He's avidly discussed bringing a dentist office to Diagon Alley… like that would work. I don't want to touch the inside of people's skulls. I'd much rather fight for animal rights, for wizard and Muggle-kind. But he doesn't need to know that until university time…

"Hermione?" She looks sideways from her position in the front seat of our car, and I sit here, probably looking stupidly dazed in the back.

"Sorry Mum. Daydreaming… It's been a very, uhm interesting year," to say the least. I try to smile. "They chose Fay Dunbar, my classmate, to be the Head Girl so I've been able to study quite a bit more now that I'm relieved of my Prefect duties." And go on dates…

Dad clicks his tongue. "Good to hear, love. Though you would no doubt be the best Head Girl they'd probably ever have the privilege of having, so that was a mistake, wasn't it?" I shake my head and silently grin. I do well…okay, really well in school. Dad has this impression that I'm worthy of the Wizard equivalent of the Nobel Prize because I'm Muggle-born and get straight O's. I love him.

"Lots of work to do dear?" Mum asks another question. Oh, god. "I know this time of year was always so stressful to you."

I don't want to tell them.
But you have to, Hermione.
Fiddlesticks.

"Actually, I don't have much work," Which is amazing thank Merlin. It's bad enough to worry about my former enemy entering my home and meeting my family. If we hadn't had our first round of exams in the past few days I'd probably have died from the stress. "But there is one thing, quite urgent; to tell you sooner. I ,er, thought it would be better in person."

My dad draws in breath, and slams on the breaks as we reach a red light. "You're pregnant aren't you!" he shouts, and I'm so stunned at the ridiculousness that I let out a titter.

"It's not that Ronald boy, is it?" That shocks me still and makes my mouth shut.

"Darrell! How rude!" My mum slaps him lightly on the arm. But then she turns to me again slightly apprehensive.

"You aren't pregnant, are you love?" Sigh.

"No, I am not. And you know very well, Dad, that Ron and I broke up last summer," I reply slightly annoyed. "We're good friends." Lies.

"Oh, right right right. Sorry, love, you know how I am," he chuckles fakely as he wills the car to speed up again.

I look out the window and spot Lenora's Bakery, making my mild irritation immediately vanish; we're almost home now, probably about 10 minutes away. The bakery is so close to our street, I can't forget to get some of her amazing cake when – no, I'll be with Malfoy for most of the time when the rest of my family isn't here. Agh!

"It's fine." I probably shouldn't have made the announcement sound so dire, I mean, they don't even know who Malfoy is. Oh, but they will! "I just wanted to inform you both that I've been required to do a partner project for my Music elective," I say calmly as possible.

"How lovely! How is that class going, darling? You seemed so excited about it in the letter." Yes, I was, wasn't I? Dread has replaced that, and an overwhelming amount of stress that our summative is worth 40%.

"Oh, it's going well, Mum. It's quite interesting, though performing in front of such a small group is nerve wracking sometimes."

"Well, you've always been gifted, top notch to anyone's standards. You'll have nerves of steel in due time," Dad states.

"Thank you," I laugh appreciatively. "But anyways. We need to be finished the project, at least most of it, for the end of the break." My stomach mixes horribly in anxiety. What if they don't want him there the whole time? The very idea of going to his house scares me. "It…it was agreed that our house would be the best place to meet up and work on it."

Not even a second passes and Dad asks, "It's not with a boy, is it? Will we finally get to meet that Ronald boy properly, I mean his family was certainly likeable but I don't want him-"

"Oh, Darrell, don't be silly. It will be fun! I never get to see or meet your little friends! Harry and Ron seemed so nice." Mum interrupts delighted. Only, it's not my friend. And he's definitely not nice.

"It's, um, not with Ron or Harry," I say awkwardly.

We pull into the driveway in silence and for a moment the knots in my stomach disappear. I always miss it when I leave. Home. It looks just as good as ever, I note spectating it. I mean in the picture I gave Malfoy, decades old, it looks exactly the same!

I realized as soon as we left King's Cross that I'm in that stupid photograph, dancing about in the mud under a tree. He's probably laughing at me. He'll probably laugh every time he sees me now. A blush creeps onto my face but I shake it off. Don't need them suspicious.

I clamber out of the car as quickly as I can when Dad stops and run to the trunk, popping it open to retrieve my bags.

"Who is it with then, darling?" Mum asks pleasantly as we walk up the driveway.

Spit it out. "His name is Draco Malfoy," I reply, entering the front door after Mum, glad Dad is still parking the car in the garage; Mum always ways more lenient about boys in general.

She's always thought I'm too studious like Dad was in uni and now in leisure. She's tried to set me up on countless dates. But I've been too gawky and felt too young, inexperienced. She's fairly popular, has a lot of dentist and high school friends she keeps in touch with.

Mom's a great person, that's why. She's kind, smart and beautiful. If only I had I inherited her looks. She has perfectly curled chestnut hair and green eyes that rival Harry's, only they're more like the colour of grapes rather than freshly mown grass.

"What an interesting name. Is he nice?" Psh.

"He's not bad," I reply diplomatic. After all, he hasn't been this year. "You aren't upset that I essentially invited him over without asking, are you?"

"Of course not, it's school. Tea?" She asks suddenly. I nod. She walks over to the kitchen from the mudroom and I follow suit after hanging my coat on the rack. "I have no issues with you bringing over someone, love. You have good taste in people. And you never do introduce us to anyone. I understand that it's a different world out there, but you are always so lonely come summer time. I suppose your old friends aren't as close to you anymore."

That's true, I agree in my head. My two old friends Priscilla and Delilah from childhood hardly ever communicate with me, nor I them. We've gone to dinner and shopping in the weeks when I'm not out travelling or vice versa in July and August, but somehow it's not the same. A basically 7 year separation is hard to mend. They always tell me to give them my cell phone number and e-mail, Facebook, etc. The truth is that I don't really have any of those things. Dad lends me his phone come summertime should I want to venture out, and I have an old e-mail….but as much as I like the internet, movies, TV, etc, I'm used to a life without using them. The only thing I miss when I'm gone that's material is my records and music.

"I know you are fine with it, you always are. I promise I'll have Harry out some time, he just hasn't been able to the past 7 years," I chuckle. "I'm only worried because…well because of Dad, you know how he is, and well…he's different." I blurt out. She might as well know the inevitable awkwardness that's bound to come.

She turns away from the tea kettle and beckons me over to sit on one of our bar stools lining the island in the kitchen. I go and hop on the uncomfortable chair, and she joins me on the next one. "Sweetheart, your father is just worried about you becoming a woman, like all men do to their daughters. Well, you already know that obviously; He'll be fine once I coax him," she says confidently, rolling her eyes as if he's a mischievous puppy. "Though, I'm curious. What do you mean, different? Do you have an attraction towards Draco?"
Even though that isn't what I meant, it takes all my will power not to blush as I turn to face her. "No, Mum," I lie. Is it a lie? "I just mean that he's a pureblood wizard."

Her brows furrow in incomprehension. I hate explaining this stuff to her, it feel so rude.

"Pureblood?"

"Yes. It means his entire family are all wizards and witches. He doesn't know anything about the Muggle, I mean our, ways of life. He isn't going to know what a lot of things are or do, and he'll probably get frustrated a lot. It's just difficult. I had no choice in picking my partner, and…I don't really mind him over. But I don't know how…well how polite he'll be. I doubt he's even come across a non-magical person, so he may act funny towards you at first; you know how Dad is towards manners," I say, fidgeting with my fingers. I'm casting such a great web of lies. I wish I could be honest and tell her I don't want him here.

"Hermione, I'll speak to Dad about everything okay? Don't worry; this is school we're talking about." The whistling sound of water boiling is getting louder so she stands up to grab some mugs. "What day is he coming? Or what days, rather."

"Friday. For the first meeting; though I never established a time. Hopefully he'll come after noon so we can prepare."

"Prepare? And 2 lumps of sugar, right?" She pours the milk into my orange pekoe, and I nod.

"Well, we have to have a clean house for him." I say, and realize it sounds like I think the house is disgusting…or else he has high standards…..or that I want to impress him. I fiddle with the sleeve of my sweater, feeling ashamed that I need the house spotless. I know he's going to scrutinize it, he can't help it even if he wants to, it's what he's been brought up to do.

"Oh, really?" she chuckles. Well at least she's not upset. "Is the house really a sty?"

I survey my surroundings. The kitchen is completely minimal; black tile with stainless steel appliances. The sunken living room next to us perfect; couches are all fairly new leather, flowers accent in all the right places and the cream carpet doesn't have a stitch out of place. "I guess not, sorry."

"Trying to make a good first impression are you?" she teases.

"Kind of." She usually gets me talking about troubling things with such ease, and I'm not usually dishonest. I just feel like I can't tell her anything about him. "He's rather rich."

"Rich? Are we just paupers then love, haha," she titters. She really doesn't take much seriously, thank heavens. But she has a point. They do make quite a lot as dentists, my parents. I mean, I never ask for much money as an allowance, but I always get really nice gifts for Christmas and plenty of pocket change if I am going out. If we lived in the country, I'm sure our house would be larger than this, more like Malfoy's, though I like it just the way it is.

"No, Mum, of course not, I was only saying. He's probably from the wealthiest family in Wizard England." And I don't even know if that's an exaggeration. I never really thought about it to be honest.

"Oooh. Well I guess we'll bring out the fancy cakes for him," she jokes. I shake my head.

"How many times will he be over?" She asks, and I notice her expression has become more worrisome. She walks over to me and hands me the cup. It's one I painted her for Mother's Day years ago, with a blue sun and a poorly written "I love you!"

"I've no clue. I guess we'll just have to see how far we can get in an afternoon's work. I never made a fully regimented schedule though I wanted to, because I didn't know when Gran and the rest were coming over." I look at her expectantly taking a sip of the hot tea, waiting for her to tell me the dates, but her face falls. "Mum?"

The door slams open. "Helen! Have you seen my pipe? I seem to have lost it in the car."

He scurries into the kitchen and sees our faces. "What's wrong, loves?"

"I was just going to tell Hermione…about Easter." When she says this, I get very worried. Dad frowns sadly.

"Is Gran…sick?" I whisper. "Has something happened to someone?" Mum sees how distraught I am and quickly speaks.

"Of course not love! Of course not." She comforts, coming to sit next to me on a stool. "I just know how excited you were about everyone coming together as a family. So were we. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to work out fitting times for everyone to meet here."
I feel a small part of my chest sink at the news.

"Dad and I have a convention to go to for Monday in Leeds. For the British Dental Association." "When will you return?" I ask crestfallen.

"Well, see, this is the bad thing, Hermione. You remember Maureen and Davis?" Dad and Mum's golf friends, I think. I nod.

"Davis has asked Dad to be the best man…they're getting married." Okay?

"That's lovely, but what do you mean…?" I swallow harshly. They won't be gone just for 3 days, I realize.

Mum knows that I get it. "Yes, dear. The wedding is in Glasgow; it's a 5 hour drive away from the conference, but the Wedding is next Sunday, and I thought that it would be nice if we could give drive up and give them a hand while going for a visit."

"But…you're leaving me alone? I hardly ever get to see you," I whisper under my breath, a tear daring to roll down my face, but I sniff it back up.

"Oh, please Hermione, don't cry," Dad says, coming over to embrace me, but I am upset.
It means no dinner I was so looking forward to. I'll be stuck here with Malfoy by myself. Even if go visit Harry and them, I'll have to come back, I can't hide there.

"What am I supposed to do about my project then? You're okay with Draco coming over when you're not in the house?" I ask grasping at straws.

It's a pathetic, selfish plea. Just bad scheduling on their part, but it's not their fault.

This mentioning of boys seems to do the trick with dad, whose face turns a ferocious shade of puce.

"W-what!" he yells, hands in the air, pipe flying about in his open palm. "Who's Draco!?"

"Relax, Darrell," Mum says, patting him on the arm. She gives me a stern look. "Hermione, we trust you to know what you're doing with boys; you've always been level headed." That's changed drastically in the past 2 months.

"You know better than to slack on your grades and intellect to attract any male attention," Dad grunts. "Besides, it's not like he's going to be here every day, right? I'm sure his family wouldn't mind if you visited his house."

I stiffen. Definitely not. Not for a million top marks will I step foot in that place. I tried to convince myself I could…but the memories, and the fact that i'd probably be treated like dirt are enough.

"Also love, we get to meet him Friday and-"

"Do we?" Dad butts in, looking scarily eager.

"Yes," I deflate.

"I'm so sorry, love. If it was any other wedding…" she trails off.

And then it hits me; I forgot that Maureen was the one who had lung cancer last year!

She barely survived. Davis proposed to her the day before she went into surgery, knowing she may not make it out alive. Love at its finest. I feel awful now, they must be having financial troubles with the cost of therapy and recovery. A little help would go a long way.

They must go. I'd sacrifice seeing them for Ron or Harry if they were sick.

"Oh, Mum. I'm so sorry, I failed to recall who they were." I burst out sadly. "I couldn`t place a name to a face, but I remember now…and it's totally fine. I want you to go, you have to. I'm just really miffed that I won't get to see anyone. I only get to see you for a few days."

"I know. But, Andrea's coming over Friday afternoon at least." Mum says wanting to change the subject. "I know your little friend will be here, but I'm sure he won't mind if you take few minutes to have a chat; she really was looking forward to the family dinner and asked if she could stop by. You're her favourite cousin you know," Mum says winking.

I grin slightly; she's mine too.
I haven't seen her in so long, she's going to brighten my day right up. I have something to look forward to now, and my moody shifts ever so slightly upwards.

"Now about this boy…." I look up to see dad's fearful expression, round belly shaking in apprehension that Malfoy will strike a groping hand to me, and it's enough so that the tension breaks because I'm laughing. Mum joins in too, explaining that she'll fill him in on the details later.

"I'm going to go settle in upstairs," I pronounce, walking to the spiralled staircase with my trunk, glad that's over with. And obviously, I was worried for no reason.

Now that I'm thinking...maybe I should prefer Mum to be away while he's here because then she doesn't get to know the real him.

It's so ridiculous after all; that I'm apprehensive. He just likes to play games but if I keep control…

He's not going to do a thing.

Friday Morning:

"I'm off now Draco," she says, standing at the threshold of the front door, valise in hand.. "I look forward to spending time with you when I return."

I don't.

"Bye, Mother. Enjoy Cannes with…him." I reply bitterly. I hope 'Jean' drowns in the bloody ocean.

"Should you need to get in touch with me, just send me an owl." I simply nod, standing still at the foot of the steps to the drawing room. I turn around to go bathe but her tone stops me dead:

"Aren't you going to give me a kiss goodbye?"

I swivel back to my original position, about to ask her what's wrong with her voice, but her face quiets my anger. Her complexion, her outfit, and her long blonde hair are flawless; it's her eyes that shock me. The normally lifeless, condescending gleam that lies within the blue iciness are infringed with a silent sadness.

Giving in to that face, I saunter slowly over to her, and hesitantly halt in front of her. She's the same height as me, almost exactly. I lean in and peck her stiffly on the cheek. She grabs my forearms as I return upright, and returns the gesture. She doesn't let me away as she keeps the grip.

She looks straight into my face: "I hope you come to realize that I'm doing all this for the benefit of not only me. I love you, Draco. I always have, though sometimes I know it hasn't shown. I think you need someone in your life that can adore you for what you are, not what you can become. That isn't so selfish that he too encourages you to be the same as he - your father wanted you to be like him; didn't want you to grow up on your own. I saw it and I didn't try to stop it. So that's why I'm ending this now. It's just…too late. Everything is different. We can't live that way anymore, Draco. Please understand….I will see you in a week." I don't feel the embrace that she gives me as she opens and closes the door quietly.

With her stinging words, her awfully accurate words, I saunter to the bathroom, hoping the water will wash away the pain.

"NEXT."

The memory of this morning instantly fades from my mind as I'm brought attention to the non-existent line in front of me. I decided reluctantly as I woke up that I should probably bring Muggle money to Granger's, in case we do have to go outside. I'd feel completely lost without a stash in my pocket anyways. I've never even seen Muggle money, but I recall Father talking to the Death Eater Rookwood about how outrageous it was that Gringott's would allow for money transfer to Muggle currency.

I notice the key I've been clutching so firmly to my hand once again; I stole it from Father's cupboard this morning. I walk steadily as I can up to the counter, where a very old, goblin sits higher than me in attempt to stress authority.

"Ah, Draco Malfoy, wasn't it?" he asks, and I cringe outwardly at the eerie recognition.

"Yes."

"Now what business would you have here?" he inquires harshly. I wince at the words. It was a gamble coming in here, after what happened to that goblin Griphook. Imprisonment is not taken lightly in any situation. Luckily, the Malfoy vault has been opened for centuries, and requires a lot of payment to be protected and kept inaccessible. With how rich we are, it would simply be bad for business. Or else, they'd be afraid that the Prophet would catch wind and expose more goblin 'prejudice'. I can see it now: Gringotts refuses vault access to wife and son of former Death Eater. They eat that shit up.

"I would like to uhm, convert. Some money," I clarify, embarrassed. I know this probably looks so fishy. Me, a Malfoy, converting money.

"Convert money?" he repeats incredulously.

"Yes….please. I require some Muggle money." I say simply, though it's not very strong sounding.

Surveying me, he waits for a moment before speaking again.

"May I be so curious as to ask why?" No, you most certainly may not. But if I don't tell the nosy, he'll only be reluctant to serve me properly.

"I was assigned a project at school, at Hogwarts, wherein I've found myself having to visit the Muggle world to work on it."

He raises a thin, white eyebrow.

"Very well. And how much were you planning on taking out?" Drat. Didn't even think on it. I don't know what the exchange rate is, I've never had to care.

"I've no idea," I confess, and the goblin just wheezes a laugh at me.

"Silly wizards, they never do think ahead on minute details. Just expect those of intelligence to do it for them."

I choose to ignore his words, though fury threatens to flare up in my system. How dare he belittle me like that? It's not like he's ever been to the Muggle world!

"How much would you suggest?" I ask aggravated.

"How many visits do you intend to make?"

"At least 5 or 6," I guess, hoping to Merlin it's less than that. Though the details of the project were extremely painstaking, so I'm just wishfully thinking.

"Alright. How much do you intend to spend?"

Ugh, this is so tedious.

"As much as it takes to complete the task," I reply, again hoping it won't be too much. Mother won't notice money gone probably, since she spends it like mad herself. But who knows what this creature might let slip if she happens to come across him?

"And that would be around?" AGH.

"I don't know," I spit. "I honestly don't know how much Muggle things cost, alright? At most I'll be buying books, I should think, though how many and how expensive they are I haven't the slightest."

He frowns for a moment and then a light bulb pops.

"I have a proposition for you, Mister Malfoy," he tells me, smiling cruelly. Ugh, he knows I'm at mercy because I'm so fucking ignorant.

"Yes?"

"There is a popular means of payment in the Muggle world called credit. They use cards-" snapping fingers, a small silver rectangle procures in his grasp, "like these."

He hands the object down to me and I take it lightly. Then scan it: a long string of numbers in the middle of it, the card reads in bumpy lettering; Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy. The top has the word Gringotts to the right and the little scale emblem of this bank next to it. The back has a thin black bar stretching across it.

"When one wants to buy something, they simply ask the cashier if they can use credit; it is a very big widespread concept round the Muggle world, so most places will accept it. What happens is they swipe the card in a machine that tracks the amount owed to the bank branch of the person who owns the card. It's called a computer system." I look at this thing before me, completely confused; it's like he's speaking Parsletongue. I listen intently anyways. "They have a similar card that is called a 'debit' card; this takes money directly from their account; see Muggle's generally don't have vaults, everything they put in the bank is stored on these computers. The difference is that credit can be paid off gradually, so if they can't completely afford something they need to acquire, they can make minimal payments until it's all gone. Banks make money by adding interest every month the payments haven't been paid."

That seems stupid. Why buy something you cannot afford? Though I'm sure in the Weasley household it would help them quite greatly.

"My point, Mister Malfoy," he continues, smirking at my expression, "Is that you could use that," points to my hand. "and we can track exactly how much something is, and convert it to our much better currency. We can take the money out of your vault to pay for things as you use it, so you needn't return," he says wryly.

This is kind of tempting. I don't have the knowledge and temper to try and process how to manage Muggle money. It's so very small, it won't be an intrusion. And it's also pretty ingenious considering I can afford anything I desire. Materially, I mean. Just swipe and I'm done?

"I suppose…I suppose it sounds like a good idea." I say. I realize I've insulted it by hesitating to say yes.

"All I need is your key." Looks angry. Bitter old, greasy -

"Here," I shove it into greedy long fingers.

"Hmmm, this looks much like Lucius Malfoy's key…but surely you wouldn't…?" I try to push the pink off my face but I know it shows. He stares at me happily; like a cat cornering a mouse. Damn.

"He has no need of it, in prison," I stress. "Besides, it isn't any of your business, quite frankly."

He sneers, but ignores me.
"Shall I set a limit, so you don't go overboard? Who knows what you'll get up to unleashed in a foreign place. We can go to the vault right now if you insist, and take out some galleons to set aside," he responds haughtily.

"No, thanks. I've places to be. I trust you, goblin. Gringotts has never failed my family. Except for last year's blunder in my Aunt's vault, I see no reason why you should affront me by suggesting I don't have any faith in this establishment or that I'll abuse it, and bring yourself down by suggesting that you might slight me otherwise." I retort coolly. He narrows its eyes at me; wondering what to take from that. I praised and mocked him at the same time, but I know I've gotten away with it; he can't say a thing now that I've given full permission into the Malfoy vault whenever he pleases.

"Fine. I suppose our business is finished here. Good day, Mister Malfoy."

"Good day."

With that final note I walk with my head held high up and out of the bank, and I slip the card into my trouser pocket. I hitch the leather messenger bag I'm carrying my books and records in tightly on my shoulder, whilst reaching in for the photograph.

As I step into the noon sunlight of Diagon Alley, I move aside on the marble staircase, and stare at the picture.

I take a deep breath, hoping to hell that this is the right choice I should be making.

The last thing I see before willing myself to arrive in the strange new streets of London is Granger's happy, smiling, toddler face.

[Author's Note: Okay, so the Gringotts Visa card is a little far-fetched. But then so is the idea of Malfoy going to the Muggle world, and Hermione's parents going away for a dental convention cum wedding. So sue me.

Also, Darrell and Helen Granger? What do you think? I have no idea. I thought Jean sounded too androgynous to be Hermione's Mom's name, seeing as I made her girly and stuff].