A/N: Thank you I heart Star Trek and Modges for the reviews! I totally agree - I can only imagine how difficult a situation it would be for both Hermione & her parents, & I hope you like the direction I decided to go with it.
Next chapter: back to Hogwarts! JKR owns all, I'm just spinning my own plot in her brilliant world. Please R&R, & I hope you enjoy! :)
The first step was anger.
After Hermione had cried until she could cry no more, her parents had demanded to know what was going on. As she'd explained just what she'd done, she noticed her mother's mouth becoming an increasingly thinner line, highly reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, and the frown lines of her father's forehead deepening. Hermione had thought her initial explanation woefully inadequate – judging by her parents' furious expressions, they weren't satisfied either. They hadn't said anything, but the barely audible hiss of air from her mother's flaring nostrils and the glare on her father's face said it all.
The second step was horror.
"I know you must be furious with me," Hermione had said, her voice small, "but please give me a chance to explain. Please." A curt nod from her father had been her only response, but she'd taken it as a positive sign and continued. She told them as much as she felt comfortable sharing about the events from the end of her sixth year through the present time. She told them about Dumbledore's murder, about Bill and Fleur's wedding, and about being on the run, the incredible weight of their task bearing down on them as they struggled to merely find food. She even told them about the Battle of Hogwarts, although she choked up several times as she did so and had to sip repeatedly from the glass of water one of the Australian wizards had thought to procure for her. As she spun her tale, she noticed her mother's frown slowly disappear to be replaced by a look of shock, and her father's grip on her mother's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly.
"What…what happened after the battle?" her mother had asked, her voice faltering slightly. Hermione's voice had been hoarse from all the talking, but there had been more to tell, and so she'd launched into an explanation of her life since the end of the war – the unwanted attention, the never-ending pageantry, the exhausting trials, and the prospect of rebuilding.
"I hate it all," she'd said quietly when she'd finished. "All I wanted was to come find you and try to put things right. I know it can't make up for what I've done, but I'm so, so sorry." Unable to say any more, Hermione had stared at her hands clenched tightly in her lap, silently willing her parents to say something…anything.
The third step was reconciliation.
"Oh, Hermione." After such a lengthy silence, her mother's soft moan was almost deafening in the small room. "Oh, sweetheart…I'm the one that's sorry. I can't deny I'm angry at you for what you did, but I understand why you did it." At this, Hermione had broken down in sobs once more as her parents pulled her close.
"Shh," her mother had soothed. "I'm so sorry, darling. If I could make it all go away for you, I would, I really would. Don't cry, it'll be alright. We're here."
Hermione had flown back to England with her parents as soon as they'd set their affairs in order – with some help from Minister Warren, it had taken a surprisingly short time – and the Grangers were soon settled in their suburban London home, the family dental practice up and running once more and their old routine reestablished. In the two weeks since, Hermione had enjoyed extensive time with her parents such that she hadn't had since she'd started at Hogwarts. The only tense moment came when she confessed that she intended to return to school. At first, her parents had protested vehemently – "You've had more than enough trouble to last you a lifetime," her mother had said – but Hermione argued how important it was for her to obtain her credentials, something she couldn't even consider in a Muggle school at this point, and they'd had to concede defeat. She knew they weren't entirely thrilled with the situation, but she also knew they understood how much Hogwarts meant to her, and she was eternally grateful to them for accepting her decision. After all she'd put them through, she couldn't have asked for more.
The fifteenth of August found the Grangers at the Burrow, where it had become something of a habit for everyone to congregate for dinner on a weekly basis. Mrs. Granger was helping Molly in the kitchen, and Mr. Granger had disappeared with Arthur long ago, no doubt off to the garage to talk batteries, plugs, or cars. Hermione herself was in Ginny's room, and the two girls were rereading their latest correspondence from Hogwarts while they waited for Harry and Ron to get home. Unlike Hermione, the boys had decided not to return to school, so they were currently at the Ministry taking their substitute N.E.W.T.s.
"McGonagall's not messing around this year, is she?" Ginny murmured as she perused her letter. "'Let it be known that all students, regardless of their status during the war, have been offered the chance to return to Hogwarts should they so choose, and prejudice of any kind will not be tolerated.'"
"Can you really blame her, Gin?" Hermione asked. "This year's bound to be tough – I can only imagine some of the things we're going to have to deal with. It kind of makes me sad – I mean, so many of us were forced into impossible situations, but a lot of students probably won't see it that way. They won't understand."
"I think that's part of the reason why McGonagall's giving you lot a separate dormitory," Ginny said quietly. "Most of the school didn't fight, they're too young. You'll need a place where you can be with others who understand your situation." Ginny had hit the nail on the head with her reasoning there, and as much as Hermione was going to miss the familiar warmth of Gryffindor Tower, she knew that the separate space was the much better scenario.
"It'll be weird not taking the train though," she said wistfully. "Professor McGonagall wants us to Floo to Hogwarts earlier in the day, so she can show us our common room and explain some of the finer details before the feast."
"I know, but you'll take the train at the holidays," Ginny replied with a wave of her hand. "Besides, do you really want people trying to hunt you down for an autograph the entire trip, or to face the droves of reporters who'll take over Platform 9 ¾ if they know you're coming?" Hermione grimaced.
"No, definitely not."
"Didn't think so. What do you think about that Defense idea, then?"
Hermione and Ginny's latest envelopes from Hogwarts had been rather thicker than usual. Behind the letter welcoming them back and the list of required materials for the upcoming term was a second letter, which contained a rather unexpected inquiry:
Dear Miss Granger,
Although the Hogwarts faculty is delighted to welcome a new Muggle Studies professor to its ranks, we still find ourselves with vacancies in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you already know, I will be retaining my teaching duties for the upcoming year, but I regret to admit that the Defense position remains open – quite honestly, I haven't the faintest idea how Albus managed to pull through as many times as he did with regards to this particular problem. In the aftermath of the war, Defense Against the Dark Arts is arguably the most important subject offered at Hogwarts, which leaves us in a quandary.
Various professors have kindly offered to teach a Defense class or two in addition to their normal duties, but we still lack enough coverage for all of the class years. I'm sure you'll agree that the best Defense teachers are those with direct experience, which brings me to my current proposition. If you are agreeable to the suggestion, the seventh- and eighth-year groups will be left in the hands of the senior members of Dumbledore's Army – Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, Miss Weasley, and yourself. Two Ministry Aurors will be assigned to the class as well and will stop in as time permits to offer additional help, but as this would realistically occur only once a month, the brunt of the work will fall to the students themselves. I fully believe you more than capable of high success, given your records with the subject and (unfortunately extensive) real-world applications, but I wanted to give you a chance to consider the matter before we set it in stone. Please let me know what you think as soon as possible, and I look forward to seeing you in September.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress
Hermione and Ginny had discussed the idea at length and finally decided to accept – as odd as the thought of teaching their own classmates was, they couldn't deny that it was, in fact, a rather reasonable suggestion, and they knew that their class year, as the oldest, would be the easiest to leave in such an unconventional situation. Harry had generously offered them the multi-volume set of Defense books he'd once received from Lupin and Sirius, and Hermione already had a long list of spells she felt it might be useful for others to know.
"You know what I think, Gin," Hermione said. "It'll be really strange teaching our mates, but the idea is brilliant, not to mention it'll be another bonding experience for those who need it most. Besides, it means Neville's coming back." The two girls had always enjoyed an amiable relationship with Neville, and both greatly looked forward to seeing their friend again.
Two sharp cracks signaled the arrival of the boys.
"Blimey, that was difficult!" Ron announced without preamble as he threw himself unceremoniously onto Ginny's bed. "I'm never taking exams again!"
"Ron, you plan to be an Auror," Hermione chided. "You think there aren't any exams in Auror training?" Ron flushed and grinned sheepishly.
"Yeah, well…a man can dream, can't he?" he asked, sitting up and giving Hermione a squeeze. They'd acknowledged the elephant in the room months ago – neither could deny that the kiss they'd shared during the Battle of Hogwarts had been so necessary, but so wrong at the same time, and both had admitted that while they might have had feelings for each other in the past, those feelings had long since disappeared. Beyond elated that neither party had been hurt, the two had arguably become closer than ever before.
"How'd it go for you, Harry?" Hermione asked her raven-haired friend as she hugged him too.
"Well enough, I guess," he answered, reaching over to peck Ginny's cheek. "We'll find out how we did next week and hopefully be working by September."
"Works for me," Ginny said. "In the meantime, I suggest we go extract our fathers from the garage and enjoy some of Mum's cooking."
"Excellent, I'm starved!" Ron cried. Chuckling at his ever-present appetite, the four friends made their way down the stairs, following the tantalizing smells towards the promise of a delicious meal spent in pleasant company.