Family Tree
The next night, she and Ron Apparated to the roof of her parents' building and used Alohamora to open the stairway access door, so they could walk down to the tenth floor, where her parents had their flat. They reached her parents' door and Hermione looked at Ron. "I don't know what to do."
"Knock."
She frowned at him. "You know what I mean."
He shrugged. "Just ask them if they want to know."
"But if I ask, they'll say yes, even if they don't really want to know. I feel like I've turned their lives upside down so much already. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone."
"Seriously? You're going to keep this from them?"
She sighed. "No, I suppose not."
"Right, so knock." He gave her a reassuring smile
She took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Cleo and Calli, her parents' Yorkshire terriers, went mad barking at the prospect of company. A moment later, her father opened the door holding one of the dogs. Her mother stood behind him holding the other. "Come in, come in." He shook Ron's hand and then handed his dog to her mother and hugged Hermione. Her parents exchanged the dogs, and then her mother hugged her.
"I hope you two are hungry," her mother said. "Your father has outdone himself in the kitchen."
"Really?" Generally, her parents either made something simple like steaks or chops with a salad, or they went out to dinner.
"Yes," her father said. "I've decided to try my hand at cooking now that I'm semi-retired."
Her mother tutted. "He's not even remotely retired. He goes into the practice three times a week. He's had two journal articles published this month, and he's working on three more."
Hermione smiled at her father. "That doesn't sound very retired."
"I can't help how it sounds."
Hermione chuckled. Her mother put the dogs in their bedroom, while Ron and Hermione followed her father into the dining room. "Have a seat."
A moment later, her mother came in with a bottle of red wine. "Wine for everyone then?"
"Yes, please," Hermione said.
Ron nodded.
Her mother poured four glasses. "I have to say, I'm really enjoying this new hobby of your fathers, but I've had to add extra time at the gym, as well as another yoga class, just to keep my figure. My goodness he's made some rich meals."
"Fantastic," Ron said.
"I suppose you two don't have to worry about that at all."
"Not really," Hermione said. "Magic burns a tremendous number of calories, and we both do a lot of it."
Her mother took her seat at the table. "Oh, I remember. It used to cost a fortune to feed you when you came home for the summer."
Her father came in with a platter of roasted lamb surrounded by herbed new potatoes. "Luckily, we could afford it." He set down the platter and returned to the kitchen.
Ron eyed the lamb. "That looks delicious."
"It should be. Everything he's made so far has been great."
Her father returned with a bowl of ginger carrots and a bowl of green beans tossed with bacon and garlic. "Enjoy!"
They all tucked into dinner.
"So, how has your week been, dear?" her mother asked once everyone had gotten their servings.
"Good. Everyone really appreciated the spa day. Thank you so much."
"Excellent. I was happy to do it."
"And how about you, Ron?" Hermione's father said. "How was your week?"
"Busy. I've been working with my brother making products for his shop in the evenings and helping to train a new class of Aurors during the day. I'll be happy when they graduate, so I can go full time at the shop. Doing both is pretty tiring."
"I'm sure. How about your job, Hermione? Still working with the elves?"
"Yes. But honestly, Purdy does most of that. I've been working a lot with Magical Law Enforcement lately in their legal division."
Her parents glanced nervously at each other.
"It's mostly research. I'm a sort of attaché to the Wizengamot via the Auror's office. Actually, I'm more of a liaison, I suppose. It's not like I'm an Auror. I'm not in the field."
"And you have time to do all that and work with the elves too?" her mother asked.
"Yes. I'm busy, but it's not too crazy."
"Right," Ron said. "Couldn't be, because she still finds time to work on her translation of Beedle the Bard."
Her parents exchanged confused looks.
"It's just a child's storybook," she said.
"Written in ancient runes," Ron added. "Which she's fluent in."
"So's your mum," Hermione said.
"True, but she's never bothered translating any books."
"Well, I imagine, with seven of you, she was too busy," Hermione said.
Ron chuckled. "Quite right."
A silence settled over the table for a moment as everyone resumed eating. Hermione nervously bunched her napkin in her left hand. "Speaking of family," she said awkwardly and then instantly regretted not coming up with a better segue. She continued nonetheless. "Ron's Great Aunt Muriel sent me our family tree this week."
Her parents glanced at each other before looking back at her. "Oh?" her mother said.
"I didn't ask her to make it," Hermione hastened to add. "But as I mentioned before, I went to her with some questions about my heritage, before we figured out how to reverse the spell I'd done on your memories. I really missed you. I suppose I was just grasping at straws, looking for family. I'd heard there was a potioneer named Granger. He turned out to be unrelated, but we were mostly just looking for names and Muriel explained to me how magical families worked when they—"
"Produced a dud?" her father said frowning.
"What? No, not a dud, other than being non-magical, there is nothing wrong with a Squib."
"Except the name implies that there is something wrong. Look up the definition of squib in the dictionary, and you'll see it means weak, especially when referring to a child."
Hermione looked at Ron for support but his eyes were wide and his face was blanched. "Uh," she said. "Weak only in the sense of not being powerful in the magical sense." Even as she said it, she knew it didn't help.
Her father's scowl deepened. "Which is the most important thing for you lot, isn't it?"
"Wen, that's not fair," her mother said.
"But it's right, isn't it?"
"No," Hermione said.
But at the same time Ron said, "Yes."
Hermione looked at him, her mouth gaping open. "Ron!"
He sighed and shook his head. He looked at her parents. "She doesn't know, not really, because she's always been powerful, and she didn't grow up in a magical household with siblings, comparing herself to them, and wondering if she'd ever measure up. She was always the best in our class. Harry was the only one as powerful as her, and he was powerful in a different way. Besides, she really believes in treating everyone equally. But the reality is, power matters a lot in our world. It's not the whole of it, but it does matter. So, when a non-magical child is born into a magical family, it's a big deal."
Hermione was shocked when her father said, "Thank you. I just wanted the truth of it."
"I wasn't trying to deceive you," Hermione said.
Her father nodded. "I know, but what Ron said makes a lot of sense."
Hermione bit her bottom lip, unsure as to whether she should bring up the family tree again.
"You said there was a tree," her mother said.
"Yes, but if you're not ready to see it, or don't want to, you don't have to, but I didn't want to keep it from you, in case you're curious."
Her parents glanced at each other again.
"Actually," her mother continued. "We talked about this quite a bit after you told us we were probably Squibs."
"Oh?"
"And I think we'd both like to see it."
Her father nodded his agreement and stood. "I suppose I should clear the plates first."
"I can do that." Ron drew his wand.
"Oh, all right." Her father sat back down.
While Ron took care of the dishes, Hermione pulled the rolled parchment from her beaded bag and stretched it out on the table casting a spell to keep it flat. She took them through each branch, lightly touching each name on the tree with her wand to reveal the biographies and let her parents read them. Muriel had only gone back three generations, and none of the Muggles on the tree had biographies. When they had gone through everyone, Hermione explained how deadly Dragon Pox could be and how tit-for-tat families worked, and then she answered their questions as best she could. Ron was done with the dishes quickly, so he was able to answer most of the questions that Hermione couldn't. When they finally couldn't think of anything else to ask, her parents both sat back in their chairs looking stunned and tired.
Her father seemed a bit shell shocked. "When you're an adopted kid you have these mad fantasies about what your biological parents were like. Crazy stuff. Your dad was MI5. Your mum was a double agent. Rubbish like that, but…" his voice broke.
"Wen?" her mother said resting a comforting hand on her husband's forearm.
"My mother loved me." A tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed it away and got to his feet. He shook his head, his face reddening. "I'm all right. I just need a minute." He leaned over and kissed the top of Hermione's head and left the room.
Her mother nervously fiddled with the edge of the table cloth. "I don't know what to think about that tit-for-tat nonsense, but this has been a very interesting evening. I should probably check on your dad." She stood.
Ron and Hermione got up from the table too. "We should go home anyway, give you two some time to digest all this. I'll come by tomorrow evening and see how you're doing if that's alright?"
"Of course, it is, darling. You're always welcome here. You don't have to ask."
"Thanks Mum. We can see ourselves out."
Her mother hugged her and then went to check on her father.
Ron raised his eyebrows at Hermione.
"Let's go home."
xXx
"Are you all right?" Ron asked as they were getting ready for bed. Hermione hadn't said much since they got home, which surprised him. He'd expected her to want to talk about her parents' reaction.
She stopped unbuttoning her shirt and looked at him. "I don't know. I guess, I'm still trying to sort out what happened tonight. I mean, I knew it would likely be emotional for them." She shook her head. "It's just difficult."
Ron went over to her side of the bed and sat down. He reached for her hand and held it. "What is?"
"I'm not sure exactly. The whole two worlds thing, I guess. I wish it wasn't so difficult and complicated." She sighed and sat next to him. "It seems to me like we should do a better job, as a culture, of making the transition for Muggleborns and Squibs."
"Okay," Ron said slowly, anticipating an enormous undertaking coming his way.
"I mean, why doesn't Hogwarts offer classes to Muggleborns on basic magic? The kind of stuff that purebloods and half-bloods learn at home, the kind of stuff your mum taught me when I stayed at the Burrow. And why doesn't the Ministry offer support to magical families who have Muggle children? Why does everyone have to figure this out on their own? It's ridiculous and needlessly cruel."
Ron nodded. "Well, I reckon you should talk to McGonagall and Shacklebolt?"
"You're right." A look of fierce determination crossed her face. "I think I will."
Ron leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Of course you will."
They finished undressing and got into bed, but Hermione didn't roll toward him for a cuddle or more before they went to sleep. Instead, she lay on her back staring at the ceiling, which he knew meant she was thinking. Hermione was a fierce thinker. Sometimes, he felt like he could actually hear her brain working. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "G'night, luv."
She turned her head toward him and brushed his lips with hers. "Goodnight."
He smiled and rolled over. He knew it would be hours before she did the same.
xXx
The next evening, Ron went to help George make products at the shop after work and Hermione went back to her parents' flat. She smiled to think of their luxury condominium as a flat, but that was how they referred to it. She knocked on their door and waited in the hallway while the dogs barked. Her mother opened the door, holding one dog and nudging the other back with her foot, while Hermione slipped in. "Hello, Mum."
Her mother kissed her cheek. "It's so good to see you, dear. Come in." She set down the dog she'd been holding and both dogs sniffed at Hermione's shoes as she followed her mother into their large parlor. Unlike the flat they'd had in Sydney, the London flat was homier. There were silver framed family photos on the mantel above the gas fireplace and even the artwork seemed warmer and more welcoming. Her mother didn't stop in the parlor and continued into the kitchen, both dogs following at her heels. "I was just making a pot of tea. Would you like some?"
"Please."
"Assam or Earl Grey?"
"Assam sounds good." Hermione liked both equally, but she knew her mother's preference.
"Good choice." Her mother put tea in the pot. "Where's Ron tonight?"
"He's at the shop with George. Where's Dad?"
"He's at the club playing Squash."
"Good. I was afraid he would be upset after last night."
Her mother poured hot water from the kettle into the teapot and let it steep. "No. In many ways, he's quite pleased. After all, to know he wasn't just abandoned, that his mother wanted to be with him, well, he found that quite comforting. Actually, he wanted to know if he could get a copy of that photo from the tree."
Hermione nodded. "Of course."
"Good." Her mother continued fussing with the tea things. "Too bad there wasn't any information about his father."
"There was no way for Muriel to get Muggle data."
"Of course."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"How are you doing after last night?"
Her mother sighed and got a jug of milk out of the fridge. "It was different for me, wasn't it? I was traded like so much livestock."
Hermione felt awful. "I know it seems like that, but really, they probably thought they were doing what was best for you."
Her mother frowned at her. "How on earth could that be best for me?"
"Life in the magical world for Squibs is very difficult."
"Just because something is challenging doesn't mean you dump off the problem on someone else. Besides, the tree said my mother was normal, so why couldn't she handle it?"
Hermione bristled at the term 'normal' but let it go. "I don't know, but I agree that children shouldn't be traded like that."
"Ron and I have already discussed what we'll do if one of our children isn't magical."
"What? I thought you two were waiting on children."
"Well…um." She hadn't meant to shift the conversation away from her mother.
"Mi, seriously, you're not thinking of—"
"Actually—"
"You're practically still a child yourself."
Hermione frowned. "I'm really not, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
Her mother poured milk into her teacup. "How am I not to worry? You've only just gotten married. Give yourself some time to be a couple before you have children."
"In many ways, Ron and I have been a couple for a lot longer than we've been married, but that's not why you shouldn't worry. Honestly, we've stopped casting the charm, but the likelihood that we'll have a child any time soon, or at all, is pretty slim."
Her mother looked at her. "Why?"
"As I told you before, magical families are generally quite small, and Ron and I both have taken a lot of magical damage over the years. According to the healers, it's not especially likely that we'll have children."
Her mother went pale and put a hand over her mouth.
"Ron, of course, points to the Weasley family's high level of procreation and assures me that magical damage or not, he's quite virile." She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.
Her mother started putting the tea things on a tray. She didn't say anything but was clearly upset.
Hermione sighed. "Look, he and I have talked about this. We're going to give it five years. After that, if we still haven't conceived, we'll assess our options."
Her mother opened a packet of Hobnobs and put half of them on a plate. "Let's take this in the parlor. I need to sit down."
Hermione picked up the tray and they both went to sit in the parlor.
Her mother got comfortable on the sofa with a cup of tea and a biscuit. Both dogs sat at her feet patiently hoping for a bit of cookie to fall. "If you have a normal child, what will you do?"
"We're actually well suited to raise a non-magical child. We live in a house that could easily be put back on to the Muggle grid. We could split it like the Leaky Cauldron, which would protect the electrical equipment from the magic. I'm a citizen, so I can have any child of mine registered as a British citizen and subject to all the rights therein. It'll be a challenge, of course, but we're up to it. One thing is certain, we will not be handing that child off to be raised by anyone else."
"Good. Because that would be dreadful. Obviously, you know your father and I will help in any way we can, regardless of whether the child is magical or not."
"I appreciate that, but not everyone has that kind of support, so in the meantime, I'm going to talk to some people about helping other mixed families. No one should feel like they have to give up a child. Frankly, Muggleborn children coming into the magical world should get more support too. It's time to change some of these practices for the better."
"I can't help but wonder how much of this your grandmother knows."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why is she so dreadful about you? So resentful. So spiteful."
Hermione shrugged, long since resigned to the fact that her grandmother didn't like her. "Maybe you should ask."
Her mother sighed. "We haven't spoken since I called to tell her you were getting married."
Hermione sipped her tea. Her mother's relationship with her own mother had been fraught with difficulties ever since Hermione could remember. "Maybe we should go see her and take the family tree."
Her mother looked at her crossly for a moment, but then she arched an eyebrow. "You know what? We should. If we leave now, we can be there before seven. That's not too late."
"Mum, I was just joking."
Her mother nodded, clearly still thinking about it. "Maybe, but we should do it."
"Now? Don't you want to call first? What if she's not home?"
"I'm sure she is, besides, if we call, she'll say she's busy. We should just go."
"I don't know, Mum." Hermione couldn't believe they were seriously discussing it.
"I thought you said Ron was working tonight."
"He is—"
"Good, then let's go. We should get going, it's a long drive."
"Wait, if you really want to do this, we can Apparate, and then it won't take but a minute."
"I thought you couldn't do that with us."
"I didn't want to Apparate with both of you to Ron's parents' house, because I was nervous about them meeting you, and I was worried that Apparating all three of us would make one or both of you sick. I'm fine to take just you. I probably would've been fine to take both of you, but like I said, I was nervous. Besides, we're only going to Essex."
"Well, all right. Are you sure you remember how to get there?"
Hermione smiled, wondering how her mother thought Apparition worked. "Yes. Are you sure though? What are we meant to say to her?"
"She's your grandmother. Let's start with hello and see what develops."
"Mum, it's been years since I've seen her. Years. Do you really want to just see what develops?"
Her mother paused and thought for a moment. "Yes. Come on, let's go. How do we do this?"
Hermione sighed. She held out her arm and her mother took it. "Take a deep breath and hold it."
Her mother complied and a moment later they were standing in front of a two-story white house with a bright red door on Bradleigh Avenue in the town of Grays. It hadn't changed much since Hermione had last seen it, when she was thirteen, and had come home for Christmas hols. Back then, the door had been a deep blue. Her mother coughed next to her. "Are you okay?"
Her mother nodded. "What a curious experience, a bit like being squeezed to death, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded. "A bit."
"It wasn't like that with Purdy?"
"Elves have a different kind of magic. Some things are just effortless for them."
"Ah." Her mother stared at the house for a moment, blew out a calming breath, and marched forward toward the door. "Come along then." She pressed the doorbell and listened as it chimed inside. A dog barked, but it wasn't the high yips of her parents' little dogs. Her grandmother opened the door. She was wearing a light pink velour track suit and beside her stood an old cocker spaniel. Hermione remembered the dog's name was Goldy and her grandfather had given it to her grandmother the Christmas after she turned eleven.
"Good heavens!" her grandmother exclaimed. "What on earth are you two doing here? Has someone died?"
Her mother frowned. "No, Mum. No one died. We just thought we'd come see you."
"Oh." Her grandmother stepped back from the door. "Come in then?"
Hermione could feel her grandmother's eyes on her as she walked through the familiar foyer with the family photos of her mother as a child on various family outings. The dog returned to its bed in front of the fireplace and curled up and went back to sleep, unconcerned with the visitors.
Her grandmother led them into the parlor. "Have a seat. I'll put the kettle on." She disappeared into the kitchen.
Hermione glanced at her mother for reassurance, but her mother looked confused, like she was reconsidering the visit.
A moment later, her grandmother reappeared and took a seat in one of the wing chairs. Hermione and her mother sat on the sofa. Her grandmother looked from one of them to the other. "So, what brings you out?"
Hermione could feel her mother bristle, so she started. "I was recently working on some genealogy with a friend, and it got me thinking about family. I hadn't seen you in so long that Mum suggested we come out."
"Well, it's lovely that you've decided to remember you have a family. What's it been? Eight years? You didn't even come to your grandfather's funeral."
"Seven," her mother said. "But who's counting?"
Hermione blew out a calming breath and said. "I'm so sorry I missed that, but I was in the hospital at the time. I sent you a letter when I recovered."
"You didn't send that letter until months later," her grandmother scolded.
"Gran, I promise you, I sent it as soon as I found out."
Her grandmother made a huffing noise.
"She was in a coma," her mother said.
"Pish," her grandmother said. "Her lot doesn't fall into comas."
"That's true," Hermione said. Both women looked at her. "It wasn't exactly a coma. I was actually petrified. I'd seen the image of a basilisk in a mirror and that's the result. They couldn't wake me because the potion to do so requires a rare ingredient that the school didn't have on hand, so they had to grow some. It took quite a long time."
"Oh," her grandmother said in a small voice. She stood abruptly. "I'll make the tea." She disappeared back into the kitchen.
Hermione's mother frowned at her and whispered. "Did you need to go into all that? You know she doesn't like magic talk."
Hermione sighed and whispered back. "I think I did. The truth is the only thing that makes sense. It's weird though, don't you think, that she said that about my lot not falling into comas? How does she—"
Her grandmother returned then with a tray and set it on the coffee table. "We'll need to let it steep."
Hermione and her mother glanced at each other.
Her grandmother seemed to be fuming. "Why am I just finding this out now? Why didn't you come and tell me this before?"
Hermione looked at her mother. "I was under the impression that you didn't want to see me."
"I wasn't asking you," her grandmother said, eyeing Hermione's mother.
"You never want to talk about the magic stuff. I said she was in a coma, because that was the closest thing I could think of in our world."
"She doesn't live in our world." Her grandmother turned to Hermione. "You can pop anywhere you like. You could have settled this, ages ago. Why didn't you?"
"I—"
"Mum, she was thirteen."
"What difference does that make?"
"Well, for one thing, I couldn't Apparate when I was thirteen."
"Why not?"
"They don't teach you until seventeen and then you have to pass a test to be licensed."
"Fine. Then where have you been for the last three years?"
Her mother's mouth dropped open in anger, but Hermione beat her to it. "There was a war on in my world, and I was part of that. Then when it was over, I had to finish my education and get a job. Then I got married. I invited you, but you declined to come. Thanks for the check though."
"A war?" Her grandmother seemed confused. "I didn't hear about any war."
"It didn't spill over into your world very often. And when it did, it was covered up as disasters, accidents, or crimes."
Her grandmother blinked. "And in your world?"
"A lot of people died."
"Well…" Her grandmother was visibly shaken. "Is there a list?"
"A list of what?" Hermione's mother asked.
"Names," her grandmother explained. "Of the dead."
"I suppose the Ministry has a list." Hermione wasn't positive, but it seemed likely.
"Can I see it?" her grandmother asked.
"Well, I don't have it with me. I—"
"Can you get it?"
"Right now?"
"Yes."
"Um, all right. I'll see what I can do. I'll be right back." She drew her wand and Disapparated.
xXx
Hermione landed in her own parlor a moment later. She hurried into her study to get parchment. "Purdy," she called. The little elf appeared. Hermione dashed off a quick note. "Could you please take this to the archivist on duty at the Ministry and wait for them to give you a list and bring it to me."
"Yes, Miss."
"Wait. Could you bring it to Weasleys Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley instead. I need to see Ron."
"Yes, Miss."
"Thank you. I'll see you in a few minutes."
Purdy disappeared and Hermione Disapparated right after her, landing in the alley next to George's shop. She hurried inside.
"Good evening and welcome to the greatest joke shop in the world," one of George's new employees said. She recognized him as a Hufflepuff from their year who'd stopped after his O.W.L.s. "Hi, Martin. Is Ron in?"
"Oh, hi, Hermione. Ron's in the back with George. Go on through."
"Thanks." She hurried down the aisles of magical products to the back room.
xXx
Ron was surprised to see Hermione come in to the work area in the back of the shop. He and George were making a batch of Ton Tongue Toffee when she walked in. "Hullo. What're you doing here?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You're working. I should—"
He could see she was upset. He wiped his hands on a towel and walked over to her. "It's all right. I can take a break. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I mean, not really, I just went to see Mum, and she's very upset about this whole tit-for-tat thing. I suggested she ask Gran about it, but then she wanted to go right away, so we went and now…" She had the ends of her jumper sleeves clenched in her hands.
"I thought your Gran didn't speak to you."
"She doesn't, didn't, she is now. It's…" She shook her head again and closed her eyes. He could see she was trying not to cry.
"Hermione?" He took her gently by the shoulders.
"Gran asked to see a list of the dead."
"What dead?"
"From the war. She wanted to know where I'd been, and I said there'd been a war. She got very upset and wanted to know if there was a list of the dead." She looked up at him. "She would only want to see that if she thought she might know people on it. I think Gran must be a Squib too."
Ron crouched a bit until they were eye to eye. "What can I do? Do you want me to go back with you?"
She shook her head. "No. That would probably just muddle things. I sent Purdy to fetch the list. I can go back on my own. I just…I need…could you just…?"
"Yeah." He stood and wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him, tucking her head under his chin. He knew she was extremely upset because she didn't hug him back. She clutched the front of his shirt instead and pressed her face to his chest. "It's okay, you're all right."
They stood there for a minute before he felt her pull away. She smoothed the front of his shirt where she'd wrinkled it in her grip. "Thanks." Her cheeks were flushed. "I just didn't expect to be in this situation tonight. Or at all."
"Sure. Who would?" He tucked an errant curl behind her ear.
Purdy appeared holding a long piece of parchment. "The list, Miss."
Hermione took it. "Thank you, Purdy. I'll see you back at home."
"Yes, Miss." The elf disappeared.
"Listen. You're upset. How far is your Gran's house?"
"It's in Essex. I'm fine to go back. I just needed a moment."
"Why don't you call Purdy to bring you and your mum back tonight. Just to be safe."
Hermione nodded. "I will. Don't worry. I'll be fine, but I'm not sure what time I'll be back."
Ron leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. "All right then. I'll see you later."
She looked up at him with such raw love and affection that it made his heart soar. "Thank you."
He winked at her. "Anytime."
She Disapparated.
When Ron turned around George was staring at him. "Needy little thing, isn't she?"
"Oh, please. She could take your head off without her wand."
George chuckled. "It's unseemly to be so besotted with your own wife. Pull yourself together, man."
Ron snorted. "Please, you follow Angelina around like a puppy."
"I do not! Besides, she's my girlfriend not my wife, so it's fine."
"When're you going to pluck up the courage to ask her to marry you anyway?"
George smoothed his shirt. "Don't be daft. I'm much too desirable to take myself off the market this early."
Ron snorted. "You better ask her soon or someone else is libel to take her off the market."
"Don't be ridiculous."
George's tone was breezy, but Ron knew he'd touched a nerve. He knew it, because George had said something similar to him once about Hermione, and it had woken him up but good.
George dumped a mound of toffee on to the work table. "Let's finish this."
"Right," Ron said, drawing his wand.
xXx
In Essex, Hermione landed in her grandmother's foyer. Goldy lifted her head from where she lay by the fireplace but decided Hermione wasn't a threat and went back to sleep. Hermione wished that the tree Muriel had prepared for her had been more complete, but it only showed her direct lineage. It didn't show any siblings her parents or grandparents might've had, and it didn't show the adopters, only the biological parents. That probably wouldn't have mattered on her father's side, but clearly her mother's family tree was extremely complicated and Hermione wondered if Muriel would be willing to help her sort it out. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before walking into the parlor. As she rounded the corner, she could hear her mother and grandmother quietly arguing in the kitchen. She approached cautiously.
"Don't be ridiculous," her mother said angrily. "We couldn't keep her with us. We had to let her go. She needs to be in that world. It's where she belongs."
"She belonged with her family. That's the most important thing. You let her go off and look what happened. She got caught up in a war. How was that best for her?"
"Oh, like there's never been a war in our world. What was I supposed to do? Encase her in bubble wrap and lock her in her room? She's a witch and apparently a very good one. Besides, even as a child, she had to be convinced to do things. There was no forcing her."
"I was forced! You were forced!"
"Into the world we belonged in," her mother said in a softer tone. "I didn't do that to her, but I did let her choose, and she chose to live in the magical world."
There was a pause and Hermione stepped into the kitchen. "It doesn't have to be a binary choice. I'm not sure why we've made it one as a culture, but that doesn't mean we have to continue." Her mother and grandmother looked at her. They were both red-faced and clearly upset. "I've got the list." She handed the long piece of parchment to her grandmother. There were almost two hundred names of people who'd died as a result of Voldemort's rise to power and that was just on the magical side. There were another fifty or so Muggles who also lost their lives.
Her grandmother scanned the list, which was ordered by date. When she reached the end. She closed her eyes and sagged against the kitchen counter.
"Mum?" Hermione's mother said.
"She's not on there," her grandmother said with obvious relief.
"Who?" Hermione asked.
"My sister," her grandmother said.