Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, these characters nor the story belong to me. All rights are granted to the owners of Harry Potter.
A/N: Hi all this is my new work and I'm really passionate about this idea I have so many plans for this. This is very loosely based on Ginny and Georgia because I was watching it and I thought what if the secret the mom held was that she was a witch? Please comment with your thoughts I love reader input. Also, I am not British so sorry for any inconsistencies in my language. Feel free to check out my Tumblr blog/imastarokay
It felt stuffy. It was freezing outside. The weather at that one point that it was miserably wet, moist, and cold. Their search was going nowhere, everyone knew it, and nobody wanted to say it. The repetitive pop music in the background tried to distract from Hermione's ever-so-pressing thoughts. She didn't even notice that her fingernails were creating creases in her palm from her stressed fists. She couldn't move, she just stood there in the aisle waiting for some sign that this was all a dream and that her mum was going to wake her up and comfort her after this nightmare. The potential nightmare that plagued her currently would change the entire trajectory of her life, ruin all of her plans, demolish all of her dreams, and make her life a living hell. Harry and Ron were outside waiting on her so she had to quicken and not be seen but she just needed a minute to take this all in. How did this happen? All of Hermione's life has led up to her standing here in a small town pharmacy, anxiously staring at pregnancy tests, already knowing the answer to them. She was on track to becoming the head girl of her class, she could never return after this not to Hogwarts, not to the wizarding world, and certainly never back to normal. After a couple of minutes of tense breathing, and contemplating, Hermione grabbed a test and then made her way to the cashier, when conveniently she saw Ron walking in, probably concerned as to why she was taking so long. When he saw and approached her she swiftly hid the test in her large winter coat.
"Hey, you alright?" Ron asked with a concerned look on his face. He placed his hands on her shoulders which made her wince. He wasn't sure why but he retracted his hands and put them in his pockets. From the past week, Hermione had become grotesquely sick, her once warm skin tone had become eggshell white, and you could see her blue veins very clearly on her neck she played her illness off on the cold.
"Yeah, Yeah just thinking," Hermione responded while faking an affirming smile. Ron was staring deeply into her eyes, looking for some answer, but Hermione refused to let up. He knew she was lying.
"Come on Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron questioned while creating a more confident posture.
"Nothing is wrong with me, but everywhere else everything is wrong," Hermione responded.
"Look if you regret what we have been doing that's ok, we can just pretend nothing ever happened-"
"I don't, I don't regret anything or anything that I have said. It's just the situation we are in right now. It's reasonable to feel overwhelmed and scared all the time." Hermione scoffs while running her hand through her thinning hair. "And I don't mean to take this out on you, but it's just all so wild I-"
"I know, I know we're all trying to keep it together-"
"I get it!" Hermione cried, raking through her hair in stress. "Just go back out there with Harry. I'll be done in a minute. Alright?" Ron didn't say anything as he left. Hermione knew in the back of her head that their new unnamed relationship was slowly but surely deteriorating.
16 years later
Sundays always bring good news. Today was the day Hermione was going to receive complete ownership of the flat she had been living in for the past two years. She also was going to receive life insurance, but her ex-husband left her. The woman was going to receive at least 50,000 pounds. It was such a lovely day. On good days Hermione made hotcakes, orange juice, and sausage, and the plate she made twenty minutes ago was becoming cold.
"Rose!" Hermione yelled from the bottom of the staircase, "I know you can hear me. Get down here. I woke you up twenty minutes ago. Don't make me come back up there!"
"It's Saturday," a young voice whines from an upstairs room.
"It is indeed and you have somewhere to be and so do I. Get up." A moment passed. Hermione didn't hear any motion, so she went up the staircase into her daughter's orange room.
"I'm too stricken by grief to go, Mum," Rose murmured from under the covers.
"Yeah, right, funny. I set aside this dress for you to wear. Please straighten your hair. Straight hair shows off your pretty face." Hermione said while pulling the covers off of her daughter, and stroking her daughter's face.
"That and my natural hair is too messy for a funeral," Rose said while checking herself in her bright purple mirror.
"That too." Hermione laughed.
As Hermione looked around the orange room, it was a mess. Rose often tried many new projects like painting, friendship bracelets, and reading then never finished them so they would just end up in piles of stuff in her room. Aside from always starting new projects Rose was in as many clubs as she could, so she had random papers and photos all over her walls of things she had accomplished within these clubs. Last school year Rose's grades weren't doing so well. She was failing two classes (which was a trend throughout her school career). Hermione found out that was because she was staying up until 1 am to finish her homework because she was so busy she couldn't do any homework, so Hermione made her cut out two clubs from her loft of the ten clubs she was in. Rose could best be described as eccentric. Her aura would best be described as a 70s rock and roll singer, and her physique could match too; she was tall, sporty, yet dainty. Her fiery red hair was often blown out in waves and down to the middle of her back. She had her mother's earth-brown eyes, and Hermione's wild wavy hair which Hermione often blew out for her daughter. Rose was beautiful. Anyone who saw her could say so, and she knew this so she often used that privilege to get what she wanted. One time, Rose went to their neighborhood pool in eighth grade one summer and a fight broke out between two teen boys who went to Rose's school because they both "dated her". Rose isn't allowed to go to that pool anymore. She towered over her mother; she was over four inches taller than Hermione making Rose just below six feet. Hermione called Rose her "wildflower child" because of her free wandering spirit. She often took walks around the park aimlessly, and people tended to stare as she walked by. Rose also absolutely adored seventies music. ABBA was always on in the car. Being the free spirit she was she often tried to defy Hermione but was never successful. Weirdly, Hermione had a talent for always knowing when anything was out of the ordinary. She could hear things Rose didn't want her to hear, she could see things Rose tried to hide and she could feel when anything unusual occurred. Otherwise from her fearlessness, she gave her mother a semi-nice time, doing what was asked of her. In all her soul could be described as warm. She loved deeply, acted bravely, and believed hopefully.
"Well, that didn't go as bad as I thought it would," Hermione admitted while driving back home from the service.
"Yeah, mum you did great with all of those relatives you didn't know poking questions at you," Rose said while licking some strawberry ice cream.
"I know. Who knew Walter had so many pushy, bitchy aunts? Funny how we were married for two years and I never met any of them." Hermione said, "Hey let me have a taste."
"Gross mum," Rose refused.
"Rose, do it now," Hermione demanded. Rose then put the cone in front of Hermione's mouth, which Hermione licked, and then Rose quickly pulled back the ice cream territory. "Rose, did all of that trigger anything within you, make you feel uncomfortable, or bring forth any unwanted memories or feelings?"
"No," Rose replied quickly. She despised talking about touchy subjects, especially touchy subjects she was the central point of.
"Ok, well if you ever need to talk I'm here, or we can call someone."
"I hate feeling like this big crazy victim in this situation. I am not the crazy one in this, I am not the one who needs help and pity. You're the one who lost her husband. Why are you so unaffected by that? I've never seen you cry all of these months." Rose expressed trying to redirect the conversation off of her.
"Just because you went through something traumatic doesn't mean you're crazy, I just want to make sure you're ok, what happened to you-"
"I don't want to talk about it. It's over, it's done, and there's nothing I or any therapist can do about it. So Mum please stop acting like we can talk this out. I'm over it. I don't want to think about it, and I certainly don't want your view of me to be different because it happened."
"Ok," Hermione sighed, finally giving up.
"Is that why you got me this ice cream because you pitied I had to go through all of that," Rose asked.
"No," Hermione insisted, clearly lying.
"Oh my God Mum,"
"This year is going to finally be your year, I just know it," Hermione affirms, drinking her tea while Rose is eating her hotcakes, orange juice, and sausage.
"What was wrong with all of my other school years? I thought they were fun." Rose questions while tiredly slouching, and her arms on the table.
"Eleventh year is going to be the year your grades will flourish and your attendance will shine," Hermione assured enthusiastically.
"My friend Hayley, you know Hayley?" Rose asks with newfound excitement.
"The one that you got into a fistfight with last year?" Hermione asks sarcastically.
"She got a car," Rose announced ignoring her mother's comment.
"She can't even drive yet," Hermione snapped.
"She can in a couple of months, and she already got a parking spot so she can drive to school immediately after she turns sixteen. Isn't that wicked?"
"Sure, you won't be driving or getting a car anytime soon. If that's what you're hinting at."
"First of all, I am not, second of all why not? All of my friends' parents are making plans to buy my friends cars. Didn't you get seventy thousand pounds from Walter or something? You can't just do nothing with that money." Rose preached.
"It's my money now, and I'll do what I want with it." Hermione disclosed.
"Why don't you trust me to start learning how to drive?"
"You don't need to be in any rush to start learning, but you need to rush to get ready because we've got to leave the house in ten minutes."
"Okay," Rose said while getting up and clearing her dishes.
"Love you" Hermione announced.
"Love you too," Rose replied, going upstairs.
It was routine every time Hermione dropped Rose off at school. Hermione drove to the post office and picked up her mail. But this was no regular post office. This was a wizard-owned post office, which Hermione knew before she moved in. She always kept wizards near where she lived so she could keep up with the war. The owner was a muggle-born lady in her sixties named Jude who wholeheartedly adored Hermione and tolerated Rose. Most of the elderly in the community tolerated Rose. Jude provided Hermione with the Daily Prophet each morning, the paper often told the death toll of muggle-borns, half-bloods, and "blood traitors'". It was through the Daily Prophet that Hermione learned about the death of Fred Weasley. It completely wrecked her. She contemplated risking everything to be with the Weasleys to be with Harry, to be with Ron to know what he was feeling to comfort him to apologize for leaving all that time ago, but she couldn't, she wouldn't, she wouldn't risk her daughter's life for anything. Hermione had to be Rose's safety above all else she couldn't live knowing Rose was in any danger or compromise. When Hermione walked into the post office Jude immediately rejoiced.
"Oh, Hermione, you won't believe the news," Jude exclaimed joyfully.
"What is it?" Hermione asked in a concerned manner, and then Jude showed her the Dailey Prophet.
THE DAILY PROPHET JUST IN VICTORIOUS HARRY POTTER & CO FINALLY DEFEATS VOLDEMORT AFTER 34 YEARS