Linbh a Athrú is one of my WIP I've not updated since 2014 because I lost all of my chapter notes back in 2016 and needed to recreate them and also because needed to have an organized way of working on my WIP. I'd also say this is a story that has benifited from me holding off, as I'm adding in my Regulus Black lives and is Hermione's biological father headcanon which in turn actually adds depth to what I was doing originally - not that the original wouldn't be a good story.
Linbh a Athrú
Processing
Hermione stood, looking at her apartment, mouth pressed into a frown. Her hands held onto the doorknob of the front door behind her and her wand.
The place lacked a lived-in feeling, starkly contrasting with the Weasley family home she had just come from. For every soft, warm item in Molly's home existed in Hermione's mind a contrasting element with sharp features and a cold, unwelcoming feeling, resulting in her taking a deep breath before she finally let go of the doorknob, her wand still in her hand as she stepped into the room.
And then came the deep sigh as she sat in the middle of her couch, letting herself sink in as her mind processed what just happened.
"Three bedrooms and nobody but myself to live in them." She remained there, the words lingering in the air and her thoughts before continuing her self-doubts regarding breaking up with Ron. "He might very well argue I'm simply following a trend of flaunting my wealth and getting myself a flat with three bedrooms and only myself, so perhaps?"
She quickly shook her head, then let out another sigh, this one deep, as she closed her eyes.
"No. I wasn't off base for calling him out," Hermione said. "I have a room for myself, a room for my parents or someone else if they come and live with me, and a room for a guest." Her eyes opened, taking in the main room with the sharp, cold features. "Because I want this place to be warm and welcoming. Like my parent's home and Molly's as well."
The question of whether she was wrong for rejecting Ron's idea of living with her when she had three rooms—
"I have three rooms, but the other two aren't meant for him at the end of the day, so while he might have moved into one of those rooms, eventually, he and I would be sharing a room, and we know where that would lead." She pressed her lips together. "Should I have explained it better?"
After all—
"I never said any of this to him."
Then came the sigh, her voice quieting.
"We're talking about the person who didn't understand why him being late was important, who brushed it aside as if not being on time wasn't important, but the thing is, he's been consistently late, consistently unreliable. If I'd tried explaining things, I would have gone into how he's unreliable enough to move in. Not only would he have argued that isn't true, but he'd focus on that instead of the fact it's yet another thing that will lead to sex."
Then—
"I'm not ready for that," Hermione said, sighing and standing up. "But I know what he meant when he suggested we move in with each other, even though he didn't say that's what he meant because we have lived together. We…"
She froze, standing in the middle of her room, remembering the time she, Ron, and Harry lived together in the forest, hiding from Death Eaters, how strained things were when they did live together, how when things got rough, he left. A hand reached up, rubbing her shoulder right before she took a deep breath; her thoughts—
"How would I know he wouldn't walk out again, or at the very least when things became rough, that he wouldn't just make things worse with his attitude."
She sat back down, her limbs going limp.
"Why did I even like him in the first place?"
A shiver ran down her spine, then she swallowed, frustrated at how she felt, how she didn't notice things earlier, that getting together with Ron was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing tied to how he'd rejected her as being an option during their fourth year along with how he'd treated her and Lavender during the sixth year, purposefully using Lavender to get at her.
"I'm supposed to be the intelligent one," Hermione muttered before getting up and heading into the kitchen area, which looked sparse like the living room. She thought about cooking something similar to what she planned on cooking at the Weasley family home, which left her feeling down in the dumps not to mention when she went to the fridge, nothing was there as she'd not yet shopped for herself, wanting to first share the grand news and a meal with her extended family.
"Even if you weren't dating Ron, you could call me that."
"That's what she meant," Hermione said, rubbing the back of her neck. "How is it everyone else saw what I couldn't? I'm supposed to be the logical, intelligent one."
Shaking her head, she decided to head out and get some shopping done for herself at the nearby store, turning her thoughts to wondering how that store compared to the one near the Weasley family, given she lived in a larger area than them. Taking a deep breath, she headed out, grabbing her keys and Muggle money, bidding Crookshanks a good day, noting she'd not noticed him rubbing against her legs as if he knew something wasn't quite right when she came home.
"I'll be sure to bring you something yummy, Crookshanks," Hermione said, letting out a laugh and feeling slightly better. She locked the front door, headed down the stairs, and started walking towards the store, enjoying the fresh air and setting sun. Walking the few blocks, she arrived and stepped in, listening to the familiar jingling she didn't hear in non-Muggle establishments before grabbing a basket to begin shopping. "Nothing that I can't carry home alone, but I should think about getting a rolling cart, right?"
She walked through the aisles, carefully taking stock of everything the place had, even—
Hermione paused, looking at the chocolates, the Muggle chocolates, wondering when the last time she had any of the treats that were a staple of her childhood before entering Hogwarts, then let out a laugh, adding them to the small basket she carried over her arm, thinking, "I don't have to worry about introducing Muggle things to my boyfriend, or even my Muggle parents." Another thought crossed her mind. "I can't even believe I was worried about that."
Slowly, she picked up a few more Muggle brands, thinking of how her place would be a blending of the two worlds, which would be her own take on her parents and Molly's home.
"A blending of the two, but it's going to be fun putting things in order, though I guess I should also be thinking about not putting things in order as well, as one of the similarities between the two is that not everything is in perfect order."
A place for buying food wasn't the place for buying non-food items, so Hermione pushed those thoughts to the back of her head, beyond noting she wanted a television, that she might catch up on a few things, particularly after hearing a few individuals chime in regarding sports she actually grew up with.
A pang set in, her thoughts going to think of how she'd never been able to talk to Ron about Quidditch teams as he tended towards forgetting she knew nothing about them, just as he knew nothing about the sports teams she grew up with, the ones her Muggle family were into. "There are relatives other than my parents as well, with whom I should like to reconnect."
She paused, frowning.
"How do I…" Another emotional pang. "I want my home to be a blending of the two, but how do I bring both Muggle and non-Muggle family and friends there, not that I had friends prior to going to Hogwarts? I do wonder whatever happened to my schoolmates. I bet they still think of me as a nerdy know-it-all. And I've not really talked to my parents about, well, anything. Kingsley handled the restoration of memories and explaining things, but I've not been a very good daughter, have I?"
Another sigh.
Hermione headed to the checkout, buying everything, thinking of how she wanted to see her parents and how she wanted her own mom even though Molly was great at taking care of her in the magical world when her mother couldn't. She tried to laugh at her dad's eccentrics, if not, as well as catch up with his favorite shows and ask what books he'd read recently.
The clerk slowly packed things away into the grocery sacks, a stark contrast to the paper bags the store near the Weasley family used. Then she started back, her mood much brighter as she walked to a rather quick place.
"I have a nice treat for Crookshanks, don't I?" Hermione thought, her mind drifting to how Ron insisted his rat should be out during their third year and her cat created. "When normally it's the other way around. I love Ron, but he is a pain to deal with. I certainly think the way I feel towards him isn't the romantic kind of feeling I thought it was. Still, I wonder what mother and father would think regarding our relationship and the rest of my Muggle family if they would actually put a stop to it."
She'd almost arrived at her apartment when a loud popping sound made her pause, turning to look at the alleyway near her home. Hermione stared, thinking back to the war, reminding herself that it was over, that there wasn't any Death Eater stalking her to kill her, when she noted a figure in the alleyway.
Swallowing, she entered, ready to drop her groceries even though they contained eggs so she might use her wand, watching how the figure hunkered down, holding—
Her eyes blinked, then she let out a gasp. "Malfoy?"
He looked up at her, looking—
"Well, I do apparently have a Death Eater stalking me, but given what happened at Malfoy Manor?" Hermione took a deep breath, noticing how Draco leaned against the wall, holding a bundle in his arms, looking absolutely terrified. "What's going on?"
Draco didn't respond at first, still looking at her, almost as if he wasn't sure whether he should speak, yet the look of fright turned to one of surprise. He took a deep breath, then said, "Granger?"
"Yes. It's me."
He then took a deep breath and said the last thing she expected to ever come out of his mouth. "I need your help."
Hermione's eyes blinked, still surprised at what he said, her mouth forming a circle while she looked at him, still holding whatever it was he held bundled in his arm. "You need my help?"
"Yes."
And then, a small hand—a child's hand- reached out, bringing even more confusion.
Draco looked down, paling even more than usual. He lifted a hand up and pushed the hand back, sighing. "I guess I owe you an explanation?"
"Well, yes," Hermione said. "Didn't expect you to come to me with your love child, Malfoy."
"Love child?" Draco looked at her in confusion.
"That," Hermione paused. "The child is yours."
"Uh…" Draco looked as if he were going to be ill. "Actually. My father…"
Hermione let out a sigh. "Half-sibling?"
"No. It is my father."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"And I need help turning him back, I guess. I guess that's why I ended up here, of all places," Draco said, looking around, looking quite confused.
"As confused as I am, I guess," Hermione thought. "I shouldn't. I mean, help Lucius, but…"
She watched Draco look around, completely lost and out of place, a stark contrast to his usual high-born attitude.
"Fine. But not for him," Hermione said.
Draco was startled, turning to look at her wide-eyed. "For mother then?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure," Hermione said, her lips pressing together. "For you as well, but if it helps your pride, so be it." Another thought crossed her mind. "He's certainly on edge, but can I blame him?"
