A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination. I do not profit from this and will not pay for any commissions for art about this story.
2am; where do I begin
Crying off my face again
The silent sound of loneliness
Wants to follow me to bed
I'm the ghost of a girl that I want to be most.
I'm the shell of a girl that I used to know well.
Dancing slowly in an empty room
Can the lonely take the place of you?
I sing myself a quiet lullaby.
Let you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again
~ The Lonely by Christina Perri
~*~ 12 October 1998 ~*~
Hermione came down the stairs, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders, adjusting the baby carrier strapped to her chest. Rosella squirmed sleepily, her tiny face peeking out from the long back of the carrier, a knitted Molly Weasley specialty over her tiny curls.
Molly looked up from where she was carefully canning jars of apples. "Are you going out?"
Hermione nodded, tugging her hair free from beneath her collar. "I need more parchment, and I want to stop at the bookshop. Rosella is also finally outgrowing her premature clothes, so I thought I'd have a look at that children's shop that Arthur keeps mentioning."
Molly frowned, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why don't I come with you?"
Hermione smiled, adjusting the carrier so that Rosella's head was well supported. "I appreciate it, Molly, but I can't hide in here forever. They've already taken Hogwarts from me, I won't let them take my freedom too."
Molly sighed, obviously worried. "I get it. Just… please be careful."
"Of course," Hermione said before stepping into the fireplace. She cast the Bubble-Head charm. Tossing the floo powder, she called out, "The Leaky Cauldron!"
Holding Rosella close as she whirled through the network, they stumbled out on the other side into the dim pub. Tom looked up, giving her a grin. "Hello, Miss Granger. How are we today?"
"Just passing through," Hermione said quickly, rocking Rosella as she started whimpering.
Tom leaned forward, "Have the little Miss with you today?"
Hermione nodded, holding her tighter to her, "Yes, have a good day, Tom."
Pressing on to the hidden arch, she ignored the stares. Tapping the familiar pattern with her wand, she stepped out into Diagon Alley, noticing how the once ruined shops were beginning to recover.
Passing the corner near the Daily Prophet offices, she heard the whispering starting. Some hushed, others obvious. Someone even gasped loudly as she walked by, pointing at her. Hermione gritted her teeth and kept moving, ignoring them as she ducked into the Owl Post office.
The clerk looked up, smiling politely. "How do you do?"
"Good, thank you," Hermione said, pulling a letter from her pocket, a simple note for Harry, begging him to write her back. It wasn't that she didn't trust Kingsley, she just wanted to make sure it got to him herself.
The postmaster looked at the envelope, "Harry Potter?"
Hermione nodded.
"And where is Mr. Potter?" The Postmaster asked.
Hermione frowned. "I don't know."
"You don't know? Well, I need to know how far the owl needs to travel. They don't all travel the same distances," He stated.
"Just use the farthest distance one, just in case," Hermione stated.
The clerk gave her a long look, "That'll be five galleons, Miss."
Hermione frowned, but paid it. Watching as he handed the owl her letter, the large barn owl took off into the bright sky. Stepping back out onto the street, she squinted in the sunlight, feeling the weight of eyes on her again.
Walking to Creepy Scrawlers, the door was boarded up, and the sign was burned. Hermione sighed, she hated the thought of going to Nollikins with the smell of the treated animal skins, so she decided to visit Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes instead. Walking the short distance away, their grand re-opening banner fluttered in the breeze above the door, stating that they would reopen next week.
Walking over to the door, she looked inside and saw Ron. Knocking on the door, he glanced over and saw it was her, and rushed over to open the door. "What are you doing here?"
Inside, the shop was half in chaos. Boxes were stacked high, and fireworks lined the walls.
Hermione hugged him quickly. "We were just in the neighborhood."
Ron glanced behind her at the growing crowd of onlookers and whispered in her ear, "How long have they been following you?"
"Since the Owl Post," Hermione muttered.
Ron shut the door behind her and locked it as Fred and George walked over, wiping dust off their hands. "Need something?" Fred asked.
"Parchment," Hermione said, shifting Rosella as she fussed. "I've burnt through my stash sending off assignments, but Creepy Scrawlers is closed."
"Got you covered," George said, disappearing into the back.
"Creepy Scrawlers isn't reopening," Fred told her. "The owner was killed."
Ron took Rosella into his arms, smiling down at her. "Hey, beautiful girl," he cooed.
Hermione watched him with a smile.
Fred peered out the window, frowning, "Hermione, I don't think you should leave on your own. The crowd is growing."
"I still need to stop by Pettichops, Flourish and Blotts, and Gringotts probably," Hermione said quietly.
Ron looked at Fred and George, "It's my break time. I'm going with her."
"Good idea, I'll send the parchment home," George told her.
"Thank you," Hermione said as they stepped out of the shop.
People looked away, pretending they hadn't been staring. But Hermione heard the whispers. About her. About Ron. About Rosella.
They were nearly to Pettichops when Hermione spun on her heel, fury spreading within her as someone called Rosella a bastard. Ron grabbed her arm, holding her back.
"Don't," he whispered, "It's what they want. I bet Rita's nearby."
~*~ 13th October 1998 ~*~
Sure enough, the next day's Prophet had them splashed on the front page. She and Ron, who was cradling Rosella, her face hidden by his robes. War Heroes: Cradle Before Marriage… Where's the Ring?
Hermione crumpled the paper in her hands, throwing it into the fire, breathing hard. "Muggles raised her, what do we expect? The scoff at tradition," she mocked the article. She turned to Ron, biting her lip, "Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "You can fake propose."
Ron dropped the spoon he was using to eat his porridge, milk splashing all over him. "Seriously?"
Hermione nodded, her jaw tight. "Seriously. But nothing for real, or anything remotely like a relationship. I just wear a ring. That is it."
~*~ 22nd October 1998 ~*~
Hermione sat at the kitchen table, her journal open in front of her. Though she hadn't written a single word for the day. The pages were filled with daily notes to Harry, bits of news, small updates about Rosella, things she wanted him to know, even though she didn't know if he ever would see them.
Hearing the stairs creak, she looked up as Ron came down, rubbing his hands on his trousers. He smiled at her. "She went right down," he said, sinking into the chair next to her. "I can't believe how big she's getting."
Hermione glanced at the photograph on the wall. With a pang, she remembered Colin had taken it in their sixth year. The three of them were laughing, arms around each other. "She's almost three months old," Hermione whispered. "And he's missing it all."
Ron swallowed hard, looking at the picture too. "I don't understand it, Hermione. I don't. He… he would've wanted to be here."
Hermione blinked back tears. Before she could respond, Arthur poked his head into the kitchen. "Ron, could you come help me out back?"
"Yeah, sure, Dad," Ron said as he stood up, squeezed Hermione's shoulder for a moment, then followed Arthur outside.
Hermione bit her lip, staring at the picture on the wall. Standing up, she crossed over to Molly's writing desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill. Sitting back down at the kitchen table, she began to write.
Dear Harry,
It has been a month since I last wrote to you, and I still haven't heard anything back. I'm taking that to mean you might not be interested in being a part of our daughter's life. I want you to know that I understand. This is a lot. It's overwhelming for even me sometimes. We're still so young. I won't push you. But if you truly don't want to be involved, please let me know so I can stop waiting and wondering.
If you do want to know about her… I hope it's okay if I share a few things anyway.
Our daughter. Her name is Rosella Lily Granger. I named her after your mum. Using Lily felt right, and Rosella was a name that Neville suggested, and it fit wonderfully. Her hair is dark auburn, like your Mum's was in the pictures you showed me. I hope she has my freckles. She's beautiful, Harry. Truly.
She's such a happy baby. She smiles constantly and coos when she hears Ron's voice. He insists she's just laughing at his terrible impressions. She's already trying to roll over, which startled Ron half to death the other day. I wish you could have seen his face.
We're still at the Burrow. Molly has been amazing. She insists on calling Rosella her little flower and spoils her rotten already. I'm helping her where I can, learning housekeeping spells, and cooking magically. Rosella keeps me busy, though.
As for me, I'm continuing my seventh-year studies through Owl Post. The school governors weren't entirely comfortable with me returning in person with everything going on,and I suppose an unwed mother, who on record doesn't have a father listed, is not what they want to see. So, I study between naps and nighttime feedings. But I will finish. I'm determined to.
I've enclosed a photograph of Rosella. It was taken a few days ago, just after she woke up. Her hair is sticking up in every direction, and despite having your mum's hair color, it reminded me of you. I wanted you to see that. I see you in her every day.
We exist. Even if you choose not to be in her life, a part of you lives on in her, and I'll make sure she knows that.
Take care of yourself.
Love,
Hermione.
Hermione let the quill fall from her hand, tears falling down her face onto the page as she pressed her palms to her forehead.
/\/*/\/ 2nd November 1998 /\/*/\/
Harry nodded at the waiter who came to pour him more coffee as he looked at the street, as cars drove by him.
Tapping his pen to the paper, he finally found the words he had been trying to write.
Dear Hermione and Ron,
I hope you're both well. I've been meaning to write sooner, but it's been overwhelming in the best way.
I started out at Durmstrang when I first came to Scandinavia. I thought maybe I could find answers there, and maybe even blend in for a while. Kingsley recommended it first. But it didn't feel right. The school is still heavy in the Dark Arts, and though it's not as open as it once was, I couldn't stomach it.
Their healer helped me find others, though, wizards working with Muggle medicine alongside old magical traditions. For the past few months, I've been living in small villages, staying with the villagers, studying Sami medicine, Nordic herbalism, and Norwegian fold practices. It's incredible.
These people practice magic alongside wizards, without wands, without schooling. They use herbs, chants, potions, and old rituals that work, even without our kind of magic. When we use our magic alongside it, it strengthens their results.
Everything we learned in Potions and Herbology at Hogwarts was only skimming the surface. I wish you two were here to see it.
How is Hogwarts? Is it back open? The Prophet doesn't reach this far north, which is a blessing, really, so I haven't heard much about back home. It's also nice being somewhere that no one cares who I am.
How are you both? How is Auror training going, Ron? I hope you aren't letting them push you already too much.
Please write back when you can. I miss you both.
Harry
Harry folded up his letter and set it in his bag. He would have Mark, the healer he had been working with, take it to Durmstrang to deliver it to Kingsley so that he could get it to them. The use of owls this far north was far and few between.
~*~ 22nd November 1998 ~*~
Hermione sat on the sofa in the Weasleys' sitting room, twisting the emerald ring on her finger. It had once belonged to Ron's Uncle Fabian, bought for a girlfriend he'd never married before he died in the first war. Ron had given it to her quietly, telling her they'd been friends with Harry's parents once. He thought it was fitting.
But since it had been placed on her hand, it had been a constant reminder of the lie she was living, even if Ron meant well. It was also a constant reminder of Harry, the colour of the ring, so similar to his eyes.
Rosella was on her tummy, lying on a soft quilt, her tiny arms pushing up as much as her little body could as the Weasley men gathered around her, cooing and making faces. Fred had a parade of tiny puffskeins dancing around her, while George had a golden snitch toy that was darting around, weaving in the air above her little hand.
Ron moved to stand, but tripped over one of Rosella's toys, a little rubber duck. Hermione's heart raced as she went to jump up as Ron yelped, twisting in the air as he threw himself down sideways to avoid falling on her, and rolling, settling on his back.
Hermione froze as Ron groaned, opening her mouth to ask him if he was all right, when Rosella laughed.
Ron glanced at her in disbelief, then looked at Rosella. "Are you mocking me?" Ron asked as he crawled over to her, and she kicked her little feet and rolled over onto her back, staring up at him.
Ron laughed, tickling her little belly, Rosella kicking and letting out a little baby giggle as drool fell from her mouth.
Hermione smiled, but her heart hurt. Harry should have been here. He should have heard her first laugh, should have seen the first time she rolled onto her back. He should be holding Rosella in the evenings, reading to her as she did. Helping Hermione when the nightmares and exhaustion seemed to pull her down.
But he wasn't. She was so tired of pretending. So tired of holding it together.
Swallowing hard, she blinked away the tears and quietly slipped away, heading upstairs to the bedroom that she, Ron, and Rosella still shared. Closing the door, she walked over to the desk and pulled out parchment.
Harry,
She laughed today! At Ron, of all people. He tripped over one of her toys and made such a scene, and she just laughed then, as if she were showing off. Who knows where she got that from? She rolled from her tummy to her back and started kicking her little feet like she was trying to mock him.
She's been playing with this little golden Snitch toy that George got her. She absolutely adores it. That's definitely from you, not me.
We still haven't heard anything from you… But I'm holding out hope.
Love,
Hermione.
Setting her quill down, she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to hide her sob. Hermione closed her eyes as everyone's voices filtered up the stairs. Even Rosella's giggles.
"Parents," said Harry, "shouldn't leave their kids unless — unless they've got to." Echoed in her head.
"Except when it's your own," Hermione whispered.
/\/*/\/ 18 December 1998 /\/*/\/
The Scandinavian Ministry of Magic was so much larger than the British Ministry. Sleek black stone and glass surrounded Harry with a humming of workers moving about that he wasn't used to, compared to the few times he had been to the British Ministry. He stood near the welcome desk, looking at the signs in various languages as the welcome witch spoke to someone else, trying to understand where to go.
He sighed, gripping the strap of his rucksack, trying to find the Office of Magical Transportation on the list.
"Harry? Harry Potter?"
Turning at the sounds of his name, his eyebrows lifted in surprise as a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a familiar scowl approached him, and his scowl turned into a smile.
"Viktor?" Harry asked, blinking, surprised to see someone he knew.
Viktor Krum grinned and reached out to shake his hand. "Da! It is you! Vat are you doin' here?"
Harry forced a smile, caught off guard by the sudden rush of memories Viktor brought of Hermione. Hermione in that damn periwinkle dress. Hermione dancing the night away with a smile on her face. Clearing his throat and shaking away memories, Harry adjusted his rucksack. "I've been studying here. At Durmstrang for a bit, actually. I decided to train as a healer. I'm trying to find the Office of Transportation so I can head home."
Viktor grinned. "Good for you. I hope Durmstrang treated you vell."
"It was… cold," Harry said with a slight smile.
Viktor chuckled. "Always is. So, you goin' home to see the baby, yes?"
Harry looked at him, confused. "Baby? What baby?"
Viktor blinked. "Her-my-knee's baby."
The ground seemed to drop out from under Harry for a moment.
"She didn't tell you?" Viktor asked, surprised.
Harry's mouth was dry as he replied. "No."
Viktor's expression softened. "I've seen photos. She is a doll. Bright ved hair. Reminds me of your friend's sister. The one who hated me for taking Her-my-knee to the ball." He chuckled.
Harry's stomach churned. "Oh, she does?"
Viktor nodded. "I'm surprised they didn't tell you. They are engaged now." Viktor looked up, thinking for a moment. "Vhat vas her name… Ah, yes. Rose. Rose Veasley."
The name tore at him like the thorns of a real rose as he swallowed down the bile that tried to come forth. "I should go. Find that office," he muttered.
"It's down the hall to the left, then through the arch with runes. Good luck. Maybe ve talk again soon, yes?" Viktor called out as Harry walked towards the welcome desk.
Harry nodded, waving him off as he walked up to the welcome witch, chest tight and head spinning. "Excuse me," he said, his voice catching. "Do you know how I can contact the British Ministry?"
The witch smiled. "Of course. Who would you like to reach, Mr. Potter?"
Harry hesitated. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Minister. I need to extend my trip."
She nodded and reached for a quill. "Right away, sir."
~*~ 20th December 1998 ~*~
Hermione watched Rosella splashing in the small amount of water in the tub. The warm water was good for her chest as she was finally beating her cold. It was hard to believe that she was nearing her fifth month. Each month as it came to an end, Hermione's heart ached more.
"Hey."
Hermione looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway. "Hey, how was work?"
"Best day we've had yet. Hoping that keeps up while people shop for Christmas," Ron told her, looking at Rosella, "How is she today?"
"Better," Hermione told him as she met his eyes, "Can you take over? I have something that I need to do. I have to run out for a second, and I didn't get to do it earlier."
"Sure," Ron said as he traded places with her.
Hermione left the bathroom and walked downstairs to the coat rack. Grabbing her coat, Molly and Arthur looked at her.
"Where are you going at this hour?" Molly asked.
Hermine buttoned her coat, "Just some last-minute shopping. Ron has Rosella. I'll be back soon," she told them, stepping out the back door.
She walked out of the perimeter to apparate and disapparated.
Her feet hit the cold snow, and it seeped into her shoes. She didn't even think of putting boots on. No one was around as she walked toward the town square, seeing the kissing gate in the distance. With a deep breath, she walked through it and over to the tombstone.
Swallowing hard, she fell to her knees as she cleared the snow away. Under the snow, some flowers had died, so she cleared them away too.
James and Lily Potter
Just like the year before, where Harry and she had stood. The five of them were there together at the time, and she didn't even know it.
"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it's me, Hermione again. God, so much has changed since I was here last." She whispered, "You have a granddaughter. Her name is Rosella Lily. I hope you don't mind that I named her after you."
Hermione sat down on her bottom, pulling her knees up to her chest. "You don't know where your son is, do you? We miss him." Hermione wiped her tears, "I miss him so much. Like, the air I breathe is missing sometimes. Rosella just got over her first cold… and I didn't handle it well." Hermione confessed, "Harry could have been calm in that situation." Hermione traced a heart in the dirt, "Why isn't he coming home? Why does he not want to see her?"
Hermione stood up and raised her wand, making the wreath of Christmas roses again. Swallowing hard, she stared at it as the anger that had been building consumed her. Disapparating on the spot, she thought of Kingsley's office. She felt the wards trying to hold her back, but used her magic to force herself through them, landing right in front of Kingsley's desk.
Alarms went off as Kingsley stood in front of her, surprised. The door flew open, Aurors at the ready, their wands out.
"Just a false alarm," Kingsley told them, "Go back to your posts."
Hermione didn't even glance in their direction as the door shut behind them, and Kingsley came around to her.
"I don't know how you got through the wards, I don't know how you made it into the Ministry, but Hermione, what the hell?" Kingsley asked.
Hermione glared at him, "Where is he?! Where is Harry?!" she cried.
Kingsley shook his head, "You know I can't tell you. It would be against his wishes, and right now, honestly, I don't know."
Hermione frowned, "What do you mean, you don't know?"
Kingsley sighed, "Two days ago, I received a fire call from Harry."
Hermione's knees gave out, and she fell into a chair in front of his desk. "What did he say?"
"He was near Durmstrang, in Scandinavia. He's been studying to become a healer, Hermione. He seems to be enjoying himself," Kingsley told her, "So much, he asked me if he could extend his trip."
Hermione's heart raced as she stood up. "So, he's near Viktor?"
Kingsley shook his head. "No, he already left Hermione. To where, only he knows."
Hermione put her head into her hands and sobbed, "He's missing everything, Kingsley."
Kingsley closed his eyes. "I wish… I wish I could change what his wishes were, but I have to respect them."
Hermione stood up, "Fuck you!" she yelled, getting in his face. "If you would just let me see him… let him see her, he'd just come home!"
"I can't," Kingsley told her.
Hermione shook her head, "You won't. There's a difference."
Closing her eyes, she focused and broke through the wards again.
This time, she landed in her old front yard. Falling into the dark backyard, to her knees. Her breath came in sobs that misted out into the air. Her hands trembled, digging into the frozen ground, Ron's ring cutting into her skin.
She didn't know how long she stayed there, the snow soaking through her jeans, numbing her legs. Harry was somewhere, probably far away. Living, studying, while she felt like she was drowning under the weight of missing him, under the sleeping nights, of fear that their daughter would never know him.
Eventually, she could catch her breath. She wiped her face with her frozen sleeve and stood on her numb legs. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking back at what used to be her life. Another aspect, she had to give up.
Then she disapparated.
Landing outside the Burrow, the kitchen was still lit. Hermione took a deep breath and walked inside.
Molly looked at her as she entered the kitchen.
"Hermione," Molly said, walking over to her.
Hermione shook her head, voice hoarse. "I'm fine. I just… I needed air."
She climbed the stairs, her legs trembling, and stepped into their room. Ron was rocking Rosella, and he looked up at her. "Thank Merlin," he whispered as he laid Rosella down in her cot. Walking over to her, he pulled her into his arms. "Are you okay?"
Tears slid down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, burying her face in his chest. "No, Ron. No, I'm not."
~*~ 22nd December 1998 ~*~
Harry,
Happy Christmas.
I miss you. I hope you're safe and doing well, wherever you are. It's strange to celebrate the holidays without you. Everything feels a little quieter, a little emptier.
Things here are… moving along. Rosella is growing so quickly. It feels like something new every day. She can roll over on her own now and is fascinated by her toes. She is also reaching for that annoying Snitch toy. She is already showing signs of your determination.
She caught her first cold last week. I didn't handle it very well. We got through it. Warm baths and a child-appropriate potion from a Healer. Lots of cuddles.
I don't know if you'll ever write back. But I still hope that wherever you are, you are warm and happy.
Love, Hermione
~*~ 25th December 1998 ~*~
The Burrow was bright, and the scent of warm cinnamon filled the whole house. Rosella's first Christmas had arrived, and the house was filled with Weasleys and laughter as the entire family squeezed into the crowded sitting room. The tree sparkled in the corner.
Molly was handing out the presents under the tree as Ron had Rosella in his lap. She was smiling and playing with the stupid snitch toy that George had given her. It was still her favourite. Hermione wore her gift from Molly, a maroon sweater with a golden 'H' stitched on the front. Molly had made Rosella and Ron matching maroon sweaters with R's on them, making Ron exclaim as he opened it. "Look, Rose! We match!"
Other presents had been opened, and Rosella had been showered with love, and was the star of the show until Bill handed a carefully wrapped package to Molly and Arthur. Molly pulled the paper away and pulled out matching shirts for her and Arthur.
The shirts read, 'Greatest Grandmum' and 'Greatest Grandpop'. "You're pregnant!?" Molly cried.
Fleur beamed, wiping her cheeks. "We're due in April," she said, her accent thick with emotion.
Bill wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're having a girl," he said proudly.
"Oh, I am so excited, I have to get started on my knitting!" Molly exclaimed.
George rolled his eyes, "Mum, you've got the whole underneath of the tree filled still with baby clothes already made for Rosella. I mean, look at his mountain. I think you can use some of hers for their baby."
As Molly went to reply, a scratching came from the window, and Charlie, being the closest, opened it to let in the owl.
It held out its leg, and Charlie relieved it of a letter and a small box.
"It's a letter for Hermione and Ron," Charlie said, handing them to Hermione.
Hermione's heart skipped as she took the letter. Ron took the small box, tapping it with his wand to expand it, revealing a book on healing and a brand-new Quidditch kit.
Hermione unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning his words. Her hands trembled slightly as the room quieted around her.
"Well, what does it say?" Ginny asked.
Hermione swallowed hard and began to read.
Hermione and Ron,
I hope this letter finds you both doing well.
I wanted to share some news with you. I decided not to return home just yet. It's strange to be outside England. No one knows or cares who I am. It's given me a chance to be just Harry.
I just left the Durmstrang Institute. I know you'd be jealous, Hermione. I have had a chance to study some of their unique magical practices and work alongside Scandinavian masters. It was incredible. I've learned more than I thought possible, not just about magic but about myself.
I've realized that being an Auror isn't the path for me. I've seen too much pain, caused too much harm, even though we were doing the right thing. It's time to focus on healing and healing myself, rather than fighting.
I'm officially training to become a healer. I've studied Sami medicine and Nordic herbalism and worked with Norwegian folk healers who have often blended magical and non-magical remedies for generations without realizing it. The spells, the rituals. None of it was taught at Hogwarts.
I hope you both understand why I need to do this. For once, I'm doing something not because I have to but because I choose to. I know I've held the two of you back in the past. I hope you can forgive me.
Take care of each other. I'll write again soon.
Harry
Hermione's voice cracked on the last line. She folded the letter against her chest, blinking back tears as Ron rubbed her back.
Molly sniffed, wiping her eyes, "Well, that's… that's wonderful for him," she said softly.
"Stubborn git," George muttered.
Hermione glanced at Rosella, who looked up at her with her hazel green eyes, tiny hands grasping at Ron's sweater.
Reaching for Rosella, she kissed her red curls, "Merry Christmas to your Daddy, wherever he is."
~*~ 26th December 1998 ~*~
Snow started falling hard on Boxing Day, gray and cold, but the Burrow was warm. Molly and Arthur had taken Bill and Fleur into Diagon Alley for shopping, Fred, George, and Ron were at the shop, and Ginny was at Luna's new house, leaving the house quiet. Hermione sat on the warm sofa, listening to the crackling fire as she read the book Harry had sent her, while Rosella napped upstairs.
Charlie came in the back door, brushing snow from his sleeves. He sat beside Hermione with a small groan. "Well, we have enough wood to last a few weeks," Charlie told her. "How are you, Hermione?"
Hermione shrugged, "As good as I can be."
Charlie reached over and took the book from her gently, "Because honestly… it doesn't look like you're doing great."
Hermione let out a tired laugh, leaning her head back against the cushion. "I'm existing, Charlie. That's what I'm doing." She swallowed hard. "I love Rosella, but I had big dreams, you know? I wanted to be Head Girl. I wanted to go back to Hogwarts and graduate properly. I wanted to change things, make the Ministry better, help werewolves, house-elves…"
"And now you can't?" Charlie asked.
Hermione closed her eyes, biting her lip. "I thought when we defeated him… things would go back to normal, from before the war. That everything we fought for would mean the old ways died with him, but they didn't. Did they? The prejudices, the bigotry, the nepotism… they're still there."
"One step ahead, two steps back," Charlie murmured.
Hermione nodded, eyes shining. "Exactly, so I'm taking it one day at a time. I'll graduate by owl post. Maybe I'll use my savings or my Order of Merlin money to attend university. The future is up in the air, but at least I have one now."
Rosella started crying from upstairs, and Hermione pushed herself up, "The future calls."
She climbed the stairs and entered their little bedroom, scooping Rosella from her cot and lifting her shirt to feed her. Rosella latched on immediately, her tiny fists curling into Hermione's shirt.
Her gaze fell on Harry's last letter on the desk. Swallowing, she sat down at the desk and reached for a fresh piece of parchment.
Harry,
I understand. This letter was confirmation that you've chosen a life away from us, free from responsibility and obligations. I can't say I understand it entirely after you suffered without your parents, but I accept it. We're just too young. You're getting a chance to live without the weight of everything we went through... without us. I hate it, but I get it.
I never truly understood why you wanted to become an Auror in the first place. Perhaps it was your way of honouring your father's legacy or chasing the justice we fought for? But that was never your burden to carry alone. This opportunity that you've found sounds incredible. If you ever come home, I hope you'll share some of what you've learned. I'd love to learn it from you.
Please don't think you ever held us back. If anything, you pulled us forward even on the darkest paths. The papers have started calling us the Golden Trio, like we are something bigger than ourselves. Maybe to them we are. But to me, it was just us together. Surviving because we had no other choice. We're supposed to support one another through anything. I'm still here doing that. No forgiveness is needed.
Take care of yourself.
Hermione
Hermione rolled up the letter just as Ron came to the doorway.
"There you are," he said.
Hermione glanced at him. "She was hungry."
"I heard her from out back," Ron said as he moved closer to kiss Rosella's head. He nodded at the letter. "Whatcha writing?"
"I was just replying to Harry," Hermione murmured.
Ron nodded, holding out his arms. "Mum is calling for you downstairs. I'll burp her, then we will be down, and I'll send the letter with the new owl."
Hermione passed Rosella to him, brushing her daughter's soft curls with her fingers before heading downstairs.
Molly smiled as Hermione walked into the kitchen. "Look what we got!" she exclaimed, pointing to the boxed baby swing next to the table. "I got one for Rosella and Bill's baby."
Hermione smiled, "Thank you, Molly. I can't wait to put it together. Rosella will love it."
Fleur walked over to her, "Oh, 'ermione, there was zo much on sale. Could you 'elp me decide what we actually need?"
"Of course," Hermione said.
Ron laid Rosella down on her belly on her blanket and went over to the owl's perch. "Ozzy, take this to Harry Potter." Opening the window, the owl took off into the cold winter sky.
Ron walked over and looked at the box. "Oh, Rose is going to love that. Get her used to flying."
"Excuse me, Ron Weasley, if you think my daughter will ever get on a broom, you have another thing coming to you!" Hermione told him.
A basket of baby clothes sat at Hermione's feet, holding Rosella's tiny socks, sleepers, and onesies. The fire in the Burrow's sitting room crackled, a log popping as Ron listened to the Wizarding Wireless. Rosella was upstairs, asleep, and the rest of the family had gone to bed over an hour ago.
Ron sat across from her in Arthur's armchair, legs stretched out, his eyes closed, listening to the reporters talking about the Quidditch leagues reorganizing after the war.
Hermione set the last onesie neatly on top of the pile and glanced over at Ron, who was tapping his toes.
"Did you add anything to the letter?" she asked quietly.
Ron looked up at her and swallowed, "How'd you know?"
"I didn't," Hermione told him, "But I figured so."
She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes for a moment. "We used to joke that I was too involved in Harry's life… too protective. But after fighting so hard to keep him alive, how do I stop? I feel like I have to shield him. I want to go to the papers and announce that Rosella is his daughter, but I know that would hurt him, and it would make things worse with Rita."
Ron's jaw tightened. "Then you'd probably be mad at what I wrote."
Hermione studied his face as he leaned forward, running his hands over his face. "I told him that I couldn't believe him. I told him Rosella's amazing, that he's missing it all. I told him that I don't know who he is anymore."
Hermione pressed her palms to her eyes. "I hope and pray he just shows up one day. Every time I hear the door, I get this jolt of hope. But it's fading, Ron… with every passing day."
Ron stood up and began to pace, running his hands through his hair. "I just don't get it! The Harry I knew wanted a family. That's all he ever talked about. A home. A real one. He wouldn't run from this… from her!"
"I thought at first maybe Kingsley wasn't delivering our letters," Hermione admitted, "But when I went into Diagon Alley… I sent a letter myself. Same result, silence."
Ron stopped before sitting back down next to her. "He has to come home sometime, right?" he asked, "He can't stay gone forever?"
Hermione picked up the Snitch toy that Fred and George had got for Rosella. "I would hope so, but who knows at this point?" she whispered.
Preview Chapter 20 – Head Above Water
"Hermione, there you are. Sit, dear," Molly told her. "Ron, eat up! You don't want to be late for work."
Hermione hesitated as Ginny held her arms out for Rosella before handing her over. Ginny took her and sat on the floor with her.
Hermione walked over to the kettle and poured herself a cup of tea as Crookshanks rubbed up against her legs before going over to Ginny.
Ron chewed on his sausage, staring at Crookshanks, "I can't believe that menace found its way back."
"Be nice to my cat," Hermione told him as Molly exclaimed.
"Look at you, clever girl!"
Hermione froze as she watched Rosella drag herself forward toward Crookshanks, not fully crawling but using her upper body strength.
Crookshanks moved over to her and sniffed at Rosella's hair. Rosella reached out to him, and before Hermione could move, Crookshanks batted at her, and Rosella began to cry. Hermione stood up, but Molly was already there, scooping her up. A red scratch was obvious on her tiny face.