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.
And I will swallow my pride.
You're the one that I love.
And I'm saying goodbye.
Say something, I'm giving up on you.
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you.
And anywhere, I would've followed you, oh-oh.
Say something, I'm giving up on you
~ Say Something by A Great Big World
~*~ 13th October 1999 ~*~
The bell above the door chimed as Hermione stepped inside Leabhar Books for her first day. The familiar smell of parchment and dust greeted her, reminding her of Hogwarts.
Mr. O'Brien was at the front counter, a steaming mug of tea in his hand, with his glasses perched on his nose. He looked up as he heard her, and his wrinkled face smiled, "Oh dearie, bright and early, just as I figured. That's a good sign I say on yeh first day."
"Old habits," Hermione said as she hung up her jacket on the hook nearest to the door. "I prefer to be early to everything. My daughter obviously was the same. She came early."
Mr. O'Brien chuckled. "I imagine you had a full course load at Hogwarts. Now, let me show you our stack of inventory I've been doin'. Thought we'd start with the Magical Theory section, we have some customers that have been coming as of late to do master studyin' and books tend to wander if we don't keep an eye on them."
Hermione pulled her sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows, following him back to the back corner of the store, where tables sat amongst narrow aisles. The store wasn't a large one, but it was a labyrinth. Gas lamps floated from the ceiling, giving the store a warm glow as dust floated through the air. Stacks of books sat on the tables, stacked in neat columns.
"I have this list, yeh see. Job today is cross-checkin' with this list the books on the shelves," O'Brien told her, handing her a clipboard. "Yeh mark what we have and if any titles are missin' or damaged."
"What do you want me to do with the damaged titles?" Hermione asked him.
O'Brien smiled, "I trust you, dearie, that you'll know what to do. Yeh know where to find me."
Hermione nodded. "Got it."
O'Brien left her alone, and Hermione got to work. Carefully examining every book, checking the titles against the list, correcting edition numbers, and organizing the damaged texts. Occasionally, O'Brien would come in and check on her, to offer her a cup of tea or water.
She had just finished sorting the first case when O'Brien came back again, looking around at the progress she had made. "Merlin dearie, yeh have made more progress in half a morn than I've made the whole year."
Hermione smiled, "It drove my friends crazy how organized I was at Hogwarts."
"Well, don't burn yehself out. Stop for lunch soon," O'Brien told her as he walked back up front.
Hermione was on her hands and knees, organizing the bottom shelf, when a familiar voice came up behind her. "This brings back memories of the library."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Ron, "You'd have to have gone to the library to see me there. What are you doing here?"
Ron held up a brown paper bag, "Thought you could use some lunch."
Hermione stood up as Mr. O'Brien came in, "Oh, Ron, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. O'Brien. Mr. O'Brien, this is Ron… my… fiancée."
Ron shook Mr. O'Brien's hand, "Nice to meet you, sir."
"Glad to meet yeh, Mr. Weasley. Enjoy your lunch. See that door over there? Takes yeh upstairs, go ahead and take a 30 minute break," Mr. O'Brien stated.
"Thank you, sir," Hermione said as she walked over and opened the door, then climbed the stairs.
Hermione looked around once they made it upstairs. "It's a little flat."
"Looks like it hasn't been used for a while," Ron said, frowning, looking around it.
Hermione took out her wand and cleared the space so that they could sit. "I appreciate this, Ron. I got so into organizing, I forgot about eating."
"I figured. Harry always made sure you ate, so I figured I could stop over here for lunch," Ron told her.
Hermione sat down at the small kitchen table and opened the bag, taking out a sandwich for herself. "I appreciate it. I was in such a rush to be on time this morning, I didn't even think of food."
Ron grinned, sitting across from her. "Here to make sure all food needs are met."
Hermione chewed on her sandwich, then froze. "You're right."
Ron frowned, "Not words that I hear much. Right about what?"
Hermione slowly set her sandwich down on the bag and covered her face as tears welled up in her eyes. "All those years, not even thinking about it, Harry always kept me fed."
She heard Ron's chair move against the floor, and he touched her shoulder. "At Hogwarts, you'd get so into your studies that you'd forget to eat. He said he knew what it was like to go without food, and he didn't want you to do that. It was one part of the hunt that hurt him the most."
Hermione looked up at him, "I miss him so much."
Ron gave her a half smile, "I do too."
~*~ 14th November 1999 ~*~
The sun was already nearly set as Hermione sat on the floor with Rosella and Charlie. A mismatched toy tea set that used to be Ginny's was in front of them as Rosella giggled, pretending to eat her fake food.
"Would the lady like another cup?" Charlie asked, holding up a tiny teapot.
Rosella let out a squeal, pounding her plastic teacup against the table, so he pretended to pour it for her.
Hermione smiled as Charlie carefully picked up one of the dolls that Rosella had found, a doll with button eyes and red hair like her own. He cradled it in his large, roughened hands. "Thank you for joining us, Miss Buttons," Charlie told the doll, "Would you like a spot of tea?"
Rosella screeched, launching herself at Charlie, grabbing the doll out of his hands. With a tiny frown, she used the doll to hit Charlie's arm with it, before sitting back on her bottom, holding the doll to her chest.
Hermione tried not to smile. "Rosella Lily Potter! That wasn't nice."
Rosella pouted and looked up at her with her wide green eyes.
"Tell Uncle Charlie that you're sorry," Hermione said calmly, as she gently signed the word 'sorry' for her.
Charlie looked at Hermione, surprised. "You're teaching her sign language?"
Hermione nodded, brushing a curl out of her face. "Until she knows more words, it might help with her frustration. She was getting so upset, and it seemed to calm her."
Rosella slowly moved her hand from her chin outward.
Hermione smiled. "Good job, Rose!"
"That's awesome," Charlie said, impressed. "One of the keepers at the reserve, Marla, is partially deaf. I know a few signs to help talk to her."
Hermione opened her mouth to ask him more about the other keepers when the floo roared to life. Out of the emerald flames stumbled Ron, his laughter filling the room as he tripped, catching himself before he fell.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed, standing up, "Are you drunk again?"
Ron blinked slowly as he looked at her with a goofy grin. "Hermes, lighten up. It was just a few drinks with the lads. Celebrating Seamuseses new job!"
Charlie stood up next to her and placed a steady hand on her back. "I got this, Hermione."
Ron's blue eyes narrowed. "Are you flirtin' with my fiancée?"
Charlie stepped forward. "Let's go upstairs before you say something you'll regret." He said, taking Ron's arm.
"Get yer hands off me," Ron snapped, yanking his arm away as he staggered toward the stairs, muttering under his breath as he stumbled up them with Charlie walking up behind him.
George stepped in from the kitchen, "He was drunk again, wasn't he?"
Hermione turned to him and nodded. "At least twice this week. Last week was three times."
George rubbed the back of his neck. "We stopped going out when we realized it was becoming a problem. Thought maybe he'd stop. I don't know what to do, Hermione. It's not affecting him at work yet, but it's obviously a problem."
Molly appeared in the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Where is everyone?"
Hermione gave her a fake smile. "They just ran upstairs."
Molly nodded and went back into the kitchen.
Hermione turned back to Rose and crouched next to her. "Stand up," she said gently as she signed the word.
Rosella set her doll down and stood, wrapping her tiny fingers around Hermione's. She toddled beside her to the kitchen, where Hermione lifted her into her highchair. Fastening her in, she snapped the tray in front of her.
Grabbing the bowl of carrots, then the sweet potatoes, she placed them on the tray in front of her. "There we go, sweetheart." She said as she kissed Rosella's head.
Rosella took a handful of both and shoved them into her mouth, grinning.
"Little bites, honey," Hermione said, using her thumb to brush away a stray sweet potato.
Arthur and Fred came in from outside, talking, as they washed their hands in the sink at Molly's insistence, as Hermione sat at the table.
Glancing up toward the stairs, she sighed as she checked on Rosella again, then smiled at Molly as their eyes met. Footsteps on the stairs made her look, as she saw Ron coming down them, his steps steadier. His hair was wet, and he was in a new shirt. She briefly closed her eyes, realizing that Charlie had not only given him a sober potion, but had stuck his head in the shower again. His eyes were red and puffy, and with a groan, he sat down at his usual seat, reaching for the bowl of potatoes.
"Sorry," he muttered, not looking at her as he dropped a spoonful onto his plate.
Hermione didn't look at him as she took two pieces of the roasted chicken and put them on her plate. "We'll talk later," she said.
Ron didn't reply, just stabbed a piece of chicken as she handed him the plate.
Hermione took the beans from Charlie as the floo flared again. This time, Ginny stepped out, and a second later, Neville stumbled out after her, brushing soot from his robes.
Ron looked over at them, confused, "Neville? What are you doing here?"
Ginny paused as Neville came over and laced his fingers with hers. "Actually, Neville is here with me."
Fred, who was walking by them with a glass of pumpkin juice, grinned. "So you get all skinny, tall, and sexy, and you land the jock?" He laughed, clapping Neville on the back. "Way to go, Longbottom."
Neville blushed, "It's not like that."
Ginny rolled her eyes and gave Fred a firm flick between his eyes. "Neville's gran lives near the Holyhead training facility. We kept running into each other. And well… we sort of happened."
Hermione smiled as Neville slid into the seat beside her. "Nice to see you, Neville."
"You too," Neville said, his eyes widening as Rosella waved at him from her high chair, her hands covered in orange sweet potatoes. "Wow, she's getting big."
Hermione smiled, looking at Rosella, "Rose, baby, say hi to Uncle Neville."
Rosella grinned, her little cheeks stuffed like a squirrel. "Hi, hi. More?"
Hermione smiled, pointing at the chicken, "Eat that first."
Conversations started around the table, shifting between various topics. Neville's new greenhouse and his idea to start a potion ingredient company, Ginny's upcoming match, and Fred's idea for a prank candy. Hermione glanced at Ron to see him staring at his plate, ignoring Rosella next to him.
Neville turned to Hermione. "How are you, Hermione? Ginny said something about you working at a bookshop?"
Hermione nodded. "Leabhar Books near W3s. It's been about a month. It's been good. I helped Mr. O'Brien with inventory and categorizing everything. We have finally gone through the entire store and established an organizational system. I placed the order yesterday for some newer editions of the texts. It's been good to be busy again."
Ginny looked over at her, "You look like you're finally sleeping again."
Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Some days are better than others, but I'm getting there."
Hermione looked over at Rosella, then at Ron. He kept eating, silent and moody.
"Mumma ookie?" Rosella asked.
Hermione smiled, "Not right now, honey. Eat more chicken."
~*~ 15th December 1999 ~*~
Hermione stepped out of the floo into the Burrow's kitchen. She took off her traveling cloak and scarf, hanging them up on a hook.
Arthur looked up at the kitchen table, a cup of tea beside the Daily Prophet, and smiled at her.
"Did you have to work late too?" Hermione asked, walking over to the sink to wash her hands.
Arthur nodded with a yawn. "We raided another house. Some suspected sympathizers were hoarding dark artifacts. I spent the day cataloguing what we found so the DMLE can process the accused. Some of it was disturbing."
Hermione uncovered her plate and canceled the warming charm, as Arthur rose and took his own to the sink.
"Was the store busy today?" He asked, washing it.
Hermione smiled as she took a bite. "Swamped. The Christmas rush really hit us hard last weekend. It was either stay late tonight or go in early tomorrow to restock, and since Ron said he had a meeting in the morning," she shrugged as she leaned back on the counter, "I stayed."
Arthur stared at her for a moment. "Ron flooed hours ago, said he'd be later. Molly went ahead and put Rosella to bed."
Hermione froze mid-chew. She had gone by the shop on the way home. It had been closed, with the lights off, and there was no sign of anyone inside.
Arthur walked over and kissed the top of her head. "Try to get some rest, dear."
"Goodnight, Arthur," Hermione said softly.
Hermione finished her meal in silence. Washing her plate, she looked over at the Weasley family clock. With the threat gone, everyone had stopped looking at it regularly. Everyone but her. Ron's hand hovered over traveling. Hermione stared at it, arms crossed. She knew that if there were a hand labeled 'pub,' it would be there nearly every night.
Ron had been drifting for weeks. Shutting down and avoiding everything, spending more time at W3s, the pub, or Seamus's than at home. The strain in their friendship was growing, heavy, and constant. It was like they were back at Hogwarts with the bickering they did when they were together. Hermione knew that she was not innocent in it. She did her best to try to get him to talk to her, which resulted in him being defensive and snippy.
Sighing, she walked to the sitting room and collapsed on the couch, covering herself with the afghan. She'd wait half an hour, and maybe he'd come home. But she mistakenly closed her eyes for just a moment.
The sound of the floo woke her. She sat up groggy, grabbing her wand in defense, only to have to quickly cast the silencing charm as Ron stumbled out, his foot catching the edge of the rug. Sending him to his knees with a grunt, he clutched the coffee table for balance.
Hermione stood, "What the fuck, Ron. You're drunk again!"
Ron stumbled to his feet, his cheeks flushed and his eyes just as red and bloodshot. "Not all of us can be bloody perfect like Miss Prefect Hermione fucking Granger. Leave me alone."
Hermione flinched at his words. "You can insult me all you want, but you are deflecting. You have a problem."
Ron swayed, looking at her. "Yeah, I do. You! You're always on my fucking case. Every bloody second. Guess what, Hermione, it's true again. I'm second best to Harry once a fucking again. He'd be a better father to her than I am. Don't doubt it."
Hermione frowned, "He's not here, and you are. That's something. How is this about Harry when he isn't even here?! This is about you and your drinking problem, Ron. You need help. Getting free drinks… You are abusing it!"
"I helped save the world!" Ron yelled.
"So did I, and it fucked all of us up, but I got help. You need to," Hermione told him, "You need help, Ron. This isn't you. You aren't here, and Rosella is going to bed, not knowing where you are. You are choosing the pub over your family."
"You act like I'm some monster," Ron said, pacing.
"I'm acting like a woman who is tired of raising my daughter with someone who refuses to grow up!" Hermione snapped.
Ron looked at her, "Then you should have picked someone else to help you. Obviously, I'm not her dad."
Hermione stepped back as his words hit her like a curse.
Ron stared at her, and for a moment, it looked like guilt or regret was in his eyes. But he stormed past her, "I'm sleeping in Gin's room."
Hermione stood in the living room, lips pressed together as tears fell down her face. Everything was falling apart.
~*~ 19th December 1999 ~*~
Six days until Christmas, but it never felt less like Christmas. Four days had passed since the fight, and the next day, things had never gotten any better. They had a screaming match in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen, with Molly trying to calm things down. Ron had gone drinking again, and insecurities flew out of his mouth, swear words that had Molly gasping. Arthur had dragged Ron to the shed, but the damage had been done. In tears, Hermione told Molly that she couldn't do this anymore.
Suitcase in hand, Hermione stood in the stairwell leading to the flat above Leabhar Books. Taking a deep breath, she started walking up the stairs only to have the door creak, as Mr. O'Brien was waiting at the top of the stairs.
"There yeh are," Mr. O'Brien said, moving aside for her to enter.
The space was small. She had only ever worried about the table as she and Ron sat at it to eat lunch. The main room had a kitchen nook off to the side, near the window, and a fireplace was located in the room, with ash and old logs built up within it. A narrow hallway led back to rooms she had never seen. Looking closely, the floorboards needed to be replaced in certain places, and cobwebs hung in the corners, giving the room an old charm that also reminded her of what the Shrieking Shack may have looked like when Remus first started visiting.
"Yeh can clean it up and move in whenever yeh want to," Mr. O'Brien said, handing her the key, "She's all yers now."
Hermione looked at him, "Can I move in today?"
Mr. O'Brien frowned, "Dearie, what's wrong? This near ta Christmas and yer movin' out?"
Hermione set her suitcase down and walked over to the window to look down at the Alley below. Shoppers bustled through the dark alley, lit by strings of lights. Carolers were walking past Quality Quidditch Supplies. "Ron and I… we're having some issues. That's why I was looking for a place. We decided that it would be better for us if I gave him some space."
Mr. O'Brien looked around the dusty room. "Yeh want to bring the young lassie to live here too?"
Hermione nodded, "She's staying with Ron's parents tonight. I want to get as much work done as I can, so that hopefully she can come here with me tomorrow."
Mr. O'Brien looked around, "It needs a lotta work before it's fit for a wee one."
"I know," Hermione said, rolling up her sleeves, "But I can do this."
Mr. O'Brien nodded. "If yeh need anything, the floo still works. Yeh just say meh name and yeh can call my home. Don't hesitate. I'll be downstairs for about an hour more."
Hermione smiled, "Thank you, Mr. O'Brien, for trusting me with this place."
He chuckled. "This here was meh first place, meself. Slept on the floor with just a mattress for three years until I met Mrs. O'Brien. Couldn't leave it in better hands."
With a pat to her shoulder, he turned and walked down the stairs, leaving Hermione alone.
Hermione walked down the hallway to the bedroom. The paint was peeling, and the old mattress sat on the floor. Walking across to the room on the other side of the hall, she saw an old office that had probably been his before. It could easily be cleaned up for Rosella. It was hers. Her first space on her own. A fresh start.
Pointing her wand at the ceiling, "Scourgify!" She started in the bedroom so that she would have a place to sleep tonight.
/\/ <3 /\/ 20th December 1999 /\/ <3 /\/
Harry lay back in his cot in a tiny village in Uganda, the afternoon heat seeming to steam through the open flap in Harry's tent. A book lay open on his lap, its spine cracked with age. Only the translation charm allowed him to decipher the centuries-old wisdom within its pages. It was at least his fourth time reading it, but he found something new each time.
Outside, he heard children laughing as they played ball, their voices carrying amongst the goats bleating. Harry adjusted his translation band around his wrist, the heat making it feel sticky against his skin.
Looking up as a shadow entered his tent, he found Elder Kresh, his dark robes billowing in the breeze as he stepped inside. "A letter for you."
Harry stood, offering a bow. "Thank you."
The older man left, and Harry turned the letter over in his hand. The sight of her handwriting made his chest tighten. Only two people wrote to him anymore, Andromeda with news of Teddy and Hermione.
He sat on the edge of his cot, his thumb breaking the seal, and unfolded the parchment within.
Harry,
Thank you for your letter and the book. It arrived on a day I needed something kind. I've already used one of the remedies in it when Rose bumped her head while walking into the coffee table. She's more adventurous than I ever thought a one-year-old could be. She doesn't walk much yet, but she is fast. Sometimes I blink and she's in a different room.
I wish I had written to you sooner. The truth is that things haven't been easy. Trying to finish my studies, raising Rose, and dealing with the constant weight of society's judgment. It became too much. I was diagnosed by a muggle doctor with postpartum depression. The healers kept telling me I was tired, offered me Pepper-Up potions, and sent me on my way. But Ron saw something was wrong and pushed me to seek help. I'm so grateful that he did.
Her pain seeped through the parchment, through her words, causing a quiet aching within his bones. He could almost hear her reading it. Her voice trembling, as she admitted she wasn't as strong as she tried to be. She was hurting.
There was a moment about a month ago that broke me. I was walking to W3s. Ron's been helping George and Fred since leaving the Auror academy, and I had Rose with me. A woman recognized me and called me a Mudblood. Spat at Rose and me. Others joined in. They didn't care that I was holding a child. I barely made it there before I collapsed. I didn't think I would ever stop shaking.
That day confirmed it. I wasn't just exhausted. I was drowning. I'm trying to get better. I've started talking to someone. I'm giving myself permission to heal.
I might even have a job lined up. Wherever you are, I hope you are healing, too.
Love,
Hermione
Harry nearly crumpled the parchment in his hands with anger. He had hoped that England would have improved by now and moved on from its prejudices, but from Hermione's letter, it sounded anything but.
His Hermione was thousands of kilometers away, drowning in invisible pain, and no one would help her.
Rising, he stormed out of his tent, her letter still in his hand, toward the tent of one of the healers he was training with, who dealt with women's medicine.
"Kaikara!" He called from the door to her tent, awaiting her admittance.
A tall woman with long black braids stepped around the back, "Hello, Harry. What is it?"
"My best friend," He said, holding out the letter, desperate, "She's back in England. Muggle doctors have diagnosed her with postpartum depression. The healers told her she was just tired and pushed Pepper-Up potions. It's been over a year, and she's… she's been struggling."
Kaikara took the letter and glanced over it. "Come, I have something," she said, handing it back to him.
Harry followed her into her enchanted tent. Shelves lined the walls, filled with jars, scrolls, journals, and books. The scent of lavender and lemongrass filled the room, soothing him. Looking around, he smiled. "This reminds me of her. If Hermione had a tent, it would look like this." He murmured.
Kaikara smiled at him as she pulled a thick journal from her shelf. "Is she the one you're in love with?"
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. I don't know… what is love supposed to feel like? She means the most to me. Always has."
Kaikara flipped open the book and found the page she was looking for. Duplicating a handwritten page, she pressed it into his hand. "Then why aren't you home with her?"
Harry looked at his worn trainers against the dirt floor. "She chose our best friend. Ron. And I don't think my heart could survive seeing that every day."
Kaikara patted his cheek. "Or are you afraid to find out if you could?"
Harry looked at the copied recipe, labeled: Herbal Restorative Tonic for the New Mother's Spirit. A potion that she could find ingredients for easily in an apothecary.
"Send her that, it will help," Kaikara told him.
"Thank you, Kai," Harry said as he turned back to his tent.
Once back inside, Harry looked around and found a book that he had read many times over that might benefit her: Healing the Soul: A Guide to Magical Renewal. Gently placing the tonic recipe within it, he saw the tiny doll that kept him company. Handmade by an artisan during his visit to South Africa earlier in the year. It had brown hair, tan skin, and its eyes were small buttons. It was the tiny rosebuds sewn on its dress that made him think of Rose. The picture of her and Hermione had been in black and white, but in his mind, she was Hermione's smaller version. Brown curls and brown eyes, skin that tanned rather than burned. The doll was enchanted to hum lullabies in soft tones. He had found it in his first week in South Africa and had carried it with him ever since. Tonight, he would send it as a Christmas gift.
Grabbing his letter kit, he sat down on his cot.
Hermione,
Kingsley just sent me your letter. I read it three times. Are you alright? Do you need me to come home? Just say the word, and I'll be on the next portkey. Nothing I'm doing here matters more than you being safe and okay. Rose too.
I've been in Uganda and across Africa since June, studying with the healers in the Rwenzori Mountains mostly. They have taught me how to remove traces of dark magic from the body. Not just physically, but mentally and spiritually too. It's a blend of ethnomedicine, herbalism, and spiritual counseling. It is so powerful, and I think it could change lives. It did mine. You know what I carried for so long. It left things behind. With their help, for the first time, I feel like I've let it go. I feel lighter.
It probably feels like I only send books as gifts, but I thought this might be helpful. Inside is a recipe for a tonic that one of the healers here thinks could help you. It's gentle and good for grounding and clarity. Everything you need to brew it should be available in Diagon Alley, or I can send it to you if you need it.
I'm so sorry that you went through the horrible encounter in the street. No one should experience that, let alone with a child. I'm furious and wish I'd been there to shield you both.
I'm so proud of you for seeking help and loving Rose even in hard times. You are the strongest person I know.
I hope that you, Ron, and Rose have a happy Christmas. I found this doll here. It's enchanted to hum lullabies in several languages. Hopefully, Rose will like it.
Happy Christmas,
Harry
Harry sealed the letter, then shrank the book and the doll to put them within a small box, then tied it all together with twine. Beside his cot, a small photo caught his eye. He, Ron, and Hermione, laughing together in the backyard of the Burrow, before life got heavy.
He touched the edge of the frame, "Happy Christmas, Hermione."
Stepping out into the warm Ugandan air, the first stars were becoming visible as he walked down to the post building to send out this letter.
~*~ 25th December 1999 ~*~
Snow was on the windowpanes in soft flurries right past Rosella's head as Hermione brushed her curls out as she sat on her changing table. Gently loosening a tangle, Hermione let go of the wet curl, fresh from her bath, and it bounced back upon her head. Hermione smiled as Rosella grabbed her cheeks with both tiny hands, pressing her cheeks together as she kissed her.
"Mumma!" Rosella squealed.
Hermione laughed, kissing her daughter's palm. "Mumma loves you," she whispered against the tiny fingers that were her whole world.
Rosella clapped, giggling as Hermione gently put a fabric headband on her head with a little red bow, her curls bouncing around her face. "Dadda!"
Hermione paused, looking back, expecting to see Ron behind her. Her eyes followed Rosella's gaze and landed on the photograph on the wall.
It was a photo of her and Harry, taken years ago by Colin. Both of them were smiling, her hair wild in the wind, his arm thrown over her shoulder. It was the same picture she showed Rosella every night before bed. The same one she'd whisper to, "This is Dadda. We tell him goodnight."
Rosella had never said it to his photo before. Occasionally, she would say 'Da' to Ron, but Dadda… oh, Harry.
"Oh, Rose, honey," Hermione's voice quivered as she lifted Rosella into her arms, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek as she hugged her close. "Such a sweet girl. Let's go to Nana's."
Stepping through the Floo, cinnamon and the scent of Molly's feast filled the room. Neville and Ginny were already sitting on the sofa, talking to Bill, who held Victoire and Arthur. From the noise upstairs, the twins were up there in their old room. Cleaning the soot off their bodies, Hermione heard, "Oh my girls!" as Molly rushed in and swept Rosella out of Hermione's arms.
"Mum!" Ginny said, "What am I? Am I even here, or am I invisible?"
"You are wonderful, dear, but I miss this one so," Molly said as she peppered Rosella with kisses, heading to the kitchen.
George walked down the stairs, grinning, "You are vintage, Gin. Rose and Victoire are sparkling new."
"Ha ha," Ginny said dryly as she flicked him off.
Arthur handed her a cup of cocoa. "How is the new place?"
"A work in progress, but the fact that Mr. O'Brien said that I can have it for free rent. I couldn't pass up," Hermione told him, "Thank you for the cocoa." Hermione looked around. "Where is Ron?"
"Probably upstairs nursing his wounds. We didn't realize how bad it had gotten, Hermione. I'm sorry," Bill told her.
"I want to support him all I can, Bill, and I did. I ignored it, but now he is getting verbally demeaning toward me when he is drunk, and I won't take that. It's why we fought at Hogwarts all the time. Since…" Hermione trailed off, "He's treated me well. I don't know what has changed."
Molly walked into the room, drying her hands on her apron, "Is everyone down here? Dinner won't be finished for another 45 minutes." She noticed that Ron wasn't with the family and went to the stairs, "Ronald, we are going to exchange gifts. Get down here, please!"
Ron came down the stairs, and Hermione frowned. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was unkept. Their eyes met across the room. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
Hermione swallowed hard. "Just… stop drinking so much, Ron. That is what all this stems from."
He gave a short nod and took a seat beside George as Molly handed Rosella back to her, and Hermione sat next to the tree on the floor.
"Alright, I hope everyone enjoys them," Molly said with a flick of her wand, as packages began to float out from under the tree.
Hermione caught hers and Rosella's and let Rosella slowly hit the paper.
Rosella giggled as she tore the paper to her pale pink jumper, with a beautiful rose that was blooming.
"It's beautiful, Molly. Thank you," Hermione said as she gently put Rosella's on her.
Laughter bubbled around the room as everyone showed off their jumpers, and Hermione slowly opened her own to find a jumper in deep purple with a book on its front.
"Oh, Molly. It's wonderful," Hermione said, admiring it. "Thank you."
Rosella and Victoire were showered with toys, clothes, and books. Rosella's favourite seemed to be a green stuffed pygmy puff that squeaked when you squeezed it, which Rosella did frequently.
Ron quietly handed Hermione a package, and she opened it to find a leather-bound notebook, charmed with indexes.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Ron smiled, "I noticed you were running out of pages."
Hermione handed him a wrapped box, and he ripped the paper to reveal a Game Boy, complete with Pokémon and Tetris games.
Ron looked at her, confused.
"This is all the rage in the Muggle world, and I thought you'd enjoy it," Hermione told him. "It's called a video game."
"You got me a video game?" Ron asked, surprised.
"I get dibs on it next!" George yelled.
"Oy! I get first go!" Fred yelled as he lunged for the game.
"It's mine," Ron yelled at them, "Go get your own."
Hermione smiled as Ron and the twins wrestled each other and looked up as Charlie laid his hand on her shoulder.
"There was an owl at the window," Charlie told her as he handed her a small box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string.
"Thanks," Hermione said as she took it from him, her fingers trembling as she broke the string. On top of the box was a letter. Breaking the seal, she opened it.
Hermione,
Kingsley just sent me your letter. I read it three times. Are you alright?
I've been in Uganda and across Africa since June, studying with the healers in the Rwenzori Mountains mostly. They have taught me how to remove traces of dark magic from the body. Not just physically, but mentally and spiritually. It's a blend of ethnomedicine, herbalism, and spiritual counseling. It is so powerful, and I think it could change lives. It did mine. You know what I carried for so long. It left things behind. With their help, for the first time, I feel like I've let it go. I feel lighter.
It probably feels like I only send books as gifts, but I thought this might be helpful. Inside is a recipe for a tonic that I've used here that could help you. It's gentle and good for grounding and clarity. Everything you'd need to brew it should be available in Diagon Alley, or I could send it to you if you need.
I'm so sorry that you went through the horrible encounter in the street. No one should experience that, let alone with a child. I'm furious and wish I'd been there to shield you both.
I'm so proud of you for seeking help and loving Rose even in hard times. You are the strongest person I know.
I hope that you, Ron, and Rose have a happy Christmas. I found this doll here. It's enchanted to hum lullabies in several languages. Hopefully, Rose will like it.
Happy Christmas.
Harry
Hermione opened the box, and inside was a small book. Obviously shrunk, about spiritual healing, nestled next to a tiny doll with brown hair and roses on its dress. As she touched it, it began to hum a soft lullaby, singing in a language she didn't understand.
Rosella heard it and toddled over, holding her hands out.
Taking her wand, she enlarged it, then handed it to Rosella, who held it tightly to her.
Hermione laid her head back on the couch as she stared at the letter. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
Preview of Chapter 23 – Lose You to Love Me
Ron leaned forward. "Enough, I'm part of the store too. Are you thinking about buying it and expanding W3s?"
Fred smirked, "Oh, Ronnie-boy. Not us."
George smiled, looking at Hermione. "We're thinking about buying it for you."
Hermione choked on her water. "What?!"
"You've changed that place already," Fred told her, "You've reorganized the whole place, even put that children's section in. It's practically your shop already. Don't you want to run it properly?"
"With what money?" Hermione asked.
George glanced at Fred and sighed, "He didn't want us to tell anyone, but when Harry won the Triwizard Tournament, he gave us the winnings."
Ron gasped as he stood up, his chair falling to the floor behind him. "I knew you didn't buy me those dress robes just because! Harry told you to!"
"Shut up, Ron!" The twins said together, waving him off.