Obliviate

FIVE

      The next morning Hermione groaned as she pulled herself from the bed. She was up earlier than she had intended to be, the sun barely cresting over the horizon. The biggest hurdle was out of the way. She had come face to face with Harry. Gone was the boy and in his place remained a man. A gentle tap on her window startled her but as she turned around, noticing the tawny owl sitting patiently on the sill with a letter held in its beak, she relaxed. Quietly she opened the window retrieving the letter before giving the bird a biscuit before he flew off.

Hermione darling,

Congratulations on your first day back at Hogwarts! I do believe you will do amazingly, as you always do. Arthur and I were just speaking and if it was alright with both you and Rosalee, we would love to take her today. Perhaps do some shopping in muggle London, away from anyone that would recognize her. We thought perhaps she would enjoy her time with Grammy and Pop-pop much more than she would at Hogwarts with just the house elves while you teach. You could retrieve her this evening when you arrive for supper. If you find the offer agreeable, just bring her by before breakfast.

All our love, Arthur and Molly.

        Hermione read over the note a second and a third time before padding softly into Rosalee’s room to wake her. Molly’s acceptance and kindness never ceased to amaze her. Molly was a mother in every sense of the word. She was everything to anyone who needed it. To Harry and herself she was a stand in mother figure. To Rosalee…a grandmother.

       Hermione couldn’t understand it, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to question it. Rosalee woke with a smile and her bright green eyes. Her hair was wild, another trait she surely gained from her father. “So… I know this is all new to you.” Hermione started, stumbling over her words with unease. She honestly wasn’t sure how to begin to broch the subject. “Your father...” Hermione swallowed hard. “His parents passed away a long time ago, your grandparents.” Rosalee nodded, her eyes searching Hermione’s face as she spoke. “My parents…well that’s a more difficult story, one that I promise to tell you more about, but they are not in the picture either. Anyways, growing up I was taken care of by a marvelous woman… Molly Weasley, I hope to introduce you to each one of the Weasley’s at some point in the future, but Molly and her husband Arthur,” Hermione paused, taking another shaky breath and smiling as she took her daughters small hands in her own, “I told them about you last night, that’s where I went. They were so excited to meet you, insisting they get to meet their granddaughter. That’s what you are to them. Would you like to spend the day with them?” Hermione asked finally. Rosalee’s face lit up so brightly as she jumped from her bed, “Yes! Oh yes please Mum!”

       Hermione rubbed her chest as a sharp pain hit her heart. She had robbed Harry of so much, but she never stopped to think of what she robbed her own daughter of. The two dressed quickly and just as the sun beamed fully over the horizon, Hermione and Rosalee stepped from the floo and into the burrow for the first time together. Scents of breakfast wafted through the house as the gentle sounds of cooking filled the kitchen. “Hermione? That you dear?” Molly called out from the kitchen. “Yes it’s…us.” Molly rushed from the kitchen, a smile on her face as she beamed down at Rosalee. “Oh my sweet!” She rushed forward, pulling the child into her arms as Hermione stood off to the side, desperately trying to hold back her tears. “Come Rosalee, Pop-pop will be coming in from the garden any moment now. Grammy has made you a delicious breakfast and we are going to have such fun while Mummy is at work today.” Rosalee squealed as she raced into the kitchen. “Molly thank you…” Hermione said softly, reaching forward and pulling the woman into a hug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Molly smiled, pulling from the hug, and holding her face in her hands, “You kept my boys safe for years.” She began, her voice growing quiet as her eyes filled with tears. “Lilly was one of my best friends… I made a vow to her to always take care of her boy as if he was my own. When Fred passed…” Her voice broke and she paused to gather herself, “Well I’d like to think that wherever they are, that she is taking care of my Fred. I will be Grammy since she can’t be.” Hermione couldn’t speak. The lump in her throat tightened as she nodded. “Now go dear, can’t be late on your first day. Give Harry our love.” Without another word, she followed the path that Hermione’s young daughter had taken into the kitchen.

       As Hermione gathered herself, heading towards the floo, she heard peals of laughter ringing out. Returning to the castle sent Hermione’s nerves going wild. This was the furthest her daughter had ever been away from her. She had never spent the afternoon with anyone other than herself or a house elf here or there. Molly was a wonderful mother, and from what Ron said, an even more wonderful grandmother to his and Luna’s twins Oliver and Fred. Breakfast would be served in another hour, and then students would begin to arrive. The sorting ceremony scheduled for later that afternoon. “Ms. Granger.” Hermione let out a squeal and jumped in surprise as Minerva’s voice caught her off guard. “Merlin! You startled me.” She stated breathlessly. Minerva inclined her head. “My apologies.” Hermione nodded and fell into step alongside her mentor. “May I ask you a question Professor?” Hermione asked, her mind drifting back to the words Rosalee said the previous night. “Of course.” Minerva waved her wand, shutters pushing open as they made their way down the hall. “Rosalee said something last night a bit unnerving.” She whispered, glancing around at the sleeping portraits. Portraits were known for being gossips. “Oh?” The headmistress asked, her attention split on Hermione and her task at hand. “She said that her…magic, liked Harry… What could that possibly mean?” Minerva paused, her steps coming to a stop as she smiled at Hermione. “It means just that. I understand that as a child you were not familiar with magic, but Rosalee has grown up around it. She knows of it. Magical children are much more attuned to their abilities than that of muggle borns. You and Ha-“ Minerva paused, her words faltering as she glanced up at the portraits, obviously coming to the same conclusion as Hermione. “Her father,” She corrected before continuing, “Are both very powerful in your own rights. It makes sense that your daughter’s ability would also be powerful. Magic seeks out its own. Can you not feel your daughter’s own magic?” Hermione thought about it. She felt a closeness to Rosalee that she had always chalked up to being her mother, but thinking back to her own childhood, although she and her mother had been close, Hermione could not remember feeling such a connection. She nodded, “I suppose so, now that I understand what that is.” Minerva cupped her cheek with one hand, patting it gently. “You’re doing a fine job Hermione.”

        The rest of the day went off pretty well up until the hour before the sorting ceremony. Hermione should have known that Rita Skeeter would have weaseled her way into the school grounds after hearing not one, but two of the golden trio had taken up posts at Hogwarts. The ceremony had turned into a media circus, much to Minerva’s dismay. Hermione had managed to avoid Harry for the most part, minus a couple stolen glances here and there, but she knew without a doubt there would be no avoiding him here and their picture would be plastered all over The Daily Prophet come tomorrow morning.

        The pair stood awkwardly before the podium, just after the first years had been sorted. Students murmured excitedly between themselves at the prospect of being taught by Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world and Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age. Hermione groaned, if only they knew how daft she was. Neville assured them excitedly that his first-year teaching was much the same with the students and rendering them star struck. He was a celebrity in his own right have fought alongside them. Hermione stood next to Harry, staring at the few reporters as they sat below them, Rita Skeeter front and center with her quick-quotes quill poised and ready. Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the acid green feather. She remembered it well from her childhood. Rita, to her credit, avoided her gaze.

        After the jar incident during the tri-wizard tournament, Rita had managed to avoid Hermione’s wrath a second time. Although that was to be decided once this article came to print in the morning. Hermione was acutely aware of Harry standing next to her, she could practically feel the tension radiating in waves off him. She honestly wasn’t sure if it was because of her or the reporters demanding his attention once more. “Harry, how does it feel to be back in Hogwarts? The last time you stepped foot in the castle was during the rebuilding efforts after the war nearly six years ago.” Rita asked loudly. Children sat with rapt attention as they waited for the chosen one to speak. He cleared his throat, glancing briefly up at Hermione who was doing everything she could to avoid his gaze. He watched as the blush crept up her neck and rubbed the back of his neck before answering. “Well, Hogwarts will always be home to me. It makes sense that I would end up back here. I feel privileged that I have been chosen to teach the next generation of witches and wizards.” It was a good reply. Hermione was a little impressed. Naturally over the years as she hid away, a recluse, he had been the face of the ministry. “Ah yes,” Rita said with a smile, “From the chosen one of the war, to the chosen one at Hogwarts once again.” It took everything he had for Harry not to roll his eyes. Rita trained her eyes on Hermione next, and she could feel the flutter of nerves in her stomach. “After the war, Ms. Granger, you disappeared from the wizarding world. What made you come back?” Hermione glanced first at Harry, surprised to find his green eyes studying her, waiting for the answer he had been wondering himself. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, “Well…” She started, her voice wavering nervously. “I came back much the same as Ha- Professor Potter here,” She inclined her head, swallowing nervously as her tongue darted out to lick her lips. “Hogwarts will always be my home and at this time in my life…I needed to come home.” Rita nodded, seemingly satisfied with her response. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but Minerva stepped in front of them raising her hands, “Thank you but I think that is enough for today. I must remind you that this is a school, and the children are our priority, we are eternally grateful that Professor Potter and Professor Granger have joined our staff and we collectively, would like to welcome them both home.” Hermione glanced down at Rita, her face pinched unsatisfied. Before anyone could stop it, the question slipped from her lips, freezing Hermione in place. “Who is the father of your secret child Hermione?” The question set off a flurry of anxious whispers. “Quiet!” Minerva called out, her voice echoing over the crowd. “I said that is enough. I must ask you to leave now or our groundskeeper will happily escort you from the property.” She was angry. Hermione couldn’t bare to bring herself to look at Harry. Instead, she ran, like the coward she was. She rushed to the nearest floo, throwing the powder down and calling out for the burrow.