Leaving Godric's Hollow
As she flicked through the photo album a ragged breath escaped Hermione, causing a brief pause in the turning pages. Toddler Hermione looked back up at her from the photo book, her curly hair almost standing upright, a look of fierce determination in her eyes that would have been quite terrifying if only she wasn’t four. Crouching on either side, holding her little hands were her parents, looking at her with the love only a parent has for their child. What she would give for them to look at her like that again.
Sitting upright as she reached for her phone, the discarded album lay open beside her. Harry and Ron were both away and besides, she didn’t really want to talk to them about this. That had never been the type of bond she shared with Harry and things would only be awkward with Ron after the breakup. No, she needed to talk with someone face to face. So, she scrolled through her contacts and called Ginny Weasley.
Knuckles wrapped loudly against her door, jolting Hermione awake, having not realised she’d been dozing off. Practically jumping out of bed, Hermione hurriedly moved to open her door. Sparing a glance to the clock in her kitchen when she passed it, a small grimace formed on her face. 1:00am. The door swung open to reveal a red-headed, freckly woman carrying what looked to be a duffle bag, except it was hard to tell what with the fact that the zip was fighting and losing a battle to close, and it was bulging in shapes duffle bags typically don’t.
“’Mione?” The concern evident on her friend’s face was enough to bring Hermione out of her thoughts.
“Thank you for coming Ginny you really shouldn’t have I didn’t realise how late it was I would hate to- “ she probably would have continued her rambling for quite some time if Ginny had not cut her off with one of those bear hugs she was famous for. “-can’t… breath…” It was only then that Ginny realised she was squeezing all air out of her friend’s lungs and released her promptly, watching her carefully.
“Hermione is everything alright? I know things have been tough with you with the breakup and everything.” At the reference to her breakup with Ginny’s brother Hermione had to hold back a snort, they had broken up almost a year ago and were friendly now, though admittedly not to the level they were before dating. No, it was not dear Ronald making Hermione’s heart ache. Realising she had probably been silent for quite some time, she turned to face Ginny, to explain.
“No Ginny, Ron and I are… fine, that’s not why I asked you to come over. It’s just that-” she took in a deep breath, exhaled, then continued, determined to tell her friend what had happened. “- my parents have passed, and I don’t think I can stay in Godric’s Hollow. Not for any longer than I already have.” Trying to find something to occupy her, Hermione strode over to shut the door behind Ginny, taking her bag and gesturing to her couch.
“Hermione I’m so sorry, if you don’t mind me asking when did they pass? How did they… die?” Ginny tried so say it with the utmost grace but at the mention of how her parents died Hermione froze up.
“They passed 3 months ago.” The only way that she had avoided leaving the house other than to get bare necessities was by making constant excuses, and Hermione didn't want to hide from her friends anymore. But of course she couldn't tell them that.
“3 months? Why didn’t you reach out sooner?” You would have thought Hermione had grown a second head given the way Ginny was looking at her, something she didn’t take all too kindly.
“I needed time to grieve. By myself.” The words were practically dragged from her throat, and she hated the icy tone she used towards Ginny.
“Right of course, sorry… But leaving Godric’s Hollow? Really ‘Mione?” Hermione was quick to notice the change of subject and was altogether thankful for it.
“Yes Ginny, really, although I haven’t the faintest clue where I’m going to go. That’s actually why I called you in the first place. You just got back from touring with ‘The Death Eaters’ right?" An awkwardness that hadn’t been there before started to creep into Hermione’s voice. “And well I don’t know the places you were touring but maybe you know of somewhere you think I would like?” Hermione had barely travelled, and as she turned her hazel eyes on Ginny they were practically shining with hope.
Much to her chagrin, however Ginny started laughing. Not just a small chuckle either. No this was a full belly laugh and to be quite frank Hermione found it a bit hurtful, and Ginny could probably tell by the look on her face.
“I’m sorry for laughing Hermione it’s just… well-” her eyes were dancing with the apparent humour of the situation “-the places that my band tours are more like the opposite to somewhere you would like. We go to raves and clubs and big bustling cities and last time I checked, that wasn’t your cup of tea?” She posed it as a question, but it was clear that she already knew the answer.
“No, you’re quite right I suppose.” Hermione let out a long sigh, realising that Ginny had meant no harm but also that she wouldn’t provide any help on the matter.
“But, now that I think of it, maybe…” Ginny trailed off, as if lost in thought.
“What? Do you know a place?” Her eyes were on Ginny now, expectant, waiting with bated breath for whatever she would say next.
“Do you remember Tonks, the drummer in my band?” Hermione was caught off guard with this line of questioning but answered quickly, nonetheless.
“Yes, I remember Tonks, what of her?”
“Well, she tells me she grew up in this little town, maybe 40 minutes from here give or take? Maybe you should check it out, I’ll text her and ask what it was called.” As Ginny reached for her phone Hermione held out a hand to stop her.
“I reckon you should wait till later this morning, Gin,” Hermione looked pointedly at the clock, already feeling guilty for waking Ginny and not wanting to disturb Tonks. Plus, she hadn’t slept all night and should probably get some rest herself. “Do you maybe want to stay over tonight? Like old times?” Back when they were younger Ginny often had sleepovers at the Grangers' house, especially when her brothers were getting too rowdy and she needed a break. Despite the 5 odd years between them, they had come to be fast friends.
“That would be nice...” Ginny’s eyes were set, as if she were trying to remember something.
“Also, I was just wondering what was in your duffle bag. Why does it look like there’s…” Hermione was feeling the indent of something that was suspiciously like a baseball bat. Having had her memory sufficiently jogged, Ginny launched into speech, cutting her off.
“Oh yeah! Well, I brought some stuff just in case it was Ron we were dealing with.” She answered, as if that answered any of Hermione’s questions.
“Ginevra Weasley did you bring your baseball bat to ‘deal with’ your brother?” Hermione stood with her hands on hips looking at Ginny with an expression that was her attempt at disappointed, but she couldn’t fully muster it.
“Maybe.” Ginny answered, although she didn’t seem all that sorry for it, and Hermione decided to let it go.
They then fell into a rhythm of sorts, bringing Ginny’s ridiculously full bag to Hermione’s bedroom and changing into their pyjamas before claiming their sides of Hermione’s bed. Hermione on the left, Ginny on the right, just how it had always been. Her orange cat Crookshanks sat curled up on the foot of the bed, his loud purring lulling both friends to sleep.
“Goodnight Gin,” Hermione whispered to her friend, turning over in bed to face her.
“Night ‘Mione,” Ginny whispered in reply.
Later that morning Hermione awoke alone in her bed. She sighed, sitting up, when her eyes caught on a hot pink sticky note stuck on her bedside table. Written in what was obviously Ginny’s hasty scrawl was a note to her.
Sorry to leave so quickly, opportunity with the band came up and they needed all of us. Texted Tonks for you, I saved the address to the town we were talking about in your phone, it’s under “Hogsmeade” -Ginny
Of course, the town. Last nights conversations came back to her as she changed out of her pyjamas. After a small breakfast of toast and fruit, she cleaned her teeth and flossed, Hermione had always been very good about her dental hygiene, though that was probably expected, given what her parents do. What her parents did. Looking around the house she grew up in, another wave of memories overtook her.
It was this moment when Hermione realised, she had to get out, and soon. Staying in this house, their house, wasn’t doing her any good. It wasn’t helping her grieve, and it certainly wasn’t helping her move on, much as she was loathe to do so.
It was this newfound realisation that led Hermione to be sitting on the train to Hogsmeade, a cat carrier in one hand, and altogether a large amount of luggage beside her. This was so utterly out of character for her she almost laughed. Hermione Granger was not spontaneous, or brash. She thought things through, weighed the pros and cons before coming to a reasonable decision and acting upon it with the utmost care. But, in saying that, she was sitting there rationalising this to the very best of her abilities. She was an only child, as had her parents been, so there were no aunts or uncles or cousins to give the house to. Both sets of grandparents had passed when she was quite young, so it had always been her, her mum, and her dad. Now that it was only her, the house seemed far too large and empty to consider staying there. That, combined with the fact that Godric’s Hollow was a fairly small neighbourhood, where everyone knew everyone and nearly everything was a reminder of her parents. So really, she mused, it was perfectly logical for her to uproot herself from the life she knew and attempt to move to a town she had never visited in her life, based off the recommendation of one of Ginny’s friends she didn’t personally know all that well. Perfectly logical.
She has wanted to leave months ago, when her parents first passed but simply couldn’t bring herself to sell the house. A strange twist of fate had resulted in a young couple expecting a baby putting out a post on Facebook requesting information on the town and any available properties. She had instantly contacted them, letting them know of her own predicament but sparing the details, and they eagerly responded telling her to let them know if the house were to ever go on the market as it seemed the perfect fit for them. On the morning of what she now dubbed ‘her realisation’ she had reached out to them, asking if they were still interested in the house. One thing had led to another and Hermione honestly couldn’t be happier that another family would grow to create positive memories in the house she grew up with. She had left the key in the lockbox, told them the code and packed up all her stuff, telling them to contact her if they had any concerns.
Brought out of her thoughts by the sound of the train screeching to a halt she ran over the plan in her head. Ginny had informed her of a small bookshop that was renting out one of the two small flats above it, owned by one of Tonk’s mother, Andromeda. Hermione had then decided this would be a good place to set up base, the proximity of the bookshop being a deciding factor.
So that was how Hermione ended up wheeling a large suitcase with one hand, Crookshanks’ cat carrier in the other and a large backpack on her back, walking down the street Ginny had said the bookshop was on. It was truly quite exhausting work, and she was truly glad when she stopped in front of what could only be the bookshop she had been told about.
She sucked in a small shallow breath and for a minute she thought she might faint. This was no ordinary bookstore. The door was made of a deep mahogany wood and had such intricate details carved in it she wanted to stay there for hours and thoroughly examine it, with small plants and vines adorning the shop inside and out. And then there were the books. So many books. There appeared to be shelves and shelves of books for every genre she could imagine. This kind of bookshop was more like that of Flourish and Blotts, a large shop on Diagon Alley. But as she looked closer, Hermione came to the realisation that this bookstore may be superior even to Diagon Alley’s finest. Realising that she had been standing there for quite some time, and probably looked a little bit silly, she took a deep breath and pushed the draw open, shuffling awkwardly under the burden of all her stuff. As walked in she noted the sign above the door, reading Black’s Books. She mused about the interesting name when she heard the door shut behind her.