Passages
"We're going to need to go to Diagon Alley next week to get your school things, you know," Molly Weasley said that night at dinner.
"Doesn't seem possible," said Harry. "It feels like I only just got here."
"I can't believe it'll be our last year," said Hermione. "On the one hand, it feels like I've been going to Hogwarts forever, but on the other it feels like...."
"You've only been there a single term," finished Ginny, beside her. "Are you done with the butter, Ron?"
"Oh, sorry, Gin," said her brother, flushing and passing the butter. Indeed, he'd nearly put his elbow in it. He'd been off in space mentally most of the meal. Harry had a rather mischevious grin on his face as he turned to his friend.
"So, who is she, Ron?" he asked.
"Who's who?" Ron attempted to look innocent. He was about as successful as Ginny was at it.... not at all.
Harry smiled, and said, "The girl that's got your head in the clouds. But you don't have to tell me. I suppose I could just go upstairs and read that letter you left on your..."
"HARRY! Dammit, Harry, if you..." Harry faked leaving the table just long enough to get Ron up in a panic.
"Boys!" said Molly. "Eat your dinners. You can horseplay afterwards."
"Oh, there IS someone!" said Ginny, in great glee, watching Ron's discomfiture with the evil joy only a younger sibling can manage.
"Confess, Ron!" said Hermione. "Or I'll turn Ginny loose on you."
"Okay, her name's Sylvia and she's in Ravenclaw," Ron admitted, blushing quite red. "But we're just friends."
"Uh-huh," said Hermione, laughing. "Try again, Ron. You started out as friends."
"Nothing wrong with that," added Ginny, darting Hermione a loving glance.
Ron sighed, "Okay, we started out as friends. But we're not an item yet so, lay off, okay? I don't want to scare her off."
"Ron, have you looked in the mirror lately?" Hermione laughed. "You'll be beating them off with a stick when you go back to school." Ron rolled his eyes. However, Hermione was more right than wrong. He'd had a growth spurt this summer, to his mother's despair, and everyone else's amusement as he banged into everything and became clumsy as could be. Hands and feet that had been too large on arms and legs that were too long had suddenly come into proportion, and he'd been putting on muscle. If anything, he looked like Bill, who everyone joked was wasting model-handsome looks on cursebreaking. He had some of Bill's rakish, devil-may-care charm, too, but it hid a thoughtful and intelligent young man.
Harry, too, had grown up, but he wasn't nearly as broad through the shoulders as his friend. Like the pictures of his father, he was slender and tall, hair still uncontrollable unless cropped down short, and his face, while much like his father's through shape and jaw and nose, had his mother's green eyes and broad mouth, made for smiling and laughter. He drew in one corner when concentrating, the same as she had, also, but the raking of his hand through his hair when distracted was his father's gesture, one he'd noted in the wizard photos he had of his parents.
"So, Harry, who's your girlfriend?" asked Molly. She had it out before she noticed the flinch from his friends. He looked at her and sighed.
"I don't have one, and no, it's not because I can't get one."
"ohhh...Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"No, it's okay. You should know why, if anyone does," and his gaze touched both Molly and Arthur Weasley. "For one thing, I'm famous. And, yeah, I've dated, but I don't much like the people who are wanting to go out with the Boy Who Lived, if you know what I mean. When I find someone who can see Harry, not that, I'll reconsider."
He bit his lip, and continued. "Voldemort is the other reason. I...I don't want to put anyone in a position where he hurts them. I know that if he wants to hurt someone I care about, he's got a lot of candidates, some in this room. But if I had a girlfriend, she'd go right up there as target number one. I don't want to do that to anyone, so no girlfriend until that bastard is dead."
There was a long silence, then Arthur nodded.
"I can't blame you for that, Harry," he said. "But I admire you for the courage you show in making that decision, and sticking to it."
"Thanks," Harry said. "You know, I was going to ask you....what does the Ministry look for in an Auror?"
Arthur's brows went up. "Considering that, are you?"
"Well, it's either that, or Quidditch...I've been getting offers from some of the smaller teams, and Professor Hooch thinks that the bigger teams will be owling me starting next spring...but I don't think I'll feel right doing nothing but playing Quidditch until Voldemort's defeated. I'd rather be working against him in any way I can."
"Your parents would be proud of you, Harry," Molly said, something that looked like it might be tears in the corner of her eyes.
"So, um, Ron, what were you thinking about doing when you get out?" Harry asked, taking the conversation off the still sore topic of his parents.
"Well, I actually had been talking to Dad about that one. He thinks I'd be a decent analyst..the kind that takes things apart and puts them together in the research arm of the Department of Magical Implements, you know...since I inherited his liking to tinker with things. So I'm going to take Advanced Charms and the advanced seminar of History of Magic this year, although I know I'll have to work my arse off to pass that Charms class, and apply as soon as I get the results of my NEWTs."
"You'll want to study advanced cursebreaking too," said Hermione. "Assuming we have a Defense Against The Dark Arts professor who can teach it."
There was a laugh around the table. Hogwarts had a dismal record of retaining DADA teachers, and it hadn't gotten any better. The latest had had to resign her job at Hogwarts for the astonishingly mundane reason of pregnancy; not that she wanted to, but her spouse had persuaded her that getting hit by stray hexes would probably be bad for the baby. She'd be back next year, but it had left the position open.
"I'm going to begin to study with Madam Pomfrey next year," Ginny said. "I got the owl to confirm it from her and Dumbledore yesterday."
"Thinking of mediwitch school?" her father said, surprise in his voice.
"Specifically, the Shatters School of Medical Wizardry," she said.
"That's the one attached to St. Mungo's," said Harry, with a little awe in his voice. "If you graduate from there in good standing, you could do anything you wanted, anywhere."
"That's the plan," Ginny said with a grin. "If I study with Madam Pomfrey for the next two years in addition to my usual work, I should be a shoo-in, she thinks."
"Chosen a specialty yet?" her mother said jokingly.
"I don't really know yet. Madam Pomfrey says I'd be good with pediatrics or obstetrics, but I kind of get a little excited thinking about the possibilities of working in trauma specialties...you know, right there on the front lines and all, seeing everything...."
"Heh, yeah, you'll get these two coming in as patients once a week," Hermione said, laughing and indicating Ron and Harry.
"Hey, hey, hey, analysis is the back room, guys! Regular hours! No danger! Don't get worried about it! I mean, we've got Bill and Charlie to fill out the 'dangerous jobs" roster. I don't need to get on it!" laughed Ron, as he stood up. "Who's on dishes tonight, anyway?"
"I am," said Hermione. She frowned, and small gestures of beckoning with her hands levitated people's dirty dishes and floated them to her place, to be piled into a stack.
"Showoff," said Harry affectionately.
"Hey, practice makes perfect, " she said, carrying them to the sink. "Has the mail got here yet?"
"Not yet," said Molly. "Hedwig does what she can, but of course there's sometimes too much for her, and Pigwidgeon can only manage one letter at a time."
"Pig's generally taking a letter to Syl-via..." Harry said in a teasing singsong, and then got jumped by Ron, who wrestled him down to the floor between table and stove, both of them laughing.
"OUTSIDE!" yelled Molly, and grabbed ears and arms and shoved until the kitchen was clear of teenage male exuberance. Ginny laughed, and leaned against the far wall.
"Male bonding. I'll never understand it."
"I don't either, but I don't have to," said her mother. "They can just take it outside." She flicked her wand at the teapot, and sat down at the table with a sigh. "Well. Do you ladies know which day next week you want to go?"
"Actually," said Hermione, having set the dishes to washing themselves up with a spell Molly had taught her, and set the broom to sweep the floor clear of crumbs, "I'm waiting for a letter from Professor McGonagall. Apparently she manages the scholarship paperwork, and I need a key to the vault that will have my money in it for the year. Her last letter said she'd send it, but it's not come yet." She sat down at the table and rolled her head on her neck to ease fatigue. Ginny came over and began to rub her shoulders.
"If she said she will, she will, " Molly said. Arthur having retreated out to the shed to tinker, and the boys not having come back in, they had the house to themselves for a moment. It was nice to sit and sip coffee while the dishes clinked away in the sink, and the radio played in the background.
"Plus, Mum," said Ginny, "None of us have gotten the letters with the supply lists yet. I know 'Mione's got hers from last year, but there's no guarantees on what texts they're going to use, and anyway I'm taking a few classes she didn't. So we're all stuck."
"Well, it should be any time now," said Hermione, and then laughed as there was a tapping on the kitchen window. "Damn, I should take up prophecy," she said, as Molly opened the window and Hedwig labored in, heavily laden with mail. She was darting a rather nasty glance at Pigwidgeon, who, having landed and dropped his one small letter, was now hooting as if he'd hauled a full bag. Ginny handed Hedwig two owl treats as compensation, and began sorting the mail.
"Here's the letters, Mum! Mine, Hermione's, Ron's, and Harry's. And this is for you too, but I can tell by the weight there's a key in it, 'Mione," Ginny said, putting the mail in piles.
"Hm. Bills, bills, and more bills, " said Molly, looking through the other things. "A letter from Bill, one from Charlie...this feels like some pictures from my cousin, I've been expecting those...and....oh." She abruptly sobered. "Hermione, this one's from your parents."
Their eyes all met, and Hermione's eyes were filled with stark memories.
*
"I want to know what that...that...display was about at the station, young lady!"
Hermione met her eyes coolly, with the slight confidence that is given by being a half-inch taller than one's mother. "Saying goodbye to my girlfriend, mother. Seeing that we won't be seeing each other all summer, I wanted one good kiss to keep my heart warm."
"Well, why don't you two just pose for dirty movies, then! You sure looked like you were trying out for it!"
"No worse than what straights do, Mother," she thrust back. "If she'd been a tall, upstanding young man who happened to be the heir to a nice title, you'd have nodded approvingly while we did worse, and you know it."
"Obviously that witching school has perverted your natural instincts."
"Hardly, mother. I've spent the last three years dating boys and trying to make myself like it. I just decided to give up on the lies. I love Ginny, and she loves me. She's a year younger than me..."
"Oh, how very mature of you, seducing..."
"I'll have you know she kissed me first, Mother." That shut her up, and Hermione went on. "She's very intelligent, as well as beautiful, and will be studying to be a doctor when she finishes school. So I'm not settling for a plumber. And her family is a proud one in wizarding society, so I'm doing just what you taught me, picking someone who'll do well. The difference is, we chose each other, and I'm not doing it so you can brag about it at your bridge club."
"Oh, I bet her family's just thrilled that she's decided on you, then."
"Actually, her brother's one of my best friends, and her mother wrote me and said she'd be delighted to have another daughter to love. Can you manage to at least acknowledge that I am not your clone, Mother? Let me have a summer in which I do what I want, which does not include dating all the sons of your best friends."
"Now, Keith is a lovely boy....I'm sure if you just keep looking, you won't have to settle for a girl..."
*
Hermione took a deep breath, and reached for the envelope. Her hands were steady when she opened it, but her nerves showed in the way she worried her lower lip with her teeth. She read it through, and then said, "Oh, my God! I...I have to go...my father..."
Ginny grabbed the letter out of her hand and scanned it quickly, then looked at her mother. "Mum, I have to go with her."
"Of course you do," Molly said. "What...ah," as she herself read the letter.
Hermione: I don't know if this owl will find you but it always has managed in the past so I'll give it a try. Your father abruptly collapsed today between patients, and is in St. Edwards, near our house. They are going to do surgery on him on Wednesday morning, and I think you should I hope you can come and be there. I think we need to be together...I know I need you there. If you feel that you need to bring anyone, I will do the best I can. There were mistakes made on both sides last time we met, and I'm sor.
Mother
"I'll pack you two a suitcase," said Molly, and went upstairs. Ron and Harry, slightly grassy and laughing, came through the back door, and stopped short when they saw Hermione and Ginny.
"What happened?" said Ron.
"Her father is in hospital. His heart."
"Merlin!" breathed Harry, in surprise. "What...."
"She and I are going to go there, of course," Ginny said, hands rubbing Hermione's shoulders.
"How?" Ron asked.
"I was a Muggle for several years, Ron, I do know how to function in a Muggle world," Hermione said tartly. "And what a lovely thought, that this is here now," she said, holding up the letter that held, from the feel and the outline that her fingers could discern through the envelope, a Gringotts key. "I'll even be able to afford to do it."
"I know your parents' house is connected up to the Floo network, Hermione," said
Ginny. "Tomorrow morning we can get up early and Floo over to Gringotts, and then from there to your parents' house."
"We can take a cab from there to the hospital," Hermione said. "Remind me to change part of what I get out into Muggle money."
She exhaled, initial panic reaction over with. "There's no sense running off over there, when we can't get the money until tomorrow morning. I think I need a hot bath and some time to relax," she said, and Ginny nodded, a glance at Hermione confirming that her relaxation would include Ginny's presence.
Harry walked over and bent to hug her where she sat. "I'll be thinking of you guys."
She smiled up at him. "Thanks, Harry. We'll be back in a day or two, so don't worry. Do you want to go to Diagon Alley together Friday?"
"Works for me, " said Harry with a shrug. "You, Ron?"
"Whenever," he said. "You want to get in a little flying while it's still light, Harry?"
"Sounds like a plan," he said, and the two boys grabbed their brooms and headed outside. Harry had drawn on the money he had and gotten Ron a good broom for his last birthday, saying that it was actually a present to him to have someone who he had to work to outfly.
As the door banged behind them, Hermione pushed her chair back with a sigh,
"Let's go figure out what to wear, Gin...and I could really use a shoulder rub."
"Only if I get one in return." But she was smiling.
After much thought, Hermione transfigured some of their dress robes into a set of sober but elegantly styled suits, dark blue and an oliveish brown, but saved from severity by the fashionability of their cut, and by the silver jewelry and soft blouses that she produced to go with them. She used a charm to twine her hair into an elegant and controlled twist, and twined Ginny's up as well. With makeup on, they were transformed into young professional women, perhaps working in a bank or a law office...definitely not sixth and seventh formers, though.
Ron was definitely impressed, and Harry dropped his fork when they came down to breakfast.
"Very nice," said Molly. "I presume the theory is that you don't look like someone who does anything less than seriously."
"Part of it," Ginny said. Her hair, braided up onto her head in a controlled style, made her look much older and emphasized the classic lean lines of her face and neck. "And there's the fact that her mother will be expecting us in jeans and muslin shirts. I want to be something so totally unexpected that she doesn't have time to figure out her footing."
"Well," her father said, "you look much older than you did when you came home from Hogwarts, I'll say. Very impressive job, Hermione, on both of you."
"Well, an owl will find us, or we will be at my mother's house. If we go anywhere else, I'll Floo you and tell you where it is we'll be staying," she said, draining her coffee and standing up. "Have you got our bag, Gin?"
"In my trouser pocket," she said, patting her right hip. "This business of being able to Reduce things is nice, you know..."
"I think so," said Hermione, with a smile. She hugged and kissed Molly and Arthur goodbye, and much to her surprise both Ron and Harry stood up and hugged her as well.
"Good luck," said Harry, and smiled.
"Thanks, you guys, " said Ginny, coming out of her own round of hugs. She watched as Hermione stepped into the fire, and gave the address with a firm voice, then followed suit.
* * *
Instead of Flooing to Hermione's parents' house, they instead went to the Leaky Cauldron, and thence to Diagon Alley, with a quick pause in the back to temporarily transfigure their outfits back into robes. There was more than enough gold in the vault the key opened to allow them to have enough pounds to do whatever they needed to do over the next few days, and Ginny admitted that her confidence went up knowing that they both had a fair amount of cash on them. They left the Leaky Cauldron, transformed their clothes into Muggle wear again, and stepped out into London, hailing a taxi to take them to St. Edward's Hospital.
"It's unlikely that mother will be at home, or at the hospital, " she said, relaxing into the backseat. "She'll probably be at the office covering his patients and hers too...she hates to have to cancel at all, and there've been quite a few they couldn't avoid, I'll bet. So we might as well go up to the hospital and see how my father's doing."
"Okay," said Ginny. "Do you have any plans for later on?"
"Well, I was thinking that after we see my father we'll know what's going on...the surgery's tomorrow morning, and so I'll want to be here then, but this afternoon and tonight...I don't know, there's things I'd like to do, but it all depends. I will definitely want to get lunch after we get out, though."
"Sounds like a plan," Ginny said. "Although...is there a word for what I want to do? I want to be able to say if I'm asked."
"You're planning to lead the treatments, right, not carry them out under someone else's orders?"
"Yes..."
"The word is doctor. And you would be 'looking at pre-med programs'," explained Hermione."If you were a Muggle you'd go to college and study to get into a medical school.
"Okay," said Ginny with a grin. "By the way, introduce me by my full name, it's a little more adult."
"Sure," said Hermione, with a grin.
When they reached the hospital, a quick inquiry at the front desk produced her father's room number, up on the fourth floor. Hermione had been worried how Ginny would deal with the elevator, but she reassured her that her father's fascination with Muggle solutions and technologies had resulted in regular "field trips" that had left her able to pass as a Muggle.
"Of course," she said, with a bit of a grin, "I do have my wand up my sleeve." They quirked grins at each other, and stepped out of the elevator.
After getting visitor's badges at the nurse's station, they followed her directions down to the third door on the left. It was ajar, and so Hermione tapped twice.
"Come in," said a tired male voice.
Despite the disadvantages of John Granger's position in a hospital gown and in bed, hooked up to various monitors, Ginny could at once see that he was a fairly striking man. Prematurely silver hair framed a face that held his daughter's caramel-dark eyes in a long, narrow frame, with a patrician nose and mouth that was reserved but full-lipped. A glance at his hands on the blankets showed that she had inherited his long fingers and narrow palms.
He looked up, and whatever he'd been going to say died on his lips.
"Hello, Father," said Hermione, softly, and in an uncertain tone. Ginny held back, waiting.
"Hello," he said. "I'd get up, but...." he trailed off and waved a hand at all the monitors.
"Not a problem," she said, and took a couple steps forward.
He looked at her, and bit his lip, in a gesture Ginny recognized as Hermione's when emotion threatened to overcome her. "I...we...didn't handle things right," he said, painfully. "I never meant for you to leave. But your mother's temper...well..."
"I know," said Hermione.
"And then, you know, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Not much to do in here but think, the programs on the telly are crap," he added. "And...well, if you'll let me, I'd like to...try things again. I've been trying to talk to your mother about it, but she's stubborn. You know," he said with a sigh. "And I feel it's my fault, that you didn't feel you could just tell us...tell me...that this was...how you are, that you felt there was a need for the scene to smash through walls. Well, maybe so, with your mother, but I like to think...I hope...that I"m better than that."
He sighed. "Life's too short for that crap," he said. "I learned that this last week. So...can I get a hug from my daughter?"
As he spoke, Hermione had gone whiter and whiter, and had begun to bite her lip. He finished, and looked at her with a look of open and painful longing that made her sob once and throw herself into his arms, weeping.
"I'm sorry, father, I couldn't...."
"Shh, I know. I know," he soothed her. He raised his head, and saw Ginny standing back in the shadows by the door. "Hermione, do you have an introduction to make?"
She drew herself up and accepted the tissue he handed her from the box by the bed. "Um, yes, yes...."she said. She wiped her eyes and stepped back, taking Ginny's hand and drawing her into the light. "Father, this is my partner, Virginia Weasley. Ginny, this is my father, John Granger."
"Weasley..." he said. "Related to the one boy that she's been friends with for a while?"
"I'm his younger sister, sir," she said composedly, "one year younger than he and Ginny. I'm in the sixth form at Hogwarts, in the same house as Hermione and my brother."
"I see..." he said, studying her and making her grateful for the armor of clothing Hermione had provided for them. "So...what do you plan to do when you get out?"
"I'm doing some independent studies this next year with the school medical staff, and when I finish at Hogwarts I'm intending to go to college.
Currently I'm looking at pre-med programs at different schools."
He nodded. "It seems one intelligent and talented young woman deserves another. When did you fall in love with my daughter?"
Much to her mortification, Ginny felt a blush rising in her cheeks, and said, "I think I was around fifteen. I spent a year trying hard to get over her, because she was dating guys and, well, I wasn't going to ruin our friendship by asking. But...it all worked out late last fall." Hermione glanced at her with a faint smile.
"And we've been together since," added Hermione.
"So....your parents still together?" he asked, mouth a trifle less tight.
"Yes, sir," she said. "Dad's head of Improper Use of Magic in the Ministry of Magic, and Mum's stayed home, although Hogwarts keeps trying to get her to come there and teach. I've got six brothers... Bill's 26, and a cursebreaker for Gringotts Bank in Egypt,and Charlie's 25, and works with capturing and breeding rare dragons in Romania. Percy is 23, and works for the Ministy of Magic..he got married last year, the only one so far. The twins, Fred and George, are nineteen. They started a business selling magical joke items while they were still at Hogwarts, and moved it into its own premises this year, much to Mum's relief, since they moved out at the same time, and Ron's still at Hogwarts this year. He's planning to try to get on at the Ministry of Magic also, as an analyst."
Hermione's father's mouth was quirked in amusement, and, Hermione realized suddenly, He likes her. Oh, merciful God, he likes her! It'll be all right now. She felt a little weak with relief.
"Well, it's no wonder that your school'd like to hire your mother," he said, with laughter behind his words. "If she managed to raise that many boys on one income, she's one hell of a woman. I believe I'd like to meet her one day."
"Thank you, sir, I think she'd like to meet you too."
"If you're around for the long haul, you can call me John," he said, and Ginny smiled and blushed again.
"Well, my dad and mum always told us that when they walked into class the first day of their sixth year and sat next to each other that they knew this was the person they would marry and spend the rest of their lives with. And, well... I think I'm the same way," she said, smiling at Hermione.
"I think I'm the same way," the slender redhead said with a hint of embarassment, and smiled up at his only daughter, who smiled back at her. The love between them, for all that they weren't touching or making great avowals, fairly shone in the morning light. It was, John reflected, the first time he'd seen his daughter smile with that unforced joy since she started her schooling. She looked rested and happy, as though life was finally good and easy for her. Not for the first time, he had the thought that perhaps by keeping long office hours to bring in money, he'd missed something more important. This time, though, he didn't push it away.
And although he'd done his share of complaining about the freaks and the queers, this young woman Hermione had brought, dressed elegantly and simply in a really good suit, hair up, respectful and clearly ambitious and intelligent, wasn't strange. Actually, his daughter didn't look strange either. It was just that somewhere along the last few months, while she'd been gone, she'd grown up. Her hair was sleek in its twist, and her suit made her look like a young law clerk, or stockbroker. She reminded him very much of his beloved sister in her younger days. His mind was made up.
"So," he said to his daughter, watching her smile at him, "are you going to come back tonight when your mother's here?"
Her smile faded, and she shook her head. "I...had intended to do some shopping, while I was up to Town."
He knew perfectly well what was actually going on, but let her evade.
"But," she said, "I'll be here tomorrow, to see you before you go into surgery."
"All right," he said. "I'll tell your mother that."
"It'll be both of us," said her partner, looking at her sternly.
"Yes, all right, Ginny!" said Hermione, with a laugh.
"Well," said John Granger. "They'll come in any time and feed me what passes for lunch around here. You two run off and get your own, and do your shopping. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"All right, father," Hermione said. "I...I love you." and she bent and kissed his cheek, and hugged him.
"It was good to meet you, John, " said Ginny, and accepted a hug as well. Her bright smile was the last thing he saw as they walked around the curtain, holding hands.
Alone in his room, John Granger sighed. At least, he reminded himself, I have a daughter again. It may have taken me nearly dying to teach me not to be a stubborn old fool, but I'm going to remember it, and I'm not going to let this happen again. And so he prepared to do the one thing he hated, the thing that struck fear into his heart.
He was going to put his foot down, and oppose his wife. And he would, as he always did, make sure that he would win. He watched the sun move across the wall, and plotted.
John Granger turned his head at a knock on his door. "It's just me," said a female voice.
"Come on in, Margaret," he said, and his wife walked in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then seated herself beside the bed.
"How were things today?" he asked her.
"Not too bad. I was slightly concerned about a wisdom tooth I did today, but the girl came through the anesthetic just fine."
"Good, good." He cleared his throat. "I...had some visitors today."
"Oh, who? The Carters? I was talking to Caroline yesterday and she said...."
"Our daughter."
There was a pause.
"Hermione came to see you." Her voice was slightly disbelieving.
"Yes." He looked at her closely, reading body language and face. This wasn't going to be easy...the very mention of their daughter's name had brought up that simmering mix of hurt and anger he'd lived with for the last three months, easily visible to him on his wife's face.
"How is she?"
"She looked very good, very happy, much less stressed. I understand she's been living with her friend Ron's family."
"Good for her," his wife almost bit off.
"She brought her partner with her."
"That red-haired slut?" his wife said, in harsh tones.
He raised one brow. "The young woman I met was modest, intelligent, respectful, possessed of a good sense of humor, and head over heels in love with our daughter. I will agree that she had red hair, but otherwise I fear that you have her confused with someone else."
"Hardly," his wife spat. "I see that little bitch's face all the time, every time I shut my eyes that...sickening display at King's Cross plays in my head. How you can stand to look at her..."
"Margaret," he said. "She's one of the top five in her year, and going pre-med when she gets out of school. Her father's a department head in the Ministry of Magic."
"Oh, MAGIC, " she said, voice low and bitter. "The one time I gave into you was to let her go to that damned school. You lost me my daughter, is what you did. Now I'll not see her wedding, or grandchildren... I'll spend the rest of my life making up stories about my daughter who moved to America and doesn't much write, and hoping to God my friends don't find out."
"I lost her?" John Granger's voice raised slightly. "It seems to me that she staged that display because otherwise you would totally ignore the fact that she wasn't interested in dating boys and keep making dates that she was too much of a lady to break. I apologized to her, and met her partner. I would hope that you have the ability to do the same."
"I would sooner shake hands with a viper," his wife said, color up in her cheeks. "I did everything right. This is not my fault. I have spent my entire life trying to be normal, and you have sabotaged everything!"
He sighed. "You're not listening to anything I'm saying, are you? You never do."
"And you have just undermined all my...." Her voice raised, and just then one of the nurses stepped around the curtain.
"Ma'am, I really must ask you to calm down. Mr. Granger is not to be excited. If you continue to agitate him, I will call Security and have you escorted from the building." His wife bridled, but shut her mouth, color still high with rage. "If you feel at all faint, Mr. Granger, call us immediately," the nurse said, checking his monitors, and then leaving with another significant glance at Margaret.
"I think I had better go," she said, "Before I say something I will regret."
"Yes," he said, quietly. "I think you had better. We'll talk when I come out of surgery."
For a moment something else, words of love, of her fears, trembled in her face like a wave about to break. And then she controlled herself, and walked with quick steps toward the door.
"Goodbye, John. I'll be here tomorrow during the surgery." she said, and barely waited for his goodbye before she walked around the curtain and out the door, shoes clicking briskly on the tile.
John Granger sighed and looked at the wall. "Well, that went about as poorly as it could, old man," he said aloud to himself. "I don't know that she'll ever come down from there...I've never seen her that mad in my life."
"Never seen who that mad, John?" said a voice. It made John smile.
"Nigel!" he said, warmth flooding his voice. "Come to hear my dying words of wisdom?"
The man that stepped around the curtain had the broad-shouldered physique of a rugby player, although his midsection revealed that he'd pretty well surrendered the battle against middle-aged spread. He wore a discreet and sober suit, and laid a briefcase and umbrella on the second visitor's chair before taking the one that Margaret had vacated.
"Oh, you're not dying, old man, you're too cantankerous to die yet. Plus, if you do, she wins the argument."
Laughter spilled out, easing the tension that had entered the room with Margaret. "Oh, man, Nigel. I needed that. Good to see you again, though."
Nigel Watson had been in John's same year at school, and the two boys had forged a friendship that had endured through thirty years of careers, marriage, and family. John had gone to dental school, while Nigel had gone on to medical school, but the two had remained close.
"So what are they going to do tomorrow, old man?" Nigel asked.
"Bypass," said John. "Really, I should have been watching out for it...my dad had a heart attack and died when he was just two years older than I am now. But, you know, it's easy to forget. I was in very good health up till now. Suppose it's all the stress," he added in an undertone.
"Stress can definitely do it," said Nigel. "Work, or home?"
"Oh, home," John said. "Hermione's made some decisions about her life that Margaret isn't taking well...she basically disowned her at the beginning of the summer."
Nigel whistled. "Good God, what did she do? I can't imagine much of anything that would....Is she in the family way?"
"No, far from it. Least likely thing to happen now, if you take my meaning."
"Ah." said Nigel. "I can see that doing it, yes...How do you feel about it?"
"Well, at first I was shocked and offended," John said, letting the words come out to somone who wouldn't judge or correct him, who he could trust. It felt very good. "Partly because she chose a...dramatic...method of telling us, and I felt very injured that she couldn't just come to me and tell me. But the one good thing about this heart attack is that we did reconcile. She came up to see me this morning, brought her partner with her...lovely girl, going to go pre-med. But Margaret won't budge."
"Whooh," Nigel said. "And you know, Hermione's just as stubborn as Margaret."
"I do know. It's just most of the time, like me, she'll go along to get along."
"But you both reach a point and stand there, and don't back down," Nigel said, looking out the window thoughtfully at the late afternoon sky. "Caught between a rock and a hard place there, old man. I don't know what to tell you."
"No magical solutions," John responded. "I'm aware now that I made some mistakes...you know, the normal work too long, let her raise the kid...and now I realize that I missed a hell of a lot. I don't want to have her walk away."
"Did you tell her this?"
"Yes...she's going to come back and see me tomorrow before surgery."
"Good....Well, since Fleming's doing your surgery, you have nothing to worry about. Top man in these things."
"Good to hear," said John. "Well, now that you've heard all about my family....how's your boys?"
They talked companionably until the nurse came to run Nigel out for the night. John Granger spared a thought for his wife, at home, before he slept, but it was a uniquely married thought, made up as it was of equal desire to hold her and never let her go, and a desire to shake her until she got some sense.
Author's note: Here be dragons of things we don't like to think about, namely childhood abuse. If you will be bothered, stop reading now and move on to the next story. I didn't know this had happened either until I wrote it, so don't write and complain.
Margaret came in and locked the door behind her. She set her purse on the hall table, and walked into the bedroom to kick off her shoes. Her dinner, which she had not tasted, roiled in her stomach, making her feel sick.
She looked at television, but there was nothing on, settled with a book, but found she read the same page three times without seeing it. Finally, with a soft sound of frustration, she turned the light off and went into the bathroom.
Bath salts and hot water, and the sheer pleasure of a tub long enough for her to stretch out in, the folded towel pillowing her head. Tension ebbed, and memories returned, razor edged.
The recent memories, of John's face draining of color as he clawed at his shoulder and fell, and the set faces of the ambulance men as they worked over him, feeling helpless to do anything...and of the two girls twining around each other, vine and tree, there in the middle of the platform at King's Crossing, and the entire miasma of fear and hatred and revulsion and an emotion she would not admit washed over her again, and it awakened older memories...memories of her father, just drunk enough...he was never really sober, just varying degrees of drunk, and only a little drunk was dangerous. And standing between her sister and her father, and smiling at him, knowing what he wanted. "Oh, yes, you're Daddy's girl, aren't you," he had said, and that was when she had begun to cut.
The scars were there, on thighs and breasts. Not that she had ever cut deep, but six years of cutting leaves its mark. Her hair was tickling her ears. She had to have it cut again. Oh, it had been praised, her bone structure fine enough for the severity of the style, but the truth was that long hair made her think of a time when a man who should never have touched her twined his hands in it and forced her to her knees. She shivered, hating herself, remembering Julie, her best friend. They had looked at each other, and Julie had reached out, traced the curve of her face, and she had scrambled away and run. But she couldn't outrun the desire, the perversion that festered in her, and had borne fruit in her lovely daughter.
No pleasure in her duty, but she had sworn from the moment that her daughter was placed in her arms that she would have nothing to fear, nothing to hide, lack for nothing. John hadn't known what to do with a newborn...it was easy to edge him out and over to the side. And if he was at work, well, then the fears rested easy, because they knew Hermione was studying at her desk, sleeping in her room, the sleep of the innocent, and they did not impel her to the restlessness that had broken her sleep until Hermione had gone off to school.
But now it all crashed in. No grandchildren, no wedding at which she could know that she had managed to bring wholeness out of broken shards, no daughter...And Margaret Granger lowered her head to her knees, and wept, and the water was long cold when the tears finally stopped.
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