Love is Hope: Life after fifth year

***

Later Hermione couldn’t tell how long she had been watching her results and gaping for air like a fish on the land. She tried to calmly breathe deeply in and out, but after a while there where little white stars clouding her vision telling her that she was taking too much oxygen in her bloodstream. She put the letter forcibly down and clutched her desk, forcing herself to breathe slower. After a while only tingles in her lips, nose top and fingertips reminded her of her hyperventilation. She tried to be calm about it but had a very un-Hermione-like urge to just squeal and do some crazy dance around her room.

The door of her bedroom creaked slightly open. Even if Hermione was now fifteen, and most of the time out of the house, her parents tended to treat her like a child on any non-academical topic. She was barely allowed to close (not lock) her bedroom door when she slept, and her parents often came in without knocking to see if she was asleep or awake.  The door opened wider when the intruder saw no one in bed. Hermione saw the slightly worried face of her mother peek in and relax before contorting into worried wrinkles again.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick, you’re so pale,” and when she saw a letter on the desk, “Oh, no, something happened? Did someone else...” she trailed off.

Hermione snapped back into reality. She knew exactly what her mother was going to say. She’d told her parents more or less what had been happening in the wizarding world. They couldn’t be left completely in the dark, since she had to give some good reasons for going to the Grimmauld Place last summer instead of spending her holiday with them. And they knew someone she’d come to know well had died. She hadn’t been that forthcoming with details, though. Like how she, too, had been present during that encounter with Death Eaters, let alone had been badly injured.

“No, mum,” came out in a strangled-sounding voice. She couldn’t really say anything else, but then her mother crossed her room towards where she was sitting, and took the letter from her. The amount of OWLs didn’t really have any meaning for Muggles, but when her mother read the next letter, she started beaming of proud. Hermione hadn’t even noticed that there were two letters, but she could imagine what the other said. Her mother started squealing for her husband, and soon both of them were gushing over her, telling her they were so proud.

That was when it hit Hermione hard. In the past, she would be deliriously happy with perfect academical results, being the one with the highest amount of received OWLs in this century, and making her parents proud. Now, it wasn’t like it didn’t do anything for her; she *was* happy, just not deliriously so...

If Harry and Ron could hear her thoughts now, they’d probably roll their eyes or something. Even Ginny might not totally understand the confusing effects her achievement had on her. Although they all knew and accepted that she thrived on good results in her studies, they didn’t understand it, so they wouldn’t even begin to understand the disappointment of not feeling ‘deliriously happy’.

It took her a while to understand that her parents were trying to get through to her. What she wanted as reward for being the smartest which in a century? Jumbled thoughts tried to organize themselves in her mind. She heard them suggest a vacation to any part of the world she’d feel like, some rare and expensive volume that she had her eye on? Hermione thought about the time when she was younger; her parents weren’t as bend on rewarding her every time she achieved something. They taught her that the result of hard work was a reward on itself. Maybe it had something to do with being apart so often that they felt they needed to show her in every way possible that they loved her and were proud of her.

Finally grasping the idea that their daughter was overwhelmed by the news, they left her with the request of thinking over what she’d like. Hermione skimmed the other letter briefly; it contained what she knew it would. Congratulations on the highest amount of OWLs received this century, and other official talk.

The rest of the day was spent leisurely with her parents. Dante returned with the news of Ron having received 11 OWLs, but apparently, Harry hadn’t gotten his Ministry letter before he sent Dante back on his way, because his message just contained mostly idle chit-chat about how he was holding up with the Dursleys. She felt a surge of proud for Ron, though she knew he had the potential, she felt the satisfaction that maybe it had a little bit to do with her that he performed so well.

In the evening her parents treated her to a nice restaurant. On the outside, she was back to being ‘normal’ Hermione, talking about her results and what she would be doing in the next two years. It wasn’t until later when she lay alone in her bed, that she started to understand what it meant. She wanted to continue follow all the courses, but the logical part of her brain reminded her of her third year. But how in the world was she going to choose?

After a while she let her mind drift to ‘her reward’. There was an idea forming in the back of her head, but she should ask permission of Dumbledore, maybe. And she wasn’t entirely sure it would be that good of an idea, with that she slipped into the realm of dreams.

***

The following morning, she was eating her breakfast with her parents as usual, when her Daily Prophet arrived. She almost choked on her toast when she read the headlines. ‘GIRLFRIEND OF THE BOY-WHO-LIVED ACHIEVES 16 OWLS!’ The article underneath it explained that the Muggle-born witch, Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter, who he himself had 12 OWLs, had achieved more OWLs than anyone in this century. It explained that the former holder of that title was Tom Riddle (no mentions were made, that this was Voldemort himself). It also said that she’d achieved as much as Dumbledore had. The Prophet had found a very unflattering picture of her, that had been taken in her fourth year. She couldn’t really place exactly where and when it had been taken, somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds, most likely. Her photographic self was just walking and looking fixedly at something in front of her, carrying a vast amount of books.

Overall, the article sounded mostly very complimentary on the surface, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bad vibe coming from it; it seemed to her that anyone who read the article, was supposed to feel envious of her and *not* happy that a Muggle-born had achieved this. Combined with the picture, she gave of the impression of being someone who would stop at nothing to gain knowledge (and not in a good way). When she saw the reporter’s name, no one but the Rita Skeeter, she understood immediately. But there weren’t any overtly nasty lies written about Harry and her, and even the unfound implication, again, that they were dating, was corrected in the first line of the article, stating that she was just his best friend and a girl... So she didn’t feel right to act on her threat of exposing the bug, no matter how much she itched to do so, and no matter how sure she was that Skeeter had counted on Hermione being fair even if she wasn’t.

What worried her more, though, is that the article emphasized the fact that she’d ‘beaten’ Tom Riddle. She had trouble picturing Voldemort reading his Daily Prophet over breakfast, but no doubt this would come to his attention. She shuddered to think what he’d do if he believed she thought she was better than him... Would he consider her a threat? That seemed hardly possible, since he no doubt knew: she wasn’t worth a lot in an actual fight, like the time at the Ministry... Or would he simply get mad at Skeeter? Somehow, she doubted that, too. She didn’t feel good about the whole thing though. Voldemort didn’t seem like the type to take a blow to his ego lightly.

Her parents had taken the Prophet from her, and were beaming with pride again. After some prodding she finally admitted what was on her mind. Before her parents could react on the absurdity that a Dark Lord would be cranky because she got one OWL more then him, more than fifty years ago, there was a knock on the back door. None of the inhabitants found this strange. Since their ‘front door’ was on the left side of their house, and the ‘backdoor’ on the right, and both were connected by a similar path leading from the house to the street, a lot of people had made the mistake of asking entrance through the kitchen, instead of the front door.

Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw a tall, thin old man standing there. She opened only the upper part of the old ‘farm door’, and distractedly asked what he wanted, while her parents hid the Prophet from view. Tinkling blue eyes met her gaze, and the familiar voice sounded most amused.

“Hello, Miss Granger,” when Hermione realised the Headmaster of her school was standing in front of her, she felt her jaw hit the floor. Without his long silvery beard and in Muggle clothing instead of the usual outrageously coloured, eccentric robes and hats, she almost didn’t recognize him. “There, there, Miss Granger, close your mouth, it’s very unbecoming...”

Hermione felt herself flush: “Professor Dum-”

The amused wizard held up his hand, interrupting her. Understanding that you could never be careful enough, she nervously unlocked the other part of the door to let him in. This was the first time a witch or wizard, other then herself of course, had set foot in her house. The fact that this was Dumbledore, but his appearance so unlike ‘normally’ (actually, the irony was that he couldn’t be dressed more ‘normal’ at this point), gave the situation an unreal aspect.

After introducing her parents, and the Headmaster reassured them the kitchen was quite all right, Hermione asked as politely as her curiosity let her, why he was there. After sipping some of the tea her mother had poured him, Dumbledore answered.

“I wanted to congratulate you, of course, for your splendid performance on your OWLs!”

He kept staring at her, his eyes dancing with mirth, as if daring her to say that that couldn’t be the reason why he came all the way here. Her parents, however, who at this statement seemed to loosen up, as if they’d feared for a moment that their daughter had landed herself in some kind of trouble, started a polite conversation that conveyed clearly that they were most proud of her.

When they ran out of ideas as how to complement their daughter, her mother said: “And our Hermione, here, was worried about this Tom Riddle being dangerous because she had an OWL more than him”

Dumbledore kept his gaze level with Hermione’s, and she knew he somehow understood exactly what she felt about the article.

The gaze didn’t go by unnoticed by her father: “There *is* something wrong about it, isn’t there? That’s why you’re here? You’re not going to take her away from us again, are you? We’ve barely spent time together,” he turned to his daughter, “If there is reason to be concerned, we can just leave the country, go on a vacation, like we were planning to go”

The fact that it sounded like her father was asking Hermione her permission seemed ludicrous, but she appreciated it anyway. She thought about it. She didn’t really feel like leaving the country, not while all of it was happening here. She’d never forgive herself, if she weren’t at least in the country if something... Besides, it wasn’t like Death Eaters limited their actions to England. Not that she fancied herself important enough to Voldemort, that he would be chasing her around the globe like he would Harry... But she’d feel safer on her native island with the Order nearby, just the same.

On the other hand, she didn’t feel like going to the Grimmauld Place either. The place had been Sirius’s after all. Now that she thought about it, was it still the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix? After all, wouldn’t it somehow come to Narcissa Malfoy now? Her husband may be in Azkaban and therefore they probably hadn’t that many ties to the Ministry any longer, but she still had rights on it, being related to Sirius?

As if reading her mind, Dumbledore spoke: “Our headquarters haven’t moved. Sirius had made a will around the time when Lily and James went into hiding. If he hadn’t any heirs of his own by the time he passed, everything he owned would under no circumstances go to his family, but to the ones stipulated explicitly in his will. He only put Harry and James Potter on it, since at that time we suspected Remus of being a spy, and he never loved Peter *that* much. And Sirius’ mother had never considered making up a will, since that went against the ‘old ways’, so he had full rights on the house when she passed,’ Dumbledore concluded with: ‘Sirius’ possessions included the Grimmauld Place, so Harry now is the owner”

Realizing he had mostly given her that explanation to give her time to think the situation over, her brain flashed to the idea she had the other day. She heard her father objecting again and tried to sooth him.

“Dad, I don’t want to go to the Grimmauld Place...” she chanced a quick look at the old wizard, he didn’t seem at all surprised, “I don’t want to go abroad, either, and though I doubt Voldemort will spent much energy on me over some stupid suggestive article, I would feel better if we were to leave here. I meant to ask you yesterday evening, but it slipped my mind. You said I could choose to go anywhere, right? Could we go to the Parks in Surrey?”

When Hermione was little, she’d heard a classmate talk about her holiday in Surrey. She felt ashamed afterwards that she hadn’t stopped the other kids from taunting her that that wasn’t a real vacation, since they didn’t even go abroad. It was one of those smaller memories that fuelled her passion for doing the right thing, and never again be afraid to stand up for what she believed. Her parents knew very well what she meant by the Parks in Surrey. It was just an assembly of some touristic cabins at the edge of a forest. The only reason she knew it still existed was that she had come across it while looking up Mrs. Figg’s address.

Of course she couldn’t fool Dumbledore into thinking this was merely a way to get out of the house, avoid memories of Sirius and complaints from her parents, and stay in the country all at the same time. Her parents however were totally for the idea, and it wasn’t long when they started making plans. Dumbledore advised to make everyone they knew, think they would go to France, or something, even Harry and Ron. Better to be safe then sorry. Hermione was glad Dumbledore had the gift of preparing her parents, without actually scaring them. She still felt it was a little exaggerated herself, but was glad that she got to go where she wanted to anyway.

Before Dumbledore went on his way (he *had* more important things to do), Hermione asked him: “Professor, could I ask you... I mean, does Harry still have his special lessons?”

She didn’t exactly feel right by asking Dumbledore this, instead of asking Harry. But she was worried that whatever was between Harry and Snape still got in the way of those important lessons. The wise wizard replied evasively: “My altered appearance is explained by the fact that I’d just left another Muggle household where three fourth of the family would be most upset by my usual dress code”

‘Translation: I’m teaching Harry Occlumency now?’ Hermione’s brain assumed. After departing he warned her to be careful on her bike trips. And although she knew her Headmaster couldn’t read minds, she involuntary asked herself if maybe that really wasn’t true.

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