Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: The Velveteen Rabbit is by Margery Williams and is property of her and its other owners, if there are any. Not mine. Tom and Pippo: Pippo Gets Lost is property of Helen Oxenbury and whomever else owns it. Once again, not mine.

A/N: Muchas gracias to my reviewers of the last chapter! I know that it seems to be high time that an adult were involved on Em's behalf, but remember this is the daughter of the kid who would rather suffer Umbridge's diabolical detentions in secrecy than "give her the victory" of making him tell someone. And Em does have an added incentive to keep quiet: Smiley has her convinced that the safety and well-being of her siblings rests on her keeping her mouth shut. So bear that in mind. But it's coming, I promise. She will not carry the burden alone forever. So here's another chapter.

Many, many thanks to Liss for the beta! You rock, girl!

Dedication: This chapter is for DragoonKain3 who, way back in Chapter three, requested that I write the scene where Em discovers something about her biological relation to Hermione. At the time, I hadn't even thought about writing such a scene. Hope you like and that it lives up to your expectation. If you see this, I'd love to hear what you think.

Chapter Fifteen - All I Have to Dream Of

"Are you sure that's what the letter said?" Hermione Potter asked her husband with a frown, watching through the kitchen window as the snow wafted down outside. It was early afternoon in early December and Harry had just come home with disturbing news.

She heard him sit on a chair in the breakfast nook and turned to look at him. He had taken his glasses off and was rubbing his eyes. "I'm sure, Hermione. She doesn't want to come home for Christmas."

He sounded more hurt than anything else, as if their daughter's letter, asking for permission to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays, had been a personal insult to him. Hermione knew how much Harry treasured his family, especially with how he had grown up. He was a wonderful father, always showering his children with affection and praise, yet providing firm and loving discipline when needed. Their home was full of love and warmth, which was no wonder their kids always had friends over. Everybody just felt so comfortable at Ballynore.

And yet, Emerson didn't want to come home. Why? If there was something spectacular happening at Hogwarts this year, for instance a Yule Ball or something, Hermione could understand Em's wanting to stay there. But there wasn't anything special planned. In fact, very few children would be remaining. It wasn't as if Carolyna would be staying either, so why would Emerson want to be there without her family and friends?

The last time Em had been home, she'd had that uncharacteristic outburst and had become increasingly moody and secretive. Classic signs of adolescence, but to the point of not wanting to celebrate the most traditional of holidays with her family?

'Well, be honest,' Hermione thought to herself. 'At some point, every child goes through a period where they're embarrassed by their parents. Even if those parents are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger Potter.'

She walked over and sat down across from him, reaching for his hand. "The answer to her request is no, of course, right?"

"Of course," he said, looking up and his green eyes were bewildered. "She has to come home for Christmas, Hermione. Can you imagine Ballynore without Em at Christmas? It's unthinkable." He squeezed and dropped her hand, stood up and began fishing for his car keys. "But I'm going to go get the boys. Anything you'd like me to pick up on the way home?"

"I want to go with you, Daddy," a little voice piped up before Hermione could answer and both of them turned to smile over at little Davina, who had practically gotten a facial with her applesauce.

Harry chuckled. "Are you done eating?"

"Uh-uh," Vina replied, nodding her applesauce-smeared russet head. "See? It's all gone."

"Yep, I can see that it's all gone over your face and your chair," he replied, sounding amused as he cleaned her up with a wave of his wand and set her on the floor. "Go get your shoes, then."

Vina ran off to hunt for her shoes and Hermione smiled up at Harry, who held out his arms to her. She stood up and went to him and he pulled her close, holding her tight.

"I love you, Hermione."

She kissed him softly. "I love you too. So much. It will be all right. We'll figure this out."

He nodded, dipped his head and kissed her back, gently at first and then harder and Hermione sighed softly and pressed herself closer to him, wishing they would never stop because this was exquisite-

"I'm ready to go so you can stop kissing now!"

They broke apart, laughing, at the words of their two-year-old daughter. Harry let go of Hermione and stepped back. He turned to salute the little girl who was gazing up at them with impatience shining in her hazel eyes and her shoes on the wrong feet. "Yes, ma'am."

He stooped to rearrange her shoes and then picked her up, still chuckling. "Bye, Mummy!" Davina said, blowing a kiss.

"Bye, sweetie. Love you," she replied, blowing a kiss back.

Harry grinned over at her. "Bossy," he mouthed before continuing aloud. "Like mother, like daughter, eh?"

"Oh, shoo!" Hermione laughed. She listened to the front door close and sat down again, still smiling. Davina was a lot like her, in looks, mannerisms and temperament, and she adored her little girl beyond belief.

Just as she adored her other daughter, the child of her heart, the catalyst for her and Harry's finally confessing their love for each other and embarking on this wonderful journey. If it wasn't for Emerson, would there even be a Ben, Luke and Davina? Wouldn't she and Harry have gone on infinitely, clinging to the stubborn fear of being completely honest with each other, of taking a risk?

Emerson was not her biological daughter but Hermione knew that Em, who she had grown up to be thus far, was a product of the love her parents had for each other and that which they showered on her and her siblings. Emerson had never been treated differently and Hermione remembered what a shock it had been to the little girl when she'd discovered that Hermione wasn't her birth mother.

She was five years old and one day, during recess at the Woodlands nursery school, apparently the children had been "discussing" babies:

"My little brother Ben came from Mummy's tummy," Em declared wisely. "Her tummy got really big before he came out."

Em shot him a look of disdain that would have alarmed her parents if they'd seen it. "Excuse me, but I think I know what I'm talking about since she's my Mummy."

Em tried to fight them but the tears welled up in her eyes anyway and spilled over onto her cheeks. She had too come from her Mummy, just like Ben. Hadn't she?

Hermione smiled and kissed her nose, her forehead, both cheeks. "I promise."

Harry had cried from guilt when she'd shared the story with him later that night and she knew they would always regret that they'd waited too long to tell Em the truth. They'd thought they had some time, but obviously they'd underestimated the resourcefulness of children.

After that episode, Emerson had periodically asked questions and they'd been as honest as it was kid-friendly possible to be. Their daughter had adapted surprisingly quickly to the information, actually. For instance, she had been delighted to discover that Herb and Enigi Thomas were more than just really nice people who sent her and Ben birthday and Christmas presents in the post - they were her grandparents. She'd had a great time telling her now-awestruck classmates about her Maman and Papi who lived in America and who had really big cows.

And Hermione's worries had been laid to rest. At least until she discovered that she was pregnant with who turned out to be Davina.

That pregnancy had been a surprise because she and Harry had agreed (he rather reluctantly) not to have any more children after Luke. Hermione had just felt that their family was complete and had managed to persuade Harry into that way of thinking. With the typical narcissism of a man, he'd wanted "as many as nature deigned to give them". But of course he wasn't the one lugging them around for nine months and then pushing them out, was he?

But then, in spite of all their precautions, Hermione began experiencing the classic symptoms of pregnancy - the missed periods, the morning sickness (though thankfully mild), the mood swings (also relatively mild). She'd tried to deny it to herself but there came a point when she just had to know for sure and of course the pregnancy test was positive.

Hermione remembered sitting in the bathroom and crying for almost an hour before she accepted the verdict. How were they going to handle another child? Luke was already a handful and Ben needed a lot of nurturing, he was so brilliant. And Emerson was almost ten years old. Soon she would be going away to Hogwarts; soon she would be a teenager, with all the trials that came with being one.

But once she began thinking rudimentally, focusing on the miracle that had happened as a result of her and Harry's love, Hermione chided herself for worrying. Didn't she have Harry? Weren't her children wonderful beyond description? Wouldn't one more only add so much more joy to the mix?

The answer was, of course, a resounding "Yes!" And with it came that old excitement, that same "Oh my God! I'm pregnant! There's a little life growing inside me!" It all came back and strangely, this time she found herself pondering names before she had even shared the news with Harry.

And thrillingly and alarmingly all at the same time, it was all and only girl names.

This had distressed Hermione quite a bit and led to many hours of soul-searching. How did she really feel about the young girl that she thought of as her daughter? Was this sudden yearning for her unborn child to be female an unconscious signal that perhaps she wasn't as embracing of Emerson as she'd always thought she was?

Invariably, she always came back to the same, deeply honest conclusion: no, it wasn't. Because Hermione knew that she couldn't possibly love Emerson any more if she had birthed her herself. It was just that, at the same time, she wanted a daughter that was both her and Harry.

But how would Em feel when she discovered that her Mum was hoping for a girl? Would that make her feel inadequate in some way?

These questions had plagued Hermione for the first few weeks of the pregnancy and worse, she had to bear them alone. Because she decided to wait until Valentine's Day to share the news with Harry. What a gift to give on the day of love, the gift of a child or rather, the news that one was pending! Was there anything better to give a man who had wanted as many children as the Powers That Be could give?

"The man who, if he had his way, would probably have enough to furnish a Quidditch team, reserve players and all," Hermione muttered to herself with a smile, as she charmed the dishes in the sink to wash themselves.

That had been a great day. Her father had kept the kids overnight and she and Harry had taken a Portkey to a ridiculously fancy resort in the south of France.

An elaborate feast had been set up in their suite and after dinner was over, their uniformed waiter presented them with chocolate-dipped strawberries and rich, whipped cream as well as a chilled bottle of champagne in a bucket. Then, with their thanks, he bowed himself from the room.

She raised her head to receive his kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry."

Seated now behind the desk in her office at Ballynore, Hermione blushed as she recalled just how happy of a Valentine's Day that had been. Suffice it to say, the strawberries and company had ended up being thoroughly ignored - to the chagrin of their waiter the next day, most likely. And Harry had been right about the baby arriving near her birthday too. Davina had been born the day after Hermione's birthday, a belated but ecstatically welcome gift.

And she was a girl.

Hermione quickly discovered that she needn't have worried at all about her eldest daughter. Emerson had been smitten from the very second she laid eyes on Davina and even now, there was a special bond between the two girls, despite the ten years of age difference between them.

Ben had welcomed his new sister with open arms as well but Luke, on the other hand, had been an entirely different matter.

"Which was somewhat unexpected," Hermione said aloud to herself, as she picked up a picture of herself helping Luke cradle a six-month-old Davina. That picture had been one of the first times Luke would even touch Davina long enough for a snapshot to be taken.

His reaction had been distressing because as soon as Hermione had gotten big enough to show, they'd begun explaining repeatedly to Luke that there was a baby in Mummy's tummy. That the baby was going to grow bigger, then come out and live with them. Luke would stare from his mother to her swollen belly, say "Okay!" and run outside to frolic.

They'd thought everything was fine and when they'd first introduced him to Davina, Luke had seemed excited. But then they took the baby home and after a day or two, Luke began eyeing her malevolently and telling his Mum and Dad that they could 'take her back now'.

"What do you mean?" Harry had asked.

Luke pointed at the baby. "Give her back to the 'ospital!"

His parents had explained gently that they couldn't; that Davina belonged to them and didn't Luke want her to live here?

"NO!" he sobbed. "I don't like her and I don't want her to stay here!"

His behavior had gone downhill from there. In particular, he would get mad if he saw his Mum holding Davina. He stopped feeding himself and demanded that they spoon-feed him instead. He refused to go to sleep at night unless both his parents were there - and without Davina, thank you very much.

Before too long, everybody's nerves were shot and tempers were flaring easily all around. Hermione had taken it rather hard, blaming herself for not preparing Luke better. After all, Emerson had been ecstatic at all her siblings' arrivals and Ben had been more curious than anything else when Luke was born. He'd asked a plethora of questions and had shown only minor twinges of jealousy.

Certainly nothing to the extent of Luke's behavior. So why was Luke acting out like that? The question had tormented them for weeks.

Until the other mothers, particularly Molly Weasley, assured her that Luke's reaction was actually quite normal.

"Remember, he's only three years old. He's just feeling threatened by Davina," the older woman said, patting Hermione's hand soothingly.

Hermione had wiped her eyes; she'd cried a lot those days. "But why? We don't treat him any differently than before."

"I know you don't. But Luke is feeling territorial; you and Harry were his parents first. He thinks you both won't love him anymore because you have a new baby to love. You'll just have to show him that it isn't so."

So Hermione and Harry had gone out of their way to shower Luke with extra love and attention. The two older children were wonderful helpers too, keeping an eye on the baby so their parents could cuddle with Luke and his favorite book.

Gradually, things got better, though sometimes Luke would all of a sudden want to sit in his mother's lap if he saw her holding Davina there. If the baby wasn't nursing and seemed content, Hermione would put her down and cradle Luke instead. He always got bored and bounded away within minutes, of course.

Finally Luke had seemed to accept his little sister and Hermione knew they would be all right when, upon viewing the picture of himself holding the baby, Luke had declared to his mother that if he couldn't marry her or Emerson, he would marry Davina.

Smiling to herself, Hermione set the picture down and her eyes drifted to another. It was a copy of the one Harry had on his desk at work, of all six of them, the kids laughing, jumping, giving each other bunny ears. Her eyes lingered on Emerson, whose green eyes were aglow with life and light and Hermione felt a vague sense of unease.

But of what? From what? She honestly didn't know.

"One thing I do know though, Em," Hermione said softly, her fingers tracing the outline of the young girl. "You're coming home for Christmas, whether you like it or not. Because we're not quite a family without you."

She only hoped that in this confusing time of growth, hormones and everything else, Emerson would never forget, would always treasure her place in her family. And beginning with Christmas, Hermione intended to help her remember.

*******

Later that night after dinner, they were all lounging about the Family Room. Ben was flipping through the newest edition of Quidditch Through The Ages, which had both Harry and Ron mentioned more than a few times, as well as Oliver Wood.

Frankly, Harry thought that a lot of information in that new edition was rather unnecessary. Was there really a need to inform civilization of his obsession with vintage brooms? The last thing he needed was people trying to break into Ballynore to steal his priceless collection.

Thank goodness the place was Unplottable, anyway.

"Andy owes me two Sickles," Ben was saying gleefully. "He said Puddlemere has been number one five times in the past ten years and I said six. I was right."

"You're much too young to be placing bets, Ben," Hermione said, frowning over at Harry as if their son's perceived gambling was somehow his fault.

Ben sighed. "It wasn't a bet, Mum. It was a contest of information, in which the one with the correct answer gets rewarded."

Harry laughed. His son was brilliant, there was no denying it. Just like his mother, was Ben. Next week, he would be nine years old, but sometimes Harry honestly thought Ben was much older than his years.

Hermione tutted, turning back to the letter she was writing to Emerson. They'd decided that she should be the one to respond to Em's request to stay at Hogwarts. Hermione was the more articulate of the two of them anyway and besides, Harry was feeling a bit too annoyed by the letter to not set their daughter off even more with his response. Why on earth would Emerson not want to come home for Christmas? What could possibly be more appealing about staying at a deserted Hogwarts than being with her family? Granted, he himself had much rather stayed at Hogwarts than go back to Privet Drive, but it wasn't as if her family was like the Dursleys. So why-

Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. The thoughts were beginning to make his head pound so he turned his attention instead to his youngest son, who was lying on his stomach on the carpet engrossed by a set of magic markers. These were real magic markers, which made drawings that flashed in different colors, wiggled, zig-zagged or streaked across the page, depending on what the artist made them do.

Luke's feet were swinging up and down, colliding with the carpet with soft thuds and Harry found himself grinning. Even lying down, the kid was unable to be still. In the other corner, Davina was sitting by herself surrounded by a pile of books. Harry watched her pick out one, toddle over to Luke and squat beside him.

"Luke, read to me."

"I can't," Luke replied absentmindedly.

"Read the book."

Her brother finally looked up and glanced at the book. "I can't, Vina. Ask Ben." He turned his attention back to his drawings only to have Davina shove the book under his nose.

"Luke, read to me!"

"I can't cause I don't know how to read that one yet!" Luke said loudly. He jumped up, grabbed his paper and markers in irritation and stalked out of the room, muttering.

Harry was sure he heard Budget say something about 'tarnation' and 'pets'. He caught Hermione's eye and she seemed to be trying as hard as he was not to laugh. Instead, he turned to little Davina who sat frowning upon the floor, clutching her unread book.

Holding back his chuckles, Harry gestured. "Come, Vina. Let Daddy read to you."

He sat his little girl on his lap and opened The Velveteen Rabbit while Hermione went to check on Luke.

"There was once a velveteen rabbit, and in the beginning he was really splen-" Harry began but was interrupted.

"Ol' Bob!" Davina squealed, pointing at the page, her eyes wide with delight.

Harry smiled. "Ol' Bob is upstairs. This is a rabbit."

"This is not Ol' Bob?"

"No, this is a rabbit. Ol' Bob is upstairs."

Davina frowned but didn't speak and he continued reading. He'd just gotten to the part about the Skin Horse when-

"Daddy, Ol' Bob is a rabbit, right?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yep, he is."

"This is not Ol' Bob. This is a rabbit. But Ol' Bob is a rabbit too," Davina said, effectively summarizing their conversation.

Harry gaped. 'Is this kid really only two years old?' he wondered, as he kissed her curly head. 'But why am I surprised? Her mother is the most genius witch to come out of Hogwarts in generations. Surely Hermione's brilliance negates the doofus genes I contributed.'

When he repeated those sentiments to his wife in bed later, she blushed. "Honestly, Harry! Don't sell yourself short."

"I'm not," he replied honestly. "Our children's intelligence is all you."

"What of Emerson, then? And don't say it's Julia's! I'm sure she was intelligent too, but you're not as stupid as you act sometimes."

Harry pretended to clutch his chest. "Ouch, I think. How was Budget, though? Trust a son of yours to manage such a word as 'tarnation'."

"Trust a son of yours to mess up a word like 'pests'," Hermione giggled.

Harry laughed. "He said 'pets', didn't he?"

The two of them held each other and chuckled in happy pride. "Did you notice he said he doesn't know how to read 'that one yet'?"

"Yeah. The only book he knows how to 'read' is Tom and Pippo. The one where Pippo gets lost," Hermione said, smiling. "And he doesn't really know how to read it yet. He's just memorized it."

Harry grinned. "Remember how he used to cry at the part where it says-"

"Tom gets really worried about Pippo and thinks he might never see him again," Hermione recited with him and they smiled at each other. They'd read that book to Luke so many times, they could probably repeat it in their sleep now.

Luke still loved that book but shortly after he'd turned three, he'd wondered aloud why Tom's Mummy and Daddy didn't just summon Pippo. And that had been the opportunity for Harry and Hermione to explain about Muggles and how they can't do magic.

Hermione giggled. "Remember how appalled he looked upon hearing that? His eyes got so huge." She affected a solemn little boy voice: "Are they sick, Mummy?"

"And we told him that no, they're not sick. They're just like Grandpa Granger and Aunt Nina, who are Muggles and are just fine."

"I guess so," Luke had mumbled sleepily, then yawned. "Aunt Nina makes yummy toad-in-the-hole." As if having that ability was akin to getting a clean bill of health.

Harry and Hermione had laughed then, just as they did now at the memory. Harry sobered first as he stroked Hermione's cheek. "They're wonderful, aren't they?"

"Beyond words." She was silent for a moment, just staring into his eyes and Harry could feel his heartbeat accelerating at the look of utter adoration in hers. " I love you, Harry."

He smiled. "I love you too." Then his brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him. "What're we going to do about Emerson, though?"

"I don't know," she said with a sigh. "We'll just have to talk to her. She's entering puberty and that automatically makes us Enemy Number One, the source of all embarrassment on the planet, and who must be avoided whenever possible."

Harry frowned. "Isn't that a bit of a stereotype? Em has never quite conformed to any generic categorizations. Why would she all of a sudden start now?"

His wife didn't answer and after a minute, Harry lay back down beside her, seeing the unease he felt being clearly reflected in her eyes. But there wasn't anything they could do, not until their daughter came home. For now, Harry snuggled up to the warm body of the woman he loved and tried to let slumber claim him.

It was a long time, though, before he fell asleep.