A/N: I'm viewing this as an interlude, so to speak. I've been debating for over a week now whether or not to post this chapter to the story. A part of me wants it to remain Harry's story…but a bigger part of me feels that it's important to know what Hermione is feeling as well. A few people have read it and have agreed that it should be posted in some way.
This won't happen often, but at the moment, I foresee it happening at least one more time. Hopefully you won't feel that it takes away from Harry's story. The next chapter of Harry's story is in progress and I've been told that what's happened so far is some of the best stuff yet. So, bear with me.
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I'm answering them as quickly as I can. I appreciate each of them more than you could know.
Cheers,
Terri
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Interlude ~ Hermione's Point of View
"Hermione, we're home," she heard her mum's voice call out to her from the living room.
Hermione stopped short of the bathroom door, "blast" she muttered softly to herself. She took a deep breath and wiped at her tears, drying them as quickly as she could before resuming her walk toward the bathroom. Just as she reached for the handle her mum came around the corner of the hallway.
"Honey, we're home. What would like for…" she stopped short at the sight of her little girl. She stepped forward quickly, forgetting completely about dinner. "O-nee," she said anxiously, "O-nee what's wrong? What's happened?"
Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but to smile at the use of her childhood nickname. When she was first learning to talk she had trouble pronouncing her name so whenever anyone would ask she'd tell them her name was, 'O-nee`. Somehow it had stuck and her parents continued to call her that on occasion…it was times like this she found it to be quite comforting.
"Oh, mum," Hermione cried, turning toward her. "I don't…" she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, trying to dispel the tears that threatened to fall, and the lump that had caught in her throat. "I don't know."
Her mum closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around her. "You want to talk about it?" she asked gently. Hermione nodded. "All right, why don't you go into the bathroom and run some cool water on your face. I'm just going to talk to your dad for a minute, I'll be right back and then we'll talk, okay?"
Hermione nodded again. "Thanks, mum."
"That's my girl," her mum replied with a worried smile. "I'll be right back."
Hermione sighed and turned back toward the bathroom. She reached for the handle and slowly opened the door, flipping the light on as she stepped inside. She stopped short and stood transfixed before the mirror…she looked a mess. Her face was splotchy, her eyes bloodshot, and the dried tracks of her tears stained her reddened cheeks. She took a deep breath, walked to the sink, and turned on the cool water. She gasped as the initial shock of the cold water against the warm skin of her face, stole her breath away. She caught her reflection in the mirror and laughed wryly. Not only had she not washed the tears or the redness away, her bloodshot eyes had grown wide at the shock. "They'd definitely think me ugly now if they could see me like this," she sighed. She rinsed her face again and, realizing things wouldn't get any better, grabbed a towel from the shelf to dry off.
She walked out of the bathroom and returned to her room to wait for her mum. Hedwig was sitting in her cage, the door left open so she could come and go as she pleased. The moment Hermione sat on her bed Hedwig hopped down from her perch and glided off the dresser to land beside her.
"You miss him too, don't you girl?" Hermione said softly, running her hand over Hedwig's head and down her back. "We'll get him back, don't worry."
Hedwig nipped affectionately at Hermione's fingers and cocked her head toward the door. Hermione's mum walked through it seconds later. Sensing their need to be close, Hedwig flew to sit on the top of her cage where she could observe the two of them as they talked.
Her mum sat on the bed and raised her hand to Hermione's cheek and gently brushed some stray hairs behind her ear. "I asked your dad to pick something up for dinner. I told him it was his choice," she said, grinning slyly.
Hermione smiled. "You're going to regret that, you know," she said, shaking her head.
"Well, I needed to buy us a little time, sweetheart. He'll spend at least the next 30 - 45 minutes thinking about it and then he'll have to go and pick it up. I say we have at least an hour to talk." She looked down into Hermione's face. "Although, we can take more if you need it, okay?"
"Okay," Hermione replied, nodding her head.
Her mum began to run her fingers through Hermione's hair as she searched her eyes. "Wanna tell me what happened? You don't cry often. It must have been something big, to make you cry like that."
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what happened. I was talking to Harry and…"
"Oh, I see," her mum quietly interrupted.
Hermione looked at her in surprise. "What? What do you see?" she asked anxiously. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, O-nee," she said smiling reassuringly, her hand coming to rest on Hermione's shoulder. "I don't mean anything by that. It's just…well, haven't you noticed? Practically every time you've been down about something in the past seven years it's had something to do with Harry. In fact, nearly all of your emotions, ranging from happiness to devastation, have had to do with him. I'm just…I'm not surprised, that's all," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "That's all I meant."
Hermione sat back and stared unseeingly at her mum, contemplating her words. "Do you really think that?" she asked, her voice falling to just above a whisper. She shook her head and attempted to refocus her gaze. "Do you really believe that?" she added earnestly.
"Let's talk about that later, okay? Why don't you tell me what happened with Harry first."
Hermione continue to gaze questioningly at her as she nodded her head. "We were talking and at first everything was fine. We were laughing and then…then we weren't. But then we laughed again…then things got serious and I…I started to cry," she stammered. Her eyes had begun to water and her voice sounded strained as she fought to make sense of her thoughts.
"Can I ask you something, Hermione?" her mum asked gently, the timbre of her voice hesitant. "It might surprise you and, quite frankly…I'm not sure you're prepared to think about the answer. If you don't think you're ready, that's okay. But I think that at some point it might help you to put things into perspective…at least a little."
Hermione sniffled and gazed at her intently. "What is it?" she asked, her voice hoarse from the effort she was exerting to stifle her tears.
"There's no way to ask it but to ask it," her mum said, her voice distant as though she was speaking to herself. She placed her hand on Hermione's leg, her eyes downcast, avoiding Hermione's intense gaze. "Are you," she looked up and stared directly into her daughter's eyes, "in love with him?"
Hermione jumped back as though she'd somehow been physically burned by her mother's question. "Am I…am I…WHAT?" she asked her voice rising in disbelief.
"Don't go getting upset," her mum cautioned. "I just, well…I can't help but to wonder if you might be in love with him," she said, shrugging her shoulders and trying to both look and sound casual.
"But this is…how can I…in love?" Hermione stammered, her mind reeling with the implication. "Mum, I'm 18! How'm I…? I don't…urgh!" Hermione sat back hard against the wall as she fought for control of her emotions. "How could I…?" she said, her voice now soft and questioning.
Mrs. Granger released a nervous chuckle. "All right, Hermione, it's all right. It was just…" she paused and sighed heavily, "it was just something I had to ask."
Hermione looked at her, a strange expression on her face. "How would I know? I mean, how would I really know? Trumpets don't sound when he calls my name. Birds don't sing any louder, the sky doesn't turn a brighter blue. Noises don't become some kind of symphony of nature, and orchestras don't suddenly begin to play love songs. When he touches me, my skin doesn't tingle or burn and fireworks don't explode all around us. Really, mum, how would I know?"
"First of all, your impressions of what love is shouldn't come from some romance novel or how-to book. It has to come from your heart. Now tell me, what happened to make you so upset tonight?"
Hermione took a deep breath and sighed. "We were talking, you know, about everything…and nothing. I asked him to give me his address so I could send a gift I got for him today, but before he would give it to me he made me promise him something."
"What was it?"
Hermione sighed again. "He made me promise that I wouldn't go looking for him." She looked at her mum then, her eyes willing her to agree with what came next. "But I wouldn't do that, mum…I would never."
"Are you sure?" her mum asked gently, unwilling to pacify her. "Given the choice between following
your head and following your heart, which would you choose?"
Hermione stared up at her again, her brown eyes a clear reflection of her confusion. "I don't know," she said softly. "How do I even know the message is any different between the two?"
"Let me ask you this," her mum replied. "If Harry had just given you his address, without making you promise not to go looking for him, what do you think would have been the very first thought to run through your head the moment you finished writing it down?"
Hermione reached for the paper she'd written Harry's address on and stared at it for a moment, the information burning into her memory. She looked up at her mother, a look of devastation on her face. "I would've thought, `now I know where to find you,'" she said softly. "And you're right, mum. I would've wanted to go to him. But I wouldn't have," she added in a whisper.
"I know, sweetheart," her mum said soothingly. "And so does Harry, I'm sure."
"That's what he told me when I said I'd never do that to him. Well, before I said it really. Before he told me what he wanted me to promise, he said that he knew already what I would say. When I did promise, he just said, `thanks'. I thanked him for trusting me, and then he said the strangest thing," she said, her voice sounding distant as her mind drifted back to their conversation. "He said that no matter what, he would always trust me-he said that he trusts me more than anyone else…including Ron."
"Wow," her mum replied, both surprised and impressed by the honesty with which the two of them spoke to each other.
"I asked if he could tell me what it was he didn't trust Ron with, and he said…" she paused when her throat began to constrict and, for reasons not yet fully realized, her tears threatened to fall once more. "He said…" she inhaled deeply, "that the only thing he didn't trust him with was…" she looked at her mum, her eyes pleading…this time for answers.
"…me," she finished in a choked whisper.
"…you," her mum said at exactly the same time.
"How did you…?"
Her mum shook her head and smiled softly. "It's all in the delivery, O-nee. What else could've gotten you so upset?"
Hermione picked up her pillow and hugged it close to her body, pressing her face into it as she shuddered. She stayed that way for moment, until she felt her control slowing begin its return. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "It's just…well…I lied to him, mum. I never lie to Harry. I've spent the past seven years staying true to myself where Harry is concerned. No matter how bad things got, no matter how much I might've wanted to lie to him, I would never allow myself to do it. That's why he trusts me, mum…that's why he trusts me, and I broke that trust tonight. I broke it when I lied to him."
"How did you lie? What did you say that was so wrong?" her mum asked, worry now tainting her voice.
"I see," Hermione mumbled, "I said, `I see.'"
"Is that all?"
"Yes, that's all. Isn't that enough? It was a lie."
"Hermione, I'm sorry," her mum said with a light chuckle, "I know this is important to you and I'm sorry for sounding like I'm not taking you seriously, but you're going to have to be more specific. I don't understand what you're saying."
Hermione rolled her eyes in frustration. "After I said `I see' he asked me…he said, `do you, Hermione? Do you really see? Because I don't, I don't see at all.' I told him that you were calling me and that I had to get off the phone. I lied to him and he called me on it, and I…I didn't have an answer, mum," she cried adamantly. "I always have the answer, it's what I do. It's what I'm good at. But this time…this time I didn't. And I'm lost because I don't know where to begin the search to find it. I have no idea what book it's in," she said, chuckling feebly and trying to keep her voice light, as if she was telling a joke. "I don't know what to do."
"Hermione Jane," her mum chided, "since when have you believed that all of life's answers can be found in a book? I know you're trying to pass that off as a joke, but I can see in your eyes that it isn't. I know that books have been invaluable to you throughout the years. They're your best friends during the summers while you're home, but, like you've said, you're 18. Would you really have me believe that you're either too young or too naïve to understand that answers can be found in places other than books? I can assure you, O-nee, that this time, the answer to this problem, cannot be found in a book," she said adamantly.
"Mum," Hermione sighed, "I've hidden behind books my entire life. Knowledge is power…isn't that what you and dad have always told me?"
"Her…"
"Well," Hermione went on, ignoring her mother's attempts at trying to speak, "we needed knowledge and power and faith to get through the battle and to defeat Voldemort. I had the knowledge, Ron had the faith, and Harry had the power. And we succeeded. Books have never failed me."
"Hermione, listen to me," her mum said quickly, before she could be cut off again. "Knowledge, power, faith…those are three of your greatest assets. You alone possess those traits. You are not just the knowledge side of the triangle. I'm sure that both Ron and Harry possess all of those traits as well. It's what has made the three of you such a formidable team. Yes, in the end, it was Harry who defeated Voldemort, but it wasn't just his power that did it. It was the blending of his power, his knowledge, and his faith in combination with yours and Ron's that culminated in the victory. In the end, not one of you gave more of any one of those strengths then the others did. I know that," she reached out and placed a hand on Hermione's chin and raised her head until their eyes met, "I know that, because I know you. Don't ever sell yourself short, sweetheart. There is far more to you than books and knowledge. You're a beautiful young woman with countless qualities that most people only wish they could possess…myself included. Use what you have-what you know-to find the answers you need now. Don't look in a book, look in here," she said, placing her hand over Hermione's heart. "You won't find them anywhere else."
"But I'm afraid to look there," Hermione replied, her voice raw with untapped emotion.
"Why? What are you afraid of?"
"What if I find that I…I do love him? What will happen to me when I find out he doesn't feel the same way? I'm not sure that's something I can deal with. When I fall in love with someone, I want it to be forever-like you and dad. I don't want to love someone today and then someone else next year and maybe someone else a couple of years after that. I know how valuable love is, you've taught me that. It's what's gotten Harry through the past sixteen years. And I know that when he finds it, he's going to want the same thing I do. But what…what if he doesn't want it with me?"
Mrs. Granger brushed back the hair from Hermione's forehead and gave her a kiss. "Honey, that's the chance you take with love. It's the chance we all take. But you can't let it scare you to the point where you live your life without it." She sat back and smacked her hands down on her knees. "I have an idea. If you're really scared to explore one-on-one what's in your heart, why don't you try this?" she asked, rising from the bed and holding her hand toward a framed piece of paper on Hermione's bedroom wall. "You write so beautifully, O-nee. Pick up your pen and let your heart speak through you. Sometimes it's easier to listen that way, especially when you're scared of what your heart has to say when it's speaking to you. All around this house are framed essays and poems and fragments of your past. Take a look around Hermione, find yourself again. That's what Harry's doing, right? Maybe you should think about doing the same. What do you say?"
Hermione stared at the framed paper on the wall and slowly began to nod her head. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think that's a great idea. I don't have nearly as far to go to find myself as Harry does, but looking around, I can see that I have actually lost a part of myself over the past few years." She rose up from the bed and gave her mum a tight squeeze. "Thank you, mum," she said softly. "I love you."
"I love you, too, sweetheart," her mum replied. She stepped back from her daughter and smiled conspiratorially at her once again. "Now, shall we go and see if your father has made a decision about dinner yet?"
Hermione looked at the bedside clock. "It's only been a little over an hour. I bet he's still sitting on the couch thinking about it," she replied with a laugh. The amount of time it took her father to decide something as simple as dinner had always been a long-standing joke between her and her mother. Hermione grabbed her mum's hand and they walked out the door together in search of Mr. Granger.
They found him lying on the couch, a soft snore assuring them that he had long since given up thinking about what to have for dinner. Mrs. Granger smiled and led Hermione to the kitchen. "What say we have a bit of ice cream after all that girl talk? You get that big bowl-you know the one I'm talking about, and I'll get the spoons. We'll finish this night off right." She turned to Hermione and smiled. "Just don't forget to scrub those teeth really good before you go to bed."
Hermione laughed. "I won't, Dr. Granger," she replied. "And thanks again. I think I'll try to write something right after we eat, uh…dinner?"
After they finished their ice cream and cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, Hermione walked around the house looking at the old school papers that her mum had put into frames, hoping to find some inspiration. Just outside the door to her parents' bedroom was a frame that held two pieces of paper. According to the dates, they were both done on the same day when she was in the fourth grade.
Centered at the top of the first piece of paper, underlined and in capital letters, was the word LOVE. Beneath it she'd written…
Love is having someone who understands you even when you don't know what to say.
She laughed at the simplicity of the statement and then looked at the second piece of paper. It looked much like the first only the word HAPPINESS was written top, center. Beneath it she'd written…
Happiness is knowing that you've found someone to love (see love).
"So," she said softly to herself, "happiness is knowing you've found someone who understands you even when you don't know what to say." She reached her hand up and touched the glass…wondering at the simplicity of her ten-year-old mind. And wondering, too, just how much truth there might be in those two simple thoughts.
She walked slowly away and just before she rounded the corner on her way to her own room, she looked back at the framed papers. "I am going to write again," she said resolutely. "Right after I write a letter to Harry."
When she got back to her room she sat down at her desk and picked up a quill and parchment-which had become her comfort tools during her years at Hogwarts, and began to write…
Dear Harry,
Hi. I don't know what to say about the way our call ended tonight. All I can do is hope that in some way you will understand, just as you always have…
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