Part IV
For Disclaimers and author's notes, see Part I.
To his mild surprise Harry awoke in the morning with no apparent health defects. He spent the morning alternating between worrying about Hermione being in trouble with her mother and wondering about Aunt Petunia's true history. By lunch he was so bothered that he had to bite his tongue throughout the meal to keep inappropriate questions from spilling forth. After lunch he tackled his Transfiguration essay, hoping that his O.W.L. scores would be sufficient to make his efforts worthwhile. He tried not to think about all the questions he would like to have Hermione answer because that only lead to worrying about her safety and her mother's displeasure.
By midnight Harry's scroll was three-quarters full. If Hermione were in a good mood he might send it to her and ask for suggested corrections; if not, he would muddle through on his own. He punched the last digit of her phone number just as his clock turned over to midnight.
"Yes?!" came the terse response from the other end of the phone.
"Hermione? Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had been worried that Mrs. Granger might pick up the phone and tell him off for daring to call again.
"Her-Hermione? Are you all right? Are you in trouble or something?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Well, there's nothing actually <I>wrong</I> with me if that's what your asking." Hermione huffed.
"What happened?" asked Harry worriedly.
"For starters, I got a two hour lecture in the middle of the night on proper sleeping habits, and then once I woke up this morning I found Mum had taken the day off work. She spent all day giving me the third degree about who I had been talking to and why we were up so late."
"So you're in trouble?" Harry asked worriedly.
"No, not really. I got aguilt trip complete with a set of baggage about how I never talk to her anymore about anything. She said maybe if I talked to her occasionally I wouldn't have to spend all night talking to my friends. And then when she found out that I had been talking to you she was actually disappointed!"
Harry flinched at the passionate outburst.
"Well I guess she's glad that it wasn't Viktor," Hermione continued, "Because the fact that I dated somebody three years older than me and from another country always freaked her out. She was just mad that it wasn't Ron."
"Huh?" Harry asked feeling as if he had been thrown from his Firebolt. "I don't understand."
Hermione half chuckled, "Well apparently Mum is sure that since Ron and I argue all the time that we're destined to get married just like 'Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy'. In fact when she found out I had been talking to you she said that she owed Dad twenty quid. Can you believe that?!? MY OWN PARENTS were betting on my love life! It's bad enough that Lavender and Parvati's pool has been extended to every Gryffindor above first year; I really thought my parents would be above such nonsense."
"Lavender and Parvati have a pool?" Harry asked bewilderedly.
Hermione sighed, "How have you not noticed? It started during our third year."
"Well, I'm not allowed in the girls dorms, Hermione. So how would I have known that they put in a pool. Anywhere where did they find the space to put it in?"
Hermione laughed, "No, not a swimming pool, silly. A betting pool. All of our friends - and even people we don't really know - have contributed five Knuts for the privilege of trying to predict which of my best friends I would eventually date and when that momentous event would occur."
"Wha---Why would they do that? I mean, we're all just good friends. Why can't people understand that?" Harry asked.
"Because they're empty headed fools who really need a new hobby," replied Hermione scathingly.
"Okay, does Ron know about this?" Harry asked still not sure what to make of this news.
"I don't know," Hermione sighed, "I don't think so, but if he did he'd probably enter."
"You put your bet in yet?," Harry joked, trying to calm her down. "You'd really have the inside track on winning wouldn't you?"
Hermione laughed in spite of herself, "I haven't yet, but maybe it is a good idea to join them if I can't beat them."
Harry refrained from asking which way her bet would go, as he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know the answer. "Maybe your mom could enter for you and win her twenty quid back."
"I'm not sure I want her to win her money back," said Hermione shortly, "because not only did she bet on my love life with my father, she also took the fact that I was talking to a boy late at night as a sign she needed to repeat her… 'Where babies come from' lecture this afternoon. It's not like I didn't hear it seventeen times the summer before she let me go off to Hogwarts. No, no, now she's added a chorus of 'babies don't spring out of pumpkin patches you know' and some mumbo-jumbo about responsibilities for our bodies and their interactions."
Harry snorted quietly, but let Hermione continue raving. Apparently her mother had assigned her to read and write a book report on <I>The Scarlet Letter</I> and its implications for modern women. Harry was baffled at the thought of a parent assigning extra homework, "So she didn't ground you or anything, you just have to read an extra book?" he clarified.
"Yes, but it's a horribly boring book about puritanical North Americans - you know, the kind who used to burn witches at the stake?" Hermione spat.
"That doesn't sound like much fun," Harry sympathized. "She's just worried about you, though. I mean, you're her only child so she wouldn't know what to do if something happened to you."
Silence reverberated from Hermione's end of the line.
After fifty or so seconds, Harry broke into the silence, "I'm sorry, Hermione, did I say something wrong?"
"N-no. I just… I'm not used to having people refer to me as an only child," she said quietly.
Harry was beyond confused. Why wouldn't she be used to that? Was she <I>not</I> an only child? "You have a sibling? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."
Hermione sighed, "No. Not anymore. I had a sister. She was three years younger than me." She was quiet for a moment, "Her name was Viola Rose and she was so beautiful, Harry. When Mum used to take us on walks as little children, people would stop us on the street to tell Mum how beautiful Viola was. I wasn't even jealous because it was true. She was like… sunshine personified," a sob escaped from Hermione's lips. "Everyone always said what a happy little girl she was and Mum loved her so much. She was the ideal daughter - everything I've never been." Hermione's voice bore not even a trace of bitterness, just overwhelming sorrow.
"I'm so sorry," Harry said quietly. "What happened to her?"
Hermione took a deep breath and continued, "When Viola was five, she was diagnosed with leukemia. The doctor said she had at most six more months to live. Mum was devastated. I was too, of course, but having me under foot while she was having to oversee all of Viola's medical needs was too much for her. She sent me away to stay with her mother in the South of France. Vi died three months later, but I hadn't seen her since the day she was diagnosed," Hermione's voice was so low by the end that Harry had to strain to hear her.
"So that's why you can't see thestrals?" he asked before he had considered the implications.
Hermione sobbed, "Yes. And that's why I don't get along with my mother. Because I will never measure up to the perfect daughter she lost and I'll never really forgive her for not letting me say goodbye to my sister."
Harry was at a loss for words. Hedwig hooted from her corner, which gave him a desperate idea. "Hermione? I'm going to sent Hedwig to you. I can't come hug you myself right now, but I think you might like some company."
Hermione choked out, "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks Harry."
Harry hurriedly scribbled, "I wish I was there or that there was something I could do to help. Love from, Harry" on a bit of parchment and tied it on Hedwig's leg. "Go to Hermione, Hedwig, and be quick. Take her this hug," And with a cursory squeeze he tossed his pet out into the inky night. Then he returned to the phone, "Hedwig's on her way, Hermione. I hope she helps."
"I'm sure she will. Thank you. Do you mind… can I just talk about Viola for a while? I hardly ever do and it might be good for me. I've never mentioned her to any of my Hogwarts friends and it makes Mum and Dad too sad to talk about her."
"Of course you can," Harry said gently.
"The day Viola would have turned eleven was the day I ended up quitting Divination and slapping Malfoy. I was overwrought with grief and stress. I think… no, I know Vi would have been magical as well. She used to make the flowers in the back garden grow much faster than they should whenever Mum's back was turned. She would have been a Gryffindor, and I think she'd have been better qualified than I am. Viola was so brave… right up until the end…" Hermione's voice broke. "Her last words were 'Don't cry Daddy, I'll be with Grandpa and he can take care of me.'"
"I can tell you miss her a lot, but you're very brave too, Hermione," Harry reassured her. "Why don't you tell me what it was like when you were really little together?"
For the next half hour Hermione regaled him with stories of early birthday parties and girlhood hi-jinks. She laughed a little - like at the memory of the mess they made when they tried to cook breakfast for their parents on their anniversary - but mostly she cried and he listened.
[Author's note: JKR had said in the World Day Chat in 2004 that she had originally planned for Hermione to have a younger sister, but then later at the Edinburgh Book Festival she nixed the idea. I came up with this idea in the interim, and I still think it has good dramatic effect. Thus, I'm showing how Jo could have used that idea of a younger sibling. And now that she's dispelled the idea, it makes for an even bigger surprise for my readers. ;-) I'd always felt that Hermione acted more like an oldest child than an only, anyway.]