"What do you mean you're done?" shouted Mrs. Granger.
"I mean just what I've said," said Hermione.
Harry looked between the two women, as the conversation bounced back and forth. He couldn't believe that she was being so calm about this. She had just resigned all hope for her family.
"I've lost all my energy to fight you. And you've obviously stopped caring about common decency after the funeral fiasco."
"I did not mean to say it."
"Mum, you didn't want me to hear it, but you definitely thought that."
Within seconds Olivia stood in between her mother and sister.
"How about I make us dinner, and we can all just sort this out," said Olivia. "What do you say?"
Hermione gritted her teeth.
"You can make dinner every night for all I care. But I'm not going to be here to eat it. My home is with Harry now."
Harry raised his eyebrows. He wondered if now was the opportune time to intrude on the family battle. But he couldn't fit in a word edgewise.
"You think that I want her money?"
"Well as I recall you don't work."
"And do you think that I need to?" she flared.
"Yes, or is that just common of all people in…"
Harry picked up the book from the coffee table and slammed it on the glass coffee table. The inside of it shattered and everyone was silent. Olivia's mouth was agape as she stared at the broken glass. She pointed and stared at Harry a squeak escaping her mouth.
No one was hurt.
"The table is broken," murmured Margaret.
"Would you all stop fighting for a damn minute? Talk as if you had emotions for once. It just shocks me how you care more about a table than you care about your daughter."
"Don't you dare tell me how much I care about my daughter," sniffed Margaret.
"Is there anything I could possibly say to change your mind? Anything that will prompt you to apologize to each other? I'm not promising that it will fix anything, but today is not the day to fight about this. Can we at least agree on this?"
"I believe that this is a family discussion," stated Paul.
"Fine," said Harry as he got up from his spot.
"Harry wait," pleaded Hermione.
She really did not want to be alone with her parents right now. Hermione had counted it in her head and it would only take her ten seconds to draw her wand from its current position and send them back to their place in Australia.
Now that she thought about it. It wasn't a good idea.
"I know Hermione," whispered Harry. "Just come home when you're finished."
-----------
Home.
That sounded unbelievably nice. Although she had lived in this one all her life, it was never hers. It was her parents house and not truly her own.
She turned away from Harry as he walked up the stairs. Undoubtedly to back his bags and return to Grimmauld Place. He had abandoned his assigned reading for her, and her only hope was that he could catch up on it.
She turned back to her parents and motioned for them all to sit down.
"You may not want to listen to what he has to say, but I believe that he is right. And it's not a matter of who is right or wrong. It's because we are a family, or at least we used to be. Not everybody has that opportunity or that chance."
A silence permeated the room. The clock ticked in the hallway.
"So you're officially moving out?" asked Mrs. Granger.
The woman's eyebrows were raised as she looked at her daughter. Hermione was taken aback at the sudden change in her mother. No, she was not yet ready to hug her, and to talk to her with the freedom she once had. But she could hold a civil conversation with the woman.
"I guess so. I can't live here forever, right?"
"Well you could, but I doubt Harry would like it," quipped Olivia.
Hermione smirked at her sister.
"Paul. How about we go and prepare dinner?"
"But there is still a lot that needs to be discussed," he replied.
"And you and I can discuss them in private later."
She gave him a stern look. Eventually he gave up and followed her into the kitchen leaving Hermione and Olivia sitting on the couch. After hearing the door swing closed Hermione and Olivia breathed a sigh of relief.
They looked at each other and laughed.
"Today has been quite the interesting day. Hasn't it Herms?"
"I'm going to let you call me that today. And only for today, Livvy," Hermione reciprocated.
Hermione gazed across the room until her eyes locked with her sisters once again.
"I just can't believe I don't live here anymore."
"You know, I was about to ask if you needed help packing, but I remembered that you already have all of your things. Talk about doing things backwards."
"Come on," said Olivia.
Olivia held out her hand towards Hermione. She sat there stupidly for a second before she wrapped Hermione's hands around her own.
"Thumb war? We haven't done this in forever."
"I know."
And they began to play as Hermione laughed. She had always lost the game, but that didn't mean it was any less fun.
"So why do you think mum and dad just let it go."
"Well, Harry has a way with words. He can convince just about anyone to do anything," giggled Hermione. "I think that's how he got me to date him."
"You've gone on a date?"
"No, but you know what I mean. But then there's grandma too."
"How do you figure?"
Hermione circulated her hand as Olivia crushed it once again. Hermione rolled up her sleeves once again as she pumped herself up for another round. She was determined to win for once.
"She always promised to watch over us, to make sure that we are the happiest we can be."
"But we both know how adults can lie."
"I may not have known her as long as you have, but I know that she has never lied to me," said Hermione.
She caught Olivia in a weak moment and finally won her first game. She jumped on the couch for a few minutes but jumped down before Margaret came back in the room. She did not want to ruin this burst of a good mood.
"You caught me in a moment," cried Olivia.
Hermione came closer to her sister and hugged her rocking her back and forth.
"I've won, and you just need to get over it. I'm the only one allowed to cry in this house."
--------------
"Harry are you here?" asked Hermione.
She put down a couple of shopping bags on each arm. A majority of the lights were on in the house as Hermione surveyed. She carefully walked through each room and couldn't help but notice the decorations that were put up.
Hermione had wanted to do it herself. She felt a frown form on her face as she thought about the extra decorations she had just purchased. But joy was also in her heart as Harry had done what she had no energy to do.
"Harry left to get a tree, but he said he would return soon."
Hermione gaped as she looked at him. Ron was standing right across from her. If she wanted to she could reach across and prod a finger or two into his chest. Hermione could hug him if she felt happy enough to.
But she didn't.
At the moment his face symbolized misery.
Oh, and she forgot dread. Lots of dread.
"So how's Quidditch?"
She felt herself nodding her head like a true idiot at her own question. God she felt beyond pathetic. She gripped the countertop in the kitchen.
"It's doing fine. We're going up for our second win this season. We won the last game."
And it was contagious. He too started nodding in the manner that very much resembled a duck. It made her hate him even more.
Except she didn't hate him for who he was. She hated him for what he did to her heart. And right now her own heart hurt, because she wouldn't be tearing out her own, but instead his.
It took all the will power in the world, but she finally tore her gaze away from him, and looked down at the floor. She found her shoes very interesting. They were an old pair of converse. And at that moment she considered their desperate need for a proper cleaning.
She thought about the cleaning in such detail, until she thought about the potential fraying of the aglet.
At that point, she gave into the pressure. She approached the subject that she had long feared.
"Ron," she piped up.
It amazed her how horribly squeaky her voice sounded.
He looked up at her his blue eyes shining.
"We need to talk."
And after she uttered those four words he looked down. Every language must have a similar phrase for breaking up, and therefore it was universally understood. And that was just the beginning.
That morning she had gotten up to an empty house, and had spent her day shopping. At least until Harry got off his shift at St. Mungo's. She hoped for a nice dinner inside the house, or perhaps they could go on a real date. She had not had the courage to plead the request to Harry, but nevertheless she had been dying to go.
But right now she was dying to get out of this situation.
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