Chapter Text
“How far do I have to go to make you understand?
I wanna make this work so much it hurts. But I just can't
Keep on giving, go on living with the way things are.
So, I'm gonna walk away.
And it's up to you to say how far.”
“How Far” by Martina McBride
May 18, 2000
Hermione Granger boarded the last train from Glasgow to London with all the grace and ease her 8-month pregnant body would allow. It had been a long day, and while she had never been opposed to hard days and stacks of work, the natural discomfort of her current state, and the emotional toll this particular trip had cost added to the exhaustive length. At the very least, her appointment had been productive.
She had left the flat she shared with her boyfriend and presumptive fiancé, Ronald Weasley early this morning, much to her significant others’ chagrin. What had been a planned, discussed and necessary trip to Glasgow had suddenly become yet another cause for a fight. But then again, that was nearly everything these days with Ron.
Presenting her ticket and finding her seat she settled comfortably by the window, looking out at the passing pedestrians and further beyond at the sun, beginning to set in a striking orange glow. Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted when she saw two familiar figures out the window further down the platform. Draco Malfoy, his shock of pale blond hair a stark contrast against the dark suit was walking beside his young wife, Astoria as she carried the small bundle that was their own baby boy, Scorpius.
Astoria was not able to apparate easily either, and it was a risk Draco was unwilling to take with her, so it wasn’t a surprise she saw them boarding now. Hermione surmised they must be here visiting healers for additional opinions. Poor Astoria hadn’t looked well since the birth of their son, and it had become known through mutual friends it was the resurfacing of a dreaded blood curse that was sapping her energy. Hermione sincerely hoped, as she lost sight of them, that they had found some answers…
In a few minutes, with a grind and hiss, the train started off as Hermione reached for her beaded bag and found her muggle mobile. Now free of magical establishments she turned it back on, taking a deep breath at the volume of texts and missed calls from Ron.
Hermione was unsure when exactly the young, idealistic fledgling romance had turned into the constant battle of wills they seemed to be trapped in now, but she was at present finding it especially difficult to deal with. The challenges were numerous, and part of the reason she had coveted the idea of a long train ride alone. It gave her time to relax, to process, to think. But on the downside, she’d done too much of it today and was left feeling number and more irritable than before.
The two years following the end of the war and Voldemort’s reign of terror had been filled with upheaval after upheaval. Not all negative, but still, chaos was chaos. Their romance quite new, Ron had been irritated that she’d returned to Hogwarts instead of taking the honorary degree and working immediately at the ministry with he and Harry. She had taken her last year of magical education, while simultaneously drafting and lobbying for legislation for the rights of house elves and werewolves, and Ron was drowning his loneliness and sorrows with Lavender Brown.
She should have called it off with Ron then. But she had forgiven him, for one very big reason…
Upon graduation she had begun work with the department of magical law enforcement as a defense attorney. It was usually rewarding work, and she genuinely enjoyed it, and was pleased with the almost endless opportunity for improvement and advancement of position and greater challenge.
Then, one potion mix up, a missed monthly cycle, two weeks of morning sickness, and three tubs of butterbeer flavored ice cream, Hermione had accepted she was pregnant.
Maybe it was fear, maybe maternal desire for a stable home, maybe a mixture of both, but she had gone back home to a weeping and repentant Ronald for the sake of this budding new life they had, albeit unintentionally, created.
She often wondered if she’d made a mistake…
At first, it was a warm and wonderful and exciting. Rearranging furniture and books to make room for a nursery, comparing paint swatches, and endless but endearing knitting projects from Molly. But the longer time went on, the more problems that seemed to surface. It came down to one major recurring issue. Ron wanted marriage to immediately follow her moving in, wanted her to quit the ministry, stay home and have more children while he worked as an Auror. She however, wanted to keep working in the DMLE as a lawyer and eventual legislator. The seemingly irreconcilable difference between their expectations created no shortage of tension and it had been the subject of their fight just this morning. She still wasn’t sure how a conversation about finding her missing parents had become a parallel to her ‘need to be important’ but they’d gotten there, and then even more bizarrely, her reiteration that she didn’t wish to stay home all day cooking and changing nappies for her entire life, that had somehow become a matter of her insulting his mother. He couldn’t see that just because it wasn’t right for her, didn’t mean it couldn’t be right for someone else.
Added to that she had been trying desperately to find her parents since most of the death eaters had been rounded up by the Aurors…
The longer time went on, the more stressed she had felt. Her healer at St. Mungoes and her muggle midwife she’d been visiting had both warned her to reduce stress, and she was trying. Honest, she was. She’d off loaded an embarrassing amount of her work at the ministry to other teams for her third trimester, let Ginny talk her into twice a month visits to massage parlors, went to bed early, and ate balanced meals… but the closer her due date crept, the more she and Ron seemed to fight. The last one before she left had ended with her screaming about how all of this was an accident and that if not for the baby, they never would have moved this quickly, and him shouting at her that she didn’t care about him, or their daughter as much as she did her job.
That had been the last straw.
Hermione had, probably unwisely, stormed out and taken a train to Scotland. The calming clacking of the tracks had been somehow soothing, giving her something methodical and monotonous to focus on. She’d chosen a scenic option, the varying landscape relaxing. It also put her in a better headspace for the meeting with the wizards she met with today. They were attached to a law office in Glasgow, and as far as she could tell made up of former aurors and unspeakable, the magical equivalent of muggle private investigators. But they came highly recommended and as her attention was already split in 4 different directions, likely more, she needed all the help she could get.
Hermione moaned tiredly, rubbing her tense belly against the mild cramps all the walking had induced. She was looking forward to relaxing at home in her bathrobe, hot tea, soft socks, that book she’d been meaning to read –
The phone rang, interrupting those pleasant plans. Hermione picked it up from where she had laid it beside her and, looking at the name, rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She wasn’t ready for this right now…
“Yes, Ronald.” She answered.
“I’ve been trying to reach you all day, why aren’t you picking up?!” he snapped.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “Because, Ron, I was at a magical establishment. You know the phones don’t work there, I turned it off to save the battery.”
“Well, where are you now?”
“Leaving Glasgow.”
“Glasgow? Well you can’t apparate, you’re 8 months pregnant!”
“I’m taking the train Ron. I took it up here, and I’m taking it back.” She reminded him impatiently.
“I thought I was going to drive you.” He queried, a bit petulantly.
“I needed some time.” She answered shortly.
There was a long pause and she heard Ron breathing irritably on the other end of the phone.
“Listen, I’ll be home in a few hours.” She said.
“Fine.” He replied curtly. “I’m probably turning in early. Wake me up when you get home.”
She heard the line disconnect and Hermione snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the seat beside her with a huff. She could feel her blood pressure rising at just that one interaction. She leaned her head back and started breathing deeply, eyes closed. We’re stressed because of everything happening so fast. All new parents get anxious when a baby arrives. Things will get better. This is fine.
As if sensing her thoughts, the baby kicked firmly and repeatedly at her ribs. 36 weeks was no small potato, and it was uncomfortable, but it nevertheless brought a smile to her lips. Rose Emily as they had decided to call her was clearly unplanned, but Hermione had settled into anticipation quite quickly. She had never thought of herself as particularly maternal, and the gods knew she’d never have sought out motherhood this soon. She had a plan, a definite plan. School. Career. Settle down. A few kids. In that order. But, as she had been told before by Harry “When do our plans ever actually work?”
She sighed and patted her ever present bump contentedly. “Don’t worry baby girl. We’re going to make it work. For you.”
Suddenly overcome with the tiredness of a long day and discomfort from the cramping, Hermione stretched her feet out across the seat opposite of her, glad the train was far from crowded. Closing her eyes again, her fingers laced over her belly protectively, she listened to the hum of other passengers, and the steady clack clack clack of the train beneath her, letting herself be lulled into a somewhat peaceful sleep.
But that hard-won contentment and peace would be short lived…
It was dark when Hermione was jolted awake just a couple of hours later… At first she thought the violent bounce was mostly her being startled as the train came to a stop in London but as she opened her eyes and blinked, hearing gasps and startled screams, she realized they were not anywhere near London, and still moving, albeit in much more jerking motions. She had just cleared the blurriness of sleep from her eyes and sat up when the train jerked again and began to lean.
A screech of metal, people screaming, sparks visible outside the windows as the train barreled through some unidentifiable obstacle… Hermione’s hand shot out to grab the edge of the seat, reaching blindly for anything to steady herself on. She reached for her bag to pull out her wand, heart pounding, knowing she had but seconds to cast something, anything, but the jump of the train sent her bag flying out of reach. Too late. People, laptops, luggage and everything in between was flying towards her as the car rolled, with barely any time to register or even panic properly. A quick realization they were crashing, a shocked supposition that she and her baby were about to die. She gripped the seat for all she was worth as the inertia pressed her into the wall and window. She cried out in terror and pain as someone slammed into her. She heard and felt glass shatter, the rising cacophony of screams and crunching metal ear splitting. Lights extinguished and Hermione’s view was a swirl of shadows and sparks, the last thing she felt, her body landing hard and unforgiving on the opposite wall of the train car as it tumbled and screeched as the rest of the train caught up with them…