Chapter Text
Summer days could change everything. For Hermione, it changed as she watched Phil kiss her mum's cheek.
"Phil," she said, precocious at eight, "how come you sleep in bed with my mum and dad?"
They were outside on the patio with a light breeze, one of mum's 'fancy' colorful drinks sweating on the table across from Hermione's orange cola. It fizzied too much and contained far too much sugar for everyday, her parents said, but it was perfect for a treat on a hot summer day.
Her mum shared a look with Phil. From the open patio door, her dad called out, "What was that, love?"
"Your daughter wants to know about our..." Phil studied Hermione while mum slid her fingers over her mouth. "...slumber parties."
A crash of crockery came from the house. Phil looked to mum.
"Care to handle this, love?"
Mrs. Granger sighed, letting her hand fall. She tossed her long curls over her shoulder and held her hand out to Hermione. "I suppose it's time. Come, bunny."
Hermione's small hand found her mother's as they navigated around the glistening expanse of the pool, a mirror reflecting the azure sky above. The estate unfurled like a verdant carpet, lavish and rambling, boasting gardens that would make the fabled Hanging Gardens look like amateur topiary. Shafts of sunlight frolicked among the leaves of impeccably trimmed hedges and waltzed across rose bushes, each branch weighted with a bounty of blossoms.
"Is this like why you asked me to stop using magic in front of Dad and Phil, because they're Muggles? Is this secret?" Hermione's voice held a note of precocious understanding, her young mind piecing together complexities that eluded children her age.
Helena Granger, regal even in her simple summer dress, nodded. "Sort of. Instead of it just being a secret between you and me, like our magic, it's a secret between the whole family and the rest of the world."
Hermione frowned slightly. "Do you love Phil like you love Dad?"
"I do. And they love me and they love each other, in their way." Helena's eyes were warm, patient. "And even though the world calls me Mrs. Granger, because I took your father's last name, I could have taken Phil's name too."
When they went to the shops together, Helena turned heads—a fact Hermione noticed with a mix of pride and annoyance. It was as if her mother cast a spell without ever uttering an incantation.
"But—" Hermione hesitated, biting her lip.
"What is it?" Helena prompted gently.
"Holly Bishop's sister was dating two boys and..." Hermione trailed off, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Holly's brother called her a whore."
Helena laughed—a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "Hermione, dear, that's the Muggle world."
Hermione perked up. "So if we moved back to the wizarding world, it wouldn't be strange—"
Helena crouched before Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Poor phrasing. I merely meant that only a Muggle would be so crass to say such things. They aren't very intelligent."
Hermione nodded but couldn't help frowning again; she knew Einstein and other Muggle scientists she studied in school were incredibly intelligent. But her mother was making a point, and she didn't want to miss it.
"But the magical world is no better in some respects," Helena continued. "There, we would receive no peace with people bothering us all the time, and Mummy would have to ring the police more often." Her voice softened with concern. "You remember that, don't you?"
The memory surfaced unbidden—Phil's arms lifting her from bed amidst hushed voices and flashing police lights that had painted the hallway an eerie blue for hours. She remembered the stern faces of officers as they showed her teachers photos of some man who'd disturbed their peace—a man who had wanted not Hermione but Helena.
"And above all we need to be safe," Helena murmured as she stood up again.
Hermione glanced at the towering fence that guarded their home—the iron keeping out more than just uninvited guests—and nodded.
"So is Phil my dad, too?" she asked. Would she need to buy two Father's Day gifts this year instead of one?
Helena patted her shoulder. "If you like."
"I think I would," she said after a moment of thought. Two presents wouldn't be so terrible. Especially since the last few years she'd always felt a little badly, seeing him sit and watch from the side as Dad opened and exclaimed over Hermione's gift.
"I think he would like that," Helena said.
Hermione steeled herself. "And since the wizards don't like Muggles, I know we have to stay far away to protect Dad and now Phil too, so I won't complain anymore that I can't go to the day school with the other wizards."
"That's very mature of you, darling. Why don't you run inside and see if your dad needs any assistance?"
"Alright, thank you, mum."
Hermione felt her mother's penetrating gaze follow her as she walked back towards the house, the intensity of that stare prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. Hermione's ears, sharpened from years of straining to catch every hushed rumor murmured in the school hallways, picked up her mother's voice drifting on the breeze. "One day you'll understand, darling."
***
Another summer. A new understanding.
The skin around Professor McGonagall's severe face stretched with the strength of her prim bun at the back of her head. To Hermione, seeing her fiercely bright eyes, out of style cape hanging off stiff shoulders, and the aura of the strict assistant at her mother's dental office—the same one who always snuck a candy to Hermione each time she visited the office—Minerva McGonagall was a vision.
Strength. Power. Intelligence.
When she left, Hermione immediately turned to Helena.
"Mum—!"
Helena held up her hand. Quickly getting off the settee next to Dad, she padded to the window on silent feet and peered out through a crack in the blinds. She waited a moment before her shoulders relaxed.
"She's gone."
Phil had just re-entered the room, blinking. "Did I miss something?"
"Yes, dear," Dad said. He stood, shaking his head. He looked rather like he did after a long day at work, when he'd come home and fall asleep in front of the television. "We just had a visitor from a woman claiming Hermione is a witch."
The news didn't surprise Dad. Helena had given up hiding it from them when Hermione started her menstrual cycle the year before, causing several highly visible magical outbursts since—nearly on a monthly basis, actually. It still embarrassed Hermione to death, but it meant she got to stay home those days. When Hermione was young, she used to bemoan missing a day of school. However, since Helena had told Hermione's fathers that Hermione had magic, now Hermione got to spend her time off from school enjoying the magical spellbooks Helena had saved from her school days. Hermione was through the third year textbooks at this point.
"Oh. Well, that's alright then, isn't it?" Phil asked, looking to Helena. "You expected it to happen soon anyway, and she's practically royalty—"
Helena gave him a sharp look, jerking her chin towards Hermione, and Phil quietened.
"Um, what I mean to say is..."
"I want to go."
Silence stretched through the room. Hermione winced. She hadn't meant to be that, well, blunt. She had wanted to ease into it, explain the pros and cons in a rational manner so her mother understood her reasoning was purely based on facts.
But then Professor McGonagall had knocked on their door an hour before dinnertime, and the choice had been stripped away.
She took a deep breath, released it.
"I want to go to Hogwarts, Mum."
Once again, silence stretched so far Hermione imagined it might pop any moment.
Hermione shuffled her feet, feeling the plush carpet beneath her toes bunch and relax. Her heart did a strange little somersault, not quite anxiety, not quite excitement. It was the sensation of standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable.
"I mean, if we think about it," Hermione began, her voice threading through the hush of the room. "Hogwarts is the best place for me to learn control. If I don't learn, I'm subject to keep blowing something up once a month. Saint Lucias won't let me keep attending if I destroy the science lab again."
Helena folded her arms, her brow knitting together in that way that suggested she was preparing a list of cons as long as Hermione's arm.
"And before you say it's dangerous," Hermione rushed on, "there's danger everywhere. I nearly set the cat on fire last Tuesday—accidentally!" Her fingers twitched at the memory of poor Mr. Whiskers' singed tail.
Phil coughed awkwardly, clearly out of his depth but attempting to contribute. "I've read about Hogwarts in Helena's old books. They have all sorts of safety measures—wards, spells, professors who can handle magical mishaps."
Dad nodded along, his expression weary but supportive. "And she'll be with others like her. Isn't that important for a young witch?"
Hermione desperately wanted magical friends. People her age who were in the heart of learning, who used magic in their everyday life and not just the passive skills that Helena used. She wanted educational stimulation, to talk about books over breakfasts, to use her magic, after it had been denied to her for so, so long.
"I'll be learning from the best," Hermione finished with a firm nod, hoping her conviction sounded more confident than she felt. "And... and I'll make you proud."
Helena crouched down in front of Hermione, tears brimming in her eyes. "Is this what you've been gnawing your lip bloody over?"
Her lip had been nibbled raw these past few weeks, and this was why. She nodded.
Helena's face crumpled. "Oh, darling. I'm sorry. I have every confidence you will be the greatest witch in the world. Practically royalty, like Phil said. My sweet surprise." She squeezed Hermione's cheeks and kissed both of them. "I'll send the tuition tonight. But—and there is a but—I have conditions. Secrecy, for one."
"Of course! I've always kept our secret."
"You have, of course you have," she said quickly in response to Hermione's quick answer, "but we must be certain. And you should never, ever kiss a wizarding boy."
"I don't want to go to school to kiss!"
While her dads laughed, Helena's smile turned a little wistful, her eyes misty with memory. Sometimes Helena acted like this after too many glasses of wine, but they hadn't even had dinner yet. She touched Hermione's cheek.
"Promise me, Hermione."
She sighed. This all seemed very silly. But whatever she had to do to go to Hogwarts, she would do. "I promise."