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Oh, Hermione! by Madamoiselle Malfoy
Chapter 1 : My Mum
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 24


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Hello Everyone! I've finally written a one-shot after all of these longer stories. As per usual, JK Rowling is the owner of all these fabulous characters. I own the plot. Happy reading!

 

 

I always felt sorry for my mum. She was a lovely woman, albeit naïve, and she didn’t deserve the cards fate dealt her. My mum, Hermione, was a brilliant witch. How she ended up with my dad, I have no idea- he’s emotional, immature, and lazy. I always thought Mum should’ve married someone like Uncle Harry or Uncle Draco. They are both smart, good-looking, ambitious men. Instead of winning first place however, Mum took home the consolation prize.

            It gets worse. I feel sorry that Mum has my brother, Hugo, as her only son. Naturally, she expected him to live up to her reputation (as I didn’t)- or at least his father’s reputation (which I flatter myself that I have exceeded). Instead, Hugo is a whiny little loser who’s failed half of his classes and can’t even tell a Nimbus apart from a Cleansweep. He might as well be a Squib. He spends his time in the Hufflepuff dormitories, alone, designing dress robes. Mum hates fashion. Hugo was disappointment number 2.

            I inherited Mum’s brain, so she had hope for me…for a while. I became the clincher in her deck of cards. My ebony hair (courtesy of Grandad Granger) and green eyes were drastically different from her honey eyes and caramel ringlets. I don’t resemble her at all. I am smart, but I’m a Slytherin. I play Quidditch and I regularly send Seekers to the hospital wing (my arms have their own minds in games, and there is nothing I can do to stop them). I have nothing in common with Mum, so eventually I stopped talking to her. I party. She studies. I break rules. She’s Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes. I’ve dated loads of older boys. Mum married the first one she met. The list only continues.

            One rainy day, Mum wasn’t feeling too well. I’d planned to hang out with James and Scorpius, but Mum’s illness put a damper on that plan. She wanted to clean the attic that day, so she asked dad to do it. Naturally (since Dad never does anything), Hugo and I were expected to clean the attic.

            “I can’t,” Hugo frowned, trying to walk away from me.

            “I’m not doing it alone,” I snarled, pulling him back by his perfectly hemmed sleeve.

            “Then invite those jerks you call friends to help you.”

            Jerks! I was about to pummel him when my Slytherin side kicked in.

            “What’s in it for me?”

            “Nothing,” he smirked.

            No way. That I would not do. Who did he think he was? I pulled out my wand.

            “A new dress for the Holiday ball, designed by me,” he squeaked.

            I agreed, Hugo ran away, and James and Scorpius were summoned from Paradisio to Purgatorio (Dante reference: Paradisio is heaven and Purgatorio is hell in Dante’s Divine Comedy.)

            “Ugh, what a mess,” James groaned after seeing the attic for the first time.

            “Not bad compared to your hair, James,” Scorpius remarked soberly.

            “It’ll take us centuries!” James wailed.

            “That’ll give you a head start on growing some semblance of facial hair, Jamie,” Scorp smirked.

            Before the “manly” teasing could escalate into a full-fledged feud, I interrupted by directing.

            “Scorp, you take the left. Jamie, you take the right. I’ll start on this,” I motioned at what should have been the middle of our attic but was currently an ocean of junk.

            The use of our wands did help speed along the process. But it only helped make a slightly bigger minute dent in the debris. We decided to take a lunch break and headed off to Scorp’s house (affectionately dubbed “The Palace”) for a bite to eat.

            Draco Malfoy ushered us into Malfoy Manor (hereafter referred to as the Palace), inquiring anxiously about Mum’s health.

            “She just has a weak constitution,” I said breezily, repeating words that Grandmum Weasley had said about Auntie Fleur.

            “Perhaps time does change people after all,” Draco laughed.

            Still, I had to assure him that it was not necessary to make homemade chicken noodle soup and ship it to her via Floo.

            Draco cooked quickly, but that did not affect the quality of his food. His tomato bisque was perfect, not too creamy nor excessively watery. Complementing the bisque were grilled cheese sandwiches, made on fresh focaccia bread. For a Pureblood wizard, Draco wasn’t a bad cook. I wondered for the millionth time how Draco had not managed to find a wife. With his looks and wealth, he was already an attractive bachelor. The food was like whipped cream on a pie: you’d eat it without the whipped cream, but it’s just something that makes it even better!

            After thanking Draco profusely for feeding the orphans (us), James insisted we visit Grandmum.

            “I think she mentioned fresh cookies,” he wondered aloud.

            We Apparated faster than you could say Voldemort.

            Sure enough, Grandmum Molly had made fresh gingerbread wands- she liked to practice her baking now that her only occupation was to dote on grandchildren, and Christmas was slowly approaching. After consuming more calories than is safe for a normal person to digest in one day, we were sent to the chicken house to see Grandad Arthur. What she really meant was:

            ‘Make sure Arthur hasn’t blown the hen house up because he was fiddling around with some bloody Muggle contraptions!’

            But it sounded more like:

            ‘You should stop by the hen house on your way out. I’m sure Arthur would love to see his favorite trio of Slytherins.’

            When we got to the hen house, Grandad was, of course, messing around with a rusty old junker, but he wasn’t alone. Uncle Harry was with him. While Scorpius and James ran over to see Grandad’s latest toy- apparently some great old car- I talked to Harry.

            “How’s your mum doing?”

            “She’s a bit tired still.”

            “Is she ok? Does she need anything? Is Ron making her work?”

            “I haven’t the slightest.”

            “Tell Ron to get his lazy arse off the couch and help that wife of his,” Harry instructed with a twinkle in his eyes.

            “Is it ok if I quote you on that?”

            “Yes,” Harry nodded emphatically.

            We returned home to peruse through the remaining junk. Scorp found an old Chudley Cannons poster, wrinkling his aristocratic nose in disgust, while James opened a beaded clutch only to drop it and its containments- over 20 large, leather bound books- straight on his feet. I laughed.

            While Scorpius destroyed the hideous, orange banner, mutilating it beyond recognition, I wandered towards a small jewelry box. It was silver and it was beautiful.

            “Alohamora,” I whispered.

            Click! The lock opened.

            In it laid three lockets: one brass oval locket, and two heart shaped ones. They must’ve been Mum’s. I wondered if there were any pictures in them…

            Opening the gold heart locket, I found myself falling into a memory.

            Mum stood next to me. I gestured a wave, but she did not notice me at all. She was in a fancy flat in London…was it hers?!

            ‘Mione?’ a guy’s voice called.

            ‘Yes?’

            ‘Dinner’s ready!’

            ‘Coming!’

            Hermione broke out into a grin. She walked past several rooms before entering a dining room with gold facades on the ceiling.

            ‘Did you burn anything this time?’

            ‘No!’

            ‘It looks lovely, Harry!’ she exclaimed in surprise.

            Then I saw the man Hermione was with. It was Uncle Harry.

            ‘Thanks, love, it should. I’ve spent 5 hours slaving away to make this simple meal for you.’

            I looked at the meal. Veal saltimbocca, with fresh baked olive oil bread? This was anything but a simple meal. Apparently Hermione thought so too.

            ‘You lie, Harry Potter. There’s no way you could even know what this is. You had Kreacher make this,’ she declared.

            Harry opened his mouth in protest before closing it quickly.

            ‘It’s fine, love. At least you had the sense not to attempt cooking again,’ Hermione teased.

            She leaned in and gave Harry a big, fat kiss on the lips.

            ‘I was going to save this until dessert, but since you started it…’

            Harry stood up, reached into his pocket, pulled out a familiar red box (read: Cartier) and knelt down. Opening a black velvet jewelry box, he proposed.

 

            The memory ended. I bit my tongue to keep me from screaming- Mum and Uncle Harry had been engaged?!

            Shuddering, I opened the silver heart locket and fell into a new memory.

 

            ‘I’m so sorry, Hermione,’ Draco Malfoy said as he hugged the morose girl.

            ‘I loved him. But I have to get over him. Ginny’s had the biggest crush on him since childhood. I could never ruin my friendship with her, not for any guy,’ Hermione whispered.

            Draco nodded.

            ‘I’m sorry too,’ she continued.

            ‘For what?’

            ‘I heard about Astoria, Drake,’ Hermione said.

            ‘I didn’t care about her, and she knew it. She hated the trappings of Wizarding England and Pureblood society ever since she watched her father receive the Dementor’s Kiss. She’s probably in California by now, getting away from a grizzly past and a soon-to-be ex-husband/ex-Death Eater,’ Draco laughed shortly.

            ‘Don’t say that about yourself- you’re the most selfless person I know. More so than Harry, and everyone knows what a selfless guy he was.’

            ‘I don’t care about Astoria. I love you, Hermione Granger. I think I’ve known this since 3rd year, when you punched me. I love you.’

            Draco knelt down on the carpeted floor of his endless library. He reached into the breast pocket of his black Armani suit and pulled out the most beautiful ring in history. It was so exquisite that it made Princess Di’s ring look like rubbish in comparison to its magnificence.

            A tear dripped down Hermione’s face as she nodded. She eagerly kissed Draco, who returned the kiss just as enthusiastically.

 

            I visibly cringed this time.

            “What’s wrong?” Scorp called out.

            “Nothing. Found some hideous dress robes,” I laughed shakily.

            Mum had been Draco Malfoy’s fiancée?!

            Gingerly, I opened the oval locket, anticipating another proposal.

           

            Hermione sat in a room alone. Harry and Ginny’s wedding picture sat on the mantle next to a picture of Draco, Astoria and their new baby.

            Ginny looked ecstatic, ever the blushing bride. Conversely, Harry looked as if he was marching to his own funeral dirge, the usual luster in his eyes missing.

            Astoria looked peeved, sending hellish glances from her soon-to-be ex-husband to her son several times. Draco looked excited to be a father- he was trying to make things work out with Astoria in hopes of having a real family. Baby Scorpius looked enthused as he yanked on a perfectly coiffed lock of Astoria’s hair.

            There they sat, the two happy families. Then there was Hermione, crying, alone, and just beginning to show her pregnancy.

            At this point, I gasped.

            The door opened and Ron Weasley entered.

            ‘Mione, how, erm, are you?’ Ron asked.

            ‘Lovely,’ she snapped.

            Silence ensued.

            ‘Ron, would you do something for me?’ Hermione asked.

            ‘It depends…’

            ‘Marry me?’

            ‘I don’t love you…’

            ‘That doesn’t matter,” Hermione interrupted.

            ‘I don’t even love women…’

            ‘It can be a purely platonic marriage,’ she quipped.

            ‘I can’t be exclusive…’

            ‘You can have as many boyfriends as you want.’

            ‘I just…’

            ‘Dammit, Ronald Weasley! Just say yes!’

            ‘Fine, I’ll do it,’ Ron gulped nervously.

 

            The scene dissolved once more.

            My, wasn’t I surprised! All along, Mum had been a bigger player than Blaise Zabini. How could I have been so stupid?

            As I dropped the last locket back into the trunk, a secret compartment opened. In it was a piece of parchment and two rings. I unrolled the page:

 

            Two months after I married Ron, Astoria left her family for good. I went into labor. Ginny followed soon after, giving birth to baby James (who resembled his namesake to a T). When I went into labor, Ron didn’t show up. Harry and Draco did though. Rose was born with a full head of messy black hair and startling green eyes. She is Harry’s daughter through and through. Harry almost cried after seeing his firstborn, and Draco gazed lovingly at the girl who could have been his stepdaughter. Hugo was born 5 years later. He is Ron’s son- the result of Ron’s period of experimentation before he resorted back to men. Just as Rosie is her father’s daughter, Hugo is his father’s son.

            I feel so stupid. While Harry is stuck for eternity in his marriage, Draco is once more single. If only I had controlled my hormones for another few months…

 

            The first ring was a clear, round diamond, surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds. A gold band encompassed it. It was beautiful, but it paled in comparison to the other one. That was Draco’s ring.

            Daylight soon disappeared, and I sent the boys home so that I could have a chat with Ron.

            “Dad?” I asked.

            “Erm, yes Rosie? This isn’t an opportune time…”

            “I was wondering if I could talk to you…?”

            Hearing no answer, I walked in quickly.

            I walked out equally quickly.

            The next day, I persuaded him to talk to Mum about an amicable divorce. Clearly she wasn’t the right spouse for him and vice versa.

            “I don’t want our family to separate,” Mum protested after Ron left from his “chat”.

            I told her I’d opened the jewelry box.

            “I…but…” she spluttered.

            “Look, Mum, you Gryffindors are too trusting. I’m a Slytherin, remember? If you didn’t want those memories to be seen, you would’ve destroyed them. You would’ve destroyed this,” I said softly, pulling out Draco’s ring.

            The next day, I had a mission to bust. My first order of business was to talk to Harry. Not wanting to arouse suspicion from the territorial Potter matriarch, I Apparated to the Ministry and found myself in front of the Head Auror’s Office. I knocked.

            “Come in.”

            Harry sat writing at his desk.

            “Rosie! What brings you here during your holidays? Surely James and Scorpius have not failed to amuse you so soon?”

            “We’ve had quite a few adventures. But I’m here to see you. I know.”

            It was quite dramatic, really. I said it in a low, solemn voice, awaiting some extravagant response.

            “She told you?” Harry stopped writing but he seemed unperturbed. My mission wasn’t going as planned.

            “No. I found out and she confirmed it,” I explained.

            “I’ve always tried to be there for you, you know,” Harry started nervously.

            “I know.”

            “You’re just like your mum. Except for your eyes. You have my eyes…your grandmother’s eyes…Hermione wanted to name you Lily, you know, after your grandmother. But I told her not to. You’re not a lily. You’re a Rose…you’re my rose., part of the flower family, but not identical to a lily. Hermione decided if she were to name her daughter after a flower, she’d have a Shakespeare reference hidden in there. You know, if my mum was here right now, I bet she’d recognize you anytime,” Harry smiled distantly. I thought it was funny that he was reminiscing about a woman he’d known only as an infant.

            “I’ve told Mum and Ron to get a divorce. He and Ernie have been getting…serious,” I explained, turning pink.

            “You can always come stay with me. Gin might not be too happy, but know you’re always welcome in my house. Know that you’ll always be my daughter.”

            I gave Harry a hug as he teared up. Conjuring a hankie, I handed him it before Apparating to the Palace.

            “Rose! What brings you here? Scorpius just left to see James,” Draco smiled.

            “Actually, I came to see you, Mr. Malfoy.”

            “Is something wrong? Do you need help?” he asked concernedly.

            “No. I just came to give you this. I think you’ll need it again.”

            I dropped the ring into Draco’s open palm. He paled considerably.

            “Where did you get this?” he whispered, nonplussed.

            “I have to go, Mr. Malfoy. Just promise me you’ll try again in a week. Promise?”

            Draco nodded, still trying to work out how I came in possession of the ring. I gave him a hug and went back home.

 

 

One Year Later

 

            “Mum, I’m going in a few minutes!” I called.

            The one drawback to our new house was the inability to communicate vocally. It had been so much easier just to yell at each other in the cottage.

            “Are you going, love?” Clearly she hadn’t heard my shout.

            Hermione Malfoy, nee Granger, appeared at the top of the steps.

            “Yeah. Harry and I are having lunch at the Ivy.”

            “Are you meeting him at the Ministry?” my stepfather asked. Draco Malfoy was positively glowing.

            “Yep.”

            “Rose, wait up!” Scorpius yelled.

            “What’s the rush?”

            “I’ll escort you to see Mr. Potter.”

            “How very gallant of you,” Mum remarked with surprise.

            “Oh…yeah well for that too. It’s just, I’ve got to go to Diagon Alley anyways. The new Quidditch posters are out for the season,” Scorpius explained.

            Draco rolled his eyes, Mum laughed and I smiled lightly at one of the most important guys in my life. Of course he wouldn’t escort me to appear gallant. Never mind a girlfriend; no one gets in the way of Scorpius Malfoy and a new Puddlemere poster.

            We Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron before splitting up. My brother Hugo sat there with Ron and Ernie, eating lunch and going over sketches (Ernie’s a big-time designer for Madame Malkins). I gave Hugo and Ron hugs, and said “Hello, Mr. MacMillan.” I didn’t see Hugo much now, for he lived with Ron and Ernie.

            Exiting, I meandered towards the ministry, before halting in front of the entrance.

            “Name?”

            “Rose Potter.”

            I think my mum’s the luckiest person in the world. She’s a lovely woman, albeit naïve, and the hand she was dealt won her the jackpot. How she ended up with Draco, I will always remember. She has an amazing husband, a cloned version of herself as a daughter, an aspiring fashionista for a son, a Quidditch-obsessed stepson who’s dating her daughter, and two best friends who each fathered a child with her. She’s the happiest and luckiest woman in all of Wizarding London.

 

 

Comments? Suggestions? Want to read a sequel? Let me know with one of those cute reviews!

 




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