A Lion's Heart

The door swung slowly on its hinges, eliciting a soft groan. Lightly, bare feet stepped onto the porch, and though Hermione tried to look up for a good morning smile, her body still felt like a dead weight. Even her eyes did not lift from the spot on the floor where they were focused.

"Are you all right?"

At the soft-spoken words, the woman's spirits raised a little. She looked up and put on a small smile. "Fine."

"Why is this fountain thing here?"

Remember the exact reason, Hermione's insides grew heavy again. The bare feet moved across the porch, and moments later, the swing creaked as the other sat. A few more seconds of silence passed.

"Mum?" A small hand moved to rest gently on her knee.

"There...was an owl," Hermione murmured, looking to the sky as if expecting to see it above the tree line.

"For...Dad?"

Those words, though hardly voiced, captured the woman's entire attention. Hermione's head snapped up to meeting searching eyes.

"No," she said simply, dropping her gaze. A long pause. "You-" She hesitated. "You remembered?"

"Well I wrote it on my calendar just in case, but I can't ever forget - even when I think I want to."

"Oh Jaina." Hermione lovingly wrapped her arms around her daughter. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you a long time ago... when did you figure it out?"

Jaina smiled wryly. "I heard Uncle Ron say something to you when I was six, but I think I'd know there was something about today anyway. We always do something special... something magic. We talk about magic all the time, and we have lots of books on magic, but we never actually go into the magic world except for one day... and you always cry at least once when you think I'm not watching."

"I do not," Hermione argued as her eyes watered.

"You cried a lot at Uncle Ron's house," the girl pointed out. "And the next year, you cried about every time uncle Remus said my name. When I was eight, we went to that unicorn preserve, and you cried when we pet one."

"Nine?"

"We rented a broom for the day to go flying, and you cried the first time you touched it. Last year, we took a tour of the Ministry, and I heard you sniffle when you flushed your toilet, and you used the toilet about three times an hour."

"I guess I should give you more credit," the woman allowed, kissing the top of her daughter's head.

They sat quietly a few minutes more, not pulling apart despite the temperature, growing ever more intense as the morning aged. Hermione was having a heated internal debate that her daughter could not see, but before she could stop herself she blurted, "Do you ever miss him?"

Jaina pulled out of the embrace, surprised at the abruptness of the question. She turned around, leaning against the other arm of the swing and looking at her mother. "I... don't know," she replied sincerely. "It's hard to miss someone you've never met. Sometimes I think about him, but I've never even seen his picture. It's almost like he never even existed, and yet, I see how much you miss him, and I imagine how life would be if he were here and we were a family." She sighed. "I've never had a dad, so it's not weird to not have one, but sometimes I feel empty... like something's missing."

The woman stared intently at her daughter. "I'm sorry, Jaina, that... that I've never talked about him and that the picture albums are hidden. Some days, it's so hard to believe that he's gone... so hard to not give up. Today, especially. I haven't kept you from the wizarding world for your benefit, but for mine. It's hard to see friends and family and people that loved your dad, hard to see them going on with life when I still feel like it's been minutes since I found out..."

Jaina took a few deep breaths, willing herself to ask the question she'd been dying to know the answer to for eleven years. "How... how..." She took another gulp of air. "How?" She could not break the gaze between herself and her mother, try as she might. Jaina was at once desperate for and terrified of the reply.

"No one knows, not for sure... It was August, nearly eleven years ago; we'd spent the past two years working as Aurors for the ministry, tracking the last of the Death Eaters after Voldemort's final defeat. There were only a handful left, and conveniently, they were all in the same place. We tracked them down and infiltrated the safe house... They sent out decoys to weaken us..." Hermione paused, fighting her better judgement in order to continue reliving the painful memory for her daughter who was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Then, just when we thought we'd won, Lucius Malfoy..." She shuddered. "He rose up off the ground. He tried to kill me, but Harry got me out of the way. Just in time, he put up a shield around us... the other wizards began their attack... they were some of the strongest. Voldemort's greatest, the last. Your dad told me to run... he - he knew what to do. I left."

She stopped, letting Jaina take in her words. After what felt like an eternity, the girl tentatively asked, "Then what?"

"I don't know. There was some kind of explosion. The best the ministry could come up with was that it was a combination of complex and powerful spells. They managed to destroy the magic surrounding the house, and disapparated. Most likely, the spells destroyed the shield and either instantly killed or seriously injured your dad, and when it all blew up..."

Jaina closed her eyes, the actual tale somehow far worse than anything she'd ever imagined. "Sometime... could I see where he's buried?"

"He's not... They never found him, not a trace. He was wearing my wedding ring on a chain, and they didn't even find slivers of gold in the rubble. The entire house was a pile of ash that could fit in a teacup... Sometimes I think it would be easier, if I'd seen his body, if he were buried. I manage to convince myself he's not gone... but he is. He is."

"Thanks..." the girl whispered, "for telling me."

Hermione grimaced. "I should have told you a long time ago. When I found out I was pregnant with you, I promised you that you wouldn't have to grow up like your dad did, never knowing anything about his family... and then I did it to you anyway. I promise, from now on, whatever you want to know, just ask. Or if I think of something, I'll tell you about it. I'll even pull out the photo albums when we get back."

"Back?" Jaina gaped for a moment. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten. Where are we off to today?"

"We're going to watch your dad's Quidditch team play. Hurry up and put on a robe and some shoes; I've got a portkey in the kitchen."

The girl rose, kissed her mum on the cheek, and entered the house. She could no longer contain her excitement at seeing her first-ever Quidditch game. Breaking into a huge grin, she dashed through the entryway, up the flight of stairs, and down the hall to her room. Jaina slid on her favorite pair of sandals and slipped a light blue robe on over her clothes. After a moment of thought, she pulled her much-read copy of Quidditch Through the Ages off the bookshelf. She turned to go back downstairs, but paused for a moment, wondering. The young girl felt like nothing had really changed on this extraordinary morning, but even as she pulled her door shut behind her, Jaina knew that somehow, nothing would ever be the same.