Hermione's Grief

Hermione took a step backward, putting her hand on the countertop for balance.

"Mom, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost," Lilith said, rubbing the tabby between its ears.

"Lilith, put the cat down on the floor, don't touch that cat, you don't know where it's been. It could have fleas."

"Why did you say 'Minerva', Mom? It's a nice name, I suppose we could name the cat that, it seems to like it, I could have sworn it nodded."

"No, we will not be keeping this cat, this cat will be leaving NOW!" Hermione pushed the cat with her foot, trying to move it towards the door.

"Mom, don't kick the cat, that's horrible, it's just a cat, don't hurt it," Lilith said, looking upset and puzzled at her mother's frantic behavior.

"No I'm not," said a familiar voice from where the cat had been.

Standing in Hermione's kitchen was none other than Minerva McGonagall, looking the same as she did all those years ago when she had taught Hermione.

Hermione let out a small scream. "Get out of my house now, Minerva. You are not welcome in my home anymore." Hermione said sharply, opening to door in an attempt to throw Minerva out of her house.

"Mom, mom, what the hell happened, that lady, the cat, who is she, what…" Lilith said as she backed away from Minerva, confusion and terror written on her face.

No one answered. Minerva and Hermione were too busy glaring at each other.

"Of all the reactions I thought about when I decided to visit you, my best student ever, I never ever thought I would be met with this level of hostility. Hermione Potter, honestly." Minerva said, looking as if she wanted to follow this statement with points taken off Gryffindor.

"My name is Dr. Hermione Granger. I am a surgeon at Mt. Sinai. I do not ever want to see any of you again in my life, please leave me alone. Whatever you want you aren't going to get it. Just leave and do not ever mention the name Potter to me again."

"Whose Potter? Our last name is Granger." Lilith asked.

"Our last name is Granger, honey. I do not know what this lady is talking about," Hermione responded, still glaring at Minerva.

"Hermione," Minerva said sharply, "honestly, I take it from your untruthful response you haven't told your daughter anything."

"There is nothing to tell."

Minerva sighed. "This is going to be harder than I though, why don't we all have a seat and I'll explain why I came."

"No, there will be no sitting down, no explanations, you will just be leaving," Hermione was nearly shouting, "NOW!"

"What is going on? Who are you? Mom, what haven't you told me?" Lilith said, curiosity winning over her fear of this strange cat-woman.

"Has anyone every told you that you have your father's eyes?" Minerva said, turning to Lilith, "and his hair too, though I see you take more care in combing it than he did."

"Minerva, I will ask one last time, please get out of my house," Hermione moved over to the phone, "if you do not leave now I am calling the police and you can do whatever explaining you want to them."

"Hermione Potter, or Granger, whatever you are calling yourself, put down that phone and sit down at the table," Minerva said, pulling out a seat, "you will listen to what I have to say or you will be in severe trouble with the Ministry."

Hermione let out a soft sob, "Please Minerva, I'm begging you, just leave me and my daughter alone."

"I will be doing nothing of the sort, now sit down before I summon some less caring people to help me," a slight grin appeared on her face, "perhaps you would like Severus to help me explain why I came."

Hermione sat down at the table.

"Lilith, leave us alone and go to your room, do not listen in on our conversation."

"No, Hermione, your daughter needs to hear this too. She cannot live her life in ignorance of what her past is. I cannot believe that you have not told her about Harry."

"Who's Harry?" Lilith asked as she sat down at the table across from her mother who had her head cradled in her hands.

"That's your dad'd name; he was my husband," Hermione said, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Minerva waved her hand, summoning a red silk handkerchief, and handed it to Hermione.

"Is he the one in the photograph in the living room? Next to you and that red haired boy? You know the photo I'm talking about, Mom. The one with you three in those ridiculous robes and hats all dressed up for Halloween."

"I know what photograph you're talking about sweetie, and yes that's him."

"Why haven't you told me about this before?"

"That is a very long, complicated and depressing story. One you do not and will not be hearing tonight."

Minerva cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'd like to explain why I came."

"My apologies, do continue," Hermione said, sounding not very sorry at all.

"Thank you," Minerva said, not put out by the hostility in Hermione's voice, "I'll start at the beginning. After you left our world, Hermione, the fight continued, albeit less successfully than before. Harry's death and your speech at the funeral disheartened many of us. We changed battle tactics. Instead of making many strikes, we planned carefully for a large showdown. We were planning for 8 years. After 8 years, we attacked. The battle that followed was successful; Voldemort was killed. Since then we have been rebuilding our society, beginning with tracking down all remaining Dark Arts practitioners. The Malfoys were all murdered along with scores of others and Knockturn Alley was closed. Finally, we feel that our world is safe enough to re-open the schools, many of which were closed down during the war or turned into safe-houses. Hogwarts itself was turned into the HQ for the Aurors and Enforcers about 7 years ago. Now we are reopening it, but we need staff. Many of our teachers are too old now to teach. Dumbledore has died; I am the new Headmistress. Remus Lupin has agreed to return to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts; Severus Snape will remain the Potions master; Sirius Black will be teaching Transfiguration; Fleur will be teaching Divination, and Neville Longbottom will be teaching Herbology, but will still have many open spots to fill. This is what I have come here to ask you about. Will you accept the position of Charms teacher and Head of Gryffindor House?"

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, sighing. "I don't suppose you came all this way to accept the simple, out-right refusal that I really want to give to you."

Minerva shook her head.

"Then give me time to think about it."

"Take all the time you need, don't worry, the school is not due to open until September."

Hermione stood up from the table and walked down the hall towards her bedroom.

"Okay, what the hell is going on? Would someone care to explain this to me?" Lilith demanded of Minerva.

* * * * *

Hermione sat on the floor of her bedroom, half hidden inside her closet. In front of her was a large black trunk. On the top of it was stenciled a gold dragon above the words "Hermione J. Granger Potter". Thinking about those words brought a fresh wave of tears to Hermione's eyes; she could still remember Ron and Ginny 'fixing' the name on her trunk after they had discovered her and Harry in the broom shed celebrating Gryffindor's victory over Slytherin. She almost smiled as she remembered the looks on their faces when they had opened the door to the broom shed and found her and Harry lying on top of the pile of extra robes making out.

She opened the lid of the trunk and lifted out the hat resting on the top of the pile of books and robes. The hat was black, pointy on the top, circling the brim of the hat was a red silk sash, upon which was pinned a silver Head Girl badge, tarnished with age and dusty with neglect. Putting the hat in her lap, Hermione looked at the next object in her trunk and a lump rose in her throat.

She lifted out the maroon robes and held them to her face. On the back of them, painted in gold lettering, was printed the name 'Potter' above a large 'C'. They were Harry's old Quidditch robes; breathing deeply, Hermione could still smell Harry's sweat on them, but that might have just been her imagination. Burying her face in the heavy material, Hermione started to weep. The memories overpowered her; she had not opened the trunk since the day of his funeral, the memories she had tried so long to suppress flooded back into her memory. Harry, grabbing the Snitch after a long game; Harry, Ron, and her, sneaking around Hogwarts in the dark under the protector of the Invisibility Cloak; Harry, kissing her in the back of the greenhouse.

She had been sitting in her bedroom for about on hour, going through the trunk and thinking about Minerva's offer when she heard the door to her room open quietly.

"I explained everything to your daughter, Hermione," Minerva said, coming to sit on the bed behind Hermione. "I must admit, I thought she would at least know she was a witch." Disapproval of Hermione's decision to conceal the truth from Lilith was blatantly apparent in her voice.

Seeing Hermione's tearstained face and realizing that Hermione had been looking through her old school trunk, Minerva's tone softened. "We were worried about you, Hermione," Minerva said, putting her hands on Hermione's shoulders, "even Severus was concerned, as difficult as that might be to believe."

"Wh, wh, why?" Hermione asked. "I was living a fine life, if not the happiest one. Harry's dead, Minerva, what do I have to return for?"

"Everything, everything you ever fought for, everything Harry died for."

"No, you don't get it, Minerva! Everything I fought for died with Harry, including most of me." Hermione put Harry's robes back into her trunk. "You don't know how hard it was for me to go on, to keep living after his death. Every day I battled with the idea of suicide, every day I was alive was a victory. Every moment I lived I wondered what I was living for, and you know what? I never found out. I have been living the past 11 years hoping I could move on and forget the past; I never could, but I found I could live with it. I haven't contemplated suicide in nearly 3 years, Minerva, and now you come back, asking me to return? Why, Minerva, why? I haven't done magic in 11 years, surely there must be someone better qualified for the job."

Minerva sighed into her hands.

"Yes Hermione, you're right, there are better people qualified for the job; many people have applied, and yet I still came to offer it to you. Do you know why? Because you are the best student I have ever had, hands down. No one at Hogwarts could bear to think of you living as a Muggle, wasting your talents, and wasting your life. Yes, Harry is dead, but living as a Muggle isn't going to make that pain go away. Yes, you will mourn for Harry for the rest of your life; you two were in love, more than anyone two people I have ever seen in my life. But don't you want to make your memories of the wizarding world end happily, don't you want to be able to die knowing you have not been living in denial?"

Hermione sat down on the top of her school trunk and rubbed her eyes to clear her vision. They sat together in silence for nearly an hour. After an hour of silence Hermione stood up and opened her trunk. She bent down and took out her school hat, putting it on her head.

She turned to Minerva. "I'll accept the job, but only if you agree to call me Professor Potter, seeing as that is still my legal name, though I chose not to use it in everyday life"

Minerva turned to her best student, smiling broadly. Grasping her in a bone-crushing hug she said, "Welcome home, Hermione, welcome home."