The Luckiest Woman

"Bed," she said sternly to her eldest son, herding him into his bed. "I know you're excited, but you've got to get some sleep."

"What if the Hat doesn't even put me in a House?" little Hugo Weasley asked tearfully, letting his mother pull the sheets up to his chin. "What if I just sit there waiting and waiting and they have to tell me to go home?"

Hermione Weasley smiled kindly down at him, stroking his freckled face gently. She ran her fingers lovingly through his unruly red hair and sighed. "Don't you worry about that," she said softly. "Everyone gets Sorted. Now just lie down and close your eyes, okay?"

The boy wasn't mollified, but he obeyed, scooting his skinny self down flat on his back. He stared up at the ceiling with worried hazel eyes. "What if I don't make any friends there? What if I'm an outcast?"

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips on his forehead. "You will make plenty of friends," she said. "And you'll have James, remember? Now stop worrying, Love. It will be alright."

She gave him another kiss and rose, heading for the door. Hugo fidgeted under the sheets momentarily before he called out yet another worry to his mother.

"What if I'm behind in all my classes?" he squeaked, his eyes wide. "What if I'm really stupid and all of my teachers hate me?"

This time, Hermione laughed, causing Hugo to cry out in indignation. "Sweetheart, you need to stop worrying and go to sleep. You are an intelligent boy, and I'm sure the teachers will love you." She paused, thoughtfully. "At least, they will if you work hard and you don't goof off like your father did. You already know Neville. And Hagrid will be there as well. Now, go to sleep. I love you."

Hugo shifted to lie on his side. "I love you too," he muttered grudgingly. He shut his eyes, the thoughts and worries still swimming through his mind.

Hermione watched him for a few moments before she extinguished the lights with one flick of her wand and closed the door. She sighed, remembering that she had once had the very same fears as her son. Coming from a Muggle family, she feared that she would fail compared to all of the kids who had grown up in a wizard home. She smiled to herself. She turned out just fine, and so would Hugo. As long as he made an effort, he would have the time of his life at Hogwarts.

She strolled down the hallway and was headed for the stairs when she noticed that a light was still on in her daughter's bedroom. She sighed once more, this time in amused exasperation, knowing what she would find on the other side of the door. Sure enough, when she opened the door, her youngest child sat cross legged on her bed, her nose deep in a book. Hermione looked closer and saw that she had stolen her brother's school book, Hogwarts, a History, a new mandatory read for students.

Hermione's heart swelled with affection. Laughing to herself, she approached her daughter, gently taking the book out of her hands. "Bed," she said softly. "I told you that about half an hour ago."

She let out an enormous sigh of inconvenience, a great achievement for a girl so tiny, and crawled under her own bedcovers. She wiggled her toes impatiently, watching her mother thoughtfully.

Hermione looked at her daughter, reminded immensely of herself. While she resembled her father with her red hair and millions of freckles, she had inherited her mother's bushy hair, her somewhat large front teeth, her chocolate-covered eyes, and her adorable baby fat around the cheeks.

"Mum, I've been thinking," she said in a high, squeaky, yet business-like tone, lying her head down onto her pillow. "I think I should be allowed to go to Hogwarts this year."

Hermione busied herself smoothing out the sheets, smiling to herself. "And why do you think that? You only have to wait one more year."

"Mum," Rosie said seriously. "The average age of witches and wizards when they start to show magical ability is around seven years, right?" Her mother gave a murmur of affirmation. "And I had my first incident when I was five, right?" Again, Hermione confirmed this. "Well, then I'll be two years behind my potential if I put off my schooling another year," she finished, her face looking very self-satisfied.

"It doesn't work that way, Rosie, darling," Hermione said, kissing her daughter's cheek.

"Well, it should," Rosie said, her tone filled with disappointment. "I don't want to wait a whole year. I want to go with Hugo."

"Depend on Rosie to be an overachiever like her mother," a deep voice filled with laughter said. The girls looked around to find Ron leaning against the doorway, his arms folded. He had a wide grin on his face.

"Daddy!" Rosie said delightedly. Ron walked over and wrapped his little girl in his arms, kissing her all over her cheeks. His daughter squealed and giggled in delight, protesting as he began to tickle her. "Daddy, stop!"

Ron set her back down under her covers and kissed her once more. "Bed," he said. "I promise to talk to Headmaster Tillman and see if she's willing to let you in a year earlier, okay?"

Rosie contemplated this offer for a moment, eyeing her father suspiciously. At least, she nodded, and sunk her head into her pillow again. "Fine. But, even if she says no, I'll just teach myself how to Apparate and get to Hogwarts myself."

"You can't Apparate inside or outside of Hogwarts," Ron said at once. "Clearly you haven't finished that book yet." He grinned at his wife, who rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"Yes, because you've read it a hundred times," she said sarcastically, picking up the book.

"Hey!" Rosie cried in protest. "I want to read that!"

"I'll get you your own copy," Hermione promised. "But this has to go with Hugo's things. He needs it for school. It just figures that after we leave, this book becomes a required read."

Ron and Hermione both tucked their daughter in and said goodnight, putting out the light and shutting the door behind them. Once they had reached their bedroom, Hermione reached up and kissed her husband full on the mouth. He was caught by surprise at this surge of affection, but he held her tight and returned the favor with matching eagerness. They stayed like that for a while, until Hermione pulled away, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Wow, that's a greeting a man can get used to," Ron teased, holding her around the hips, her arms splayed out on his chest. He saw the tears and asked questioningly, "What's wrong?"

"Why were you gone so long?" she asked, watching him.

"Today was crazy," he replied. "The shop ran out of the Snackboxes. You know with the rush of back to school, all kids are itching to get their hands on them. Then, Harry called me in to the office to go over a few files. Seems Mundungus created some sort of diversion about a bunch of Dark wizards to cover up his smuggling operation." He paused. "But, I have a feeling that my coming home later than usual isn't the problem."

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione said. Ron gave her a disbelieving grunt. "No really. I just...I was listening to Hugo. I remember being that nervous, and then it struck me that...that he's going off to school."

Ron laughed. "Well, what's such a surprise in that?"

"Nothing, really," she answered. "It's just that after I went to Hogwarts, I felt disconnected from my parents and that world. I just hope that..."

"Hey, come here," Ron said, holding her close. "They aren't going to forget you or abandon you because of school. Look how close I am with my family. They're going to be fine. Just fine. You've taught them how." He stroked her hair gently for a while. Soon, they broke apart. "Now, let's get to bed," Ron yawned, stretching his arms wide. "We've got to go to King's Cross, then drop Rosie off at Mum's, and then you have to go save the House Elf community. I'm tired thinking about it."

Hermione giggled, shaking her head. He was crazy, but he was hers. As they climbed into bed, kissing each other goodnight, Hermione felt significance in his presence next to her. And she found that she was the luckiest woman in the world. They had been through so much together, but they were moving on. As long as they had each other, she knew that one day, time would heal their scars.