The Strain of Growing Up
Hermione struggled to keep up with the barrage of questions Mary slung at her, each one chipping away at the fragile structure of her half-truths. As Mary's questions grew more probing about what (who) the champions had to retrieve at the bottom of the lake, Hermione's desperation peaked. In a bid to divert the conversation, she blurted out a request for help buying new bras.
Mary's eyes lit up with delight at the request, a stark contrast to Hermione's burning cheeks. Despite her embarrassment, Hermione knew it was a small price to pay to avoid revealing she had been Viktor's 'treasure' at the bottom of the lake. Mary switched into what Hermione privately dubbed 'full-mum-mode,' fussing over her with an intensity that felt like a poor imitation of Mrs Weasley.
It was quite challenging for her not to be annoyed at how hard Mary was trying (and failing) to be a doting mother, not to mention the fact that she was basically treating Hermione as if she were ten instead of nearly sixteen. Despite her irritation, Hermione endured the shopping trip, emerging with an excessive number of undergarments. She kept reminding herself that this was still preferable to the alternative.
The mother-daughter pair capped off their shopping adventures with afternoon tea at The Gallery, the restaurant within the historic Swan Hotel. Throughout the meal, Hermione repeated a silent mantra—"She just misses you. She just misses you."—forcing a smile to her lips despite the simmering frustration.
Rationally, Hermione understood why her parents were so eager to spend time with her. They barely saw her outside the summer holidays—and even then, her time was often cut short, like last year with the Quidditch World Cup. Their lives had diverged so drastically, they had almost nothing in common anymore. Yet, understanding didn't make it any less maddening.
Her parents were the kind of people who always approached problems with logical solutions and calm discussions. Hermione couldn't understand why they didn't seem to acknowledge how different their worlds had become. It wasn't a sad or bad thing—just an inevitability. For the first ten years of her life, her parents had been content with the status quo. Now, they seemed to care more about her life than she did.
When Mary and Hermione got home, Bert was already there, making dinner. He eagerly asked for a detailed recount of their day, while Hermione felt her patience fraying with each passing minute. She knew she needed a moment to herself to recollect her patience before dealing with them both. She excused herself to put away her shopping and escaped to her room. She glanced out the window on the off chance an owl would be waiting for her with a letter from Ron or Harry, but the sill was sadly empty.
As Hermione folded the piles of new clothes she knew she'd never wear and put them in her wardrobe, a canvas bag shoved in the corner caught her eye. She immediately recognised it as one of her grandma's knitting bags. Inside was a half-finished sock with really soft blue yarn. Memories of visiting her grandma and 'helping' her knit flooded back, the scent of wool and the rhythmic click of needles vivid in her mind. She highly suspected her grandma would go back and fix everything Hermione did when she wasn't looking, but Hermione knew at least the basics of the craft.
With a deep breath, Hermione plastered on a smile and returned to the kitchen to pretend, yet again, to be the perfect daughter instead of a stranger. Thankfully, the idea of going back to her room and trying to remember how to knit kept her calmer than she ever thought possible, even when Bert started talking about making plans for the Christmas holiday to spend it as a family. She hadn't returned home for the holidays since her second year, and she certainly wasn't planning on it this year.
"Do you know what day you'd be coming home?" Bert asked.
"No, I'm not sure," Hermione said, which, technically, was true. She didn't know when the end of term would be.
"As soon as you find out, you'll let us know, yeah?" Bert continued.
"I will, Dad."
"It will be so nice to spend the holidays with you," Mary said with a smile.