Honest Answers
Title: Honest Answers
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Angst, reflection
Rating: PG
Timeframe: Shortly before the beginning of Deathly Hallows
Characters: Hermione Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Granger
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Thanks to JKR.
Summary: For six years, Hermione has lied to her parents about her time at Hogwarts. A simple question forces her to confront her deception.
Notes: Inspired by a note on a TV Tropes page that, in essence, surmized that Hermione has been lying to her parents about her life at Hogwarts for years before wiping their minds.
~*~
"How was school?"
It was a simple enough question, one that Hermione Granger had dealt with countless times before without any difficulty. Normally she had her stock answers prepared to spin a tale of magical grandeur to reassure her parents that they hadn't made a terrible choice by letting her attend some fanciful school of magical arts. Of course they were nervous, for all they knew she was off in one of those bizarre cults where no one bathed and the days were spent in drug-induced hazes. Being able to give them a summary of her year at Hogwarts was a small way to reassure them that she hadn't been busy doing unsavory things for the last nine months.
She had always been prepared to quell their concerns. Why, then, did it feel as if Hermione's parents had just asked her to summarize War and Peace?
Hermione glanced at her mother and father. Both wore familiar smiles that only did a marginal job of masking the concern that was present. Summer after her first year at Hogwarts she had seen that smile and took it at, literally, face value. Looking back, it was probably a good thing that she had neglected to mention all of the sneaking with the Invisibility Cloak, the three-headed dog, or the run-in with Quirrell. After all, that was just a bump in the road. No reason to expect that she would nearly get herself killed a half-dozen times the following year.
Her parents didn't need to know.
The second-year recap was a good deal tougher, as to be expected when one spends the majority of the school term in a frozen, coma-like state. When her parents asked the question, she responded semi-truthfully. "It went by really fast," Hermione said. They didn't need to know that she had missed an enormous chunk of her classes because she had been singled out and attacked for her non-magical lineage. Her mother and father were already too concerned that her schoolmates were treating her poorly because of it.
Well, some of them were, but her parents didn't need to know.
By third year, Hermione had figured out that there were certain pathways she could take conversations to alleviate the worry her parents felt. She discovered that whenever she talked about Ron or Harry, they seemed to relax. Idly, she suspected it was because they were relieved to learn that she had made friends at Hogwarts. Even if most of her stories revolved around how Harry had gone off and done something foolish or Ron did something that cemented his status as the world's most insufferable git. Her mother always seemed to enjoy those latter stories for some reason. No mention was made that year of the werewolf Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher or the Azkaban prisoner that was her best friend's godfather.
Those issues resolved themselves. For the most part. Her parents didn't need to know.
The fourth year arrived and Cedric died. Harry said it was at the hands of Voldemort, but no one seemed to believe him. Hermione did, however. She knew Harry well enough to know he wouldn't make up such a claim. The Dark Lord had returned. All of the little incidents over the years hadn't been isolated events as Hermione had managed to convince herself. The danger was real, rumbling on the horizon and moving closer with each passing day. She made no mention if it to her mother and father. It was better to talk about anything else, more fights with Ron, more stories about Harry's foolishness. Even the ball she attended with Viktor was preferable conversation.
Dread and worry had begun to creep into the back of Hermione's mind. This was something her parents absolutely shouldn't know.
When fifth year started and even life at Hogwarts had become complicated. Her refuge from the chaos and uncertainty of the outside world was turned upside-down when Umbridge arrived, setting off a chain of events that ultimately culminated with Hermione taking part in self-taught Defense Against the Dark Arts classes that were very much against the rules. Subverting authority in such a blatant manner, what would her parents think of that? It only got worse as the year dragged on. Breaking more rules than her first four years combined, the trip into the Forbidden Forest, Sirius' death at the Ministry, her injury in the fight.
That year her parents asked the question and she responded with a non-answer. "It was fine," Hermione had said tersely, ending the conversation before it had even started and doing her best to hide the limp Dolohov's curse had given her. Eventually they managed to coax more out of her, though she didn't say much other than she had taken her O.W.L.s.
"Are you feeling well, Hermione?" Her father asked.
"Excuse me?" Hermione responded.
"Either you're ill or something's on your mind," her mother said, a bit of that ever-present concern bubbling to the surface. "Did something happen at school?"
Hermione swallowed. That was putting it far too delicately. Truthfully, she still hadn't quite processed everything. Ron's poisoning had shaken her to the core and never before had she felt so guilty in her life. Why had she acted like such a damn fool when he had started to date Lavender? He could have died and her last memories of him would have revolved around her own petty jealousies. Thank Merlin he managed to recover, but even that bit of joy was short lived. She was there when the Death Eaters burst into Hogwarts. She had learned of Voldemort's Horcruxes. She was at Dumbledore's funeral.
"Hermione?" Her father repeated, anxiety edging into his voice. "You're crying."
She reached up to her cheek and found that it was wet. How was she going to explain this one away? Hermione looked at her father and mother once more, but this time they didn't bother to hide their anxiety and fear beneath a smile. She could see their worry. Her mind began to race to try and find something to tell them, something that would change the subject. Go back to Ron and Harry, they always liked to hear about her friends. Her mother would enjoy hearing about Ron in particular.
At that moment, Hermione couldn't bring herself to share anything.
"If something's wrong, you know you can talk to us," Her father said, reaching across the table to place a hand over hers.
It was at that point Hermione crumbled. For six years now she had been hiding the truth from her parents. No, for six years now, she had been lying to her parents. She had gone to such great lengths to paint the rosy image of a fantastical school where she had friends and spent her days doing little more than studying magic. The reality was that her life at Hogwarts wasn't nearly that carefree.
Her parents had trusted her. They could have easily said no, they could have bowed to reason and sent her to a normal Muggle school and raised her like a normal Muggle child, but they let her go to Hogwarts despite their reservations and worries for her safety and future. Her mother and father sent her off believing that she would be able to keep herself out of trouble and find a way to be happy in this strange, new environment. Those were the only stipulations they had given her.
At least she had succeeded on the latter stipulation. For the most part.
Hermione's first instinct was to say that she was fine, that she was just tired or something trite and equally unbelievable. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, guilt washed over her. She couldn't do it anymore, the weight of six years worth of lies finally proved to be too much. Burying her head in her hands, she heaved a shaky sigh and finally told them the truth.
The three-headed dog and Quirrel.
The term she spent frozen in bed.
The werewolf teacher and the escaped prisoner.
Cedric's death and the return of the Dark Lord.
Umbridge, the student army, the death of her best friend's godfather, and the terrifying curse she suffered.
The fight with Ron. The reconciliation with Ron. Another fight with Ron. The confusion about how she felt about Ron.
Dumbledore's death.
A heavy hush fell over the modest little dining room. Hermione didn't expect the reaction her parents gave her. In her mind, she envisioned her parents being sad but ultimately supportive. They would tell her they were glad she had finally been honest with them. Her mother would slide her chair next to her and give her a hug. Her father would squeeze her hand and offer that silent reassurance that only daddies could provide.
Instead her mother sobbed. Her father yelled.
Dully, Hermione realized that she had been right. Her parents didn't need to know. Her parents shouldn't have known. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to make things go back to the way they were, with her parents believing that their little girl was off doing little more than learning magic in a far-away place. She wanted them to think her life was a fairy tale again, but Hermione Granger was a smart girl. She knew that couldn't happen. She couldn't make things go back to the way they were before. All she could do was make them forget.
Forget everything.
Standing, she reached into her pocket and withdrew her wand. Before she could close her eyes, the image of their horrified faces burned into her mind.
"Obliviate," Hermione whispered.
When she opened her eyes again, her parents stared back with confused and bewildered expressions. Somehow, Hermione managed a faint smile and finally managed to give them an honest answer to their question.
"School wasn't very good this year."
Fin
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Angst, reflection
Rating: PG
Timeframe: Shortly before the beginning of Deathly Hallows
Characters: Hermione Granger, Mr. and Mrs. Granger
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Thanks to JKR.
Summary: For six years, Hermione has lied to her parents about her time at Hogwarts. A simple question forces her to confront her deception.
Notes: Inspired by a note on a TV Tropes page that, in essence, surmized that Hermione has been lying to her parents about her life at Hogwarts for years before wiping their minds.
~*~
"How was school?"
It was a simple enough question, one that Hermione Granger had dealt with countless times before without any difficulty. Normally she had her stock answers prepared to spin a tale of magical grandeur to reassure her parents that they hadn't made a terrible choice by letting her attend some fanciful school of magical arts. Of course they were nervous, for all they knew she was off in one of those bizarre cults where no one bathed and the days were spent in drug-induced hazes. Being able to give them a summary of her year at Hogwarts was a small way to reassure them that she hadn't been busy doing unsavory things for the last nine months.
She had always been prepared to quell their concerns. Why, then, did it feel as if Hermione's parents had just asked her to summarize War and Peace?
Hermione glanced at her mother and father. Both wore familiar smiles that only did a marginal job of masking the concern that was present. Summer after her first year at Hogwarts she had seen that smile and took it at, literally, face value. Looking back, it was probably a good thing that she had neglected to mention all of the sneaking with the Invisibility Cloak, the three-headed dog, or the run-in with Quirrell. After all, that was just a bump in the road. No reason to expect that she would nearly get herself killed a half-dozen times the following year.
Her parents didn't need to know.
The second-year recap was a good deal tougher, as to be expected when one spends the majority of the school term in a frozen, coma-like state. When her parents asked the question, she responded semi-truthfully. "It went by really fast," Hermione said. They didn't need to know that she had missed an enormous chunk of her classes because she had been singled out and attacked for her non-magical lineage. Her mother and father were already too concerned that her schoolmates were treating her poorly because of it.
Well, some of them were, but her parents didn't need to know.
By third year, Hermione had figured out that there were certain pathways she could take conversations to alleviate the worry her parents felt. She discovered that whenever she talked about Ron or Harry, they seemed to relax. Idly, she suspected it was because they were relieved to learn that she had made friends at Hogwarts. Even if most of her stories revolved around how Harry had gone off and done something foolish or Ron did something that cemented his status as the world's most insufferable git. Her mother always seemed to enjoy those latter stories for some reason. No mention was made that year of the werewolf Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher or the Azkaban prisoner that was her best friend's godfather.
Those issues resolved themselves. For the most part. Her parents didn't need to know.
The fourth year arrived and Cedric died. Harry said it was at the hands of Voldemort, but no one seemed to believe him. Hermione did, however. She knew Harry well enough to know he wouldn't make up such a claim. The Dark Lord had returned. All of the little incidents over the years hadn't been isolated events as Hermione had managed to convince herself. The danger was real, rumbling on the horizon and moving closer with each passing day. She made no mention if it to her mother and father. It was better to talk about anything else, more fights with Ron, more stories about Harry's foolishness. Even the ball she attended with Viktor was preferable conversation.
Dread and worry had begun to creep into the back of Hermione's mind. This was something her parents absolutely shouldn't know.
When fifth year started and even life at Hogwarts had become complicated. Her refuge from the chaos and uncertainty of the outside world was turned upside-down when Umbridge arrived, setting off a chain of events that ultimately culminated with Hermione taking part in self-taught Defense Against the Dark Arts classes that were very much against the rules. Subverting authority in such a blatant manner, what would her parents think of that? It only got worse as the year dragged on. Breaking more rules than her first four years combined, the trip into the Forbidden Forest, Sirius' death at the Ministry, her injury in the fight.
That year her parents asked the question and she responded with a non-answer. "It was fine," Hermione had said tersely, ending the conversation before it had even started and doing her best to hide the limp Dolohov's curse had given her. Eventually they managed to coax more out of her, though she didn't say much other than she had taken her O.W.L.s.
"Are you feeling well, Hermione?" Her father asked.
"Excuse me?" Hermione responded.
"Either you're ill or something's on your mind," her mother said, a bit of that ever-present concern bubbling to the surface. "Did something happen at school?"
Hermione swallowed. That was putting it far too delicately. Truthfully, she still hadn't quite processed everything. Ron's poisoning had shaken her to the core and never before had she felt so guilty in her life. Why had she acted like such a damn fool when he had started to date Lavender? He could have died and her last memories of him would have revolved around her own petty jealousies. Thank Merlin he managed to recover, but even that bit of joy was short lived. She was there when the Death Eaters burst into Hogwarts. She had learned of Voldemort's Horcruxes. She was at Dumbledore's funeral.
"Hermione?" Her father repeated, anxiety edging into his voice. "You're crying."
She reached up to her cheek and found that it was wet. How was she going to explain this one away? Hermione looked at her father and mother once more, but this time they didn't bother to hide their anxiety and fear beneath a smile. She could see their worry. Her mind began to race to try and find something to tell them, something that would change the subject. Go back to Ron and Harry, they always liked to hear about her friends. Her mother would enjoy hearing about Ron in particular.
At that moment, Hermione couldn't bring herself to share anything.
"If something's wrong, you know you can talk to us," Her father said, reaching across the table to place a hand over hers.
It was at that point Hermione crumbled. For six years now she had been hiding the truth from her parents. No, for six years now, she had been lying to her parents. She had gone to such great lengths to paint the rosy image of a fantastical school where she had friends and spent her days doing little more than studying magic. The reality was that her life at Hogwarts wasn't nearly that carefree.
Her parents had trusted her. They could have easily said no, they could have bowed to reason and sent her to a normal Muggle school and raised her like a normal Muggle child, but they let her go to Hogwarts despite their reservations and worries for her safety and future. Her mother and father sent her off believing that she would be able to keep herself out of trouble and find a way to be happy in this strange, new environment. Those were the only stipulations they had given her.
At least she had succeeded on the latter stipulation. For the most part.
Hermione's first instinct was to say that she was fine, that she was just tired or something trite and equally unbelievable. As soon as she opened her mouth to speak, guilt washed over her. She couldn't do it anymore, the weight of six years worth of lies finally proved to be too much. Burying her head in her hands, she heaved a shaky sigh and finally told them the truth.
The three-headed dog and Quirrel.
The term she spent frozen in bed.
The werewolf teacher and the escaped prisoner.
Cedric's death and the return of the Dark Lord.
Umbridge, the student army, the death of her best friend's godfather, and the terrifying curse she suffered.
The fight with Ron. The reconciliation with Ron. Another fight with Ron. The confusion about how she felt about Ron.
Dumbledore's death.
A heavy hush fell over the modest little dining room. Hermione didn't expect the reaction her parents gave her. In her mind, she envisioned her parents being sad but ultimately supportive. They would tell her they were glad she had finally been honest with them. Her mother would slide her chair next to her and give her a hug. Her father would squeeze her hand and offer that silent reassurance that only daddies could provide.
Instead her mother sobbed. Her father yelled.
Dully, Hermione realized that she had been right. Her parents didn't need to know. Her parents shouldn't have known. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to make things go back to the way they were, with her parents believing that their little girl was off doing little more than learning magic in a far-away place. She wanted them to think her life was a fairy tale again, but Hermione Granger was a smart girl. She knew that couldn't happen. She couldn't make things go back to the way they were before. All she could do was make them forget.
Forget everything.
Standing, she reached into her pocket and withdrew her wand. Before she could close her eyes, the image of their horrified faces burned into her mind.
"Obliviate," Hermione whispered.
When she opened her eyes again, her parents stared back with confused and bewildered expressions. Somehow, Hermione managed a faint smile and finally managed to give them an honest answer to their question.
"School wasn't very good this year."
Fin