To Brew A Scandal by stars_in_motion

Chapter 7

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @stars_in_motion ON A03!!

Arranging her first portkey in the newly reorganised Ministry of Magic made Hermione burn with excitement. It took considerable effort not to run through the Ministry corridors, but she knew that anyone watching Hermione Granger of all people running would incite a mass panic. Though she was not entirely sure where her parents had settled in Australia, she had hoped she would figure it out rather quickly after arrival. The next day, a single chipped, spare button transported her to Sydney, where she began her search.

At a local post, Hermione's hand idled over the letter. She wondered for half a moment if she knew what Mr. Crookshanks' first name was. Deciding that it did not matter, and praying for magic to be on her side, she paid the postmaster a sickle and sent the owl flying off from the station.

A few days after receiving an excited reply from a Mr. Norris, Hermione arrived promptly at her parents' new home in a quiet section of the city. She stared at the door for what felt like ages before reaching up to knock. Before her hand could touch the wood, the door swung open to an aging ginger butler, whose moustache had grown more grey than the flaming red her memory could recall.

"Welcome back, my lady," Mr. Crookshanks greeted her with profound heaviness in his voice. After a stunning few moments, Hermione threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

"It is good to see you, Crookshanks," Hermione whispered. He hugged her back tightly. "I can never repay you for watching over them."

"I read the Daily Prophet every day, my lady. I thought of you every day and hoped for your safety."

"Thank you." After they parted, Hermione glanced quickly over his shoulders. "Do they happen to be home? As you can imagine, I am eager to bring back their memories."

Mr. Crookshanks seemed to hesitate for a moment, which concerned her, as Mr. Crookshanks was not a hesitating sort of man. "Perhaps I should bring your father here? So that you may fix his memory first?"

The cautionary tone in his voice caused a balloon of dread she was so very familiar with from the war to expand behind her ribs. "All right. If you believe that is best. What of my mother?"

"She is here," Mr. Crookshanks clarified quickly, before amending, "but, I believe you must first speak with your father."

For the first time in her life, after fixing his memories, Hermione watched as her father cried and embraced her tightly.

Then, she watched him cry again as he described her mother's condition.

She cried too.

Walking into her mother's room was a daze. Hermione sat beside the bed as her mother slept in the middle of the day. The hollows of her cheeks had grown deeper. Her hair, once perfectly refined and shiny, looked to be breaking apart. Though she wished more than anything to hold her hands, to touch them and to hug her, she looked so very fragile. As though a tight hug could break her into a million pieces.

Hermione lightly tapped her wand to her sleeping mother's temple. Later on, when her mother woke, she smiled up at her.

"Oh, Hermione," her mother whispered. Despite her voice sounding hoarse, it sounded the same way it always did, even though it didn't really. Not at all. "How I've missed you."

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione came back from her year of mourning like frantically swimming to the surface for air. When she returned to London with her father and Mr. Crookshanks in tow, well over a year had passed since her first arrival in Australia. It seemed as though the wizarding world had moved on from the war much faster than she expected. It was a relief to witness a huge revival after the war, even if Hermione had missed her chance to participate.