Becoming
Chapter One
by snarkypants
"Hermione," Minerva said, coming into the hall to shake the other woman's hand warmly. "It's good to see you. How are you doing?"
"I'm well, Minerva," Hermione said. She looked well, or at least better than she had when McGonagall had last seen her. Of course, that had been just a week after Ron's death, when she brought the twins back to school to finish out the year. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me during your holiday, at your home no less."
Minerva waved her off with a dismissive gesture. "You are always welcome, child." She gestured towards a comfortable-looking armchair for her visitor, and Hermione sat.
"Would you care for tea?" Hermione nodded, and the headmistress summoned a teacart from the other side of the room, and began pouring.
"How have the children settled in at the Burrow?" she asked, handing Hermione a cup.
Hermione gave a cynical laugh. "They've gone from thinking it would be Christmas with Grandma every day to a more rational appreciation of what it means to live with their widowed grandmother--and their widowed mother, for that matter--in a very old house."
"Oh, dear."
"It's good for them. We spoilt them when we lived in Egypt. We had a cook and help around the house; everything was so inexpensive there." She stirred milk and sugar into her cup with a flick of her wand.
Minerva settled into the twin of Hermione's armchair, stirring her own tea. "Do have a biscuit, dear; I discovered them on holiday in Portugal, and they're delightful."
Hermione accepted a biscuit from the proffered tray. "Thank you. Almond?" She took a bite. "Mmm...Lovely."
Minerva nibbled at her biscuit, and sipped at her tea, waiting for Hermione to open the discussion; they made light conversation, touching on the Grangers' health and Harry and Ginny's most recent travels.
After her cup was empty, Hermione set it aside. "Is your offer of the Arithmancy position still standing?"
"Of course it is; I wasn't planning to pester you about it until August, so I'm glad you're ready to discuss it now." Her eyes glinted with humour over the top of her teacup.
"Either way, I didn't want to leave you in the lurch."
"My dear, I live in the lurch; such is the nature of my position. But thank you anyway."
"I've decided to accept the offer, although I'm worried about Fabian and Blithe. I can't begin to imagine the pressure it will put them under."
"It wouldn't be easy for them to have you as a professor, but I don't think their interests lie in Arithmancy. And, forgive me, but in terms of difficulty it couldn't possibly compare with losing their father." Minerva smiled to take away some of the sting. "I seem to recall you and Mr Weasley and Mr Potter rising to overcome any number of difficulties when you were your children's ages."
"I hope they didn't get into the scrapes the three of us did as second years," Hermione said, chuckling softly.
"Well, neither of them has needed the infirmary beyond the usual bumps, bruises and sniffles. They haven't Polyjuiced themselves into great black cats, at any rate," Minerva said in a wry voice.
"No, they haven't needed to, thank God," Hermione said. "I can't imagine either of them fighting a basilisk, or worse. And to think that our parents knew nothing…I would cheerfully murder the twins if they kept things like that from me."
"That's part of the reason that it's been decades since we've had a professor whose child was in attendance at Hogwarts. It's easy to forget that learning magic is risky business, and that children are more capable of mayhem and courage than a protective parent wants to admit."
Hermione nodded. "It was easier not to worry about them when Ron and I were in Egypt. We both had our jobs, a house to look after; it was rather like a second honeymoon for a while." She examined her cuticles closely. "But after…after Ron died," she said, swallowing, "there wasn't any reason for me to be in Cairo, so far away from family and friends."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "I'm very glad you came back, but I doubt that proximity will make you any less anxious, Hermione."
"Oh, don't worry; I don't intend to live in their pockets. I just wanted them to have access to me if they need me. And I need some sort of occupation, or I'll go mad and set fire to my hair and run screaming through Ottery St Catchpole."
"We can't have that, can we?" Minerva asked. "Or at the very least, wait until Guy Fawkes' Day, and make a good show of it," she added dryly.
"Molly is wonderful, and she's been so supportive, which is part of the problem. I think it would be too easy for me to stay at the Burrow forever, shuffling around in slippers and Ron's old jumpers, waiting for the boys and their wives and children to show up, waiting for Ginny and Harry and their brood to visit. Just waiting." She sniffled suddenly, and looked at the ceiling, blinking furiously.
"I'm sorry, Minerva," she said, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a knuckle. "I'm making a complete and utter hash of this. I should be telling you that 'it's my fondest dream to pass my wisdom to the next generation of witches and wizards,'" she said, mocking herself in a pompous voice.
Minerva laughed then, a great belly laugh that startled Hermione with its volume and force. "I've known you for twenty-five years, Hermione Weasley, and I'd like to see anyone try to prevent you from passing your wisdom."
Hermione acknowledged this with a watery giggle and a nod of her head. "True."
Minerva summoned a notebook and a quill, and sketched out some figures. "This is the beginning salary for a new teacher at Hogwarts; given your advanced studies in Arithmancy under Professor bin Daoud, your post-graduate work for Gringotts, and your Order of Merlin, you are eligible for this additional amount per annum, in addition to room and board during the term and a small stipend for supplies."
Hermione nodded; she appeared neither horrified nor astounded by the figure. "I would prefer to be kept out of consideration for head of house, at least until the twins have left school."
"I was going to suggest it myself; you have rather enough to be getting on with right now."
"Would I be able to move in the week before start of term? I'd like to familiarise myself with the curriculum."
"Certainly; the deputy headmaster will be there that week, although I won't arrive until the Friday before start of term. Mr and Miss Weasley will arrive via Express, though, is that correct?"
"Molly will be happy to put them on the train for me, yes," Hermione said.
"Good; I don't think Severus would appreciate dealing with students before he absolutely must." Minerva grimaced. "And the children won't want to be set apart from their peers any more than necessary." She set the paper and quill aside. "Well, then. Welcome to the staff, Professor Weasley," she said.
"Thank you, Headmistress," Hermione said, shaking Minerva's extended hand.
"I'll owl you the list of suggested texts and supplies for your classes; if you wish to change texts, please submit changes to me before 15 August; that's when the owls will go out to the students." She smiled fondly at her former student. "I'm very glad you'll be at Hogwarts again."
Molly Weasley was assembling cheese sandwiches for her grandchildren, a harassed expression on her face. She smiled wearily as Hermione came through the kitchen door. "Hello, dear; how did it go?"
"Fine; where are the twins? They should be helping you."
"Oh, don't worry about it; Ginny brought her three over earlier, and they've been having a lovely time together."
Fabian and his cousin Jim-James had been inseparable since infancy, which usually meant that Blithe had been drafted to chase toddler Daisy and seven-year-old Arthur around the house. Hermione sighed internally; very likely Blithe would be in a fine temper by this time. It didn't take much to incense Blithe, but her grandmother's casual assumption that she lived for baby-minding ("I did at your age") was especially irritating.
"Where are they?" she asked casually.
"The boys are getting cleaned up, and Blithe is on her broom. Daisy's napping, finally." Molly stacked the last of the sandwiches on a plate. "Did you get the job, then?"
"Yes," she said. Her gaze met Molly's, and they shared a rueful smile; Molly's eyes glazed over with tears, albeit briefly.
"Oh, dear, I'm so happy for you, but…"
"I know," Hermione said, her own eyes growing moist.
"Of course, you have to go; I knew you wouldn't be here forever." Molly patted her daughter-in-law solidly on the arm. "It's been such a joy having you and the twins here; you just as easily could have gone to stay in Surrey with your parents."
"It feels like the end of everything, Molly. The end of Ron and me; I just want to curl up inside it, make it stop, not go anywhere."
Despite the fact that Hermione was several inches taller, somehow Molly put her arms around Hermione's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "Ron wouldn't want that, love."
"I know," Hermione said, dashing a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. "I know he wouldn't; I've got to make my own life for myself now."
"Hermione, you were a good wife to my boy. You made him so happy, and you made it possible for him to do what he loved to do. I wish all my sons were as fortunate in their wiv—" Molly said, and broke off, remembering herself. "You deserve the chance to make yourself as happy as you made Ron. And when someone else comes along—"
Hermione held up her hands. "Oh, Molly, I'm nowhere near ready for that; I'm not even thinking about other men now. I can't."
Blithe was flying pell-mell around the garden, performing terrifying dives and sudden stops fearlessly; of her children, Blithe was the more natural athlete, Hermione thought. Fabian usually played at Quidditch with his cousin, but otherwise preferred using his broom to go somewhere.
"Hullo, sweetheart," Hermione said.
Blithe looked down at her. "Hi, Mum!" she said, waving before hunching down over her broom and zooming around the house. "Oi, Mum, watch this! Uncle Harry said I can almost do the Wronski Feint!"
"Really? That's…great," Hermione said, still as lost over Quidditch moves as she had ever been.
Blithe finished her manoeuvre, and hovered just over her mother's head. "I've just got to shore up that last bit, and it'll be solid."
"Could you land for a bit, love?"
"Why?" Blithe asked suspiciously.
"I've something to tell you."
Blithe sighed and drifted down to the ground, dismounting. "What?"
"I'm going to be teaching at Hogwarts this year."
Blithe screwed up her face. "What will you teach?"
"Arithmancy."
Blithe blew a jet of air to knock her bangs out of her eyes. "Good. As long as it isn't Defence Against the Dark Arts or Divination. I don't want you for my teacher, Mum."
"I taught you when we lived in Egypt."
She snorted. "That was just me and Fabe, and you were very hard on us."
Hermione put her arm around her daughter and patted her back. "You poor, poor thing," she cooed. "It's a wonder that you've recovered."
Blithe rolled her eyes and pulled away. "Gran taught me a new hex today."
"Whatever for?"
"Fabe and Jim-James were being wankers—" Blithe said.
"Language, Blithe," Hermione said, cutting her off.
"Well, they were. They took my broom, and were tossing it around over my head, so I yelled at them that they were stupid bloody wankers, and Gran didn't like me saying that--" she said.
"Neither do I," Hermione muttered.
"—and she said that she'd teach me the hex she taught Ginny, and that Great-Grandmother Prewett taught her, for when the boys were bedevilling them." She smiled maliciously. "The Bat-Bogey Hex!"
Hermione smiled. "I've never learned that one; are you any good?"
She stuck her snub nose in the air. "You'll have to ask Fabian and Jim-James about that, Mum," she said, and giggled.
"That was disgusting, Mum," Fabian said, rubbing his washrag-draped finger inside his ear.
"You should have thought of that before you teased your sister."
"It was Jim-James' idea," he said defensively.
"Sure it was. You missed a spot," she said, pointing to the back of his ear. He scrubbed at it frantically.
"First chance I get I'm using that hex on Blithe."
"You deserved what you got; it's still better than what you would have got from me." She looked narrowly at him. "I'd have locked up your broom."
He grumbled at her.
"Fabian, I took a position at Hogwarts. I'm going to teach Arithmancy."
He nodded crossly. "I'm not taking Arithmancy."
"I know."
"I'm doing Runes instead."
"That's fine," she said.
"And I won't have dinner with you every night. My friends…"
"Darling, you don't have to pay any more attention to me than to any other professor. I won't even check to see you're doing your homework."
He scowled. "Promise?"
Hermione hugged her son; at thirteen, he was as tall as she was, and promised to be taller still by the end of his third year. He was a handsome boy despite his teenaged gawkiness, although she tended to bias where her children were concerned.
"I promise. I do hope you'll come to visit from time to time, or if you need me for anything." He raised his head hopefully. "If you need me for anything besides i money /i , that is." He slumped again, making rumbling noises in his chest.
A/N: There will be very little bosom-heaving or drama-llama-ry here. Instead, I'm trying to portray a romantic relationship based on friendship between adults. I'm also attempting to portray the teenagers as prickly and vulnerable as the real article.
The story is 75 written, and I'll be posting chapters weekly; by the time I get to the last chapters, they'll be all done (that's the plan, anyway!).
Thanks to my flist at LiveJournal for their early encouragement and feedback. I started writing this as a Christmas gift fic for revena, persephoneflame and pinkyheather. Obviously, it's well past Christmas, and not done yet. But soon, my pets...soon...
Extra special thanks to my beta selened, one of the hardest-working betas in fandom. And she writes pretty durn well, too.