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Assistant: Title: Aparecium
        Author: LadyKenz347 LadyKenz347 
        Chapter: 1/14 
        Summary: Hermione Granger has been away from London for six and a half years. When she returns, her son in tow, she runs into the one person she was hellbent on avoiding.
        Contents: Chapter 1
    

    


  

  
  
    
    
  
    AUTHOR NOTE: 
  

  
    This story is a rewrite of one of my very first fanfics! I’m working through the chapters and find myself incapable of not posting it seems. You guys keep me accountable in updating this every few days, yeah? 
  
 
  
    This is unbeta’d but has been lovingly read by MCal!
  
 
  
  

  Hermione stood on the landing of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, with her face tilted, greeting the rain misting from above. It’d been years since she stood on this stoop; back then she’d been brimming with hope for the future, she’d been strong. 
 
  Now?
 
   Well, now there was an hardness in her, a bitterness that the years had left lingering in her. 
 
  Bursts of nervous energy inched down her arms, manifesting in an endless twitch in her fingers. Two weeks. That was all, and then she’d be back to New York, London once again behind her.
 
  “Mummy...” A small, impatient voice whined from next to her, its owner still gripping her hand as he shifted on his feet back and forth. 
 
  Staring down at her child, she chuckled at the mess of chestnut curls on his head and ran a hand his hair. She 
  
    needed
  
   the spell to hold, needed him to control his magic for the next few hours. 
 
  Offering a final silent prayer up to the heavens, Hermione smiled tightly at her son and nodded. “Sorry, love. Let’s go.” 
 
  Before she’d even taken her finger off the doorbell the front door flung open. 
 
  “I was wondering how long you were going to lurk on my doorstep.” His wide, disarming smile had always the uncanny ability to  cut through her nerves and for the first time in long time, she felt at home.
 
  He’d grown up in the six years since she left London; his hair was still messy, but in a more intentional type of way and his glasses were forever smudged and crooked, but his frame had filled and he had a thick covering of a beard on his jaw.  
 
   She gave him a crooked smile. “And just how did you know I was out there?”
 
  “I’m an 
  
    Auror, 
  
  Hermione,” he deadpanned. “Since when did you start making a habit of standing in the rain outside of people’s houses?”
 
  “I needed a moment.” She smiled weakly, eyes travelling to the walls and it’s many accoutrements. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve been back to Grimmauld Place.” She shook her head, scattering the memories that were pushing forward and turned to her son. “Harry Potter, meet Liam Granger.” 
 
  “Hello, Mister Granger. I’ve heard alot about you!”
 
  “I’ve heard very little about you,” Liam replied easily. 
 
  “Oh, well—” A strange, nervous chuckle rippled from Harry and his cheeks stained a light pink. “Well, that’s a first!” Harry clapped his hands together and gave the pair of them an awkward raise of his brows. “Not one that I mind, if I do say so myself.”
 
  To Hermione’s supreme horror, Liam snorted softly. Reaching down she gave him a light pinch on the arm and fixed him with a pointed stare. She was too often mortified at his no nonsense approach to human interaction, it 
  
    certainly
  
   wasn’t a trait he got from her.
 
  “Can I go read?” Liam dismissed the situation with Harry and peered up his mother with bored eyes.
 
  Sighing, Hermione waved him off. “Yes, fine. Just for a minute.” Turning back to her friend, she mouthed a silent apology before wrapping her friend in a warm hug. “It’s good to see you, Harry.” 
 
  “Yeah, maybe don’t let it take four years next time, eh?” Harry smirked and jerked his head in the direction of his sitting room where Liam was now perched with a book open in his lap. “Leave it to Hermione Granger’s son to be reading multi-chaptered books by six. Albus can’t sit still long enough to hear a joke.”
 
  Hermione gave him a playful poke to the ribs. “Where’re the boys?”
 
  “Upstairs. I had no idea how long you were planning to stand in the rain brooding.” Harry gave her a nudge and called towards the stairs, “
  
    BOYS
  
  ! Come on down! Aunt Hermione is here!” 
 
  Looking over her shoulder, Hermione couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. Her son was sitting at Grimmauld Place. 
 
  There had been many times when Hermione thought this day would never come, now that it had, it felt almost... 
  
    anticlimactic. 
  
  In so many ways, he was just like her, ever serious and brutally honest. He grew up in her lap with a book in their hands and a strong sense of his morality.
 
   Raising him had been mostly easy. He was quiet, never one to cause unwarranted mischief, even if his dry wit often gave her a headache.
 
  “Are you staying at the house, then?” Harry asked, shattering her reverie. 
 
  “No.” Shaking her head, she tried her best for a smile. The atmosphere surrounding her parents was still painful, even all these years later. “No, we’re at a hotel in London.” 
 
  A thunderous noise interrupted her thoughts as two young boys barrelled down the stairs and stopped abruptly in front of her. 
 
  “
  
    James Potter
  
  ! Is that you?!” she blurted out, eyes wide. 
 
  “Hey, Aunt Hermione.” James blushed; he was the spitting image of Harry, all messy black hair and green eyes. His glasses were square, more modern, and he wasn’t quite as tall, but still, it took Hermione’s breath away to see the young man before her. Like meeting her dear friend all over again. 
 
  “Hullo!” An even smaller version of Harry piped up from behind his brother, although this one had fiery red hair. “I’m Albus! Mummy says you are bringing me a friend.”
 
  “Hello, Albus, it’s nice to meet you.” Hermione smiled at the pair of them. “Liam, come say hello!” 
 
  “
  
    Muuuuuum
  
  !” 
 
  Her jaw snapped shut, teeth gritting as her eyes rounded. 
  
    “Liam!” 
  
 
  A loud, exasperated sigh, followed by begrudging feet being dragged along the floor announced her son’s reluctant arrival. 
 
  “Hello.” Chin tilted and lips pursed, Liam’s gaze dripped down the tip of his nose even though he was the smallest person in the room. Arrogance and aristocracy ran thick in his blood. “Can I go back to my book now?”
 
  “No.” She’d implored him to be on his best behavior for tonight, and as the minutes wore on she became more and more terrified this might be the best he could do. “Don’t you want to play with Albus?” 
 
  “
  
    Play?” 
  
  He balked, mouth puckering around the word as if it was contaminated. Hermione gave him a wide eyed silent warning, and he grumbled to himself and tucked his book under his arm. 
 
  “D’ya wanna see my new broom? S’not a big boy broom. Mum says no, but Dad said yes. Maybe for Christmas… ” Albus looked hopeful, rocking up on his toes.
 
  Liam sighed, rolling his eyes. “If I say no I’ll get in trouble.”
 
  “
  
    Liam
  
  !” Hermione hissed again, her cheeks turning a heated crimson. His name was a constant chastisement.
 
  Full of faux contrition her son looked up with round eyes, his lips in a small shocked circle.  He made this face whenever he was being reprimanded, as if he could trick her into thinking his rudeness was an accident. Affronted, he mouthed a silent, ‘
  
    What?’
  
   
 
  Hermione raised a warning brow at him.
 
  Groaning, her son followed Albus, who was positively skipping up the stairs. Moving as if his shoes were filled with concrete, Liam turned to give one final woeful look over his shoulder back at his mother. 
 
  Chuckling to herself, Hermione waved him off, reveling in her son’s discomfort when forced to interact with other children.
 
  “Keep an eye on them, will ya?” Harry clapped a hand on James’ shoulder and gave him a wink. Nodding, the eldest Potter child jogged up the stairs. 
 
  “Drink, Hermione? Ginny should be here any minute.”
 
  “Wine, please,” she said, absently meandering through the sitting room. It’d been beautifully redecorated since their time here during the war. Deep rich gem toned upholstery and dark wood furniture. She could only just recall where the hostile portraits had hung or where the piano had sat in the corner.
 
  Harry returned, two drinks in hand and motioned for her to sit on the large sofa next to the fireplace as he fell into the seat across from her. 
 
  “The house looks great, Harry. I barely recognize it, honestly.” 
 
  “That was kind of the point.” Harry chuckled to himself. “I wish I could take credit for any of it, but it was all Gin. I’m happy I kept it, I feel like Sirius would be proud of how it turned out.”
 
  A beat of silence followed, guilt twisting at her insides as she thought of her childhood home and her reason for returning to London at all. Hermione began drinking her wine too quickly, a nervous habit just for something to do with her hands and she could nearly hear the gears grinding loudly in Harry’s head. That, matched with the incessant sound of his finger tapping against the leather of his armchair, was setting her teeth on edge.
 
  A loud sigh pushed past his lips and Hermoine braced herself. “I know you’ve told me you don’t want to talk about it…”
 
  “
  
    Harry
  
  …” 
 
  “Hermione, you up and leave—out of nowhere. Then almost a year later, an owl arrives telling us you had a son.” Impatient questions began tumbling out of his mouth so quickly he seemed almost out of breath. “I need to know what happened. Why’d you leave? Who’s the father? Is it someone from London? From the states?”
 
  “Harry… you don’t 
  
    need
  
   to know those things. You 
  
    want
  
   to know. That’s a very big difference.” Some things needed to stay hers; her exodus from London and Liam were two of those things. 
 
  Harry huffed, a petulant little noise that meant he didn’t get his way and Hermione changed the subject. “Heard from Ron lately?” 
 
  “Hardly. Big shot hardly has time to see his own family, the t@ss@r.” 
 
  “He’s your best friend, Harry,” she chided. 
 
  
    “Is he?
  
   He cheated on my other best friend, sold all of our stories for profit, and now travels around visiting every pub in Europe, reminiscing about the golden days, peddling books that were basically written by Rita Skeeter. With friends like that…” He clucked his tongue and took a long swig of Firewhisky. 
 
  “You know,” Hermione began thoughtfully, staring at the dew forming on her glass, “even after everything, I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He’s just so… so lost. Maybe he always was.” She looked up at him again, her eyes misting. “You’re a hard act to follow, Mr. Potter, even I can attest to that.” She tipped her wine glass at him, and then followed him in a too-long drink. 
 
  The Floo roared to life and Ginny strode through, decked out in her Quidditch jersey and fumbling with her hold all and broom. 
 
  “Sh@t, 
  
    sorry-sorry-sorry
  
  ! I know, I’m late!” She dropped her gear by the door and leaned over to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Hermione! Merlin, you’re a sight for sore eyes if I ever saw one.  We’ve missed you!” 
 
  Rising to her feet, the witches wrapped their arms around each other. “Missed you too, Ginny! The boys are just dashing. I can’t believe after everything you’re still stuck in a house of boys!”
 
  “Ah, I’m still holding out for a girl, just have to get this old grump on board.” She crooked a thumb in Harry’s direction. “Let me change out of this disgusting uniform and I’ll get dinner heated up.” After kissing Hermione quickly on the cheek,  Ginny hurried up the stairs. 
 
  Harry’s gaze followed his wife before turning back to Hermione. “So, what’s on your agenda the next couple weeks? Any big plans?” 
 
  Her shoulders lifted in a sad shrug. “Just cleaning out the house and getting it up for sale. I’ve been in touch with the estate agent. The market is doing well; hopefully won’t take too long.”
 
  “You doing okay with it?”
 
  Inhaling sharply, Hermione thought about it for a moment. She wasn’t. There had always been a part of her that hoped her parent’s memories would return, but year after year, disappointing healer after disappointing healer, her hope had diminished until she realized it was finally time to say goodbye.
 
  “It’s what needs to happen. Having the property and taking care of the taxes these last few years has been hard, and
  —
  ” she paused, a tired breath pushing past her lips, “my parents aren’t coming back.” 
 
  “
  
    You
  
   could always come back. I bet Liam would love it and you know we’d love to have you close.”
 
  Tears pricked the back of her eyes and her ribs pressed in on her lungs until she couldn’t 
  
    breathe.
  
   “I can’t.” There was no air of indecision in her voice, this was how it had to be.  “I’m planning on being here two weeks, max. MUNY needs me back as soon as I can, the whole department will probably be in shambles —”
 
  “Tell me what the hell that stands for again? I’m having horrible flashbacks to spew.”
 
  “It’s S.P.E.W, first of all.” Hermione shot a warning glare at him. “And second, it’s the Magical University of New York; I work in the Magical History Department.”
 
  “Right. Knew that.” 
 
  “
  
    Right
  
  .” She rolled her eyes and laughed.
 
  A moment later Ginny hollered for help, and they made their way into the kitchen. It was an exceedingly good sign that Liam had not snuck away from the Potter boys yet. He wasn’t 
  
    exactly
  
   a social butterfly and the longer he stayed in the company of kids his age, the better. The guilt that lingered at Liam’s loss of childhood was an ever present current in her life. 
 
  They began busying themselves around the kitchen and Hermione barely noticed the sound of the Floo roaring to life in the foyer. 
 
  “Expecting someone?” Ginny turned to Harry and he shrugged his shoulders, craning his head around the corner. 
 
  
    “Potter! 
  
  Bl@@dy hell, don’t you answer your interdepartmental memos? It says URGENT for a reason.” 
 
  The blood in her veins ran cold at the sound of the approaching voice. Tight and aristocratic, a long drawl and an edge of disdain. Ceramic shards of the plate that had been in her hands bounced off the tile floor as Hermione stood frozen.
 
  With a grimace, Harry rushed around the corner. “Malfoy, it’s not a good night…”
 
  “It’s always a good night where I’m concerned. Where’s Gin? I’m starved—had to skip lunch.” 
 
  The sound of blood 
  
    whooshing
  
   in her ear’s drowned out everything and she vaguely made out Ginny fussing over her, checking her for cuts and other signs of distress. The footsteps neared and Hermione braced her hands on the counter behind her.
 
  Draco Malfoy strode comfortably into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when their gazes locked. 
  
    “Granger?”
  
   His brows furrowed for a moment and Hermione felt ridden with panic. She wanted to run, wanted to scoop Liam in her arms and flee Grimmauld Place, and London, for the last time.
 
  Shallow puffs of hair worked its way through her too tight throat and the edges of her vision turned blurry.
 
  Draco Malfoy hadn’t changed all that much in six and a half years. He was still tall, still blond, still agonizingly beautiful. He still had the arrogant smirk twisting up his face and his too-familiar silver eyes were currently burning holes into her skull. 
 
  “Sorry.” Hermione gulped, blinking herself back into the moment.
 
  “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Ginny laughed nervously, her eyes flitting between Hermione and Draco.
 
  Eyes fluttering towards her friend, Hermione’s lips lilted in a barely there smile. “Maybe I have. London always was full of them.”
 
  The floorboards creaked overhead and a desperate need to escape flooded her body. 
 
  Malfoy seemed to leave his shocked trance, and glided across the room.“Hey Gin.” She offered her cheek and he kissed it quickly. “Sorry to drop in on you like this.”
 
  Ginny gave him a flat stare, “No, you’re not.”
 
  “Nope. I’m not.” He grinned back at her and plucked a slice of bread from the counter, dodging her wild slaps.
 
  A soft wind could knock Hermione on her @rs@ right about now. “
  
    What in the f@ck is going on right now
  
  ? Have I been drugged?” Hermione started violently patting down her body, trying to ground herself that this wasn’t a twisted dream. Maybe she would find an arm or something sprouting from her middle, giving her a clue that this was an extreme hallucination. 
 
  “Erm, Hermione. Don’t freak out… you always freak out.” Harry sighed. “Well, Malfoy and I have been working together. He’s the contact I was telling you about, if you can believe it. He’s actually been working with the Auror office for… what is it? Six years?”
 
  “Six and a half.” Malfoy swallowed a hunk of bread, his narrowed eyes never leaving Hermione.
 
  “And you—you didn’t think to mention it?” She balked incredulously at her friend. “And he’s in your house? Kissing your wife? And all is well? Nothing at all strange to see here.” Her voice climbed, nearing impossibly high pitches and despite that everyone else seemed far more comfortable, she was nearing a panic attack.
 
  “We’ve become… sh@t@, I guess you’d say friends?” Harry cringed. “Yeah, we’re friends
  —
  kind of. I 
  
    swear
  
   he’s not the same prat we hated at Hogwarts.” 
 
  “
  
    Hey!
  
  ” Draco growled, his mouth full of stolen bread. 
 
  “C’mon mate, even you know you were a right git.”
 
  “
  
    Still
  
  … You shouldn’t say it. It’s rude, you know?” Malfoy feigned hurt and then sneered for good measure.
 
  Harry returned his attention to Hermione. “Sometimes, he shows up unannounced and eats my wife’s cooking and plays with my kids. I was planning on telling you while you’re here but I 
  
    thought
  
   he had a date tonight. Didn’t think he’d be gate crashing our dinner plans. 
  
    Obviously
  
  , I was wrong.” 
 
  She shook her head and flashed him a tense smile. “I was just a little taken by surprise.” Hermione’s heart was still pounding wildly and she was sure she was having double vision. “I think I should actually go. You guys hang out. I’m totally knackered after travelling and we ought to get a headstart on this jetlag business.” 
 
  A stampede of feet thundered above them and a tremble settled into her limbs.
 
  Ginny shook her head. “You and Liam are eating before you leave. I am my mother’s daughter after all, you aren’t leaving on an empty stomach.” 
 
  “Who’s Liam?” Draco whispered, nodding at Harry with a squinted expression. “Boyfriend?”
 
  “Kid,” Harry whispered back, as if Hermione couldn’t bl@@dy well hear them.
 
  Draco choked on his surprise. “
  
    Kid
  
  ?” Granger, you have a kid?”
 
  “Uhm, well yes. But I really do need to go, okay? I’ll pop by again,” Hermione rushed. 
 
  The stampede landed in the kitchen. She was too late. “Hey, Draco.” James nodded and the blond ruffled his already messy black hair, then playfully punched Albus’ shoulder and threw his arm around him.
 
  
    Right, definitely drugged or worse… maybe dead?
  
 
  “You still up for some Quidditch this weekend?” Draco asked.
 
  “Yep, been practicing. I think we’re gonna take Mum and Dad finally. I’ve been working on my dives and I never realized the secret—” 
 
  Hermione didn’t get to hear what the great secret to Quidditch dives were. She didn’t hear much of anything once Liam shuffled his feet into the kitchen, his nose buried in his book again.
 
  With bated breath, she watched as Draco’s eyebrows furrowed, no doubt noticing the familiar sharp features, his full lips and silver eyes.
 
  “You’re...Li-Liam?” Draco stuttered. “You look…” He couldn’t finish, just stared intently at the small child. “How old are you?”
 
  “Liam Granger, how do you do?” He extended his hand. “Mum makes me say that, but you don’t have to tell me; I don’t really care.” He shrugged. “I’m six.” Turning towards Hermione then and she couldn’t help her trembling. “Mum, I’m starving.”
 
  “
  
    See
  
  !” Ginny pointed at them with her wooden spoon. “He’s hungry! You’re eating. Sit down.” 
 
  “I wouldn’t fight her on this, ‘Mione.” Harry gave her a nervous grimace and sat at the head of the table. 
 
  As she took her seat, Hermione swore to whatever God might be listening to get her through this meal and out of this house and she would be forever in their debt. She reached for Liam and hugged him close, kissing his curly hair. In typical Liam fashion he bristled and shrugged her off.
 
  There was a beautiful roast. Tasteful tableware. The exquisite company of her friends. 
 
  But everything paled next to the horrible, echoing silence that pulsed all around them. 
 
  “This is wonderful, Mrs. Potter. Thank you,” Liam said formally. 
 
  “Does your mother make you say that as well?” Harry asked, smiling at his plate. 
 
  “Only the thank you. I actually meant the compliment this time.”
 
  
    “Liam,”
  
   Hermione groaned, about to reprimand before remembering their company. 
 
  “You’re very well spoken for a six year old…” Draco narrowed his eyes curiously at the small boy at the other end of the table.
 
  “I can read too. Better than most,” he boasted with a proud smirk.
 
  “Yes, well he 
  
    is
  
   the offspring of Hermione Granger,” Ginny quipped.
 
  The sharp slice of steel against porcelain caused the fine hairs on her arm to rise. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten married, Granger.” 
 
  “I didn’t,” she rushed, taking a big bite of potato. “Ginny, tell me about the Harpies! I bet you’re the best on the team!” 
 
  Draco hummed, still staring.
 
  “Since when do 
  
    you
  
   want to talk about Quidditch?” Ginny laughed. 
 
  “Mum,” Liam whispered too loudly. “He has hair like mine, have you noticed?” Liam nodded at Draco.
 
  She shushed her son sharply from the corner of her mouth, her eyes trained on the piece of roast she was shoving around the plate.
 
  “It’s odd, don’t you think?” 
 
  “What’s he saying about my hair?” Draco called from his seat, an eyebrow lifted. 
 
  “Probably that you spend far too much time on it. Always trying to get it how naturally good mine looks,” Harry ribbed.
 
  “It’s nothing,” Hermione supplied quickly, her heart beating so violently she swore it was bruising itself on her ribcage. 
 
  But she should have known; Liam Granger was not to be quieted.
 
  “I 
  
    said
  
   we have the same hair,” Liam turned to Draco and stated matter of factly. The air rushed from her lungs in a harsh gust and she placed her palms on the wooden table to calm herself. “Which is odd, because I’ve never seen anyone else with hair like mine.” 
 
  Draco’s eyes narrowed at Liam and he responded lamely, “You have brown, curly hair.” 
 
  From the far side of the table, Albus and James snickered amongst themselves. Liam cheeks flushed crimson and the lights flickered in a fit of accidental magic.
 
  
    “No, I don’t!”
  
   he defended ardently. “It’s just a spell. Mummy charmed it, said she wanted it brown while we were in London.”
 
  Draco eyes rounded, a long swallow working its way down his throat. Removing his wand, he flourished it through the air. “
  
    Finite Incantatem
  
  .”
 
  Bile rose in her throat, her body breaking out in a slick unwelcomed sweat as Liam’s chestnut hair faded from the root, giving way to soft platinum curls.

  
  

  Liam grinned. “See! Told you Albus!” 
 
  
    “Sh@t@
  
  !” James laughed, as Ginny reprimanded him about his cursing. “I’m just saying! He said he was blonde, and we literally laughed at him until we cried. We thought he was crazy!” 
 
  “Sorry, Liam.” Albus blushed.
 
  Hermione paid none of it any mind, instead staring intently at a knot on the worn wooden table while she awaited the inevitable. 
 
  “How old did you say you were, Liam?” Draco whispered, his voice hoarse.
 
  “I’m six.” 
 
  A beat of silence followed, pressing in on Hermione until she finally lifted her gaze to the end of the table. Draco’s gaze was dark and dangerous, his lips pulled back slightly baring his perfect teeth. “Granger, might I have a word?” Pushing back his chair, Hermione flinched at the sound.
 
  Hermione gulped. “You know, I really don’t think it’s a good time—” Her gaze flittered over to the Potters, both wearing matching gaping expressions, their mouths full of half chewed roast as their eyes darted between Liam and Draco. 
 
  Draco threw his napkin against his plate. 
  
    “I insist.”
  
   
 
  “Mum?” She looked at her son and his nervousness was plain on his face. 
 
  “It’s ok, love. I’ll be just a moment.” 
 
  The lies were piling up around her tonight. 

  
  

  
    AUTHOR NOTE: Hope you enjoyed the first installment! Be back soon with more :D'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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