Upside Down Mirror: Granger Yet

Muddy Thoughts

There was a mixture of feelings when Hermione opened up her trunk, the first thing she saw being her dress from the Yule Ball.

She flinched.

She flinched and tried to sort her thoughts as she looked at the periwinkle blue dress, remembering how much she'd enjoyed the dance and her time with Victor Krum, only for the night to end on a sour note because of Ron opening his big mouth leaving her with incredibly mixed feelings, feelings she'd debated coming home and talking to her father off and on since the dance, just as she'd told him he would—without any references to magic.

Only he wasn't here.

Her father wasn't here; as she looked down at her dress, the memories from the Yule Ball started muddling with the memories of getting her outfit for the ball, of how her father insisted on dancing with her, telling her how much she'd enjoy the night as she did with her not wanting to believe him because it simply wasn't her thing.

And he'd referred to her dress as dress robes, asking her to have the first dance with her in that dance and him being so excited about her growing up even though he'd been unable to watch it. She'd not thought of his use of words then, or when they were in the dress shop, thinking he'd read her Hogwarts supply list and picked up the rhetoric as he often did whenever he read something, yet he'd always known how the vernacular and styles had diverged from each other.

Hermione's brown eyes blinked, taking in herself standing in front of the long mirror her parents got her when she started at Hogwarts, not because it was the usual thing for a girl to do, but because it allowed her to see herself in her Hogwarts uniform without them having to take a picture. And she was standing there, holding her dress up, frowning, as if trying to figure out how she felt. "I am trying to figure out how I feel."

"I'm glad you're not staying."

Hermione startled slightly, her head turning to the voice and seeing her sister standing in her doorway, hands on the door frame, not hesitating to hold back her irritation as neither their mother nor their uncle was there to stop her. "Lizzie?"

"Don't Lizzie me," her sister snapped. "As I said, I don't care that you're leaving. It's your fault that magically came into our lives."

"Lizzie, I..."

"Don't. Don't pretend that you actually care about what's going on with dad or us. Not when you couldn't be bothered to come home for Christmas the past three years, nor could you be bothered staying home this last summer. You care more about those friends of yours than us, though to be honest, I don't understand how you, of all people, could have any friends."

This stung, reminding her of how Ron said pretty much the same thing their first year right before they became friends. Hermione opened her mouth. "I'm aware I can be..."

"Don't." Elizabeth shook her head. "Don't make excuses. Just, don't talk to me."

And then Elizabeth was gone, leaving Hermione to repack her trunk and sort out her thoughts. She eventually finished repacking but did not sort out her thoughts on the matter beyond the fact she felt it too great of a task in such a short amount of time.

Arthur Weasley waited downstairs for her, and she bid her mother and uncle goodbye, protesting again that she didn't want to go. Her mother smiled. "I know, but this is for the best."

"Your mother's right," Mr. Weasley said, squeezing her shoulder. "Let's step outside so that we can apparate."

"Apparate?"

"It's a form of wizarding transportation," Hermione said. "And we're stepping outside because it's considered rude to apparate right into someone's home."

"And most wizarding homes are warded so someone who's not a part of the family or with someone who's a part of the family that lives in that house can apparate in and out of the home, and then it's only done under dire necessity," Mr. Weasley said, smiling.

There was no mistaking how her mother's facial features fell, and Hermione felt a slight flicker of something negative that she couldn't quite place. "Mom?"

"Don't worry about it. Really. You should be on your way. Be sure to say goodbye to Jules," her mother said, forcing a smile onto her face.

Hermione stared for what felt like forever, only for it to only be a short time, before turning and following Mr. Weasley out of the house to the doorstep where Jules was still holding onto the giant stuffed rabbit, frowning away. "Hey, Jules."

Absolutely no response.

"I'm leaving now, but I hope to see you soon." Hermione smiled, not wanting to tell Jules the exact details she learned regarding what was going on with their father, particularly when she didn't have all the answers. As she did, Mr. Weasley shifted the bag further onto her shoulder and took her arm, letting her turn as there came no response from Jules.

But then she felt it.

It was a slight touch, the touch of a stuffed animal touching her arm, tapping even, and she turned, making Mr. Weasley pause. She saw Jules standing now, tapping her with the rabbit. Hermione frowned. "Jules?"

"Daddy needs his rabbit."

Hermione stared.

"Daddy needs rabbit," Jules repeated.

And then it clicked that Jules was trying to shove the rabbit into her hand, indicating that yet again, Jules was likely more aware of things than people realized. Hermione smiled, taking the rabbit. "I will if I see him."

To which Mr. Weasley hooked his arm into hers, and they apparated away, her hand gripping onto her trunk. At the same time, Mr. Weasley tackled the bag and Crookshanks, being that he was more experienced with that—in fact, Hermione realized at that moment that someone had rousted Crookshanks into his carrier for her while she was repacking her trunk.

They landed somewhere, a place where they wouldn't be noticed by Muggles and could quickly walk wherever they were going, but the building appeared out of nowhere as if springing to life. And the moment seemed magical, a stark contrast to what was going on in her life currently, or at least Hermione thought until she stepped in and found herself greeted by a portrait screaming at the top of its lungs all the offensive words she'd expect of a Purebloodist, including the term Mudblood which still made her feel so horrible even after learning she was half-blood.

And the place—there was peeling wallpaper everywhere, as well as layers of dust. She was sure there was a troll's foot as an umbrella stand, one of the most tasteless things she'd ever seen, yet her body stiffened as Mr. Weasley opened Crookshanks container without letting her know what he was doing, which resulted in Crookshanks taking off up the stairs.

"Oh! Crookshanks, come back here!" Hermione called out, her voice a mere whisper as she hurried up the stairs after her cat, who made a bolt for one room, in particular, taking advantage of the slightly ajar doors making Hermione shudder at the thought of Crookshanks and her interrupting the conversation going on inside the room. And as she pushed the door slightly so she could enter and retrieve her cat, she heard Sirius say—for she recognized his voice, "As if you'd ever be in a situation where you'd need to know how to use a condom!"

Hermione's lips pushed together, her mind contemplating the conversation as indeed something the adults wouldn't want her to hear, yet she was already in the room. She needed to retrieve her naughty cat, who definitely had a mind of his own when she heard someone—and it was a voice she recognized, and not Sirius says, "Crookshanks?"

And she was mortified, wondering precisely how the conversation between Sirius and that person had managed to turn to condoms of all things, but worse—she could only stare, her mind trying to process everything.