Chapter Text
Hermione padded down the carpeted hallway. It was late, and thirst had woken her, so she had decided to check on the children before she rejoined her husband in bed.
It was rare that she checked on their daughter at night anymore, but she had just recently had another baby—a little boy—so her routine wasn’t exactly regular right now. But yellow light filtered beneath her eldest’s door and Hermione frowned bemusedly. It seemed that she was still awake.
She eased the door open. “Odette?”
The girl in the bed startled—then slumped. “Hi, Mum.”
“May I come in?” Hermione asked softly.
Odette shrugged. “Sure.”
Hermione made her way into her eldest’s room. It was very feminine, in pale pink, cream, and gold. Sheer curtains dressed the tall windows, and delicate wallpaper shimmered the low light. Her father had spared no expense on even the littlest comfort.
“Why are you still up?”
She shrugged a shoulder again. “Couldn’t sleep, I suppose.”
Hermione frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Odette shook her head and hugged her legs closer to her chest. But her eyes flickered briefly to the half-packed trunk abandoned at the end of the big bed, and Hermione sighed in understanding.
She made an educated guess. “Nervous?”
“No.” Her daughter’s nose crinkled half-heartedly in a familiar, haughty sneer before it disintegrated. “Is it obvious?”
“I didn’t sleep for even a minute the night before I left home for Hogwarts,” Hermione reassured and decided to fudge the truth a little. “Besides, I was up, checking on your brother. If his nursery alarm hadn’t gone off, I’m sure you would have gotten away with it.”
Odette let out a traitorous snort before her brow crumpled.
“Oh, darling,” Hermione breathed. She got up and rounded the bed to sit closer to Odette. “Please don’t cry…”
“I’m—I’m sorry, Mum,” she gasped. She swiped at her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her long, soft nightgown.
“Whatever for?” Hermione asked gently, smoothing her daughter’s hair away from her face.
“I dunno,” Odette mumbled, sniffling. “I—”
“What?” Hermione coaxed.
“I suppose I’m just…just worried that I’ll disappoint you and Daddy and Max. And Grandfather, and Nanna…”
Hermione’s chest panged, and she resisted the urge to put a hand over her heart. This was why she had been so subdued since she had received her letter.
“Odette, look at me,” she requested quietly.
Odette hesitated, and Hermione tilted her daughter’s pretty face up with her fingers. Her blonde eyelashes were wet, and she looked genuinely despairing.
“There is nothing you could possibly do to cause any of us to ever be disappointed in you. You are an intelligent, beautiful young lady that we all have the utmost faith in. Your grandfather would tear the world apart if you asked him to. Nanna adores you. And Maximillian is a baby, darling. He will love you no matter what house you get sorted into.”
Hermione watched her closely, and Odette’s expression trembled. It was like she had suspected.
“And…and Daddy?” she asked falteringly.
Although she was expecting it, Hermione felt winded at the question, and her father would be heartbroken if he ever knew about Odette’s doubt.
“Sweetheart ,” she urged fervently. “Daddy would still love you if you didn’t have an ounce of magic in your whole body, let alone whether or not you were sorted into his school house. Okay?”
Odette nodded quickly, but the look on her face told Hermione that she wasn’t quite convinced. Then she remembered something.
“Do you want to know a secret?”
“Okay,” Odette sniffled, shifting curiously on the bed.
“Your father was friends with a Hufflepuff, once.”
“Really?” Her daughter’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed with a sad smile. “He was one of the TriWizard champions and your father convinced all of Slytherin to support a Hufflepuff. He was a little bit older than him, but to my knowledge, your father hasn’t said a bad word against Hufflepuffs since his fourth year.”
“And was he…friends with Gryffindors?” Odette asked carefully.
“I won’t lie and say that he was—because he wasn’t,” she admitted. “He actually mostly ignored the Gryffindors.”
“Oh. Alright.” Odette looked thoughtful.
“Do you need me to go wake up Daddy and ask him to come talk to you?” Hermione offered.
“No, don’t wake him,” she shook her head quickly. “I’m okay, really.”
“If you’re sure…”
Hermione went to stand up, but Odette stopped her by grabbing her wrist.
“Wait!” Odette bit her lip. “Actually…Will you sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?”
“Of course,” Hermione agreed instantly, knowing that this might be the last time she ever asked her mother to essentially tuck her in. Rather feeling like she was having a slumber party, she made herself more comfortable on the edge of the bed and tried to think of an effective way to take her daughter’s mind off of tomorrow. Her instincts pointed to telling a bedtime story, but a fairytale didn’t seem quite suitable for a preteen.
But a true story, though…
Odette snuggled back underneath the covers, and Hermione smoothed the quilt over her.
“Darling,” she began, “have I ever told you the story of why we picked your first name?”
“I thought I was named after Grandfather’s dog,” Odette scrunched her nose doubtfully.
“It was a coincidence that your grandfather had a dog named Odette,” Hermione conceded, nodding. “But that’s not the whole story.”
“Will you…stay? And tell me?” she whispered.
And magic tingled on Hermione’s skin.
“Once upon a time…”