Hermione Granger did not consider herself a sentimental person. She was far too sensible. And no one got to be an important figure in Magical Law by being sentimental. Sentimentality was for shopkeepers and housewives, not Ministry workers.
That was the rule she had been taught the moment she entered the Ministry. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, had said it to all of the new workers who had come in just after the war. He had meant, of course, that they should not dwell on the horrors of the war, but should instead look to the future that they would build. Hermione, however, had always been an over-achiever, and decided that that rule would extend to everything.
That included her upcoming wedding.
Ron Weasley was not very sentimental, either. It was one of the qualities Hermione loved. Sentimental men were the type who went out and bought roses and chocolates and spoiled their girls to no end. Hermione had always found that very annoying. Sentimental people were the ones who often had to go off work because they were too emotional on some days. Sentimental people were the type who cried at every provocation and dragged out old photographs and records and childhood toys, saying, “Look at this, Fletcher. Don’t you remember this?” and answering, “Of course, Janet. It was her favorite bonnet.”
Photographs were always the worst. Hermione remembered her parents pulling out their photo albums and going through them every few months, cooing over their baby girl, reminiscing about the old days, and generally making fools of themselves. Hermione had stopped looking at those albums when she was eight, and after she went to Hogwarts, she never saw the point of those pictures again.
But now she was looking at them.
It was entirely by accident, of course. She had only gone to her parents’ old house to find a particular dress she wanted for the wedding”one of her mother’s old party dresses that would look splendid on Ginny”but when looking through the things that had been left behind, she had stumbled on the boxes of photo albums. She hadn’t erased the pictures. She had simply hidden them away when she sent her parents to Australia and put a charm on the house so that no one would find it before she went back.
Even though she hadn’t looked at those albums since she was very small, she couldn’t bring herself to destroy them. After all, she had fully intended to bring her parents back after the war. She had just never gotten around to it.
For some reason, Hermione opened the first book.
That album was composed of her parents’ courtship and led right up to their wedding. Hermione remembered hearing the stories behind every picture.
“That was a ridiculous tie, Fletcher.”
“But you looked absolutely lovely, Janet. Besides, it was only a club dance. Remember this one?”
“How could I forget? We almost got arrested that night. And here’s where you proposed!”
“And then the wedding.”
And then the wedding… Hermione had never asked, had never cared to find out what a wedding was like for the bride. When she still looked at the photographs with her parents, she had no thoughts of marriage. After all, she was only seven… five… too young. And now she was twenty, about to get married, and she didn’t have her own mother to ask advice from.
The album ended with a still picture of her parents in full wedding costume, arm in arm, looking happy and beautiful. That never really changed. Hermione always found her parents to be the perfect married couple.
She pulled out the next album, which had been put together right after she was born. On the first page was her name, Hermione Jean Granger, in big gold stickers. Under the name was a photograph of her mother holding the newborn baby in the hospital. According to her parents, this picture was taken two days after Hermione’s birth. That album went from the day she was born up until her first birthday. Hermione didn’t really find her baby pictures all that interesting. After all, a baby looks pretty much the same in one picture as she does in the next. The only things that changed were the little dresses she was wearing.
Hermione wondered, as she looked through those photos, if she would be like that if she ever had children. She wasn’t sure about children yet. Ron was wonderful, but she couldn’t see him being a good father. And if there were ever any children, would they take a hundred photographs and put them in albums to be looked at every few years? Baby pictures were a little bit more exciting in the Wizarding world, but was there really a need for them? Would she be the mother who wanted every minute to be permanent, or could she let some minutes go?
The third album showed the next year of Hermione’s life. A toddler, with little brown curls, learning to walk, sitting in baby swings, being held, playing with toys. A pretty baby. Yes, a very pretty baby. Hermione had never really cared about looks, but she could see why her parents wanted to document this child.
Would her babies be this pretty? Would they be lovely little brown-haired children? Or would they be Weasleys through and through, red hair, freckles?
Hermione had just reached for the next album when she heard someone calling her name. A man. “Daddy?” she called. Had she gone back in time? Was she two years old again?
“Hermione, what’s the matter?” A tall, red-haired man ducked into the attic. Ron. Her Ron, straightforward, sensitive, always concentrating on the future.
No, she hadn’t gone back. Nothing had really changed.
“How did you know I was here?” Hermione asked. She hadn’t told him she was going back home.
“Ginny mentioned it,” Ron said. “You left hours ago. Mum was worried.”
That meant Ron was worried. He would never come right out and say it.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “I’d come to look for a dress… and I found these…”
Ron glanced at the photographs. He looked bewildered for a moment, waiting for the pictures to move, but then his face relaxed. “You?” he asked.
Hermione nodded. “My parents took a lot of pictures… they’re sentimental people. They like to remember things… and I took that away from them.”
Ron nodded. “We can postpone the wedding… while you go fetch them.”
Hermione looked at him. “Do you mean it?”
Ron shrugged. “How could we have a wedding without them? Besides, if you find that dress, we’ll need to have another one made for Luna, and Harry’s threatening to go off on a mission… he was going to see if it could wait, but if he has the time…”
“Let them know,” Hermione said. “And I’ll get the time off. I’ll be back soon.”
“I know.” Ron kissed her gently and then looked around. “Where’s that dress? I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
Hermione went over to another box and opened it. Inside were all the clothes her mother had put away after having a baby. There was the dress she wanted. She took it out. Pale yellow, not too bright. It would be perfect.
“I’ll take this to Ginny,” Hermione said. “See if it fits…”
It was the same dress Janet had been wearing when Fletcher proposed. If all went well, she would know it.
Hermione looked at the half-empty box of photo albums. She bent down and started to repack them. As she did, she made a promise to herself to put together albums for any and all children she had.
Even if she wasn’t sentimental, the photographs had to exist. They were the only thing that proved she was real.