Disclaimer- It's not mine. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- Rain pattered softly against the windows of a small, comfortable house on a hill in the north of Scotland. Hermione sat in an old armchair by the fire, staring out at the rain-obscured countryside. She'd been hoping for more snow, but instead a week of light rains had turned the snow into slushy muck. "Grandma?" A call from above interrupted her thoughts. Footsteps clattered on the stairs as her eldest granddaughter, a raven-haired fourteen-year- old, tumbled gracelessly into the room.

"Yes, Portia?" Hermione asked, pushing aside the Christmas cards she'd been intending to write.

Portia twirled a black curl around her pinkie finger. 'I've got this essay to write for history." Hermione smiled slightly at the hint of an American accent in the girl's voice. That had come from her father. "It has to be about." she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a sheet of crumpled notepaper, "a witch or wizard who greatly affected history."

"That's a very broad topic," Hermione commented.

Portia nodded earnestly, making her curls bob madly. "I think that Binns is sick of setting essay questions, so he's just giving us free rein to write what we like."

"Who have you picked?"

Portia sat on the arm of the chair and grabbed a Christmas cookie off the plate Hermione had baked that morning. "Well, everyone else picked people like the Founding Four, but I wanted someone more recent. Someone who I don't know as much about." She had a folder in her arms. She opened it, to reveal a thick file of photocopies and photographs. "I've chosen Harry Potter. Do you know anything about him?"

Hermione nearly choked on her cookie.

"Are you okay Grandma?"

Hermione nodded, swallowing painfully and reaching for a glass of milk. "I'm fine dear. Just a bit surprised by your question," she breathed deeply, "I should get dinner ready. Could you go find your grandfather and Titania? I think they're down by the pond."

"But what about Harry Potter?"

"After dinner dear. There are some old things in the attic you might find useful. We'll go up and look together."

Satisfied, Portia disappeared out the dor, grabbing an umbrella and knocking over the rack as she went. Hermione felt sick as she watched her so cheerfully wander into the rain. She had dreaded the day Portia would ask about Harry. She was so innocent and sweet, so untouched by the bitterness and premature maturity that had cursed Hermione's generation. Of course, Portia knew that something had gone on; something terrible that was never spoken about. She had to know, for there were hints everywhere - her grandfather regularly awoke screaming in the middle of the night, one of her great-uncles had been left catatonic by the trauma, and Hermione herself became hysterical when left alone in a dark room. Voldemort wasn't taught about in school, out of respect for the fact that many of the victims of his reign were still alive. When they were at rest and his ripples of influence had subsided, it would be added to the syllabus. Hermione's reverie was interrupted by the clatter and crash of her husband and two granddaughters returning to the house, dripping wet and laughing. She tried to smile at them, but she knew her face would be pale and drawn from worry. "Look at you. Ron, if you don't start picking sensible times and weather conditions to take the girls out in they'll catch their deaths."

Ron smiled sheepishly. "I know. But I promised Titania I'd take her to see the new pond, and at this rate it will still be raining when it's time for her to go home." Hermione tried to smile again. "Okay. Go and change your clothes."

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Ron Weasley watched his wife carefully over dinner. She had burnt it beyond edibility, but hadn't seemed to have noticed. "We should go see Virginia tomorrow," she said suddenly. Ron scowled. "Do I have to come?" "Don't you want to see your sister?" "Its not my sister I don't want to see." "Grow up Ron," she snapped, rising from the table. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

Later, she and Portia carried down three boxes of her old school things and spread them out in front of the fire. They sent five year old Titania up to watch a Disney movie in the master bedroom. Ron and Hermione sat together on a lounge while Portia rifled through the boxes.