House Anjou
Florence, Italy, Summer 1999
Sunlight streamed through the window of the villa. The warmth of it felt like a cozy blanket, and the light of it accented the gold in her hair. Hermione loved it here, it lifted her heart and soothed her soul on so many levels. Since the end of the war, she had needed a change in scenery, so she chose to enrol in a 6-week long Ancient Runes course, which entailed going to various excavation sites throughout Europe. She had been in Florence for a week now, and it was the loveliest place she'd ever been to. Blue in ocean and sienna in sunsets, it stole her breath and sweetened her dreams.
While she travelled, she picked up on several different wizarding customs. As a result, she started dressing and styling her hair differently. She began to take pride in her appearance-not that she didn't before, but it became more of a pleasure than a burden to style herself.
She wore bespoke frocks now, replacing the jumpers and plaids of her youth. Her curls were still wild, but gleamed and bounced.
She sat haphazardly on the enormous bed of the villa with a heavy tome balanced on her knee. While eating a plum, she read the first chapter covering the Welsh runic language and its origins. Her fingertips trailed over the pages as she read-a habit of hers, she loved the texture of pages in old books.
Suddenly she looked up at the sound of a tiny *pop*, and setting her book down, she rose hesitantly off the realised that the frock she was wearing wasn't one she'd don to receive guests, but then, she wasn't expecting anyone today.
Rising up, she set the book down before walking over to the heavy wooden door with its glass door-knob and ruby encrusted panes to open it.
A tiny house-elf stood in front of her, holding a heavy cardstock envelope with her name written on it in cursive.
She stared incredulously at the elf before it piped up.
"Good day Miss! I is here to tell you that you're great-grandmother Shirley has passed from this world. You're her heir and Anjou Manor awaits your instruction."
The house elf then handed Hermione the letter, only to disappear again with another distinct *pop*.
Hermione stood stunned for a few moments before she closed the door slowly to walk back to the bed. She grabbed a small letter opener to slice open the seal and began to read:
Dear Hermione,
My name is Shirley Anjou and I'm your great-grandmother. I've known you all your life. Your mother, my grand-daughter Helen Granger, has been sending me pictures of you since you were born. I would've loved to meet you and looked into the eyes of the first witch to, be born to our line in 100 years. I know you're strong, and brilliant from your mother's letters but she hasn't written me in months-which is why I'm writing you. I'm dying, my darling girl, and because your mother has forsaken her claim to Anjou Manor, it will be yours soon. When I pass from this world, I've instructed Tinzy, my house-elf, to bring you this letter.
I hope you're not too alarmed, but you must've known secretly that you were special. I've seen the wizarding newspapers, they applaud you as the "Brightest Witch of your age". You must have realized that your prowess comes from somewhere. I entreat you to come to Anjou Manor in Caille and learn about your lineage. It's a mighty one, one that yielded great witches and wizards.
I have enclosed directions to the Manor in this envelope, I hope you'll claim your ancestral home.
Your future awaits.
-Shirley Anjou
After her classes were done, she left Italy to fly to Australia, set on restoring her parents memories-she desperately wanted to have a long conversation with her mother and ask her some very direct questions. But when she got there, she found she couldn't bring herself to. Her mother, who had always loved to paint, but chose Dental Hygiene was now an artist. She even had her own gallery-an old dream she had now realised, as she had always talked to Hermione about wanting to open a gallery one day. It was a dream realized, she has always spoken to Hermione of wanting to open one one day. Hermione's father Richard was still a dentist with his own practice, and he was even one of the top practitioners in Sydney. They were both so obviously thriving that Hermione didn't want to disturb that. It was a very hard decision, but she chose to leave them be for now. So instead, she returned to England to settle her affairs-which included fetching Crookshanks from Ginny, and made the journey to Caille, France.
When she got to the very wet city, it smelled perpetually of petrichor, and she fell in love with it instantly. With its towers and cathedrals, it made her think of old english towns. Here was a city that had changed very little, charming in spirit but fascinating in decadence. Anjou Manor was hidden behind a grove of pine trees and climbing columbine. It was large and imposing, yet delicate and lovely with its pale blue marble turrets and quartz display of wealth ,and such a castle was nothing else, made her realise that her mother's family was anything but paupers, quite the opposite actually. It reminded her of another estate, one built in Wiltshire, England that struck her as equally opulent.
The Anjou's weren't just rich, they were wealthy; they had the kind of luster gifted to the noblesse of centuries ago. It faced an equally opulent lake, edged with mint and clover; it was as still as glass, even as mist rose from its surface.
She moved in without a second thought, immediately setting about the task of making the Manor hers. She installed several bookcases and moved the contents of her belongings-which had previously lived in a muggle storage locker—to the manor. She quickly discovered, though, that Tinzy had taken it upon herself to assist her. Tinzy had her quarters set up; they were daintier than she would`ve preferred initially. The walls were painted a pale french blue and lace had been papered across the middle. Her bedroom was a bright, airy, room with a large feather mattress and heavy silk sheets. Pale pink candles stood on quartz-made tables, and white fur rugs were placed strategically. Even the loo was outrageously dainty with its pale blue stone tub and its copper fixtures. She quickly grew to love it all, settling in nicely.
She did write Harry and Ron about this, but she knew better than to expect an immediate answer from both of them, if any at all. She had severed ties with Ron after the war. She knew he wanted to settle down and have children, but she wasn't ready. Harry, on the other hand, left England immediately after the war, putting his relationship with Ginny on pause. He went to New Zealand on a short holiday and simply never returned. After a few letters, she discerned he needed time away to heal and just be Harry, a normal wizard.
She roamed the halls and the rooms of Anjou Manor, discovering various journals and diaries, as well as portraits of her ebony-haired ancestors. She discovered what her mother had failed to tell her and found truth in Shirley's letter. Her maternal lineage stretched back thousands of years. She belonged to the ancient wizarding family Anjou through her mother, a family that was once prominent in wizarding France.
However, a century ago their magic had gone dormant, and they lived as Squibs-a taboo in the wizarding world. They had hidden away in the hope that one day a magical child might be born to them once more, and it seemed their wish had finally been granted through Hermione.
Caille, France, Fall 1999
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and looked around the manor. Everything was in pristine condition thanks to Tinzy. Her dragonhide bags were packed and waiting by her feet, but just as she was about to Disapparate, she caught sight of a merino scarf.
Rising, she snagged it to stuff it into her purse, and cast her eyes around to see if he left any other things behind. Tinzy would have her head if she found any of his belongings around-the house-elf didn't like him too much.
She made several trips back to England and ran into several old mates as well as acquaintances. He was between the two, always had been. She rediscovered that he was just as studious as her, just as intellectual. She also discovered he had been harboring a fancy for her since third year at Hogwarts. They began dating casually, but he used his Slytherin wiles on her to break through her carefully erected dating objectives. One, she never slept with a man on a first outing. Two, she never let said man into her life before meeting her parents. She broke both of those rules with him. She even agreed to go back to Hogwarts on his suggestion for her eighth year-not that it hadn't been on her mind already. She had written to Headmistress McGonagall to ask and had gotten an instant response.
Mcgonagall agreed, informing Hermione that she would be taking on the post of Head Girl. But due to Hermione's eighth-year status, she could come and go as she chose and, in addition, invite visitors overnight-Hermione knew she meant special guests. Mcgonagall also mentioned they had selected another fellow eighth-year for Head Boy. Their decision for picking him, however, was based on his aptitude, as opposed to any other circumstances. Hermione remembered the letter well:
….we chose this particular wizard for his affinity for brewing potions. Since the war, he has made several contributions to the wizarding world-notwithstanding monetary gifts. He's very bright and has even agreed to aid Professor Slughorn this year….I hope you will be amenable to his quest for redemption...We all have scars, Miss Granger, but they shouldn't define us…
Pleased with her search, she called "Bye, Tinzy!", before she hefted her suitcases up and Apparated to Hogwarts with a quiet *pop*.
Hogwarts Castle Gates, Fall Term 1999
Hermione arrived at the gates of Hogwarts, astonished to see the turrets and bridges reconstructed that had been demolished in the War ending only a year ago. Hogwarts shone again like a newly minted sickle. A light autumn breeze swept her long curls in the air from under the blue beret she wore. Her cashmere robes kept the chill away, as did the buttery leather gloves she wore-she picked them up in Prague that past summer. She stood tall and straight when three other eighth-year students ambled up behind her.
Her wand slid into her hand on pure reflex, as did the non-verbal, purple-tinted shield. She relaxed visibly when she recognized the three Slytherin men.
"Easy there love, we don't bite, do we chaps?" Blaise laughed. He'd filled out during the past summer and still wore a winning smile. He had spent the majority of the last wizarding war in Italy where his family-all half-bloods, were neutral.
His two mates, Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, however, remained silent. Theo was smiling down at his hands while Draco just stood there politely.
"Well, hello to you all. I guess I'll be seeing you all soon then," she said, winking. Theo flashed her a appreciative smile before she passed like smoke through the gates.
"Was that Granger or one of those Witch Secret models Anna keeps going on about?" Blaise joked, throwing his arms over Draco's shoulders. Theo rubbed his hands together against the chill in the air. His pale green eyes twinkled as they followed the witch's progress into the castle.
"Where's that scarf you've always got on?" Blaise laughed again. Theo was never without the scarf his mother once stitched for him.
Theo smiled unapologetically. "Forgot it."
*Thankyou so much to my lovely friend, who's decided to help me with this fic*