Disclaimer: Uh. Duh!
Author's Note: Again, I will beg you to post a review. They make my afternoons when I get home from sixth-form college!...I lead a very boring life out in the sticks :(
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Phaedra asked softly, glancing back from the passenger seat. Hermione glanced at her parents, waving cheerily from the driveway, and glanced back at her mother, and nodded. Teddy, sprawled luxuriously in his oversized seat, nudged her leg with his foot and gave her a tiny smile, handing her a small novel; Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, and a very battered copy, but Hermione's favourite of the six novels. William drove away from the house at normal—Muggle—speed and out of the village, but as soon as they had cleared Martin's Lane he switched to the Wizard-mode and they zipped along the country lanes until they joined the blue-marked motorway up to Derbyshire.
"So, Hermione, what subjects do you take besides Arithmancy?" Phaedra asked interestedly, as she was in the best position to talk to her, as Hermione sat behind William.
"Everything except Divination," Hermione said, with a bite of contemptuousness towards the highly unpredictable subject. She liked things methodical, orderly.
"Everything?" Phaedra's large blue eyes popped out of her head. "What, every subject? How is that possible?"
"Well…" she glanced around. They were her family, and she wanted to start things off completely truthful. "Professor McGonagall had to write a lot of letters to the Ministry, but I had a Time-Turner in third year that helped me get to all of my classes." Teddy's eyes expanded like their mother's did, only his eyes were hazel instead of blue.
"That must have been a tad draining," William said, chuckling. "How did you come to stop taking Divination?"
"It was such a woolly subject," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "A load of rubbish, if you ask me, all guesswork and smokescreens."
"Your mind is better suited to more methodical subjects," William said appreciatively. "I took Divination, too. What a hoax! I swear I left that room high as a kite every lesson!"
"It's where he got his nickname 'Herbs,'" Teddy whispered, and Hermione giggled softly, glancing at her father's eyes in the rear-view mirror.
"What was that, Teddy?" William asked lightly.
"Nothing Dad," Teddy smirked, his cheeks going red.
"So which subjects are you continuing this year, Hermione?" Phaedra asked interestedly.
"Well, I'm definitely dropping Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said, with a shudder remembering Blast-Ended Skrewts. Teddy did likewise in his seat.
"I heard Hagrid has a very…unusual teaching style," William said carefully.
"The hippogriffs in third year were absolutely amazing," Teddy said, awestruck. "And the Thestrals would have been wonderful, you know, if we could all actually see them." Hermione glanced at her brother. Obviously he had been one of the ones to leave the castle during the Battle. She didn't blame him. All throughout the journey, they continued to ignore the Muggle traffic and conversation flowed freely after the first few textbook questions and a few uncomfortable silences, but by the time they neared Derbyshire they were all arguing good-naturedly about their favourite authors, historians, musicians, anything and everything, in conversation much more animated than with Charlie and Jean—Mum and Dad, she corrected herself mentally as she compared the ease with which she talked to William and Phaedra because they slipped from Muggle authors to Wizard historians and philosophers and alchemists seamlessly.
"Alright, here we are," William said, drawing their attention to the windows; the trees of the family's woodland had cleared and Hermione scooted closer to Teddy, peering through his window as William stopped the car, making it teeter on top of a soft hill. A lake glittered in the stunning ruby sunset, the lawn leading up to the most beautiful Victorian mansion she had ever seen, surpassing the sets of Atonement, perfectly tended and emerald-green, dotted with jewel-bright wildflowers.
"How do you like the house, Hermione?" Phaedra whispered, and Hermione couldn't suppress a smile. William and Teddy both chuckled softly as the car took them closer to the house, affording an excellent view of the surrounding woodlands and hills.
"Well, what do you all want for dinner tonight?" William asked, as Hermione's trunk hovered behind her as they walked to the front steps. The house was enormous, easily twenty times bigger than her parents' three-bedroom semi, and this was just the series of public rooms, not the living quarters in the wings behind. "We're having takeout. You pick, Hermione."
"Um…" She had no idea the Notts liked Muggle takeout. "I…I like Thai-food."
"Oh, there's a wonderful Thai-restaurant in town," Teddy said excitedly. Phaedra rolled her eyes, as William retrieved the takeout menus and placed an order at the restaurant to be collected by him in twenty minutes, using the magical telephone in the hallway connected to the Muggle network.
"The boys love their Thai, and curry, and Chinese, and fish and chips," Phaedra said softly, chuckling. "You'd never believe I cook them full meals every day. Come on, I'll show you to your bedroom." And, offering her hand to Hermione, she strolled leisurely up the Titanic-esque split staircase to the full gallery lined with portraits of the family. There were two wings, she was told, one for them—for her and Teddy's rooms—and another for William and Phaedra.
"This whole house is…amazing," Hermione said, scrutinising the subjects of every portrait as they passed along the corridor lined with expensive hand-woven imported rugs and exquisite antiques. Grimmauld Place was definitely nothing to Ayden Estate. And Malfoy Manor had none of the home's beauty or warmth. And, Hermione was eternally grateful, there were no maniacal black-haired witches torturing her.
"I'm very glad you think so," Phaedra smiled warmly. "I was hoping you would like it, and that you will for a very long time."
Phaedra kept talking, about the family, about the estate, asking Hermione random questions, like how she liked her eggs cooked and if she liked peppermint creams, whether she preferred velvet or satin, where she had obtained the bangle on her wrist, remarking that she was such a tomboyish kind of girl who didn't care what other people thought of her appearance, in a good way, because she was apparently so focused on her studies, "beautifying your brain," Phaedra said, with a smile. They reached the end of a wide corridor lined with antique chairs and loveseats and fireplaces with two doors before them: as in Grimmauld Place, the doors had little plaques naming the occupants: on the left was Hermione, the left, Theodore.
The bedroom was lovely; pale gold wallpaper lined the tall walls, embellished by matte silver flowers, with matching drapes at the tall windows. Luxurious soft rugs of pale gold covered most of the parquet floor and the fireplace was of exceptionally deep, warm gleaming wood, matching the wall behind her as she walked into the bedroom which was lined with tall bookcases. There was even a moving ladder to help her reach the top shelves! As well as the deep, lustrous gold, the room was made even warmer by the hints of deep blood-crimson scattered around the room; the decorative cushions on the queen-sized bed, the pillows on the comfy gold sofa in front of the fire, the lantern-shades of the oil-lamps on the lovely writing-desk, the lining of the cushion on her enormous bay-window.
"Do you like it?" Phaedra asked tentatively. Hermione smiled at her, the first real warm smile she'd been able to give since saying goodbye to her parents.
"It's beautiful. It's very like…"
"The Gryffindor common room," Phaedra smiled, nodding so the tousled curls bounced playfully on her shoulders. "We did a little reconnaissance. We're actually very…proud that you are in Gryffindor. You may make our name respectable—but!" Phaedra's eyes widened and she twisted her hands together nervously. "We—well, I don't mean that—we would never ask you to change your name, Hermione!" Hermione smiled; Phaedra was nervous and embarrassed. "I should have phrased that a little better."
"I think I understand what you mean," Hermione said soothingly, and Phaedra relaxed, smiling.
"Good. Well. Shall I leave you to settle in for a few minutes? The writing-desk is fully-stocked, if you would like to start writing letters to your friends, you can borrow my owl—I notice you don't have your own," Phaedra said. "What is your cat's name?"
"Crookshanks," Hermione said, smiling at the little basket inside which Crookshanks was mewling piteously to be released. "Nobody at the Magical Menagerie wanted him so I took him in." She'd have much rather had an owl, but she loved Crookshanks. Her constant companion through the rough terrain. Phaedra left the room, smiling as she closed the bedroom door behind her, and as soon as the soft footfalls had ceased, Hermione glanced at the door on the right-hand wall and jerked it open.
This was a bathroom, with a door opposite hers: there was a walk-in shower, a Jacuzzi-bathtub sunk into the floor with a large window right over it with a view of the gentle river that trickled like a silver snake through the meadows, and a two-sink console with one sink completely empty except a silver toilette set on a silver tray. She made sure Teddy's door was locked before going to the loo and brushing up, flicking a soft horsehair hairbrush through her hair and brushing her teeth. She didn't know how long dinner would be, despite William arranging to collect the takeout—Phaedra said he usually stopped to chat with the restaurant owners—so she sat down at the lovely writing desk and pulled a sheet of hot-pressed paper out of a little drawer, dipped a crystal stylus into a little pot of ink and started a letter to Harry.
Someone knocked softly on the door. She glanced over her shoulder, wide-eyed, flicking her wand over the letter so the ink dried and she could stuff the paper into an empty drawer, and called a calm "Come in," before Teddy admitted himself into the room. She smiled, slightly relieved to see it was him.
"Hullo," he said pleasantly, strolling over to her, clad in only his jeans, a soft grey cashmere jumper and bare feet, running them over the soft rug as he stood with his hands in his pockets. "So you started writing a letter?" Hermione glanced at the drawer and nodded, tucking a stray strand of thick chestnut hair behind her ear, avoiding his eyes guiltily.
"I started to…but it all just sounds so…"
"Unreal," Teddy supplied, perching his butt on the edge of the desk. Hermione nodded, leaning her head on her hand and sighing, glancing up at her brother. She was definitely having misgivings, now that she was here, now that it was real.
"If I can't tell my friends…"
"You'll find the words," Teddy said soothingly, kneeling down beside her chair. He took a clean sheaf of hot-pressed paper out of the drawer and smoothed it out, handing her the stylus. "They're your best-friends. It doesn't matter what name you have; they'll love you anyway."
"Look at you, being all supportive to your…am I older or younger than you? Or are we twins or something?" Hermione asked, bemused, frowning at her brother. She'd never spoken two words to Teddy at school; she'd never wanted nor needed to, so she wouldn't have paid attention to birthdays. Teddy chuckled softly and passed a hand through his hair in a very James Potter-like impersonation of embarrassment.
"Um…you're older," Teddy said, glancing at her awkwardly. "Your birthday is in September. Mine is in August. August the third." Hermione quickly did the maths in her head. September to August. Eleven months, she thought, squirming.
"Ew!" she said softly. "That's almost…"
"Indecent?" Teddy nodded. "Yes, I think it is. Witches' bodies heal much quicker because of our magical advances in Healing, anyway."
"I was thinking of the emotional implications…So soon after a stillborn child…" Hermione said softly, and cringed, shivering. She would probably take a lifetime to get over it if she gave birth to a dead child, or an ill child at that. She would never be able to forgive herself.
"For heaven's sake don't ask Dad about it; he'll just say 'Your mummy's a hottie, and I got her'," Teddy said quickly, doing an uncanny impression of their dad, who was of the character that appeared drunk when he wasn't and appeared completely sober when he was; he was high on life.
"Well she is!" Hermione and Teddy glanced at each other, preventing themselves from laughing in surprise, when William appeared in the doorway. He gave them one of his patented grins, the teeth that reminded Hermione so much of her own smile glittering in the lamplight. "Dinner's ready. I slaved away over hot takeout containers."
"We appreciate your efforts, Dad," Teddy said sarcastically, helping Hermione out of her seat, and William chuckled.
"Well, it's the best we could do tonight, and it's the house-elves' night off," William said, and of course, Hermione's interest perked right up.
"You have house-elves?" she said weakly. OH NO!!! HYPOCRACY!!!! At least you can call yourself a blood-traitor. Ginny'll love that!
"Well, yes, we have three, but," William said quickly, as Hermione opened her mouth and Teddy gave him a look, "we freed them two years ago. Now they each get paid ten sickles a week and have Friday evenings and weekends off." Hermione closed her mouth, impressed, and smiled at her father. "So, tell me about SPEW."
"It's not Spew! It's the Society for the Promotion of—!" Hermione stopped her indignant tirade when she realised she wasn't talking to Ron or Harry, but that her dad really did want to know about Elfish Welfare. And Teddy seemed interested too, and they talked about the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare until they reached the kitchen, in which the family predominantly ate because the room was cosier than the high-ceilinged public rooms. There was no precedent for dinnertime; the takeout containers were set on the marble-topped island in the centre and the family grabbed plates and took whatever they wanted—and squabbled over what they didn't get—and sat at the island teasing each other as naturally as if they were just…really good friends.
"You'd never guess they have three-course dinners prepared for them every night," Phaedra said, watching her husband and son tussle over the last of the Singapore noodles. "Anyone would think they were raised by wolves."
"We like takeout!" Teddy grunted, holding the container of noodles out of William's reach while William slapped his face playfully to distract him.
"Well, you had better watch out; Hermione is here now, we're on level-pegging: I am no longer in the minority. We won't be having curry four nights in a row," Phaedra said triumphantly, smirking, until the noodles tipped onto the floor and she rolled her eyes, sweeping up the mess with her wand while William wailed and Hermione stopped, standing above where the mess had been made and frowning. Phaedra smiled knowingly.
"You can use magic now, Hermione," she said softly, a dimple—Teddy's dimple—winking in her right cheek. Teddy grinned at her as Hermione slipped back onto her barstool, thinking. I can do magic now. WHHEEEEEEEEE!!!!…I wonder if they—we—have a library…
A.N.: Tada! Here you go, theotherchick, another chapter due to yours being my 666th hit! Mwahaha! I was rather amused by that when I looked at the story stats! Thank you for your review, and also thank you to spikeecat, Readerforlife, margaritama, and darklady41465! I think this should answer a few of your concerns, if vaguely! Please tell me what you think! And thank you to everyone who has put me--or this story--on their Alert lists! Thank you!