Never once had Hermione questioned her family's circumstances. Her father's family had been rather well-to-do, and they hadn't approved of him becoming a dentist. Hermione wasn't sure if he had been disowned or cut off, but there had never been Christmas or birthday cards from her father's parents. Her parents had never really talked about it, and Hermione had never thought to wonder.
Looking back on her childhood, she supposed that she had her mother's family to thank for that… in more ways than one. Her grand-mère and her grand-père had always been such a central part of her childhood. She spent most of every summer with them as a child. Even once she'd begun to attend Hogwarts, she had gone to their home in Limoux in July.
As a child, she'd loved her grandparents' residence in Limoux. She had run and played throughout the grounds with a wild abandon that had always made grand-mère cluck her tongue reprovingly, and had always made grand-père smile and pat grand-mère on the hand.
As an adult, she frowned at the expansive estate and wondered if it were a Black property. A dull tap-tap-tap alerted her to someone moving along the path behind her—mostly likely using a cane. Hermione took a deep breath and turned around. She wasn't sure how to hold herself or what to do with her hands, so she ended up clasping them in front of her.
"Bonjour, grand-mère," she said stiffly. Her grandmother had always insisted that Hermione speak French in her home, and it had become an ingrained habit. Even in the privacy of her mind, she addressed her grandmother as 'grand-mère.'
For a long, slow moment, her grand-mère looked her over. The formidable woman who had helped shaped the person that Hermione had become seemed to disappear. In her place was a fragile, old woman who watched her with sad eyes. Her shoulders slumped and she seemed to fold in on herself a little.
"You know everything. I would apologize, but if we had not agree to do it, Andromeda would have found another family willing to take you in. It seemed… it seemed better that you at least be with us, even if you didn't know what that really meant." her grand-mère said French and sighed. She shook her head. "Have you spoken to your mother?"
Hermione swallowed hard. "About that…," she whispered in French. A tear slipped down her cheek.
"What happened?" Her grand-mère asked with an ashen expression. "Is Elaine all right? Is… has something happened to Robert?"
"I… I wanted to protect them," Hermione whispered. "They were at risk because of me."
"I take the papers," Grand-mère sighed again. "The information from wizarding Britain was disjointed and filled with propaganda. There were times that Papa debated whether or not we should reach out to Andromeda, but… we feared putting you at greater risk, so we did not."
"Greater risk?" Hermione's could feel a hysterical giggle escape her. "How could I possibly have been at a greater risk? They made wanted posters of me, Grand-mère!"
"Your brother," Grand-mère whispered and then shook her head. "You must remember that my Papa was raised among them. When we learned that Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban—when we learned that Voldemort was living in Malfoy Manor—Papa got very drunk and all he could say was that poor boy and thank the gods our Hermione is safe."
"Safe?" Another hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her chest. "I was starving in a tent in the dead of winter! I was tortured in my parents' home, not that I knew that, of course—in front of my parents—I would hardly call any of that safe."
"If Papa is correct, I expect that your brother was tortured in front of your parents, or at least in front of Narcissa as Lucius was in prison," Grand-mère said in a gentle voice as she stroked Hermione's hair. Hermione pulled back to stare up at her grandmother in horror.
"You… you think Draco was tortured in Malfoy Manor?" She whispered.
"According to Papa, it was very likely. He kept in touch with Andromeda, you know. Papa is very well aware of his family's faults," Grand-mère reminded her. "Now, what did you do to protect your other set of parents?"
Tears slipped down Hermione's cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I just… I wanted to keep them safe. I had nightmares after the World Cup that the… the Muggles they tortured were Mum and Dad."
"I saw that in the papers as well," Grand-mère sniffed derisively. She patted Hermione again. "What did you do, dear one?"
"I didn't know," Hermione sobbed helplessly, begging for forgiveness. "I swear to you that I didn't know. I… I cast a memory charm on them. I thought—if I could put them into some sort of magical witness protection scheme sort of thing, then maybe… maybe they would be safe."
"Hermione," her grand-mère gasped. She gripped her cane handle so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Are they… what happened?"
"They are… they are mostly fine. Except for the fact that they still do not remember me at all," Hermione explained as carefully as she could. She swallowed hard. "We could have them transferred to St. Denis, and I could take you to go see them."
"Oh, Hermione," Grand-mère sighed.
"I'm sure they probably remember you," Hermione offered hesitantly. She bit her lip and looked up at her grandmother anxiously. "If I had known, grand-mère, I would have brought them to you, and begged them to stay with you."
"That might have been better," Grand-mère agreed. She looked out over the gardens for a moment and then looked at Hermione. "But we cannot change what has already happened. They are both well, you said?"
"They are perfectly healthy," Hermione rushed to assure her. "The Healers have been pleased with their overall recovery. I can Floo Healer Campbell and make arrangements to go to the Hospital if you wish?"
"You will do that," her grand-mère agreed. "I will call your great-grandfather."
"He's not really my great-grandfather though, is he?" Hermione said quietly. Another tear rolled down her cheek. "Mum and Dad don't even know that I exist… and you…"
"Nonsense," her grand-mère said with a haughty sniff. "It has been a personal point of pride for him that we had the raising of you. You are ours, child."
With a sob, Hermione flung herself back into her grand-mère's arms.
"I'm so sorry, grand-mère," Hermione cried. "If I had known—I never would have done it, I swear! I only wanted them to be safe. They didn't understand that I—"
"That you had promised the Potter boy that you would stand beside him?" Grand-mère finished drily. She pulled back and looked down at Hermione with a mix of frustration and fondness. "That loyalty is a Black family trait, so I suppose it's partially my fault, no?"
"But now—" Hermione choked on another sob. "Mum and Dad have no idea who I am."
"Oh, Hermione," Grand-mère sighed and patted her on the back. "The ones who love us never really leave us; you can always find them in here." She tapped her chest and smiled sadly at Hermione.
"Sirius said that once to Harry," Hermione said through her sniffles. "He told me about it once."
"It is something that Papa told me when I was younger," Grand-mère said with a shrug.
Slowly, they made the long walk up the drive, and Hermione followed her grand-mère into the kitchen, where the only telephone in the entire house resided. No matter the passing of time, this place had always stayed the same. Hermione sat down at the large table and sagged in the chair. A quick conversation in rapid-fire French, and her grand-mère hung up the phone and smiled at her.
"Papa is on his way," She announced with a firm nod.
It took Marius Black two hours to arrive in a gleaming Voisin Aérodyne that looked as though it belonged in a Poirot episode rather than in her grand-mère's drive. A driver got out of the car and helped an elderly man out of the back.
"Papa, you're looking well," grand-mère greeted him, bussing him on each cheek.
"You look well, too, daughter," Marius replied. He turned to Hermione and gave her a long, measured look. "And you are very angry with us, no?"
"No sir," she murmured. He stared at her, his sharp eyes tracking over her face.
"You look like my sisters, Cassiopeia and Dorea," he murmured.
This man had been disowned, most likely at the tender age of eleven before the start of Hogwarts. What had that been like for him? Hermione swallowed hard as bile rose in her throat. She doubted that it had been pleasant, and she was fairly certain that it had left its own particular stamp on Marius Black's personality.
"Is that… is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" She asked politely.
"It is the luck of the genetic draw, no?" He asked her with a slight smile. "One cannot help what one is given?"
"No sir," Hermione murmured, wondering if that was a subtle reference to the fact that his luck of the draw hadn't been particularly great.
"We are to go to Australia, where we will meet with the doctors and see how Elaine and Robert are doing?" Marius turned to her grand-mère with a raised eyebrow for confirmation.
"Yes, Papa," she agreed. "We are leaving tomorrow. Hermione procured a portkey for us."
Marius grimaced. "I have managed to avoid portkeys for over 75 years. I suppose that it was inevitable that I would have to use one again someday."
"They aren't my favorite either, sir," Hermione offered with her own grimace.
The next morning Hermione sat in her grand-mère's morning room and sipped café au lait and nibbled half a baguette smeared with marmalade. Her grandmother and great-grandfather were eating their own breakfasts and occasionally asking her questions about her parents. Both sets.
"Have you met with the Malfoys yet?" Her great-grandfather asked curiously.
Hermione shook her head. "No, great-grandfather, I haven't."
A small frown flitted over his face and his spine stiffened.
"They aren't trying to deny you, are they?" He demanded.
"No, sir. Rather the opposite. I just… I don't know what to do with their eagerness to claim me," Hermione explained quietly. "I'm not going to deny my mum and dad–even if they don't know who I am. I can't pretend as though the last eighteen years didn't happen."
"No one is expecting you to do that, Hermione," Grand-mère chided her gently. She frowned at her granddaughter. "This is a difficult time for all of you, and I am certain that the Malfoys will be understanding."
"You have never met Lucius Malfoy," Hermine scoffed.
"I met Basiledes Malfoy," her great-grandfather said quietly. He shuddered and shook his head. "One hopes that the family has improved since then."
"Andromeda says… she says that Lucius was not as bad as Abraxas, but that he was bound by loyalty oaths to both Abraxas and Voldemort," Hermione offered.
"I will hope, for your sake, that our Cousin Andromeda is correct," Grand-mère murmured and sipped at her café au lait.
"Let us speak of more pleasant things," her great-grandfather urged. "When do we need to take the portkey?"
"In just a few minutes," Hermione said after glancing at her watch. She neatly ate the last bite of her baguette and swallowed her café au lait. "Are you ready?"
"I think we are as ready as we can be," Grand-mère said with a firm nod. "Papa?"
"Let us go see Elaine and Robert," her great-grandfather agreed.
Healer Campbell was waiting for them in the public portkey area. He nodded to Hermione and smiled. She ushered her grand-mère and great-grandfather forward.
"It is nice to see you again, Miss Granger," he greeted her. Then he paused and cocked his head. "Or are you going by Malfoy now?"
"I…," Hermione stopped, frozen for a moment. She hadn't really considered going by anything other than the name she'd borne since she was a child.
"Our Hermione is still using Granger," her great-grandfather replied and patted Hermione's arm. "Now, do you speak French? I'm afraid my daughter only speaks French and Italian."
"Erm," Healer Campbell blinked at them both. "I do, actually. One of the reasons I was chosen was because Elaine has had a couple of episodes where she would only speak French and refused to speak English."
"Ah." Her great-grandfather flushed. "That is probably my fault. I was angry when I was younger."
Grand-mère looked at them and made a displeased noise in her throat.
"Français seulement, s'il vous plaît," she snapped at them.
"Pardonnez-nous, grand-mère," Hermione replied automatically and then snapped her mouth shut, turning to stare at her great-grandfather.
"This is the Healer who has been working with Elaine and Robert," Her great-grandfather explained with a wave of his hand at Healer Campbell. "He speaks French, and he will be able to answer all of your questions about the children."
Quietly, Hermione trailed after her formidable grand-mère and her equally impressive great-grandfather as they peppered Healer Campbell with a series of questions in rapid-fire French. She hid a smile as Healer Campbell glanced back at her with wide eyes.
There was a bright, sunny conservatory where a number of patients were sitting on benches or in wheelchairs, soaking up the sun or working on knitting or crossword puzzles. Seated together were her parents, Elaine and Robert Granger. Her mum was scowling at a crossword puzzle, and her dad was reading Agatha Christie. Mum looked up from her crossword puzzle and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Maman!" She cried and stood up. "Grand-père! Que faites-vous ici?"
"I heard that my only child was in a terrible accident," Grand-mère huffed, repeating the bit of fiction that the hospital had created to ease the minds of Elaine and Robert Granger. "Where else would I be? Robert, dear, how are you?"
"I am quite well, thank you, Madam," Robert Granger replied carefully in his stilted French.
"How did you get here?" Elaine fretted. "It's such a long trip! Grand-père's health is not the best."
"Do not worry about that, Elaine," Grand-mère soothed her. "I had to come see you immediately, and of course your grand-père came with me."
"How are they doing?" Hermione quietly asked Healer Campbell.
"Better," he admitted. He paused and looked at her. "We could probably release them to your grandmother. She might need to hire a nurse to come live with them. I wouldn't recommend that they be left alone. They're doing well, but there are periods where they both become confused."
Hiring a nurse sounded expensive, but somehow, they would have to find a way to make it work. Perhaps they should sell the house in England. Surely that would be enough to pay for a live-in nurse. Hermione watched her parents interacting with her grandmother and worried.