A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews :D!

And now to answer your question, Alexandra, my mother tongue is German, since I live in Austria :)

I have yet to decide what pairing to make, but I don't want to spoil any surprises, so I won't name any, err, names :P But if you have a suggestion, just review or email me :)

Have fun with the first proper chapter :D And please do tell me if it is too short, then I'll try to write longer/more detailed! Suggestions always welcome, same with flames/harsh crits/etc..!

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Ola!

Chapter 2 – Where it all continues…

Somewhere over the rainbow..., 27th November

Dear Mum and Dad,

I know, I haven't written in a long, long time, and I sincerely apologize for that. I've just had so much on my back lately; I nearly suffocated under the workload. The holiday in France was such a life-saver! Thank you so much again and again, for organising it! I owe you one!

So, how've you been? I hope you're doing well with the house. Is everything okay? Electricity? Warm water? No vermin, I hope? That'd be your death, wouldn't it, Mum ;)?

But to get back to my holiday: The weather was breathtaking, the hotel was great and the people were, and still are, I presume, full of warmth.

Oh, and I think I fell in love.

Ha! I just had to include that! I can just picture you, Mum, gasping and smiling. But what I had wanted to say:

I think I fell in love with the Côte d'Azur. What we saw when we were on holiday in Paris and Bordeaux is just Peanuts against this Idyll.

But to make you at least a little bit more content, Mum, whenever I get married, my honeymoon will lead me and my husband back to Antibes. I promise you that.

See, that was a promise that I won't end as an old spinster (Insert a laugh here).

I hope you two forgive me for leaving you alone for such a long time, I mean, it's been, what, a year since I last saw you? But I'm probably already on my way to the Burrow as you read these lines. As soon as I can free myself from the loving clutches of Molly, I will come and visit you!

Much love, many hugs and many kisses from wherever I am when this arrives,

Your little Heerminy

Thiswas the letter that Hermione had written to her parents before heading to the airport.

She had not seen them for a year, a month and twenty-three days now, a long time for a single-child who had always been spoiled by her loving, though sometimes over-protective parents.

Not to mention how long it was for said loving but over-protective parents.

It had been hard enough for them when Hermione had left for Hogwarts and had only returned home for a few weeks every six months.

But being the devoted parents they were, they had decided that if Hermione wanted to tour around Europe while studying, and if that was what made her happy, there was nothing they could do. Or rather, there was nothing else they wanted to do.

Usually, Hermione wrote every two weeks, but this time, it had taken her a month. The two adults in their mid-60s had been worried to death.

They too had been involved in the war, albeit only as victims, but it was through these circumstances that they had learned of the mortal threat their daughter had been in for the past seven years.

Their near-death experiences, however, had had some positive sides too. They had always been very shy, silent, cautious people, never the ones to be in the centre of a crowd.

But when they had come this close to dying, they had decided to end that chapter of their life and start anew.

First step had been building themselves a new house in the countryside, much larger and airier and modern than they had ever thought they would build.

Next, Frank had bought himself a new car, a blazingly red Porsche, and he loved going for a drive in the evening after a lovely candle-light dinner with Amelia.

And Amelia, herself, had always wanted a swimming pool, so now, in their humongous garden, there was a huge pool, complete with slides and all the mambo-jambo one could wish for.

But back to the present, the two were delighted to read that their precious daughter was coming to visit soon.

"Frank, what do you think she'll say about my new hairstyle?"

"Oh, don't worry, darling. Purple has always been her favourite colour, hasn't it?"

Their laughter echoed in the hills surrounding their little mansion.

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When the young woman with the curly auburn hair apparated onto the small meadow next to Harlow, one of the bigger Apparition spots near the Weasley's hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole, a cold, forceful gust of wind hit her square in the face, chilling her to the bone.

"What a warm welcome…" Hermione mumbled, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

Since she had decided to surprise the family and apparate silently into their house, Hermione had apparated here before apparating to the Burrow straight from Stansted Airport.

And if you are now wondering why she did not apparate straight from Antibes to Harlow:

Ever since the end of the War, new, international laws had been enacted, securing that nobody could simply apparate from one country into the other, thus possibly posing a threat to the inhabitants of that country. Since then, illegal immigration had been stopped, but wizards had had to accustom themselves to using more traditional means of transport for covering long-distance travels.

Picking up the suitcase that she had put down when adjusting her hair, Hermione pulled her grey coat around her a little tighter and disappeared with a faint 'plop'.

The hunter that had been waiting in the woods for some game to cross the small glade slowly lowered his rifle and rubbed his eyes. Hard. He made a mental resolution never to drink brandy before 6 pm ever again.

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The small garden belonging to the Burrow was completely dark, none of the windows of the crooked house lit, and the stars and the moon were covered by a thick blanket of ominous clouds.

If one listened closely, he could hear muffled shuffling of feet from the inside of the building.

"Oomph…"

"Ouch! Watch it, knobhead!"

"Ron! If I ever hear you say a word like that again, I will make sure that there will be a picture of a certain red-headed war hero cuddling his favourite Barney the Dinosaur Plushie will be published on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow, understood?"

"Ye-yes Mum… but you wouldn't... you… you couldn't!"

Silence extended its tentacles again, holding the small room firmly in its grasp.

"You would." That was an obviously terrified voice speaking, considering that Ron's normal pitch wasn't equal to that of an excited third year making his first declaration of undying love to a fellow classmate.

Again, silence.

Then, the cheerful chiming of the Weasley Original Grandfather Clock, announcing that it was now time for dinner. 7:30 pm, so to speak.

"She's late." The whispering shook the small crowd out of their stupor, and a loud 'clank' could be heard from one of the corners of the small room.

"George, scare me like that again and you'll die a painful, excruciating death, your remnants will be torn apart by my two hands before being tossed into the sea, washed away and nobody will ever know of your existence."

The melodious, female voice sounded dead-serious.

Until several coughs were to be heard and the girl apparently broke out in wannabe maniacal cackling.

"And then it's your turn, all of you! Then nobody will ever know of that prat of a brother's existence!"

"Pssht! Shut it, guys! She'll be arriving any second from now!"

That had been the voice of reason, Harry.

Several minutes of waiting later, Bill cleared his throat and tentatively whispered

"Erm, I know this is all very exciting, we all haven't seen Hermione in a long time, but you do know that I have some work to do until tomorrow? I sincerely hope this is worth it. I mean, don't get me wrong, but if it turns out that she mutated into a red-haired broom-up-the-ass librarian feminist, I'll regret agreeing to attend to this family reunion."

"Bill, is there anything wrong in the slightest with being a red-head? And, for Merlin's sake, stop the sappy whispering. If she's here, she'll hear us anyway, even if we whisper. She's not stupid, you know?" asked a sarcastic, very Ginny voice from the far left of the darkened room.

A male voice spoke up, "Well, that is in the eye of the beholder, Gin," he laughed, before continuing cheekily, "Oh, and by the way, I doubt Hermione turned into a feminist. I mean, she's been one since she first saw that boys get larger underwear. Although I doubt she understood the reason of that back then."

A few snorts and sniggers were to be heard, and, of course, Molly's disapproving sighing, accompanied by a fraught "What did I do to deserve this?"

"But I wasn't joking, unfortunately, I really have some work to do and my hand is getting numb from holding up this stupid 'Welcome Home Hermione!' banner."

"Don't worry, Bill," said George soothingly, "she'll be here soon, and I'm sure she'll sweep you off your feet with that broom of hers, right after she finished unpacking all her books about Abigail Adams and how to treat red, bushy hair."

"Ha. Very funny, George. But to be honest, I quite like my brown hair, at the moment."

And again, silence.

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Love/Hate/Don't care? That wee blue button down there is screaming for you to press it :D! Makes me type faster :P