A/N: Not mine. You know whose it is. Don't even start. :D
Hermione walked along the forest next to the Burrow thinking. Chelsea was a few steps ahead, sometimes skipping, sometimes dancing through the path. She looked back at Hermione to see her brow furrow and stopped to wait.
"Aunt Mione?" Chelsea asked.
"Yes, my dear," Hermione answered absently.
"Can I tell you my secret now?" Chelsea asked.
"Oh, well, sure, love," Hermione said, focusing on the thoughtful face of her 'honorary' niece.
"Okay, well, it is a big secret, okay, so you have to promise promise not to tell anyone," Chelsea said in a rush.
They had reached a small clearing on the side of the path, where a few boulders were setting to the side.
"Why don't we sit down, and then you can tell me," Hermione said, walking to the side.
Chelsea bounded up on one of the larger rocks and settled her little legs in front of her, sitting almost Indian style, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her hands clasped in front of her. Hermione settled on a rock next to her and waited.
"Uh, well, it is kinda funny that I am thinking about this, because I am not nearly old enough," Chelsea began, looking at her hands.
"Old enough for what, love?" Hermione asked, reaching up to push a loose bit of hair behind Chelsea's ear.
"Boys," Chelsea said, the Weasley flush creeping up, turning her face a slight pink.
"B-boys?" Hermione said haltingly. This was most surprising.
"Yes, boys," Chelsea said.
"What about boys?" Hermione urged.
"Well, the fact that most of them are silly gits," Chelsea said, then smacked her hand over mouth as she looked at Hermione.
Hermione chuckled. "Okay, you get that one time, but don't ever let your parents hear you say that. And try not to say it at all anymore; it is not a good word to use."
"Okay. Well, most of them are just weird, ya know?" Chelsea started again, looking around at the tree trunks surrounding them.
"Um, I guess that can be said, yes," Hermione said, thinking back to Harry's words in her office.
"Yeah, and they are always touching icky things and saying how cool it all is," Chelsea continued. "But, some of them are really nice too."
Trying to keep her face impassive, Hermione nodded for Chelsea to go on.
"There is this one boy, he is older than me, but he is oh so nice and he has the most wonderful eyes," Chelsea gushed, the words of a 15 year old coming from her mouth. "He is taller than me, but that is okay, because I still have time to grow."
"And does he know you like him?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, no! I wouldn't be able to tell him that, he would think that I just a silly little thing and then we could never be together," Chelsea said looking horrified, her eyes open wide.
"So, what do you propose to do about this then?" Hermione said, as she always encouraged Chelsea to draw conclusions and find solutions for herself.
"Well, I don't know that I can't do anything at the moment," Chelsea said. "I am only five years old and he is very grown up."
Hermione shook her head slightly. 'This little lady is going to be quite able to handle herself someday,' she thought to herself.
"Well," Hermione began, "does this mystery boy have a name?"
"Yes," Chelsea said proudly, "his name is Oliver Wood."
Hermione swallowed hard and was just about to say something, when Harry came running up and said, "Almost time for dinner, ladies. Let's get you washed up, Chels."
Chelsea nodded at her daddy and slid off the rock. She brushed her hands on her shorts and looked up at Hermione, who was still a bit flustered. Chelsea leaned forward and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, whispering "Thanks for keeping my secrets, Aunt Mione."
Hermione watched Chelsea bounce over to Harry as he picked her up and settled her at his waist. Chelsea laid her head on his shoulder and Harry rubbed her back as he carried her towards the house. Hermione was following a short distance behind, wondering how she managed to be in this position.
"Oliver, where do you put your socks?" a woman's voice asked.
"In the left side of the top drawer, Mum" Oliver answered.
"Do you ever put away your clothes?" Mrs. Wood asked.
Oliver was sitting on his couch, watching the sun beat down on the patio outside his living room. He had been at home for the last two days, trying to decide what he was going to do now.
She walked into the living room with the sheets from Oliver's bed in her arms. "Oh, by the way, since when do you invite ladies to your house?" she said, with one eyebrow cocked.
Oliver looked at her strangely.
"I found a yellow sweater buried in that armchair there," she said, indicating the one across the room. "It seemed a bit small for you, so I assumed it was a young woman's."
"Mum, don't start, okay," Oliver said with a groan. He hadn't realized Hermione had left her sweater behind the other day.
Kyla Wood just smiled at her son and proceeded to take the sheets to the laundry area near the front of the house. (A/N: Does anyone know how witches and wizards actually DO laundry?) "I also cleaned out your icebox, Oliver dear. How many weeks does butterbeer keep anyway?"
Oliver rolled his eyes, laid his head back on the couch and groaned again. He adored his mum. Really. But he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.
"Awww, is poor Ollikins having a bad day?" a voice whined from the chair.
"Fred, George, I not be in the mood today for yer games," Oliver growled, his accent carrying through the living room.
"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Wood said from the front of the house.
"Nothing, Mum," Oliver replied, raising his head to glare at his uninvited companions.
"Aw, you didn't say your mum was here, Ollikins," Fred said with a devious wink to his twin.
"No, I didn't, now please leave," Oliver pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oliver Douglas Wood, who in the world are you talking to?" his mother admonished, as she walked into the living room. Her eyes widened when she seen the twins.
"Oh!" she said happily. "It is soo good to see your handsome faces again! Now, come over here so I can give you proper greetings!" she exclaimed, turning her head to glare at Oliver. "Why didn't you say the twins were coming over?" she demanded. Oliver shrugged.
George lifted her in a hug and twirled her around. "Mrs. Wood, if you ever decide to have a May-December romance, will you please come find me?" Oliver rolled his eyes.
"Oh, you," Kyla said, blushing slightly, as Fred released her from his hug. "So, how is the shop doing?"
"Fine, Mrs. Wood," Fred replied.
"And the girls?" she asked, pulling imaginary fluff off of Fred's shirt. "They are well too?"
"Oh, yes ma'am." they said in unison.
"What about your mother? You have not driven her crazy yet, have you?" Kyla scolded. She had met Molly years ago at one of the Hogwarts Quidditch matches and they had become fast friends.
"No, she is actually concentrating on the grands more now, so we are pretty much off the hook," George replied.
"Our twin nephews have been giving her fits lately…it is a beautiful thing, really," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear.
"I see," Kyla said, smiling at Fred's antics. "Well, I will have to owl her one of these days for tea."
"Well, not really, Mrs. Wood. We are having a sort of extended family picnic today, and we would like to invite you and Oliver along," George explained. Fred turned to him, and caught the gleam in his twin's eye.
"Really, oh that would be lovely," she said with a smile, as she looked at Oliver.
"I don't really feel-"Oliver began.
"Oh, nonsense, Oliver, it will do you good to get some fresh air. You have not set one foot out of this house since you came home and you need the exercise. The healers said that you were able to resume a normal schedule, just no flying or strenuous motions," his mother stated. "Now, march in there and get something presentable on; you cannot show up to Molly's looking like you slept in your clothes. Scoot!"
George and Fred grinned as Oliver hefted his tall frame off from the couch and grumbled his way to his room. 'Why me?' He thought to himself.
Oliver presented himself in the living room a short while later, wearing a pair of plain blue jeans, a tight black tee and a blue oxford thrown over the top, tails hanging out. Kyla was seated on the couch catching up with the twins and turned to see Oliver standing with his hands in his pockets. He was not happy.
"Well, that is a vast improvement over workout sweats and tank tops," Kyla commented. She had changed as well. Her short brown hair, slightly streaked with grey, was brushing the collar of her periwinkle blue blouse. She had put on a pair of white capri pants and a fetching pair of sandals.
Oliver just shrugged at her comment and was working his way into a good sulk.
Fred and George recognized this and immediately stood up to usher their guests to the picnic.
Hermione was bringing the salad she had made out to the tables situated in the yard, when she heard a distinct 'pop' next to her.
"My word, Fred, don't do that," she exclaimed. She had almost dropped the dish and was clutching it in her hands.
"George, Hermione," he teased. "You would think after all these years you could tell us apart."
"Your own mother can't even do that," she sniffed.
"Fred, don't tease her," a woman's voice scolded.
Hermione turned around more fully to see who had spoken. What greeted her eyes was not what she was expecting.
The sound of breaking glass was heard.
"Careful, lass," Oliver said quickly and deeply, herding Hermione backwards so she wouldn't get hurt.
Kyla's eyebrow rose at the twins, and she was met with innocent faces. She snorted lightly.
Hermione recovered quickly and stammered, "N-no, that's okay, Oliver. I've g-got it."
Oliver had squatted down to pick up the scattered remnants of glass and salad.
"Oliver, really. You don't want to strain-"Hermione began, squatting down with him.
He looked at her face quickly, trying to catch her eyes, but they were focused on the floor.
"Is everything okay here?" Molly asked, breezing in from the back yard. "Kyla!" she exclaimed.
"Hello, Molly, how have you been?" Kyla responded, walking around her son and the attractive, albeit, clumsy, brunette next to him.
"Oh, it is a great thing to see you again," Molly said, looking at Kyla, exclaiming "you look wonderful."
"Oh, thank you. You too," Kyla said, adding, "no one would ever know you were a grandmother."
They hugged and giggled like school girls.
Hermione snuck a glance at Oliver, who was shaking his head. Their hands reached for the same piece of glass.
The soft touch shocked Hermione and she pulled back quickly, cutting her index finger.
"Ssss, ouch," Hermione whispered, putting the injured finger in her mouth.
"Aye, don't do that," Oliver muttered. He took her hand and mumbled a few words and the wound disappeared.
Hermione looked at her finger in his large hand, and then at Oliver's face. He just smiled slightly as he let go of her hand.
He stood up and cleared his throat.
"Hermione, I would like to introduce my mother, Kyla Wood," Oliver stated, bringing his mum forward. "Mum, this is Hermione Granger."
A/N: I am sorry this is so short. I was quite distracted today, with the race and talking to my hubby online. I will be sure to get back on track with the next few. I am trying so hard not to fall into the trap of writers block. Thank to all who have reviewed and also to those who haven't. Just reading my story is enough for me. (OK not really, but I do appreciate the reads) :D TA TA
