Chapter Three

Hermione swayed gently back and forth on the old swing. It was one of those swings that is so low to the ground you can't help that your feet drag across the mulch, still moist from the morning dew.

Hermione found that she woke much earlier these days. It was still summer and she rose with the sun. She and the sun had become friends, she'd liked to have thought.

It had been two days since she'd moved in with Callidora Black… or rather, her grandmother. Yet she had not met the woman, who was finishing up a business meeting in Norway and would only return later this evening.

There were so many questions running through Hermione's head. Who were her parents? Were they actually a witch and a wizard? If so, that meant that perhaps Malfoy had been wrong when he'd called her "Mudblood" all these years…

Strange, to think of Malfoy at this time.

Stranger to think he was the last person Hermione really saw before…

But thinking about the incident was not on Hermione's agenda. She stood. The swing squeaked its good-bye, still swaying slightly from the memory of her being there.

Disapparating back to her grandmother's house, Hermione looked up at the place, contemplating it again, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

This was a very obviously rich woman. VERY obviously rich.

It was a mansion and in Hermione's life experience, mansions were generally painted white in order to project a wealthy appearance. This mansion however, proved that Callidora Black was quite eclectic in her tastes. The mansion was painted dark green – the same color green as the leaves on the huge ash trees that lined the dusty dirt driveway. The shutters on Callidora's home were painted a light salmon-pink; The lampposts were a bright yellow. Then, just to complicate the whole scene, the huge front doors were striped black and white, with huge brass knockers and handles forged in the shape of leaping zebras.

This was not the only zebra-related thing in the house. In fact, there was a zebra something in every room! One room featured a zebra rug, another with a mounted head, and many with zebra figurines.

Hermione's own bedroom, which was the farthest room on the East Wing, sported a zebra-patterned bedspread and many fluffy black-and-white pillows.

A tawny owl with only one eye landed nearby, a letter attached to her leg. She hooted at Hermione.

"Thanks, Dizzy." Hermione took the letter. Dizzy had been given to Hermione as a welcoming gift by Callidora, though they had not yet met.

Ruffling the owls feathers affectionately, Hermione opened the letter…

Hermione-

Got your letter. Nice owl.

Ron and I really want to see you. Can you come to the Burrow sometime soon? Mrs. Weasley's going off her rocker worrying about you. I mean, it's kind of nice, because she's not worrying about me… but she's not the only one worrying, you know.

You still haven't met her? Ron said he's only met her once.. He warns you that she's really quirky, but from the description of the place I think you already know that…

Write back soon about coming over. Or if you just show up, no one is going to mind…

Love, Harry

Closing the letter, Hermione got up to walk into her new home. She certainly wanted to see Harry and Ron and Ginny… but at the same time, she did not at all want them to see her.

The butler, George greeted her at the door: "Good afternoon, miss. I trust you enjoyed your little jaunt?"

"Very much so, thank you, George," Hermione replied politely. All the staff was extremely friendly to her… and more importantly, they were not house elves.

"The mistress will be home very shortly," George continued. "She requests that you meet tonight at dinner."

Dinner was always a formal event here, even if there was only one person dining. Apparently though, Callidora usually had many very important wizards and witches as guests.

"Thank you, George," Hermione repeated.

"If I'm not being too forward, miss – you are looking a little blue."

Hermione forced a smile, "There are a few things on my mind, that's all."

"How do you turn a dish washer into a snow blower?" George prompted.

Hermione was very taken aback by this very odd change in the subject, "I… don't know…"

"Why, give him a shovel, of course." A corner of George's mouth twitched.

It took Hermione a moment to realize the butler had made a joke. She giggled quietly, appreciative of the fact that George had really taken it to heart to make her seem more at home.

"Thanks, George."

"Any time, miss." He bowed, "Perhaps you should be getting ready for dinner? It will be served promptly in one half an hour. The mistress stressed very much that she would like to meet you."

Hermione nodded and headed up the grand staircase, then left toward the East Wing. Finally, after turning right, then right again, and then a sharp left, she walked down the hallway toward her bedroom to dress.

The first day she had arrived, Hermione had been taken by one of the maids to go shopping for clothing – all of hers had been burned in the fire, along with the rest of her belongings.

As a result (the maid was very into clothes, apparently), she now had a ridiculous amount of clothing. Formal robes, casual robes, formal dresses, a couple evening gowns, casual Muggle clothes, jewelry, and 10 new pairs of shoes.

Hermione didn't want to think about how much this all cost and she was feeling very guilty afterwards. The maid, Jalena insisted that Callidora was one of the richest witches in the world and that Hermione need not worry… but Hermione never in her life had wanted to be a burden on anyone.

Dressed in a new black and white dress that the old Hermione would never have bought on her own, she descended the stairs and made her way into what was literally a hall meant for banquets. The table had been shrunk so that it was just big enough for two, but Hermione had seen it when it was seated for forty.

Callidora Black was dressed in a dark green dress that was very fashionable, however there was an underlying quirkiness about the woman. She had earrings with wooden giraffes hanging from them and her eyebrows had been plucked so that they went up at a sharp angle and then merely ended.

"My darling!" she exclaimed. She rose in a very stately way from her chair and embraced Hermione in a genuinely warm hug. She smelled like peppermint. "Have a seat, dear. My, you are a beautiful young lady."

Hermione blushed, "Thank you."

The first course was served, a fresh garden salad, while Callidora told Hermione all about her business meeting in Norway as though they were old friends and had known one another since birth. Hermione was already warming to her.

"…And the Norweigian Minister kept making references to the barbaric way that the trolls destroyed his nephew's birthday party as if I was supposed to do something about it. Before long, the man just got on my nerves to the point were I was on the trolls' side…" the woman sighed.

As the second course was brought on (Hermione had already eaten enough to be full at this point… she ate a lot less these days), Callidora finally shifted the conversation.

"I do hope you'll call me Dora: Everyone does, after all."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, determined to just not call her anything.

"You're a very reserved young lady," Dora commented.

Hermione merely inclined her head.

Dora seemed satisfied, "I'm very pleased. There are so many young folk these days without any manners whatsoever. You, however, are refined and beautiful. I also hear from Hogwarts that you are an extremely intelligent young woman. In other words, you have all you need to get very far in life."

Hermione remained silent.

Dora smiled to herself. "Very good; You are exactly what I'd hoped you would be. Please tell me some more about yourself. What do you do for fun? With whom do you associate yourself?"

Hermione reluctantly prattled on a little about how she was quite the bookworm, did not especially care for playing Quidditch, though she did enjoy the games, and about Harry and Ron.

"You have mentioned Harry and Ron many, many times, my dear. Please give me some last names," Dora requested.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."

And oh, the exclamation that followed. How interesting, thought Dora, that her granddaughter should be friends with her great nephew and the famous Potter boy.

Callidora Black was by no means a former Death Eater, nor had she been a big supporter of the Dark Lord… but she had been a Slytherin and certainly by no means had any intentions of aiding the Order of the Phoenix either time during Voldemort's reign. Sirius had not been a family favorite, either.

Dismissing the information as irrelevant, Dora continued, "As you are so into books from your description, I believe you should be introduced to the Library."

"Thank you," Hermione replied, actually quite looking forward to it.

"You're quite welcome, I believe you'll enjoy it." Callidora was feeling quite gracious at the moment, "I've also taken the liberty of purchasing you a horse. She's a fine pureblood mare and I'm sure you'll take to her… you DO ride?"

"No, unfortunately," Hermione answered, gathering correctly from the look on Dora's face that this was somewhat scandalous.

"Not at all! What WAS Jeannie thinking?"

Jeannie… Hermione's mother. This lead to some questions…

"If I'm not being too bold," Hermione spoke up, "how is it that my parents had convinced me that the lot of us were Muggles and then all of a sudden, I've got a grandmother who just so happens to be one of the most renowned witches in England?"

Dora sat black in her chair and sighed deeply. Hermione felt she was about to hear an earful and leaned forward intently, waiting for the reply.

"When your mother found out she was a squib, I'm afraid Harfang was quite disappointed in her." Then as an afterthought, she added, "That's your grandfather, dear. Determined to prove him wrong, Jeannie decided she wanted to live as a Muggle, to pretend she had never been a part of the wizarding community. I believe she was trying to prove a point to your grandfather…"

"She never gave an inclination at all. She was so surprised when I got my Hogwarts letter…" Hermione recalled. "And my father?"

"Well your father was introduced to your mother by dear Frank… your uncle…"

Putting two and two together, Hermione put in, "Neville's father."

Dora nodded, "Very good. I'd forgotten you and Neville were the same year at school. Well, if you look at the Black Family Tree, Alphard has been erased from many of them for betraying the family by giving gold to his nephew, Sirius when the boy ran away. He fell in love with your mother and changed his name to Albert."

Hermione's mind was racing. That meant that Sirius Black was her cousin.

How she missed her parents at this moment! All the questions she had for them… and she still loved them dearly, despite that they had kept these secrets from her for her whole life. Only now, in their death, did she discover who they truly were!

…Perhaps that's why they never minded that she spent so much time away from home… were their secrets lying out in the open, right in front of her very eyes the whole time…?

"Quite a story, really," Dora remarked, turning back to her meal. "In any case, I'll have one of the stable-hands give you some elementary lessons in riding tomorrow, darling. You head down there as soon as you wake up and go talk to Henry. He's a squib unfortunately, but the man could not be any more brilliant with horses…"

"Thank you," Hermione answered. She felt that, around here, she was constantly thanking someone for something. Everyone had done so much for her…

"I trust you are finding your room to be satisfactory?"

"Yes indeed, I love it immensely."

The dinner ended and Dora bid her granddaughter goodnight. Hermione retired to her room early – she had quite a lot to think about.

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Author's Note: This is all you get for now. Lucky for you, my updates are many with little time in-between posts.

As always, leave comments or criticism.