The petite curly haired witch looked through her closet with a keen eye. She was just stopping by the Ministry of Magical France, but didn't want to catch anyone's eye. It wasn't as though she was up to anything that would warrant attention… yet. She wanted to keep a low profile, and blending in would do that. However she simply could not find anything to wear that would fit in. Every clothing item that she had here either blended in with muggle France or wizarding Britain. It was all too heavy, too dark, too warm, too much of a dead giveaway that she was from Britain.

She sighed in frustration.

She would have to go dressed in her muggle clothes to the robe shop so she didn't stand out so much. It gave away her muggleborn status and while she wasn't ashamed of it, she also didn't want to be under scrutiny for being a 'stupid lowly muggleborn'. She was of age, in Britain. While most of Europe's laws were the same there were still those small print ones that could get you into more trouble than its worth.

"Better safe than sorry," she murmured under her breath to herself as she pulled out a soft cream colored dress.

Meanwhile Abagail Granger had already started her day and was pleased that the law firm was more than willing to do business over the phone internationally. She set up an appointment to meet with them in person and had informed them that she had all the forms and evidence collected for them. She just wanted to wait until the child in question was home for the summer so they didn't interfere with his education.

She knew that while it was more or less because the young wizards and witches couldn't really come home unless it was a holiday, it sounded better to the officials that she included his education in his best interests. In truth she did anyways, but she would have made an exception for this. She would have had Hermione tutor him to catch him up on all that he missed knowing that her daughter would have been able to help him with ease. They didn't know her daughter was shy of a genius though.

Leeroy was sitting next to his wife looking through her well put binder. He had originally asked to see the files, and was surprised and pleased that she gave him a binder instead. Abagail had more than enough evidence, it was too thick to be put in a folder. How his wife got Harry Potter's old primary school records was beyond him. She even went around his town and questioned the neighbors under pretense of a tea party.

He shouldn't have been surprised. He didn't know why she always surprised him with things like this. Out of everything, his wife was bloody brilliant. She was a doctor for fun. It was easy to see that she could have just as easily been a lawyer for fun too. The Dursley's weren't going to know what hit them, and that aunt of his was going to be in ruins.

In a separate portion of the binder was her research on blood wards. Harry had to return to the Dursley's to keep the blood wards working, that's what Harry was told at least. His wife had been doing her own research on wards, apparently. She had a few theories on how to keep them up while being able to keep Harry from going there. She even found old family rituals to make a wizard or witch a blood relative. Whatever his wife had planned she had backups for her backups. She might shy from the wizarding world from time to time, but she wasn't above using it for her own personal gain. This case being Harry Potter.

He saw the obvious signs in the nurse's reports and every time the proper authorities were called Petunia Dursley explained that Harry had a condition that made him a compulsive liar. She claimed it was the trauma of having lost his parents. She claimed the bruises, cuts, and broken ribs was from him playing outside with his cousin. There was no record or paperwork backing up her claims. Vernon Dursley never attended any of the parent-teacher conferences concerning Harry, but showed up to every single one of Dudley Dursley's.

Hermione walked down the hall wearing brown knee high boots and a loose cream colored dress. She was passing through the kitchen and noticed that her mother was on an important phone call with her father sitting at the table with an important looking binder. Her curiosity was piqued but not enough to ask questions, she had her own agenda today.

"I'm going to the robe shop, I'll be back later," she said softly.

"Have fun, dear," her mother replied, moving the phone away from her face to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

"I will," Hermione replied as she leaned over to kiss her father on the cheek as she was leaving the room.

"No boys," her father grunted.

Hermione chuckled softly at her dad. Even knowing she was interested in more than just boys it was still 'no boys'. Probably had something to do with the possibility of getting pregnant, she wasn't sure, and honestly didn't want to ask.

Luckily though she was only getting a few robes and stopping by the ministry.

The small witch was amazed at how easy it was to get to the local wizarding town. It was a small bed and breakfast inn with a small muggle repellant charm on it. So people could come in and go out, it was out in the open much like the Leaky Cauldron, but with a lot less questionable looking people.

It was moderately busy and looked to be doing well on the outside so muggles wouldn't think twice about something being wrong with the inn. Muggleborn parents could overcome the charm through willpower, but for the rest of the muggles it was just a place they weren't interested in.

The secret entrance was in a hall that headed towards the loo. There was a painting of daisies and you had to touch 3 of the petals on the flower second before last on the right.

'Noon, one, four.' she recited the sequences in her head.

The wall silently slid to the side with the painting attached to it. Hermione quickly stepped through and noticed that much like the Leaky Cauldron, as soon as you entered, the wall closed behind you. On the wall however was a mural of the same painting that resided on the other side. It was quite lovely compared to the drab brick wall in Diagon Alley.

She took sure steps forward as though she had been here many times.

The walk way was stone slabs and every shop had a patch of grass in front of it with a small flower garden. The robe shop, Les Robes de Madame Rosa, was three shops in from the entrance.

'Madam Rosa's Robes… can a shop name be any less original?' she asked herself as she made a straight line to the shop. Thankfully all European wizarding currency was the same so she didn't have to exchange anything at the bank.

She quickly found the seamstress and informed the witch whose name she learned was Marie, Rosa's daughter, that she was interested in a set of robes for her holiday. Marie was more than happy to help the petite witch. Her French was fluent enough that Marie was able to be quick and efficient. Everything Marie suggested was soft or warm in color, which Hermione nodded to.

She noticed that most of the witches wore pastel colored robes, if not warm and rich neutral colors. The darkest color she saw was navy blue on a few of the wizards she passed by, even the greys were on the light side. In the end however 4 out of 5 of the robes were warm shades of brown and creams. The last one was in a light grey. She also bought a meter of cloth in each of the colors she chose to give to Thimi. She quickly changed into a cream color dress robe, the same shade of the dress she had been wearing, thanked the seamstress and left.

Now that she looked like the witch that she was, she was headed to the Ministry and was going to floo. Thankfully there was a public floo in the shop. She announced her destination in French, unsure if saying it in English would change the destination. She knew the English floo system allowed for other languages to be used and worked fine, but it was better not to chance it. It wasn't like she would be able to call on anybody to help if she got lost here.

Walking to the information desk at the Ministry of Magical France was a lot less interactive than she thought it would be. The system in Magical France was run by magic, so there was no witch or wizard to ask if you had questions, you simply wrote it on the request parchment, and a brochure was given to you. If you were looking for an office, it gave you a map. It wasn't as intricate as the Marauder's map, but a simple: You are Here, and an outline of where you wanted to go. It was very anticlimactic.

However she got what she came for, turned around and left to go home.

Heading into a floo however she bumped into a tall woman.

"Oh! Je suis désolé!" Hermione said as she steadied the tall woman.

"I am fine. Zank you," the tall woman replied.

Hermione looked at the woman and noticed that she was tall, blond, and impossibly beautiful. It was easy to see even though she was covered up in very modest robes.

"You speak English?" she asked surprised.

"Yes. Are you 'ermione Granger?", the woman asked in turn.

Hermione was shocked unaware that anybody would know of her here. "Y-yes. And you are?"

"Ah! Forgive me. I am Fleur Delacour's mozzer, Apolline Delacour," she answered. As soon as she introduced herself she kissed Hermione on both cheeks. Hermione instinctively kissed her back so as to be polite.

"Oh what a pleasure to meet you."

"Fleur 'as written to me about you. All good. Zank you for 'elping take care of 'er during your Yule Ball."

Hermione blushed and smiled, "It was no trouble at all. We had fun, she seems like she'll be a good friend."

Apolline smiled at the young witch. She was able to tell at once that Hermione was telling the truth and bore no ill will or harbored jealousy towards Fleur. Apolline only had written word about Hermione, both contradicted each other. It was nice to meet the witch and know which one was the truth.

"Were you leaving?"

"Ah, yes! I got what I came for and was just leaving," she replied, holding up her brochure.

Apolline smiled, "It was a pleazure meeting you, Mizz Granger. I 'ope it will not be the last. 'ave a wonderful 'oliday."

"The pleasure was mine, Madam Delacour. Merci. I hope to see you again, good-bye," she smiled at the half-veela.

"Good-bye," Apolline nodded as the floo turned green.

It would not be the last time she saw Hermione Granger. She only hoped that it would be on good terms. Of course it all depended on what Fleur had to say about her friend. Hopefully things would continue to go well for her daughter. Only time would tell.

Once Hermione returned to the chateau she immediately sat down in the nearest parlor and opened the brochure. She was pleasantly surprised that she would not be breaking any laws. Coming of age was also 17 in France. There was an old ward in the grounds of France that allowed for the ministry to know of under-aged magic performance. So as long as you were 17, the wards would know and not alert the Ministry of Magical France. Apparently there was a similar system in Magical Britain, which was good to know.

Hermione decided not to think about meeting Fleur's mother. It happened so fast and she was more than glad that Apolline didn't ask anything more than what she did. She was glad that it wasn't unusual for people to leave for holiday or else she might have had some questions she didn't want answered. The anticipation of the upcoming war was starting to creep onto her.

'It is perfectly normal for people to travel for holiday, Hermione. You aren't doing anything unusual being in France for holiday. Your activities leave to be desired, but being here alone is nothing to stress about. You've been here hundreds of times! Get over it.' She scolded herself.

It was bad enough Professor Moody and Crouch Jr knew she had a home here. However at least with them they were under magical oath not to tell anyone.

Hermione sighed to herself and left to go see what her parents were up to.

She found them still in the kitchen her mother was off the phone and they were looking at the binder together. She stood in the archway to the room and leaned against the frame watching them. It looked so normal, so peaceful, it would be things like this that she would be fighting for. For her parents, so they could look over papers together and have a nice theoretical debate. It was something she loved about her parents and hoped to one day achieve herself.

It took her a second to focus on what they were saying before she understood it was a magical theoretical debate.

"I'm telling you, a sibling blood bond would work," Abagail hissed.

"And I'm telling you, Abby, it won't happen. It sounds like this woman hates everything related to magic, why would she be willing to participate in a ritual, let alone a blood ritual. It's borderline black magic."

"It is not. Blood magic is all about intent, it's gray. Besides it's not like I'm jumping at the chance to bond to a woman who could allow such things to happen under her own roof."

"Why does it have to be her? Wouldn't it would just as well if we did it with him?"

"I'm telling you I don't think it would have the same effect. She is a full blooded sister to the mother, if we did it with him we would have her blood diluted even more, it might not be enough."

"What if we just need a little bit of her blood?"

"It wouldn't be the same. As a full blooded sister she has more of her DNA than he does because they come from the same set of parents, we would need it from her. It would work with a muggle, we would just need a magical binder. They used to do this for some of the older bloodlines!"

"What are you guys talking about?" Hermione finally questioned, only half understanding the debate.

It was lively and exciting, but it was blood magic, which was frowned upon… even if her mother did have a point about it all being about intent. A family blood binding ritual wasn't seen as so gray since some of the magical orphanages still did it. It was how some of the older families that couldn't have children due to so much inbreeding were able to have indirect heirs. It wasn't something people talked about, especially the more zealous bigots since they weren't always sure if the child in the orphanage was a pureblood or not themselves. They wouldn't ever want to accidentally dirty their own blood by merging with a half blood. Despite the fact that the child would become a pureblood through the process with all the benefits of their 'new' blood.

"Hermione, dear, we didn't see you there," Abagail said with a smile, evading the question.

"Did you get what you were looking for, honey?" Leeroy asked.

"Yeah, I got a few robes to wear for training and I stopped by the French Ministry of Magic, I'm legally allowed to perform magic here because of my use of the time-turner. I'm not sure about Britain yet, so I'll keep from that just yet," she replied.

"Good! Your mother decided we were going out to eat tonight since we're sure for the rest of the week you'll be trapped in the chateau, so go change into that dress you were wearing earlier. I'll get the keys. Did anyone notice your new robes? They look very elegant on you dear, the seamstress did a fantastic job," Leeroy led the conversation just as efficiently as he was leading his wife and daughter from the kitchen.

He sat up and pushed himself out of his seat before holding his hand out for Abagail to take. She nonchalantly closed the binder and took her husband's hand allowing him to help her stand up, even though it was unnecessary. She swiftly grabbed her binder and let her husband put his hand on her lower back and lead her out of the room.

"Don't dillydally, Hermione," Abagail called with a smile on her face, laughter in her eyes, and very glad that her daughter couldn't see her right now.

Her husband was very skilled at leading both conversation and executions. It was sometimes annoying and sometimes it made her love him even more, this was one of those moments where she loved him more for it.

Hermione stared at where her parents left the room nearly flabbergasted. She hated when he did that! It was always about something they didn't want to talk about. It didn't help that he was educated in it.

She huffed and threw up her hands knowing it was a losing battle going to change into her dress. She hoped it wasn't the outline for what the rest of the week was going to be like.

Je suis désolé - I'm sorry

Merci - Thanks