Had to give her some relatives. Hermione's grandparents' names are Diane and Victor Price. They are Ava Granger's parents. Hermione also has an aunt by the name of Noemi and an uncle by the name of Chandler. They are Ava's older sister and younger brother.

Don't connect with them too much, you'll only see them during breaks. Somewhat similar to Bill and Charlie when it comes to the Weasleys.

Only I ain't having no wedding scenes.

Well maybe one wedding scene. I haven't gotten that far yet lol.

On with the fic!

Chapter 14: Christmas

When I woke up on Christmas morning, the first thing I noticed was the crisp, frosty air seeping in through the window. Wrapping myself in my dressing gown, I dashed down the stairs, the scent of cinnamon and pine hitting me as soon as I reached the landing. There, beneath the towering Christmas tree, was a modest pile of beautifully wrapped presents waiting just for me. My grin stretched wide—I may have outgrown the idea of Santa years ago, but the magic of Christmas morning never faded. And honestly, after discovering the wizarding world, who was to say Santa wasn't real? Maybe he was an ancient, bearded wizard who enchanted reindeer and his sleigh. Anything seemed possible now.

Even so, I wasn't about to miss my yearly tradition of "waking" my parents. Grinning mischievously, I turned back up the stairs and bounded into their bedroom, jumping up and down on their bed like I was five again.

"Santa came! Santa came!" I hollered, feigning breathless excitement.

My mum groaned, pulling the duvet over her head, while my dad groaned theatrically, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Hermione," Papa said, his voice laced with mock exasperation. "How do you still have this much energy first thing in the morning?"

"It's Christmas, Papa! Now, come on!" I tugged at his arm, then darted around to pull the covers off my mum. "Up, Mama! There are presents waiting!"

Laughing, they finally relented, and we made our way downstairs together, still in our pajamas.

The sitting room felt even cozier than usual. The fireplace was roaring with a warm glow, the stockings hanging above it stuffed to the brim. The main Christmas tree sparkled, its lights twinkling like stars. It was adorned with carefully placed baubles, delicate tinsel, and ornaments I remembered helping Mama hang as a little girl. I even spotted the snowflake I made when I was six—still slightly wonky but endearing nonetheless.

My parents and I settled on the plush carpet near the tree, the excitement building as I reached for the first gift.

"Open this one first," Mama said, handing me a package wrapped in shiny gold paper.

Inside, I found a beautiful set of robes in deep maroon with silver embroidery along the sleeves—perfect for a more formal wizarding occasion. "They're gorgeous, Mama! Thank you!" I said, hugging her tightly.

Next came a set of books: one about magical creatures I'd been eyeing at Flourish and Blotts, and another collection of classics from the Muggle world. "Thought you might need a mix," Papa said with a smile. "You can't let either side of your life get too dull, can you?"

I giggled and nodded. "They're perfect!"

One package revealed a set of sparkling new quills with a bottle of shimmering ink. Another contained a beautiful leather journal embossed with gold stars and moons. "For all your big ideas," Mama said with a wink.

As we opened presents, our conversation flowed freely. We laughed over shared memories, like the year I insisted Santa liked carrot cake instead of cookies, or the time I nearly knocked the tree over trying to put the angel on top.

After the gifts were unwrapped and the sitting room was tidy again, Mama insisted I change out of my pajamas before breakfast. "It's Christmas, Hermione," she said with a playful smile. "Let's at least pretend we've got some decorum."

"Decorum?" I echoed theatrically, tossing my head back like a character in one of my novels. "Very well, Mama. I shall adorn myself in proper attire."

Papa laughed from his seat by the tree. "Such a little actress," he said, shaking his head.

I darted upstairs, swapping my flannel pajamas for the new jumper Mama had gifted me that morning, a lovely navy-blue one with little silver stars stitched across the sleeves. I paired it with my favorite jeans and skipped back downstairs to find breakfast well underway.

The kitchen smelled divine—eggs sizzling in the pan, the warm aroma of buttery croissants wafting from the oven, and the unmistakable sweet scent of maple syrup. Papa stood at the stove, flipping his signature "abstract art" pancakes.

"Careful, Hermione," he teased, holding up a slightly uneven pancake with a triumphant grin. "This masterpiece is nearly perfect."

"Perfectly unique, you mean," I said cheekily, sliding into my seat at the table.

"Don't tease your father," Mama chided lightly, placing a pitcher of orange juice on the table. "We wouldn't have pancakes at all if it weren't for him."

"Thank you, Mama," Papa said, pretending to wipe a tear. "At least someone appreciates me."

We all laughed, and the cheerful mood carried through breakfast. As we ate, Mama asked about my favorite classes, and I gushed about Charms and Transfiguration. Papa raised his eyebrows dramatically when I mentioned Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he repeated. "Should we be worried about you turning into some kind of... dark sorceress?"

"Hardly," I said, grinning. "Though I did learn a spell to turn a matchstick into a needle. Very dangerous."

"Absolutely terrifying," Papa said, pretending to cower.

After breakfast, Mama started packing up a few last-minute gifts for the family, and Papa poured himself a second cup of coffee. As we stood in the kitchen, he gave me a gentle smile.

"Hermione, you know Gran-Gran and Pop Pop still think you're at Gordonstoun, right?" he said carefully.

I nodded, already anticipating this conversation.

"They'd be thrilled to hear about your classes and how much you're learning," Mama added, "but maybe leave out the bits about magic and Hogwarts. We just don't want to overwhelm them, sweetheart."

"I understand," I said, though I felt a pang of guilt. Nana and Pop Pop were so kind and warm; I hated keeping secrets from them. But Mama was probably right—they might not understand.

"Thank you, love," Mama said, squeezing my shoulder. "Now, are you ready for the big family dinner? Everyone's going to want to hear about your school adventures."

"I can't wait," I said with a grin.

To pass the time while waiting to go to my grandparents, I decided to work on some last minute assignments to get ahead. I also cracked open one of my new books. Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. It was amusing how reading about a world like this could actually be more of a reality. There were so many possibilities in the wizarding world.

At 5PM we packed the gifts into the car and drove through the frosty streets, the snow-dusted trees glinting under the passing street lights.

The drive to Gran-Gran and Pop Pop's house was a mix of cheerful chatter and last-minute reminders. I sat in the back seat with a bundle of wrapped gifts on my lap while Mama and Papa exchanged small smiles in the front. Snowflakes swirled gently outside, dusting the car as we drove down winding streets lined with glowing Christmas lights.

"So, Hermione," Mama said, twisting in her seat to look at me, "did you finish all your assignments before you left?"

"Yes, Mama," I said, rolling my eyes slightly but smiling. "I've even started reading ahead for Transfiguration."

Papa laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's my girl. Always ahead of the game. Just don't forget to relax a little while you're home, all right?"

"Oh, she'll find time," Mama said, giving Papa a playful nudge. "But Hermione, remember what we talked about before?"

"Yes, Papa," I said with a sigh. "Gran-Gran and Pop Pop think I'm at Gordonstoun. No talking about Hogwarts, magic, or being a witch."

"Good girl," he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "It's not that they wouldn't love you, no matter what, it's just…a lot to take in for people who've never seen the things we have. And we haven't found the best way to tell them about it just yet."

"I know, Papa," I said, though part of me wished I didn't have to keep such a big part of my life a secret.

As we pulled up to Nana and Pop Pop's grand, old-fashioned house, I could already see Gran-Gran peeking through the lace curtains in the sitting room. The house was white with dark green shutters, its brick chimney puffing gently as though welcoming us with warmth.

The door flew open as we stepped out of the car, and Gran-Gran was already fussing before I'd even crossed the threshold.

"There you are, my darling girl!" she said, pulling me into a firm hug. "Goodness, you're thinner than the last time I saw you. They must not feed you enough at that school."

"Gran-Gran, I eat just fine," I said with a laugh as she smoothed my hair.

Pop Pop ambled over, his arms open wide. "There's my little genius! Come here, Hermione, give your old Pop Pop a hug."

I stepped into his warm embrace, feeling a familiar sense of comfort. "Hi, Pop Pop! Merry Christmas!"

The sitting room was filled with the scent of pine and cinnamon, and the large tree twinkled with golden lights and carefully arranged ornaments. My Aunt Noemi and Uncle Chandler were already there, chatting near the fireplace.

"Hermione!" Aunt Noemi called, waving me over. She wore a flowy green blouse and her usual bright smile. "Come sit with me for a bit! Tell me everything—how's school? Any cute boys yet?"

"Noemi," Gran-Gran said sharply, her tone laced with disapproval. "That is not appropriate conversation for a young girl."

"She's twelve, Mum," Noemi said with a smirk. "Not five."

"It's all right, Auntie Noemi," I said, sitting beside her. "School's been…interesting. Very busy, but I'm learning so much."

"Well, just make sure to keep some balance," she said with a wink. "You don't want to turn into one of those stuffy bookworms who never has any fun."

"Too late," Uncle Chandler said jokingly.

"Chandler," Mama said, shaking her head. "Leave her alone. Hermione's doing wonderfully."

As we moved to the dining room for dinner, the table was set beautifully, as always. Gran-Gran's polished silverware gleamed under the light of the chandelier, and the centerpiece was a stunning arrangement of poinsettias and holly.

The conversation started light, with Pop Pop sharing a funny story about a neighbor's dog stealing their Christmas wreath, but soon turned a bit tense when Nana critiqued Aunt Noemi's lack of "stability."

"I'm just saying, Noemi," Gran-Gran began, her tone crisp, "a little more structure in your life wouldn't hurt. Chandler's steady career is proof of what proper planning can achieve."

Aunt Noemi rolled her eyes but kept her tone light. "Mum, I love what I do. Not everyone needs to follow the same path."

Mama stepped in, her voice calm but firm. "Mother, it's Christmas. Let's not start this today, all right?"

Pop Pop, sensing the tension, raised his glass. "To family," he said warmly. "Because, no matter our differences, we're lucky to have each other."

Everyone raised their glasses, and the mood lightened. As dessert was served—Gran-Gran's famous trifle—laughter replaced the earlier tension. Uncle Chandler shared a rare moment of youthfulness, recounting a prank he'd pulled on Mama when they were children, and Auntie Noemi leaned over to show me some of the jewelry she had picked up from one of her recent journeys. She was a photojournalist who traveled the world. I really admired that about her

By the time the evening wound down, I felt a deep sense of contentment. My family wasn't perfect, but they were mine, and there was nowhere else I'd rather be for Christmas.

On the ride home, the car was filled with the soft hum of Christmas music playing on the radio. The snow had started falling again, dusting the world outside in a serene white glow. I leaned my head against the frosty window, watching the trees and houses blur by.

"Well," Mama began with a sigh, breaking the comfortable silence. "That was...a bit tense at times."

Papa chuckled softly as he drove. "It wouldn't be a Price family Christmas without a little drama, would it?"

Mama shot him a look, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "It's just…Mum always has to pick at something. Noemi's choices, Chandler's tone, even the way I prepared the salad I brought. And she wonders why Noemi keeps her distance."

"She's set in her ways," Papa said diplomatically. "But at least she adores Hermione." He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "I think she fussed over you more than the turkey."

I giggled. "She kept saying I looked too thin, and Pop Pop said I'm growing too fast. Honestly, I think they just wanted excuses to keep hugging me."

"Well, you're their only grandchild," Mama said. "You're a bit of a novelty."

I smiled, feeling warm inside. It was nice to be doted on, even if Gran-Gran's nitpicking could be exhausting.

"What did you think, Hermione?" Mama asked, turning in her seat. "Did you have a nice time?"

"It was lovely," I said honestly. "I loved the tree, and Aunt Noemi's stories were funny. Even Uncle Chandler was kind of fun when Gran-Gran wasn't looking."

Mama laughed. "I'll have to tell him that. It might soften him up a bit more."

As the conversation shifted, I found myself growing wistful. "I can't wait to go back to school, though. Don't get me wrong, I love being home, but…I miss Hogwarts. Everything there feels alive, magical. I want to see Harry and Ron again, and I can't wait to keep learning."

Papa raised an eyebrow. "You're already eager to leave us?"

"No!" I said quickly. "But Hogwarts is…well, it's amazing. And the castle, the classes…it's like being in a storybook."

"I'm glad you love it there," Mama said softly. "But don't forget, it's good to balance that with coming home now and then. We miss you when you're gone."

"I miss you too," I said, feeling a pang of guilt.

As the night grew late, I felt the weight of the day settling over me. After finishing my cocoa when I got home, I said goodnight to Mama and Papa and made my way upstairs to my room. The little tree by my desk twinkled softly, casting a warm glow across the room.

As I climbed into bed, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Christmas with my family might not have been perfect, but it was ours.

The rest of the holiday dragged on in a haze of boredom, leaving me feeling restless and out of sorts. Mama and Papa had a full schedule of appointments at their dental practice, which meant I was left to entertain myself for most of the day. They tried their best to make time for me in the evenings, but during the long, quiet hours at home, I found myself yearning for the excitement of Hogwarts.

I spent much of my time at the Cornwalls' house, the elderly neighbors who had always been kind to me. While they were lovely company, their days were slow and predictable—tea at precisely three, crossword puzzles at four, and a rather early supper by six. I couldn't help but miss the constant hum of activity at school, the challenge of my classes, and even the occasional chaos that came with Harry and Ron.

By the time New Year's Eve arrived, I was practically counting down the hours until I could return to Hogwarts.