January 2000

Marie was in the kitchen when she felt the wards in the ballroom shift. She dried off her hands and went in that wing's direction. She rarely needed to go in here. The room was closed off now that it had been cleaned and put back to the way it was normally until Easter.

She always found the normal ballroom rather depressing. She liked it full to the brim with her family. No longer staff at Hogwarts, they didn't host annual parties as they had done forty, fifty, and even sixty years ago. So, unless it was a family gathering, it remained empty.

She was shocked to say the least to see her mum, well Hermione's mum, standing in the receiving room.

"Mrs. Granger," she said. "What a surprise. Hermione's not here."

"I didn't think that she would be."

"Okay," she said, cautiously. What did that mean? "Is she okay?"

"Yes. She's at work as far as I know."

She hadn't been alone with her mum in almost seventy-five years. She dug her nails into the palm of one of her hands to stop herself from throwing her arms around this woman and hugging her tight. She'd done more than fine without her, but there were times even at this age she wished for her mummy to assure her that she'd approached something in the right way. Or just to hug her because she had a less than ideal day. Severus' hugs were most welcome, but they weren't her mum's.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Well, that was an interesting question. One that could have many meanings.

"I'm afraid I'm not understanding the question. May I call you Jean?"

"Of course."

"And Marie, please. I'm the librarian at Hogwarts."

"I know what you do for a living. I'm trying to figure out who you are to me and to my daughter, though."

She watched as her mum reached into her purse, pulling something out that Hermione couldn't see. She held up a picture. A picture Hermione recognized. It was a picture of her mum's grandmother. She was a few years younger than Hermione was currently when it had been taken. She'd never thought about it before, because who truly thinks of what they'll look like in seventy or eighty years when they're ten years old.

She was the spitting image of her great grandmother Christensen. She'd never known her, and honestly had never spent too much time looking at the family pictures of deceased ancestors. She kind of wished that she had now.

"What a lovely woman," she said simply.

"She was. She was my grandmother."

"I see."

"You could be her, Marie."

"Well, I appreciate you saying so because she is a very fetching woman, but I assure you…"

"Your husband bears a resemblance to my son-in-law, too."

"That's not unusual. He's tall, dark and…"

"Rather distinguished looking. I'd wager he does not get told frequently he resembles anyone else."

No, he truly did not. She wasn't going to insult her mother's intelligence and claim otherwise.

"Jean. I assure you that I do not know your grandmother. This picture looks quite aged. Were you thinking I knew her as a child?"

"I'm not stupid, you know. My daughter didn't get her thirst for knowledge and brain from nowhere."

"I'm not implying that she did, or that you are stupid. If I've given you that impression, I apologize. Truly. Hermione is a wonderful woman, and has spoken very highly of both you and Donald over the years. I've been so proud of how she's grown and flourished. She's like part of the family by now. And Severus adores her."

"So you are not a Christensen?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. I was the result of an affair, so I don't know much about my biological family I'm afraid."

"Oh," she said. Marie took the picture, looking at it.

"She really was lovely. Would you like to tell me about her? I could make some tea if you'd like me to? It must have been startling to see someone who looks so much like her."

"It was. Your daughter and her son, Magnus, look just like you as well. Tea would be nice, thank you. If it's not a bother. I just showed up in your home."

"Well, you're Hermione's mother and she's one of my favorite people so you're welcome here anytime. Really, it's no bother. Come on in. Tell me about your grandmother."

Jean Granger followed her to the kitchen where Hermione gripped the counter for a moment as the tea water came to a boil. She was having tea with her mum, discussing her great grandma.

How surreal.

Her great grandmother had been a lovely, elegant, and classy looking woman. So if her mum thought she looked like that, she was truly flattered. She just didn't see herself in that way.

"Is your husband not at home?"

"He is. He's out in his lab. Sometimes I think that's code for reading in his own space, or possibly taking a nap," she said with a wink. "I know where to find him, though, if I need to."

"You have a lovely family. Donald thought so, too."

"Thank you."

"There are so many."

"There are. Hard to believe Erik and I are only children ourselves, isn't it?"

"Hermione is, too."

"Yes, she's mentioned that. As is Severus."

"Do you think they'll have children? She hasn't said, and I don't want to be that mum that seems like I only want her to pop out grandchildren. I knew she'd be so much more than that."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes, before she was out of nappies even."

"She's lucky you encouraged and supported her."

"Yours didn't?"

"They did. Erik's and, from my understanding, Severus' did not, though. So it's odd for me to know there was a different way to treat your children."

Tea service ready, she brought it to the kitchen table where she'd sat with Severus' mum plenty of times since her first visit here about fifteen years ago. She never dreamt of sitting here with her own mum.

"Now, tell me about your grandma," she said.

Jean Granger was quiet for a long moment as they prepared their tea and took the first few sips.

"You are them, aren't you?" she asked. "You and Erik. Somehow, someway." She saw recognition and … the look of having solved a puzzle cross through her mum's eyes.

"The Babe Ruth baseball," she said. "That was you, wasn't it? We tried contacting every guest to ensure it wasn't a mistake, that it had been given to us inadvertently."

Hermione sighed softly. She thought back to the moment Severus had been honest with his mum. Would it be so terrible if her mum knew the truth?

"What gave me away?"

"The way you stir your tea," she whispered. "I have watched you for almost twenty years do it."

"I suppose," she said, her heart racing. "And, yes, the baseball was us. Me. Erik helped get the ball autographed for me, but I always knew it was going to go to Dad."

"Would you care to tell me about it?"

"I would love to actually." She set her teacup down and looked at her mum, really looked at her for the first time in over seventy years. "I have truly missed you."

She shuddered then, tears forming in her eyes. "Let's go into the living room. It's more comfortable there."

They both stood and Hermione regarded her mum. "Does Dad know?"

"I told him my suspicions. He thinks I'm seeing things that aren't there."

"Oh, well, I can picture that very easily." While her dad had been … accepting of magic he wasn't going to think of a magical solution first. Her mum, however, seemed to think finding out Hermione was a witch made some sense in things.

They made it to the living room with the tea service now in there so they could enjoy it.

"So," Hermione said softly. "I only made it through part of my fifth year the first time…"

***

It was dark and eerily quiet when Erik returned to the house. The darkness was solved easily with a flick of his wrist.

No dinner.

No evidence that there was the beginning of a dinner.

Not that he couldn't put dinner together, but his wife had long ago exceeded his own culinary skills.

It was strange, though, because she was pretty … reliable.

This was dinner time. It was why he'd come in.

"Marie?" he called out.

Nothing.

Downside of a home their size?

He truly had no idea where to look for her.

The library, perhaps? He had no idea where else to go.

He was on his way there when he noticed the door to the living room was closed. That wasn't normal. He knocked lightly, pushing the door open.

And found Marie sitting on the sofa, sitting in the dark, staring at something she held in her hands.

"Marie?" he asked, getting worried now. She hadn't even looked at him, or done anything to acknowledge she heard or saw him.

He crossed the room, taking a seat in the armchair nearest where she was sitting. He tilted his head, catching a glimpse of a muggle photograph being the item she held.

"My maternal great grandmother."

"I see," he said, brow furrowing. Because he did not see. He did not like seeming confused. She knew that, too.

"Hermione's mum called on me today."

"Oh," he said. He … wisely … refrained from correcting her on Jean Granger being Hermione's mom. Years removed or not, she was this witch's mother, too. He knew she had not been expecting a social call from Jean Granger. Had something happened? He didn't think anything had to Severus or Hermione. She wouldn't be sitting in here holding a photograph if that was the case.

So.

"Was it not a good visit? Is she upset after all about her marriage to Severus?"

"No, none of that. She actually asked if I thought they'd be having children." He chuckled softly at the soft blush on his wife's cheeks with that statement.

"Well, that's good. Did she forget something here at Christmas?"

"No, she initially came, I think, believing I am a relation to her great grandmother." She handed him the photograph then, which he gently took from her. He waved his hand to give them some light and gave a sharp intake of breath.

"I can see why," he said.

Merlin.

He glanced from the photograph, old as it was, to his wife, and back again. They could be twins. Not quite as identical as Fred and George Weasley, but the resemblance for, in reality, decades separating them was uncanny.

"She knows," she whispered.

"Oh?" he asked.

"How I stir my tea I guess hasn't changed."

He snorted softly at that, setting the picture down on the end table near them. He stood then, moving to sit next to her on the sofa, gathering her into his arms. She settled her head against his chest and he kissed the top of her head, smoothing down those curls that to this day had a mind of their own at times.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm just," she shrugged. "She's my mum and she's not."

"I understand," he whispered.

"I really never imagined the day I'd see her again. I know we agreed to invite her for Christmas, and obviously I knew there was a good chance that they'd accept."

He kissed the top of her head again, not knowing what the proper thing to do or say in a situation like this was.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"You may," she said softly, her fingertips tracing a path on his shirtfront. Whether she realized it or not, she was tracing what appeared to be an E.

"Get to know her. As Marie. Enjoy her company while you have it. You and I both know that even at your current age, you may outlive her."

"Yes," she whispered.

"So, she knows. She came here for a reason. From what you have said, she wasn't confrontational. She was looking for answers."

"Yes."

"So like a witch or two that I know, just by the way."

"Mm," she said, laughing softly against his chest.

"Don't think too deeply on it. You had a much better relationship with your parents than I had with mine. When Mum showed up here," he shrugged. "I had to decide. Did I want to punish her? Or did I want to let her know that I was a person who could get past even my upbringing and have a … relationship with her."

"I know."

"I'm glad that she came," he whispered, kissing her temple. "I believe they deserve to know."

"Mm," she whispered.

"They raised you. Whether they remember it or not. They raised one of the bravest and most selfless people I've ever met. I'm glad that they know."

"You say such nice things sometimes."

"I think them all of the time. I just know to spread them out so you don't expect them daily."

She gave a soft giggle.

"I love you, STS."

"And I you, HG."

They were quiet for a while. It wasn't a hardship to sit on the sofa and hold his wife. He liked it. Immensely. It was comfortable to him. Home. Safe.

"Are you okay?"

"I am," she whispered.

"Good. I'm sorry I didn't know to come find you earlier."

"It's okay. I could have sent you a patronus. I just," she shrugged. "I was sort of in shock after she left."

"I can imagine that you were."

"I'll get the tea dishes and start on dinner…"

"Let's go out. The tea dishes can wait. Where would you like to go?"

"Oh, Erik," she whispered.

"It's been a while since I've had a date with my wife. Let me take you out so I can prove once again that I'm the luckiest wizard in the area."

"Okay then."

"Excellent."

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com