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The Heirloom	By : soldiersgirl0709 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Hermione Views: 18476 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own anything related to Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Universe. All things recognizable belong to JKR and WB. No money is made from the sharing of this fic, only friends and smiles.

Chapter List
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Chapter One: An Interesting Discovery

Coming from a small family didn’t bother Hermione most of the time. In general life was a lot less messy when one didn’t have a slew of relatives to worry about and butt into her business on a routine basis. Especially considering the special circumstances under which she happened to live her life. She was grateful for her lack of extended family; it made protecting her secret identity easier. However, at this moment having little family made life terribly complicated as she stood on the front steps of her grandmother’s house. With no other family to assist her she was left on her own to tend to her grandmother’s things now that the probate period was over and her grandmother’s will had been read and the estate cleared.

As she took a small gold colored key from her pocket and slid it into the lock she was overcome with a wave of sadness. Nana was all that she had left. A tiny woman with a sweet smile and soft golden eyes who had always smelled like rose water and peppermints, her grandmother had weathered so much. The loss of her husband, the death of her daughter to childhood leukemia and the death of her son and his wife—Hermione’s parents—in a car accident on a back country road during a severe summer storm; it was more than anyone should ever have to endure. But, she had endured, and had remained kind and always smiling despite it all. Now she was gone and Hermione, aside from a small handful of very distant cousins several times removed, were all that was left of the Grangers.

She pushed open the door and was assaulted by the familiar scent of her grandmother’s house, now her house; vanilla and wood wax now blended with the stale, dusty odor of a house that had been shut up for months. She reached for the switch on the wall, hoping the utility company had restored the power as she had requested. Thankfully the dim lamps scattered around the room came to life, one sputtering briefly before snuffing out as the filament broke and the bulb blew.

Hermione looked around her at the old but well-kept furnishings littered with various knickknacks. A fine layer of dust covered everything, including the scarred hardwood floors her grandmother had always kept waxed to a high gleam.

“Do you think there is anything to eat here?”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder as Ron and Harry stepped into the house behind her. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she had forgotten that she had brought them along.

“Nothing that should be eaten,” Harry said as he looked around. His eyes fell on Hermione and he caught the sadness in her eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Harry,” she said softly. “I knew this day would come. Nana was ninety four, she earned her rest.”

“Nice lady,” Ron said, nodding his head slightly. “She made the best ginger snaps!”

“Do you ever think of anything other than food?” Harry asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to Hermione and asked, “What’s the plan?”

“Sort, shrink, box and move,” she said succinctly. ‘You boys take care of the furniture down here, put photos and anything that looks important into a box, everything else I will donate to charity.”

“See that, Harry! She leaves all the heavy lifting to us,” Ron said with a grin. “That bossiness is why we didn’t stay married!”

“No, the fact that we make better friends than lovers is why we didn’t stay married,” Hermione chuckled. She felt blessed to have been able to walk away from their five year marriage still good friends.

“If that’s what you want to believe go right ahead,” Ron said laughing as he slid up next to her and wrapped his arm around her. “We burned up the sheets our fair share of times.” He waggled his brows comically and she laughed before shoving him away.

“Get to work; I don’t want to be here for days! You take care of the bottom and I’ll go see what is in the attic.”

As she walked up the creaky old staircase she was glad to have the boys with her. If they weren’t there to make her laugh she would be overwhelmed by the sadness of missing her grandmother. At the top of the stairs she made her way to an unusually narrow door at the end of the hall. It had frightened her as a child. It wasn’t like the other doors in the house, tall and slender like the staircase on the other side of it she had always felt as if something strange lay on the other side. “There is nothing unusual about that old attic door, Hermione,” Nana had said to her. “But I understand, I’ve always been a bit apprehensive about the attic as well, ever since I was a girl myself.”

The house had been passed down for several generations and had a lot of history. It had survived the war, sheltered the family and was filled to bursting with memories, both happy and sad. As she opened the door and began to ascend the stairs she wondered what sort of memories she would make in the old country house once she moved in and made it her own.

At the top of the stairs she pulled a fragile string and illuminated the bare bulb dangling from a chord. The attic was filled with old furniture, toys and boxes. With a heavy heart she began a cursory inventory of the attic, pushing things aside and making mental notes of what to keep, what to donate and what might be suitable for auction. She reached into the satchel she had dropped at the top of the stairs and enlarged several boxes from inside. She began the tedious process of dragging things out, looking inside and sorting them before shrinking the items and placing them in the appropriate box.

Hours passed and slowly the attic space began to clear. The more it cleared the more she began to think that it would be a nice space for a small study with a little work. She looked towards a far corner and raised her wand to drag a large armoire her direction. It scooted heavily across the floor, leaving a trail in the thick dust on the unfinished wood. The piece didn’t look salvageable as a set of rusty hinges gave out and one of the doors gave way, falling to the floor with a noisy crash.

Inside, nestled on the bottom of the armoire sat an old chest. Hermione opened the other door, frowning when those hinges gave out and her arm was jerked downward when the heavy door came off in her hand. She set it aside and stared at the old steamer trunk.

“It looks like my old school trunk,” she muttered to herself as she reached for the handle and dragged it out onto the floor with a heavy thud.

It was gray with tarnished silver hardware. She used her wand to blow the dust away and immediately gasped. A large B.B. adorned the lid, along with the initials J.L.G. She flipped the latch and slowly raised the lid. Inside, neatly folded, were the soft gray robes of Beaux Batons Academy. Hermione lifted them in astonishment. A delicate birch wand with an ornately carved handle clattered to the floor. Hermione laid the robes gently aside and picked up the wand, staring at it as if she had never seen one before.

In stunned silence she turned her attention back to the chest, books, papers and other little personal items filled the bottom. She picked up a journal and opened to the first yellowed page. There, in flowing script was the inscription “The personal diary of Juliana Lenore Granger”. Hermione dropped the diary, gasping, her body overheated from the rush of adrenaline pumping through her.

“Mione?” she didn’t hear Harry call her name or the heavy footsteps of the boys ascending the stairs. It wasn’t until Harry leaned over her shoulder that she realized they were there. “We finished with the stuff downstairs, it’s ready to move until you are ready to sort it….whatchya got there?” He knelt beside her and picked up the wand she had dropped on the floor beside her.

“Is that a school chest?” Ron asked, closing the lid for a moment. “It’s from Beaux Batons…Fleur has one just like it.”

“Where did you get this? Who’s is it?” Harry asked curiously.

“I found it in that armoire…it…belongs to someone named Juliana Granger.”

“Who is that?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know…but do you know what this means?” she asked softly. “All this time I thought it was odd that I was the only one…turns out I’m not…but why did no one say anything?”

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked.

“I am not the first witch in the family.”

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The Heirloom