Letter from the Estranged

The full moon outside a modest Tudor-style house in Muggle London portrayed a serenity that was oddly lacking inside.

There was plenty of activity within the house. Several adults in mourning clothes milled around the downstairs area. Most were in smaller groups of three or four, conversing in hushed tones. There had been a funeral reception that afternoon, attended by close friends and family. Children were present, though at that moment, they had been asked to play quietly in one of the upstairs bedroom designated as the nursery.

Conversation among the adults in somber clothing were soon interrupted by a cloud crash on the second floor landing, followed by a pained yowl from a child.

Hermione Granger excused herself from a group of visiting relatives to investigate the ruckus.

Climbing up the stairs, she remembered wistfully the days of growing up in this house, and how she could never have made as much noise as these children did, even if she wanted to, being the only child in her small family. Hermione saw the Ming vase her parents had brought back from their trip to China a few years back rolling on its side on the landing.

"Alex? William?" she called out. She noticed how quiet the second floor had become. Odd, considering how there were supposed to be seven children up here.

A slight whimper made Hermione turn around to see her youngest son sitting against the railing, clutching one knee to his chest and trying ever so hard not to cry.

"Alex? What happened, sweetie?" He reached out to her as she approached, his tears finally flowing free. Sweet, sweet Alex, so unlike the other two. She gathered him in her arms and set him on her lap as she took over his place by the railing. He rubbed an area on his knee, which was beginning to bruise.

Hermione sighed. "What happened to your knee?" she prodded him.

He looked at her balefully, but didn't say another word.

"Does it hurt?"

He nodded.

"Would you like mummy to kiss it to make it better?"

Again, he nodded.

Hermione made a big show of kissing Alex's knee with a big SMACK, and he couldn't help but giggle.

"There, now, all better?"

He nodded, but upon further inquiry about what transpired, he only snuggled closer to her and didn't respond.

"Margeaux kicked him, Aunt Hermione." Hermione turned to see her godson, Theo Potter at the doorway of the designated nursery, where all the children were asked to stay put. Hermione groaned inwardly; she should have known. Alexandre and Margeaux were born fifteen minutes apart, yet for all the time they spent together in her womb, they couldn't manage to get along now that they were apart. Each preferred the company of others to their twin.

"Will you please have Margeaux come out here, Theo? I'd like to speak to her."

"Margeaux Malfoy, your mum wants you!" he called out as he re-entered the nursery.

A five-year old girl with blonde curls emerged from the bedroom looking abashed.

"Margeaux, did you kick your brother?" Hermione asked without preamble.

The girl nodded, looking down at her shoes. But then she looked up and said defiantly, " I only did it because he pushed me!"

"I only pushed her 'coz she wouldn't give me the letter!" An angry and no longer silent Alex piped up.

"I saw it first anyway! I found it, it's mine!"

"You're not supposed to nosy around other people's stuff, Margeaux!" her brother chided further.

"I wasn't!"

"Was, TOO!"

"Alex is hiding a pack of sugarquills in his bedroom!"

"Margeaux made Effy make her chocolate chip pancakes on her day off. House elves are supposed to have days off!"

"Okay, enough! That's enough from the two of you!" Hermione gave both of them her sternest "mom" look. "Now, either one of you tells me what happened or I'm sending both of you home ahead."

The twins glanced at each other, but it was Margeaux who spoke.

"There was a pretty box on the dresser. I only wanted to look at it, honestly, but then Alex said I shouldn't touch it and I was really only trying to get it away from him but then it slipped and fell and opened and there was a letter there with your name on it, mum. I wasn't going to keep it, honest! I was going to give it to you. I think you forgot it here in Grandpa's house."

At the reminder of her recently deceased father, Hermione's eyes teared up. Focusing her attention back on her dueling twins, she urged Margeaux to go on. This time, Alex filled in the rest of the story.

"I didn't push her, mum. I only meant to get the letter from her, but then she kicked me!"

"You deserved it, you prat!"

"Margeaux! I don't ever want to hear that kind of language coming from you ever, you hear me? And what did your father and I tell you about hitting others? I don't care if Alex provoked you; you still should not hit him just as he shouldn't ever hit you."

For a moment, Hermione felt a tad bit hypocritical as she remembered the slap she rendered Draco in their second year at Hogwarts.

"Now, I want you both to apologize to each other. "

"I'm sorry for kicking you, Alex, " Margeaux mumbled.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Margeaux," mumbled Alex back.

"Come here, you two." Hermione drew the twins to her and gave them both a tight hug. "Now, are you going to play quietly in here, or do you want to go on home ahead with your father?"

"We wanna stay. I promise we'll be quite." Margeaux always seemed to answer for both of them.

"All right. I'm going back downstairs. You two best behave from now on."

As she turned to go, Margeaux reached out a faded piece of parchment to her. "Here's your letter, mum. Don't forget it again." Hermione tucked the letter inside her pocket and promptly forgot about it for the next few hours.

Later that night, with the children and her husband back at their London flat, Hermione remembered the letter. She'd remained behind at her parents' house after the guests had left to tidy things up. In two weeks, the house will emptied of all her childhood memories and placed on sale. Her favorite books, childhood memorabilia, and toys will be packed up and stored away. Her parents' things had already been packed and donated to a local charity. Before the funeral, she had not been back here for almost five years.

Hermione was in her old bedroom, which earlier had been the designated nursery, picking up the pieces of the broken keepsake box when she remembered what the twins had been fighting about.

She pulled the forgotten letter out of her pocket and sat by the window read it by moonlight.

Despite having her name scrawled on the front, she had never seen this letter before. Upon reading it, she understood and cried. She was weeping when she felt strong arms embrace her from behind. So engrossed was she in the contents of the letter that she didn't hear him Apparate back into the house. Draco took a seat behind her and she leaned back into his comforting warmth.

"I came to check if you needed any help with anything. The children are in bed. "He said, wiping her tears away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry it's been a long day for you, love," he began, nuzzling her neck. "I had a talk with the twins when I tucked them in. Reminded them to give you a break, or else. I can't believe they misbehaved so badly at their grandfather's funeral."

"It's alright. They didn't know him very well. And that's entirely my fault." Hermione began to cry in earnest, and Draco held her tighter.

"I should have tried harder, you know. I should have tried harder to get the children acquainted with their Muggle relatives. But I didn't. I didn't make any effort to have them spend time with their Muggle grandparents, until it was too late," she sobbed. "By then, Mum was dead and Dad's Alzheimer's had progressed so much that he didn't even recognize me, much less his grandchildren!"

Her body wracking in sobs, Draco gathered her onto his lap and rubbed her back. Hermione continued to cry, "I practically abandoned them after I married you. I was too absorbed in Wizarding life. I knew they understood less and less of it as time went on. But I should have still made the effort! Oh, God, Draco, I didn't even tell him I loved him before he died!"

"Shhh...he knew, sweetheart, he knew. I'm sure of it. Your father was a man of few words himself, preferring to articulate only when he felt strongly about something."

Hermione looked up at Draco, surprised at his insightful assessment of her father. As far as she knew, they'd never interacted with each other on their own, preferring to have her around. Despite his relationship with her, Draco continued to be suspicious of Muggles, even if they were family. Anthony Granger understood the magical side of his daughter less and less over the years and couldn't be expected to remotely understand his Pureblood son-in-law.

"I suppose you're right. I have to believe that now; else I'm going to have to live in regret the rest of my life." She sighed against his chest, and Draco kissed the top of her head lovingly.

Soon enough, he noticed his wife had drifted off to sleep, the day's worries taking a toll on her. Carefully, he lifted her up to tuck her into her old bed. As he did so, a familiar looking letter floated down from her lap.

A yellow sticky note was attached to the top. This one read:

Dear Hermione,

Thought you might want to have a copy of this letter. I'm going to leave this in the keepsake box in your old room. I hope you'll find it someday and understand.

Love, Mum

The letter to which the sticky note was attached read:

August 12, 2000

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

My wife and I thank you for your kind words regarding our daughter.

We appreciate your sending us a letter formally asking for Hermione's hand in marriage. Archaic as the gesture might be in these modern times, it speaks highly of the purity of your intentions towards her.

Hermione is a grown woman and the decision to marry or not is solely hers to make. Her mother and I will always support her. Nevertheless, please allow me a few moments to respond to your correspondence.

It is apparent from your letter that you are very much in love with our daughter. Beyond your stated promises to take care of her always and love her forever, I sense that you are a man who has already made a commitment to have her be a significant part of his life. I, too, made that commitment twenty-five years ago, and have never regretted it.

Despite our obvious differences, I think you and I are very similar in that when we find a woman who completes our life and with whom we can call home, we will do everything in our power to make that happen. I am aware that you and Hermione did not always have a friendly relationship, and I do admire your tenacity in working to change her opinion of you over the years. I, for one, should know how stubborn Hermione can be! I also know how kind and generous she is, and that you make her happy. So, I'm confident that it's not premature to say, "Welcome to the family, son!"

My wife and I were blessed with only one child in our late age. We have raised Hermione the best we can; she never wanted for anything growing up. Though her magical abilities have propelled her to a world neither my wife nor I can be a part of, we have continued to love and support her. Her marriage to you may mean further estrangement from her Muggle heritage and life, but I want you to know that my wife and I are at peace with that. We only want the best for our Hermione, and if it means letting her go, then we are happy to do so.

Again, thank you for your letter. I am proud to have you be part of our small family.

Yours sincerely,

Anthony Granger