Silver

The little, curious child padded down the steps to his garden, carrying a worn out photo album, carefully avoiding the watch of his Nanny, who was to keep watch on him. The woman gracefully sitting there on the grass, reading a book, looked up, frowning as she saw the album carefully tucked under the child's hand, but did not say anything.

The child sat down next to his mother, turning the pages that were yellowed with age. Stopping on his desired page, the child asked in the innocent voices all humans once had, "Can you please tell me about her?"

The mother shook her head, blonde locks shaking and falling back to place.

"Have I ever met her?" the child asked, desperate to know who this person was, and why her photo was in the most treasured album that his mother had. Next to the photo, was written, "My Hero," and unlike the rest of the photos, it had no description what so ever.

"She died long before you ever were born, and I do not know much as I was not born either," the mother replied, careful to not give away anything more than that.

"How did she die? Please answer, Tutu wants to know too," the child begged, pointing to his favorite stuffed toy.

Sighing, the mother reluctantly agreed, although she could have made him go back to his studies. Petting the old toy, that had once belonged to the woman in the picture, she began to tell the story.

"Once upon a time, in a small town in France, there was a beautiful girl named Aimee, and as most stories, she had a terrible secret that she dared not share with others. When it was time for her to get married, many suitors more than fine hurried to take her hand in marriage. But she kept on rejecting each and everyone that visited her, even the ones from far distant lands, and the ones that promised her a life of riches. It seemed to everyone that she would never marry, but that was proved wrong, when her eighteenth birthday came. From a Muggle town, a man arrived, and was seen to be with Aimee.

"Her father was more than enraged, saying he was no good, and he tried to stop the affair, but they eloped, getting married before dawn of the next day. No one knew about it except for Aimee's closest friends, who had also tried to stop them, but failed. Everyone around her began telling her that she shouldn't have, but she did not listen as she was in love. She reluctantly told him of her secret the day after, fearful that he would leave, but he merely nodded. They did not talk about it again.

"It had been happy for Aimee, even years later, but all her friends had edged away from her. Her husband and her had a happy marriage, almost too happy, but she was too in love to realize even that. She had now a child, and her and her husband had named her Belina. But months passed, and he seemed to be out of the house often, but Aimee did not know why. But she was a good wife, and she knew that he would get mad if she accused him, and kept all suspicions to herself.

"He returned one evening with a silver ring in his hand, and gave it to her as a present for no reason. She turned red, and told him that she could not possibly wear that ring, but he sighed, telling her that he had bought it for a hefty sum of money, just for her.

"She saw his unhappiness, and decided to wear it, even if it gave her pain. When took it off to rest, he gave a quick, sharp glance at her, and she put it back on. Months passed, and she was getting more and more weak, and she saw the worry on her daughter's face, but not her husband's.

"He arrived, just in time to see her die, on the cold, stone floor of the living room. He called her a fool, while her daughter looked on, her little brain figuring out what he had not said. She was only the age of four, but she understood what she had to do, she ran away. Ran away to the town that her mother once lived. Her mother had described it so vividly, even a blind could go there without ever actually having been there himself. Running up to the steps of a house, she knocked, and told the family what had happened during the past few months. Aimee's father, warmed up immediately to this sweet girl, and tried to get people to look for that Muggle, so they could get revenge.

"But, it did not happen. Word slipped out that she was, indeed a Werewolf, and even her closest friends, and even the men that had once asked for her hand in marriage, and declared the greatest love for her, turned away coldly, not bothering to help, or even give the family sympathy.

"They never did find him, even after months and months of only searching, and Belina developed hatred, hatred on Muggles, because one of them had tortured her mother so, leading to death, and played with her gentle heart. Angry she became, and made all her friends and family be just like her, hating those that came from Muggle families."

The mother finished her story, and glanced at the child curled next to his Tutu, sleeping. Then she brushed off her dress, and began walking towards their home. She looked back to the child sleeping peacefully, and whispered, silent tears forming around her blue eyes, "And that's the story of my Grandmother, the kind woman I never knew."