I have decided to write this, so I hope you like it. I apologise in advance for any mistakes in Americanisms and Twilight-ish stuff, because honestly I'm English and the only twilight I've watched/read is on here. I hope it's okay.


"Uncle Charlie!" Hermione cried, spotting her uncle across the airport waiting room and running over to him, abandoning her luggage, and jumping on him. Her Uncle had always been so much bigger than her short figure, so he had to hold her up.

"Baby girl," he grinned, so unlike him, "You're home. You look so much older."

"Well I was fifteen the last time I saw you," she said, ecstatic to be back with family.

She'd been dealing with the aftermath of the war, but once everyone else was back on track - Ginny and Harry in a happy relationship; Ron and Lavender together, despite him kissing her in the final battle - she had felt a little out of place, and then the accident with her parents happened.

The next week, once she'd managed to drag herself away from her bed, she called up her uncle, who'd been informed of the accident by the police earlier, and he agreed to let her live with him in Forks, Washington, where she had visited him when she was a child. They were both grieving in different ways, but both of them wanted to feel something other than grief, and they were truly happy to see each other.

"That's true. Now you're all grown up, you're nineteen."

"I missed you," she said, looking up to him with a beaming smile on her face, "So much."

"Oh, why?" he said confusedly, "I mean, you've only been gone for what? Four years?"

"Stop it," she frowned, hitting him on his broad chest, "You know I tried to visit."

"Oh, really?" he teased, grabbing her luggage.

"Yes, really," she insisted, "I just had some trouble back in England but it's all sorted now; there's nothing that could drag me away from you, uncle Charlie. I would never leave you; you're all I've got."

"Have you gotten taller?" he asked.

Hermione could tell he was distracting her from the serious topic, but she went along with it; uncle Charlie had never been to great with emotional stuff, and neither had she really, but after the war, she was determined to love everyone who was still there to love. She didn't have much, but any family she had was precious, especially after what'd happened with her parents. Ignoring the pang of guilt in her chest, she looked up to her uncle.

"No," she said, looking puzzled, "Have you gotten shorter?"

"Maybe…" he said, measuring her with his hand. They both laughed, the hand only coming up to his muscled shoulder, "Maybe not."

"You are so mean to me!"

"You know you love me," he chuckled, "I am, of course, your favourite uncle."

"You're my only uncle!"

"And how lucky you are," he said, ignoring the roll of her eyes, "Now come on kiddo, we need to get you back to the house."

"Alright."

"Now, Bells is out at the moment-"

"You mean, Isabella?" Hermione grimaced, thinking of the elusive cousin she'd never met, "Why is she not with Renée?"

When she was younger, and had visited with her parents, but her younger cousin, Isabella, and her mother had never been there. For the first few years, her parents had spun tales of holidays, dance classes, school visits and the like, but she was quite a smart girl, and by the age of four – when she started reception and met Jonathan, a little boy with two houses, two families and who boasted about getting double the amount of presents for his birthday – she had figured it out, and confronted her uncle, much to the surprise of his sister and brother-in-law.

Charlie had explained as much as he could to the four year old, before showing her a picture of his pale, brown haired daughter, who had hair much straighter than her own mane of curls, and telling her that one day she could meet her cousin. She had never called Renée aunty after that.

Back then, Hermione had wanted more than anything to meet this mysterious American girl, who made her uncle Charlie so sad, but now, she was just a pain. Charlie knew everything about magic and the wizarding world, but this stranger was the exact opposite, and she meant Hermione would have to hide her magic.

"Renée's married, little lion," Charlie said, shrugging, "He's a baseball player, so she's travelling with him whilst I look after Bells."

"Oh."

"I know it's strange, kiddo, but you've been gone a long time," he looking guilty, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I know, uncle Charlie," she sighed, feeling selfish; this was his first chance to spend more than just a month with his only daughter, and she was worried about hiding something she'd kept hidden for ten whole years, "She doesn't know-"

"Nothing," he interrupted adamantly, "You can tell her if you feel comfortable, but you don't have to. And I won't say anything."

"Thank you," she smiled awkwardly, trying to break the uncomfortable, stiffness filled silence, "I appreciate it."

"No problem, little lion," he laughed, "Now, have you brought anything particularly sweet from that sweetie shop of yours for your poor old uncle, who's been so terribly sad and alone since you stopped visiting and-"

"Stop it, you're embarrassing yourself" Hermione grinned, stopping by the entrance to the airport, opening her beaded bag and pulling out a Honeydukes bag, "I bought all your favourites before I left, just as your requested."

"Ah, now I remember why you're my favourite niece," he said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a jelly slug. Hermione winced as she heard the squeal from the charmed sweet when Charlie ripped its head off with his teeth.

"I also brought enough sugar quills and blood pops to last me the year," she said, gesturing to the bag, "Then I'll have to go back for more."

"How do you fit all that stuff in there?" he asked, opening the boot of his car and putting her luggage inside, "It's tiny."

"It's called magic, uncle Charlie," she said, tapping her little bag with pride, "Though it is one of my more ingenious creations, I must admit."

"Oh, who could neglect to bow down to your genius," he said as they both got in the car, "Do you want the radio on?"

"Nope," she smiled, looking over to her uncle fondly, "I'd much rather talk to you."


"So, what do you think?" Charlie asked nervously, glancing at his frozen niece.

The room Hermione was standing in was gorgeous. It was a tiny box-room, but she felt cosy, like the pale red, patterned walls were about to sweep her into a hug and hold her till she was warm again. The single bed, where a simple, cream duvet that was slightly crumpled was resting, had a thick-looking blanket spread across the bottom that - with it's tribal design and colours - reminded her of the rug her mother had had in the kitchen, and about ten scatter cushions of varying shapes and patterns.

It was in the corner of the room, and Charlie had hung pretty fairy lights across the window, which was to the left of her bed so she could sit and look out. There were old, battered photos of her parents, uncle and her grandparents in photo frames on the wall, a dark wood chest of draws and where the photos weren't, Charlie had installed matching shelves full of books.

"I got a friend of Billy's - you remember Billy, right? - to help me. Sue Clearwater," he said, still not sure what to do.

"I," Hermione started, unable to speak.

"I know you might not like it, but you can always change it, and I know it's small, but with Bells moving in and me being in my room I didn't know quite where else to put you so I just moved everything out of my office," he blabbered, the silence making him twitchy.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, a soft smile forming on her lips, "Oh Charlie, it's just beautiful."

She turned to face her uncle, who was feeling a bit more comfortable, "Thank you, so much."

"I just wanted you to feel at home," he said simply, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, "It's not much, but..."

"It's more than enough," she said amused, shaking her head at his humble attitude, "I can't imagine anywhere I'd rather call home, uncle Charlie."

"That's good, little lion, I kind of need you here," he admitted, looking down at his niece, "With your mom and dad leaving us, I don't want you to be alone either."

"I know," she sighed, understanding the feeling he was talking about, "I need you too."

"Well, I think I'll let you get settled in then, kiddo," he smiled, placing her suitcases on by the door, "Once you're done, just come down and we'll sort out some dinner."

"Okay," she said, watching as he trudged out of the room before opening her bag.


"I miss you," Hermione sighed as she placed the dark frame on her chest of draws. She'd emptied her luggage into the draws, and now she had finished putting her own things in the room; this was the final thing.

She glanced around at the cosy room her uncle had made for her, then made her way down the stairs to her uncle.

"Hey," she smiled, sitting next to him on his comfy green sofa, "What're you watching?"

"Ah, just some football."

"Are you sure? That looks a lot like rugby," she furrowed her brows, looking at the men on the telly.

"It's American football," Charlie insisted, pointing to the t.v, "See that guy there, he's the quarterback. He basically runs the whole operation."

"Uncle Charlie, it's rugby in armour," she frowned, gesturing to the screen where a blonde man was running down the grass, "Are they that scared of a little bruising that you can't even play without that on their shoulders?"

"No, that's for-"

"I know what that's for," Hermione interrupted, "It's so those idiotic rugby players don't break a nail."

"You don't get it, this is a highly skilled sport, kiddo," Charlie said, looking over to her.

"You're right, I don't get it. Rugby seems much more fun," she said, "Is this what Renée's husband does?"

"No, he plays baseball."

"What's that?"

"It doesn't matter," he laughed, amused by his niece's constant questioning, "What do you want for dinner?"

"Er, what have you got in?"

"I don't know, check the cupboards," he said, grinning cheekily, "And leave me to my wimpy game."

"Okay," she rolled her eyes, thinking that she'd done it a lot in the past few hours, "I'll see if I can whip something up."

She walked over to the kitchen and peered in each cupboard, tutting at the packet food and processed muck that filled them, "Uncle Charlie, do you have anything fresh in here?"

"Nope," he called back from the living room, "I don't think so."

"Not even a potato?"

"I doubt it," he laughed loudly, standing up and joining her, "You'll have hard luck making something fresh from this lot; usually Bells and I go out. Why don't we go to the diner?"

"You're going to have to take me to the shop," Hermione said, closing the cupboard and looking over to her uncle, "Unless you want to eat spam sandwiches."

"No, we'll go."

"Okay then," she smiled, "Where's the nearest supermarket?"

"It's in La Push," he lied, thinking about the annoying, nosey people of Forks, "Come on."

Hermione was putting on her coat and grabbing an umbrella, when the phone rang. She wasn't sure if she should answer it, but Charlie wasn't because he was changing, so she answered.

"Hello?"

"Bella?" a gravely man's voice asked.

"No, sorry, she's not at home. Do you want to leave a message?"

"Er, No. I wasn't looking for her, actually," the voice told her.

"Then why did you ask for her?" Hermione asked, confused.

"I thought it was Bella," he explained.

"Well, it's not. Was there something you needed other than to not ask for Isabella?"

"Isabella? You mean Bella? Er, no. Yes!"

"Could you please make up your mind," Hermione sighed, getting annoyed, "You are confusing me, and I need to get back to Charlie."

"Charlie's there?"

"Of course, it's his house."

"Yeah, well, can I speak to him?"

"Sure, hold on a second," she said, running up to Charlie's room and knocking on his door, "There's someone on the phone for you."

"Who?" he called.

"I'm not sure."

"Oh," he said, before popping his head round the door and grabbing the phone, then shutting it again with a quick, "Thanks."

Hermione shook her head, and went back downstairs. She had been waiting for Charlie for about ten minutes, before he came down the stairs in a black shirt and jeans that looked suspiciously like the ones he was wearing before.

"We've been invited to a bonfire, kiddo," he told her, smiling from the stairs and grabbing his coat, "You remember I told you Billy and Sue helped with your room?"

"Who?"

"Oh, okay," Charlie shrugged, walking over to the door with a confused Hermione following, "You'll meet them there."

"What about Isabella?" Hermione asked, "How will she cook anything?"

"Oh, she will have eaten at the Cullen's," Charlie said, frowning at the mention of the family.

"Okay," Hermione smiled, not noticing his annoyance as she hopped into Charlie's truck, "Where is this bonfire?"

"In La Push," Charlie said, "I know a lot of people down there."

"Cool," Hermione said, watching the greenery from the rain-covered window of his car.

"Your mom did too," Charlie added quietly.

"Oh."

The car fell to silence, Hermione curling up her jean-clad legs into herself on the seat, looking out at the rain.

"Why are they having a bonfire in the rain?" she asked.

"Oh, well the heat of the fire tends to keep everyone warm enough," Charlie said, "I wouldn't worry, I've been to a lot of these and you don't really get cold."

"Oh, okay," she smiled, looking at the car park her uncle had just pulled up at, "Is this where it is?"

"Nah, it's there," he said, turning and walking over to a long beach, where a crowd of people were gathered around a roaring fire. Hermione didn't know whether to follow him, or not, but looking at the dark street she was standing on, she rushed over to him.

"Charlie!" A bulky, muscular man with a deeply wrinkled face and dark russet skin cried, wheeling over to the two, "So good to see you!"

His voice seemed familiar to Hermione, but she couldn't quite place it, the memory too far away but niggling teasingly at her mind.

"You too Billy," Charlie grinned, "How've you been?"

"Not too bad, how about you?" Billy asked, looking appreciatively at the smile on his friends face.

"I'm feeling great," Charlie said, looking over at Hermione with a mischievous look in his eyes, "Have you met my friend?"

Billy looked over to her, stunned.

"Jean?"

"No Bill, her daughter," Charlie said, looking over at his friend, "Meet Hermione Granger, my niece."

"It's lovely to meet you, sir," Hermione smiled shyly, looking down at the ground as the man stared without saying anything.

"Come on, Billy," Charlie laughed, feeling sorry for his niece, "I know you're getting on a bit, but there's no need to be rude."

"Oh, sorry," he said, looking ashamed, "I apologise, Hermione, it's just you look so much like your mother."

"She does indeed," another voice interrupted, making Hermione raise her head to see the man.

"Harry," Charlie greeted warmly, "This is my niece, Hermione, though I think you heard that already."

"God, she's even more beautiful than Jean, Charlie," Harry tutted, "Your sister was right, all the good genes do go to the women of your family."

Hermione blushed deeply, "I highly doubt that, sir. My mother was an exceptionally beautiful woman, I'm definitely not."

"Ooh, sir?" Harry chuckled, looking over to his friend, "Do you here that, Billy? I'm a sir!"

"Stop teasing the poor girl," Charlie scolded his friends, "You're acting like a damn teenager."

"Oh, I see, that's what you think, is it?" Harry said, leading to a full blown bickering fest. Hermione edged away from her uncle and over to Billy, "What are they doing?"

"They're having a maturity contest," he said, an amused smirk playing at his lips as he watched his friends.

"They're both losing, I see," Hermione frowned, thinking of how to stop this; she only knew her uncle here, and she couldn't wait for him to finish whatever it was he was doing. She'd never seen him act so childish, "What do we do?"

"Just wait."

"Uncle Charlie," she called above their arguing, "What are you doing?"

"Don't interrupt, kiddo."

"Oh," she said, annoyed at his quick dismissal, "Fine."

She looked at Billy, remembering he knew about her mother, "So, you knew my mother, sir?"

"Yes, she was a great woman," he sighed, looking pityingly at her, "I am very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sir," she blinked, holding back her tears and shivering a little.

"Are you cold, young one?"

"A tad," she smiled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Well then, allow me to take you over to our bonfire," he beamed, rolling over to the fire with Hermione following. The people looked up to the newcomer, curious about who she was.

"Jean Swann?" a woman, aroung Billy's age, called from across the flames. She made his way round to them and Hermione saw a beautiful woman with a thin face, black eyes and black hair.

"No, Sue," Billy said, "This is Hermione, Jean's daughter. Hermione, Sue Clearwater. She was a friend of your mom's."

"Oh god, you're beautiful!" Sue exclaimed, grabbing a much shorted Hermione by the shoulders and looking her over, "Just as beautiful as your mother."

"No Mrs. Clearwater, I doubt it," Hermione shook her head, "But thank you."

"Nonsense, young one," the elder woman laughed, "You look just the same."

"She's right," Charlie said from behind her, "You do look like your mom, little lion."

"Oh, I never realised," Hermione frowned, biting her lip.

"Billy, do you want to do the honours of introducing Hermione to the kids?"

"Sure," Billy said, "Hey!"

Everyone stopped their conversations and looked to Billy, Charlie and Hermione, "This is Hermione Granger. Come introduce yourselves."

Each of the tribe came to greet her: there was Quil - something that greatly amused her, thinking of her days at Hogwarts -, Embry, Seth or Jeff, she couldn't remember, an interesting girl called Leah, two energetic boys called Brady and Colin, a very dark-looking boy called Paul, Jacob who was Billy's son, and Jared.

"I'm Sam, Sam Uley," A deep baritone said, snapping her out of her list-making.

She looked up, straight into his eyes, and my world spun. Hermione felt as if my legs were going to fall from under me. It was several moments before she realized that she should stop starring like an idiot and say something back, breaking the eye contact.

"Hermione, Granger," she said awkwardly, feeling embarrassed about staring, "I'm Charlie's niece."

"I heard," he laughed, and it was a gorgeous sound, "How many times have-"

A loud pop interrupted him, and Hermione looked around, alert, for any signs of danger; a habit from the war.

"Waaahh!"

"Hermione, I finally found you!" She turned to see a flustered Kingsley Shacklebolt holding her darling godson Teddy, who was crying and looked very distressed.

Her mothering instincts kicked in, and she rushed over the the distraught baby, taking him gently and kissing his head before rocking him as she spoke with Kingsley, "Andromeda had passed, dear. She had left custody of Teddy to you, and he is now in your full care. I have to get back to work, darling, but good luck!"

"Kings, what are you talking about? Andromeda is fine."

"She's been suffering with a slow-acting curse for the past three years, Mione, she's only just been release from that pain. Now, I've got to get back to work, but I'll check up as soon as I can and bring around the adoption papers soon."

"Wait, Kings-"

But before she could ask a thing, the new Ministry of Magic apperated away, leaving her with a crying Teddy, a baffled bonfire and a shocked uncle. Cringing, she scraped the barrel of her mind to find anything to say.

"Uncle Charlie, we may need to buy a crib..."


Good, bad, ugly? Please review if you've got anything to say, I hope I continue this story.