Hermione Granger and the Sorcerer's Stone

The Hermione Granger Christmas

Christmas had come and Hermione lay in bed, hugging her warm comfortable bedsheets. 

Snowflakes fell slowly, romantically outside her window, covering the floor with a wet and fresh, white blanket. Hermione just could not wait to go out and have the time of her life, creating snow angels, catching snowflakes with the tip of her tongue, and throwing snowballs at her father.

Hermione climbed out of bed with her covers wrapped around her shoulders.

Before she knew it her mother had attacked her from behind and hugged her.

"Happy Christmas honey!" she called.

Hermione laughed. "Mum, you scared me!" she told her. "Oooh!" said Jean Granger, still hugging her. "Oh, are you cold honey? Come on darling. We've made you breakfast, all your favorites."

Mrs. Granger's grip subsided and Hermione walked into the kitchen.

The smell of her family's home-cooked breakfast filled her nose. It smelled absolutely delectable. The table was full of pancakes, waffles, eggs, hash browns, muffins, biscuits, strawberries, bacon, and fresh-baked bread.

Her father and mother sat down by her on the table.

"This is all for me?" asked Hermione. This table was indeed full of all her favorite breakfast items.

"Yes, honey. We like to think of this Christmas as your day," answered Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, please, Jean. Somewhat Hermione. We're trying to make your visit back as special as possible. You know we've missed you with all our hearts, but we must acknowledge that Christmas will always be the lord's day."

"I haven't forgotten, Dad," answered Hermione.

"I meant the breakfast. Christmas could never belong to me."

"Yes, the breakfast is all for you. Our little Hermione." "Please, Dad. I am no longer your little Hermione. I'm not as passionate about the nickname as I was before."

"Oh, Hermione you'll always be little to us. I can barely believe your twelve. When I look at you I still see the tiny, adorable baby I met on September nineteenth."

"I am twelve years old, Mum! I find it a bit - well - . . .embarrassing."

"Then don't," settled Mr. Granger, and Hermione stubbornly took up a bit of everything.

.             .               .

At twelve in the afternoon Hermione's family members and friends began arriving. Their house was becoming filled with Muggle adults, who were all completely happy and proud to have a witch in the family.

"Oh, I knew something was different about her," said Grandma Maggie, wagging her finger delightfully at Hermione.

"She was always so brave, so unpredictable, and so magical in general."

"Oh, yes. I must admit I was not surprised when I heard the news," began Hermione's cousin, Anne. "One time when she was six I wouldn't let her have a ride on the swings in my backyard. Hermione got so annoyed she blew me off the swings with such force I wouldn't talk to her for a week."

The table laughed happily and Hermione smiled weakly.

She couoldn't help but notice that everyone was here but the one person she wanted to arrive the most. 

Everyone was eating their food and going on about Hermione's abilities brightly.

Her family was all smiling gracefully, but Hermione stared longingly at the door. She couldn't imagine what was holding her. She lived just down the block.