Written for LIFE (neighbors)

-oOo-

The Robenstons were an elderly couple. There was no getting around that. The two liked to sit out on the back porch swing set together and enjoy the summer air. It was a tradition they kept up since their moving into their home twenty years ago. It was a tradition they would keep up until they died in that home, hopefully many years from this moment.

Mrs. Robenstons was still in her Sunday church attire that afternoon, a smile on her lips as she pushed the swing back slightly. Her gaze was over in the neighbor's yards, on the tree house that resided there. The neighbor's six year old daughter was sitting in the open treehouse, book in hand as always.

"Here you are hon." Mr. Robenstons handed his wife a glass of ice tea. She took it, thanking him. Sitting beside her, he took a sip of his own glass.

"Look over there," Mrs. Robenstons pointed towards the tree house.

Mr. Robenstons did as instructed and smiled at the sight. "I guess you were right."

Mrs. Robenstons smirked in reply, "I told you so. I knew she was special."

"How do you think her parents will react?"

"Hopefully well," Mrs. Robenstons said.

"Did you think they already suspect?"

"That they're daughter's a witch?" Mrs. Robenstons asked. She glanced at the little girl, and smiled. "I don't know any parent who would actually believe it at first."

"Understandable." Mr. Robenstons took a drink. After a moment, he sat the glass down on the table beside him. "What time is Shyanne and them coming by again?"

"Two," Mrs. Robenstons said. "They're coming by Floo. And remember the kids are staying over, so you need to get some popcorn for tonight."

"Will do." Mr. Robenstons nodded.

The two fell silence, their gaze drifting over into the tree house. A smile graced Mrs. Robenstons lips as she watched the teddy bear beside the young girl begin to rise. Whenever it got just below eyelevel, the girl would seem to notice, and drop her book. The teddy bear always ended back on the floor, and the girl would lean forward, pocking it in an attempt to get it to rise once more.

"She's going to be a strong little witch," Mr. Robenstons said.

"No doubt about that," Mrs. Robenstons smiled in response. "That little Hermione is going to be something."

The two continued swinging, their conversation turning back onto their grandchild who would be staying the night. In the neighbor's yard, up in a treehouse, six year old Hermione Granger would continue to watch her teddy bear for signs of movement, completely unaware of the gift she'd been given. And equally unaware that a pair with the same gifts lived just a yard over.