A/N: Please heed the audience rating 'M.' This story will be dark and will have explicit content. I won't be giving chapter trigger warnings; so be warned, they might appear at any time. Content may include: sexual scenes/murder/blood/non-con/death.

This story will feature an irredeemable Dark Hermione. I will try to keep to canon character traits as much as possible, but due to the nature of the fic, some OOCness will be unavoidable. And as always, if you don't like, then don't read; but constructive criticism is always welcome!

Enjoy!

Awesome thanks for all the hard work and input of my new Beta. You are amazing Ladyofsilverdawn

Chapter One

Flowers. Hermione's earliest memories were of vases filled with: white flowers, yellow flowers - Poppies, daisies, Pansies. Her mother's tinkling, light laughter that was always joyful and happy which was another of her earliest memories.

Their home was small, only a two bedroom cottage with a small living area, a bathroom, and a kitchen; but they did have a large yard. The yard was her favourite area, soft green grass and, of course, flowers! She spent so many days outside lying on the grass while her mother would read her stories, and once she grew older, she would read outside by herself.

Hermione was a happy child without a care in the world.

DMHG

One sunny afternoon, Hermione was sat on her favourite spot under her favourite tree, reading every word of her new copy of Hogwarts: A History, when her mother silently took a seat next to her. Glancing up, Hermione was surprised to see her mother looking drawn and tense. She frowned in confusion, after all, her sunny mother never looked sad or solemn; it was like having snow during the summer. It just didn't happen.

"Mum?" Hermione uncertainly closed her book while looking at her mother.

Staring at her clasped hands, Jean Granger finally locked eyes onto those of her daughter, giving Hermione a half-hearted smile.

"Hermione sweetheart, there is something we need to discuss before you leave for school tomorrow." She kept the smile on her face as she tucked one of the wayward curls of her daughter's hair behind an ear, Hermione's wild hair never ceasing to amuse her, it's so unlike her own.

Jean's hair was light blonde, just a shade lighter than straw and pin straight; her eyes the lightest shade of blue and her skin the fairest white, like porcelain. She was the epitome of the delicate English rose, while Hermione inherited only her small stature and delicate bone structure, as well as her wit. Everything else Hermione inherited was from her father. Yet Jean never spoke of him. There were no photographs or anything to indicate he had ever been in their life.

Hermione recalled three years ago when one afternoon after she had come home from primary school she asked about her father. Her mother had smiled and said he had made her heart sing and that, before she left for Hogwarts, she would tell her more. Hermione wondered if this would be that discussion?

"Sweetheart, you are a smart girl, so I need to prepare you for certain things; otherwise, you will find out in other ways I'd rather you not." Her mother took a deep breath, steeling herself for this discussion.

Hermione remained quiet, somehow knowing she only needed to listen.

"There is a reason why we live in the muggle world," Jean resumed, "why I became a dentist and why I insisted you attend Muggle schools. Why I never took you into the Wizarding society." Jean eyed her earnestly as she spoke. "I never kept the knowledge of magic from you as you know." She stopped speaking, her smile widening, once again tucking the same wayward curl away from Hermione's face. "You see, when I became pregnant with you it was during war, and it was a dangerous time to be a Muggle-born witch like me. It was even more dangerous for me because I was sympathetic to the cause of the Dark Lord, not because of the ideals he sprouted, but because of who your father was. I also strongly disagreed with the agenda of the Ministry." Jean's eyes took on a glazed look as she stared off in the distance

For the first time in Hermione's life, she felt dread settle into her stomach. She knew of the war, of course, reading about it over the years. Since her mother never spoke of it, Hermione thought it must have been because it was too painful an experience to speak about.

"Your father… he's the reason for this discussion, and you look so much like him... You see sweetheart, as I'm sure you already know, there are magical families that are very prominent called the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They are the oldest and purest of magical families in England, and there are certain inherent genetic traits that each family has. No matter what, those traits will manifest in children within those families. It's usually in eye or hair colour, or even both."

Hermione caught her breath, knowing where this discussion was leading.

"Now in your case it is both. The Fawley family traits are brown curly hair and brown eyes, even your freckles are part of the Fawley traits." Jean spoke so quietly Hermione could barely make her words out.

"Mum," she said with awe, "are you saying that my father was a pure-blood?" Jean replied solemnly to her question. "Not was. Is. Your father is Xavier Fawley, and he is still very much alive and active in the Wizarding community—along with your brother." Hermione squealed in surprise "Brother? I have a brother!" her high-pitched exclamation heard throughout the garden. She felt excited, sad, and angry, especially angry. She had always been quick to anger, her temper vicious.

"Half-brother, technically. He'll be in his third year." Jean corrected automatically before continuing.

"Hermione… your father was handsome, charming, beyond clever—but also forbidden. He was married when we were together. I was young and foolish...but so in love." Jean looked into the horizon as a single tear slipped from out of the corner of her eye, memories consuming her.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione regained control of her rising anger. "Mum?"

Jean looked at her daughter, noting the flash of her rising temper in her eyes. " And then I found out I was expecting you. I couldn't tell him; the things they did were not good things. The raids and revels of muggles and muggle-borns were horrific... I had to run away with you." A shudder ran through Jean as some long buried memories resurfaced.

"With the Ministry's and Muggle Prime Minister's help, we integrated into Muggle society, safely hiding you all these years. But once you are at Hogwarts the people might be hard on you, you make sure to tell everyone you are a half-blood alright Hermione, use that card because it is a smart card. If they think you are muggleborn it might possibly get very difficult with those old families; lots of them are still prejudiced."

"Also," another wry smile ghosted Jean's features, and she once again tucked that errant curl of her daughter's hair behind an ear. "you look like a younger clone of your brother. Those Fawley traits…" Jean trailed off with a slight shake of her head. "

Hermione was screaming and kicking on the inside. Her father was alive. She had a brother. But looking at her mother's worried face, she didn't want to add to her mum's fear. So instead, Hermione hugged her, closing her eyes against the stark, bright day. The smell of all the fragrant flowers wafted into her nostrils, and she couldn't help but take a shuddering breath. She knew her life would forever be different.

DMHG

The sounds that met Hermione's ears as she and her mother walked along the platform at King's Cross station were overwhelming. People were bustling around, pushing and shoving. Hermione scowled when a messy-raven-haired boy jogged by with a trolley bearing a trunk and a caged snowy owl. He almost ran over her and Jean, who was also pushing a trolley. Without one word of apology, the bespectacled boy just continued on his frantic journey. A Wizard obviously she mused.

"Here we are sweetheart," Jean sing-songed over the noise of the crowd. "Now, as I explained to you earlier, just walk straight on through." Jean smiled at Hermione, gesturing at the bricked wall ahead of them.

Her heart pounding with excitement, Hermione nodded, and then with a deep calming breath, she purposely walked towards the wall. Once she was close enough she could place a kiss upon a red brick, she held her breath and stepped through, Jean following after.

As she walked forward alongside Jean, Hermione's eyes widened in awe, taking in the platform. An impressive scarlet steam engine that read Hogwarts Express' billowed out steam in readiness for departure. All around robed witches and wizards hustled, some with purple pointy hats and others with green bowling hats. Robes of royal blue and even mousy brown; owls hooted and rats scuffled in cages while children of all ages chattered and whined

Her mother chuckled. "Impressive, isn't it."

Hermione came to a halt next to Jean and grinned at her mother. Excitement thrummed through her body, and she could barely wait to get to Hogwarts, make friends, and learn. While attending primary school, she never had friends due to being termed 'odd.' But she just knew she would finally make friends, since she would be with people that were the same 'odd' as her.

"It's so wonderful, Mum; I can hardly wait!"

Jean's twinkling laughter sounded up once more, and she kissed Hermione's forehead while tucking her hair back. "Oh, it is. You will love being at Hogwarts, sweetheart."

Just then someone bumped into Hermione which caused her to stumble into Jean's side. Swivelling around, her quick temper flaring, Hermione only saw the backs of a whole brood of red-headed individuals. They all seemed poor and shabby, but that didn't bother Hermione; the thing that caught her attention was that they were loud. The mother of the lot had a high shrill voice that carried as she reprimanded the unruly group. Hermione narrowed her eyes in irritation. She would never be so misbehaved; she had manners.

"Don't be bothered," Jean spoke gently. "Those are the Weasleys. You shouldn't have problems with them as they are very accepting. Although, they can be a bit trying."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, they're being inconsiderate. It's rude to not watch where one is going and to talk so loud others are privy to your family discussions." Her voice was condescending as she kept her arms firmly crossed.

Jean chuckled, Hermione had such a passionate personality, alway campaigning for what she believed in. Jean had no doubt that whatever life Hermione chose that she would follow that path with absolute commitment.

"Now, let's get your luggage on-board shall we?"

With that, Jean proceeded to help Hermione load her luggage from the trolley into one of the compartments. She kept up her bright chatter as she helped Hermione with her trunk in order to hide her own nervousness of the trials she knew her daughter would most likely face. Jean could only content herself with the fact that Hermione was a bright, intelligent girl, who now knew the truth; so at least, nothing would come as a shock.

The train gave a warning whistle to board. It was time to say good bye. "Mum…" Hermione stood, trying to hide that she was, in fact, afraid of the daunting change in front of her. She was afraid on the one side of being without her mother. Her mum would be alone now and she wouldn't be there to keep her company and to help her. And what if Hermione needed her mother? Who would light up her day if she was tired?

Jean bent forward and enveloped Hermione in a great hug, burying her face into Hermione's wild curls. "Don't be afraid… You are so bright; you will do wonderfully in Hogwarts. Just remember what we spoke about yesterday." She pulled back, keeping her hands on Hermione's' shoulders, a bright yet strained smile on Jean's mouth.

Hermione smiled through her silent tears. This would be the first time ever she would be away from her mother for a prolonged period of time, and it scared her. But she wouldn't be weak. She had a plan, after all, and that meant she had to go to Hogwarts and earn the best grades possible.

"Goodbye, mum. I love you, and I'll miss you so much." Hermione hugged her mother a last time before scrambling onto the train, her mother's own "I love you sweetheart" following her.

As the train pulled away, Hermione hung from a window and waved to her mother; both blowing kisses at each other amidst the loud yelling and waving from all the other students and their families.

Jean Granger stood on the platform for a long time after it emptied With a heavy sigh, she turned around and left the platform with a pop of apparition. There was nothing she could do to eliminate the feeling of impending doom she had been feeling for months now.

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