A Father's Gift

She remembered quite clearly the first gift her Da had given her after she left for Hogwarts. The only thing that had kept her from running home before she and Ron and Harry became friends.

It was her first Year and her Mum had insisted that her hairbrush and comb were perfectly acceptable. She likely didn't even realize why her normally image-oblivious daughter would even care about having a Wizarding comb and brush set.

All Hermione knew what that she was different. It was one of those minor things that no one thinks to tell Muggleborns. Wizarding hairbrushes and combs "eat" the hair. It was a safeguard built in many years ago to prevent random hairs being left about for Polyjuice potions and other Dark uses. But no one thought to tell her that when they told her about the Magical world.

Her black Denman Paddle brush got the knots out, which was all a hairbrush was designed for – so said her Mum by Owl post two weeks after school began.

Distraught at having yet another reason to be pointed at, Hermione threw herself even further into her studies. She knew she stuck out like a sore thumb, she had felt exactly the same way in her old school. Why should it change now? Besides, a hairbrush wouldn't change anything.

The rented Owl that swooped into the Great Hall during breakfast a week later surprised her. It dropped it's package in front of Hermione, interrupting her reading. She blushed as the two girls closest to her leaned in to get a look.

"That's a pretty package," the girl named Lavender had said, peering over her shoulder.

"It's from my Da," Hermione answered, opening the paper carefully.

Upon seeing the plain wooden brush inside, Lavender and the Patil twin had quickly gone back to their gossip and ignored her. Everyone ignored her. She was use to being ignored and unimportant.

But her Father knew her and her father cared.

It wasn't fancy and it wasn't expensive. But it was her's.

And she was important to someone.