A.N. Sorry, not sorry. I have been excited for Christmas since two weeks before Halloween so you'll simply have to excuse me. This fanfiction will be pure fluff so if you're looking for drama or angst may I point you in the directions of But, She's Worth It (finished) or Snapped (not finished). Three cheers for self-promotion. If you like it review AND favorite AND follow. One can never have too many alerts, now here we go!

I woke up to a shouting match. For just a second the third voice sounded familiar, but when the male's screaming ceased my chances of matching the voice vanished. Sleepily, I padded downstairs to fully understand what all of the hullabaloo was about. To my confusion and shock Professor Snape was standing in my kitchen with his back to the door, arguing in the same hushed drawl that went along with him being the dullest man on the planet. He was tall and his shoulders blocked my parents' view of me, leaving me safe to stare at his black clad shoulders.

"Your wife promised us that once we signed the papers she was ours," dad argued, I couldn't exactly see past the professor's broad shoulders, but my father's wild hand gestures extended beyond the width of the professor. Wife? The entire school had been under the impression that Snape lived a celibate and lonely existence. His only suitable contact with human beings seemed to come from his daily conversations with out headmaster.

"The woman was horrid; it isn't my fault or my problem that she lied to you." He said just as unfeeling as usual, "I'm here to claim my daughter-," daughter? It took every ounce of my control to keep from grabbing the man by the shoulder and spinning him around. Surely he was mistaken; it simply didn't make any sense for me to be his daughter. I lived my entire life as Hermione Granger. Where was he getting this horrid idea?

"The law clearly states that Hermione is ours." Mother growled fiercely, practically admitted to me that I was adopted. Except –of course- that it was impossible. I had her eyes, her nose, and her hair! I looked nothing like Severus Snape and I hopefully never would. "It doesn't matter what transpired between you and that woman."

"That's where you're wrong." Of course she was, because I wasn't adopted. Surely they would have told me before I got this old. It just didn't make any sense to hide it from me. "Since my dear wife did this without my permission wizarding law states that any legal claim you have over the girl is null and void." Hearing him speak cold facts –regardless of the fact that I wasn't his daughter- unnerved me more than I'd like to admit.

"But we aren't wizards!" I could hear the tears clogging my father's throat as he tried to work his way out of this. I wanted nothing more than to assure him that there was no reason to worry, for I wasn't this deranged man's long lost daughter, but if that was true why weren't they denying it?

"This is true, but since the subject is a witch you can say that you're held under the standard of the law." Both my parents fell silent under this new set of information. I could clearly imagine my overly emotional father wiping away the silent tears that lost themselves within the stubble on his chin. When he grew tired of the silence he turned to face me, "I'll be back for you before the end of the day. Be packed and ready to go." He tapped my head with his wand causing a terribly uncomfortable sensation to wash over me. Originally it felt like he'd dumped a bucket of water over me, but moments later my skin began to prickle where the magic was crawling along my body.

He didn't wait for a reply, instead he ruffled my thick dark hair and disappeared ignoring the sniffles of my adoptive (?) parents.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mom rushed forward, wrapping her arms around me before the anger had a chance to lodge itself within my heart. No one spoke for the longest time as we each stood in an awkward, terribly hot group hug. Mum was the first to break away, insisting that we could talk over tea and biscuits. As she began to throw the batter together I headed upstairs to pack and mull over the recent development. Being a Snape didn't sound the least bit appealing. He was a splendid instructor, but he wasn't a people person. How did he expect to handle having a daughter? Would he expect me to uphold traditional pureblood ideals? Was I even a pureblood or was my mother a half blood or even a muggle born?

Clothing folded itself neatly, fitting into the trunk easily. I spared just a moment to marvel at the magic controlling the items within my room. Delighted I spun and danced around my room. It wasn't until I practically stumbled into the vanity did I get my first look at myself. My honey colored eyes were nearly cobalt and my hair was thick and dark just like Snape's, but my nose and lips were foreign all together. I'd never seen these features before. Interested, I leaned closer, hoping that proximity would reveal something new.

It didn't. I was left to thank Merlin I didn't have the potion master's beak of a nose or sickly white complexion. My skin was sun-kissed and glowed despite the clouds blocking all of my light. I found myself admitting that while I looked nothing like the girl in the photos downstairs I also didn't look completely different from the girl in said photos.

My go to books entered the trunk next, working themselves into the small space the best they could. I briefly wondered if I'd be back before school began. Considering I only had two weeks I figured it would be better to be safe than sorry and packed my school list and head girl badge. Mum called me down for our chat moments after I'd finished packing. It was senseless to overthink the situation. Jean and Herald Granger were my parents no matter who fathered me. They raised me up and I would always love and respect them as such.

"When you were just a babe your mother approached us with this little bundle." Mum began, her biscuit untouched on her plate, "she told us that she and her husband could no longer take care of you. She'd been adamant about us taking you, promising that she wanted no contact with you. She promised us that we could raise you as ours." She paused to blink away a couple of tears and in that time took an angry bite of her treat.

"Then she did just as your-," dad cleared his throat, "just as your professor did and tapped her wand over your head. Imagine the look of surprise on our faces as your little face transformed. Your skin and hair lightened by a bit and your hair curled until it was nearly an afro. And then you opened your eyes and you smiled at us."

"She handed you over to me," mum had taken over again because of dad's spontaneous decision to burst into tears, "and ran away before I could thank her. Her only condition was that we didn't change your name. You were originally named Amelia, but we quickly decided that it was too ordinary of a name for you so we moved it to your middle name and named you Hermione instead." Dad, having dried his tears for the moment, came back in to explain a bit more.

"When you were invited to join that wizarding school we were terrified, what if they saw how beautiful you'd become and demanded you back? We were up all night arguing about if we were ready to let you go. We'd come to the decision that we'd keep you at home and raise you as one of us, but then you stumbled upon the letter and you were so excited. You started going on about fitting in and making friends and we just couldn't keep you here."

"Year after year you came back to us without a hitch and we'd gotten comfortable knowing that no one was going to snatch you from beneath our noses." She mumbled taking another rage filled bite of her dessert.

"We love you, Hermione. You believe that, don't you?" Dad asked, sitting his tea down on the coffee table between us.

"Oh, daddy, of course I believe that. There are plenty of people in this world that are adopted and have brilliant relationships with both sets of parents." I hugged him around the neck feeling safe within his grip. Mum joined the hug, burying her face into my hair.

"That hooked nose bastard could have never raised our girl as well as we did," mum chuckled, tickling me gently. I couldn't help laughing, after all Snape had never been very nice to me. It would do him so good to see how it felt to be ridiculed. This thought opened a vault of endless question, the most pressing of which was simple: if he knew I was his daughter, why did he treat me this way? For six years he insulted and ridiculed me in the worst way possible, allowing others to pick on me and overlooking the bullying all in one fell swoop. Oh did he have some explaining to do if he expected any bonding to be going on in these next two weeks.

As if speaking his name summoned him, Severus Snape appeared with a crack. Both of my parents and I jumped in shock. Antisocial and rude as always, he made eye contact –but spoke no name- and ordered me to grab my trunk.

"She has a name," dad snapped at the offending wizard.

"I'm aware. She's been my student for six years." He drawled.

"If you know it, use it. After all, what kind of father can't speak his own daughter's name? Does it remind you of the people you're stealing this child from?" Mother asked bitterly. He rolled his eyes and fixed them with the same condescending look he usually reserved for Neville.

"Amelia," he stressed my birth name, smirking in satisfaction when I looked up, "go and grab your things. We are meeting with your godparents today and I don't want to be late." Spurred on by curiosity I gave my parents hugs and kisses upon the cheek before heading upstairs to grab my trunk. The three of them stood staring at each other as they awaited my return. He wasted no time in fleeing the awkward situation, extending his arm to me. I waved at my parents, trying to ignore my father's watery smile. If he cried I couldn't promise that I wouldn't.

"Bye, I'll see you la-," my words were cut off as the turd beside me apparated away, "I was saying something, you know." I grouched, but he waved me off.

"It wasn't important. We're on a very strict schedule, so I need you to hurry and get dressed."

"It was important," I insisted, but he was already walking away. Annoyed at him I huffed indignantly, but followed him out of the sitting room. The house was rather small which was to be expected for a single man who only lived here three months out of the year. Still the furniture was high end even if it didn't scream 'I am fabulously wealthy'. The living room was decorated in creams and browns, with a plush carpet to tie it all together. He led me up a flight of carpeted stairs, moving quickly so I could inspect the portraits I passed. Most of the walls were covered in surprising bursts of colorful free form art, but as we got deeper into the hope the walls became more barren. He led me to a room; the walls had clearly been painted by hand and reflected both my Hogwarts house and my intelligence. The walls were colored royal blue with hand painted swirls of glittering gold making a continuous loop along the very top of the wall. My bed was a mahogany four poster also hand carves to match the painted design of the walls. I couldn't believe the amount of thought that went into the room. To my left was a splash of white made out to spell out 'Mia' in elegant script. For a moment I could only stare at the room, mouth agape. Then I turned on my heels and looked directly into the eyes of the man claiming to be my father. He stood perfectly still, unsure of what to do now that he'd actually presented me with the room.

With a little smile I rushed over to him and launched myself into his arms. He stood there rigidly; heart slamming into his chest as if he'd never experienced anything like this before. Slowly he wrapped his arms around my, resting his chin on my thick hair. I could feel his breath fan across my forehead as he pulled away.

"Get dressed," he said, clearing his throat. His sallow cheeks had flushed making his face go splotchy.

"Thank you," I called after him as he rushed out of the room. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'yeah, whatever' but I simply pretended that he'd said 'you're welcome.'

My closet was filled to bursting with robes of all shapes and sizes. Considering that we were headed to a dinner I picked a black robe that clasped in the front directly over my breasts. There was an elaborate design along the front consisting of brass swirls that flowed outward like butterfly wings. Beneath it I chose what appeared to be a leather cocktail dress with a modest neckline that flared at the hips and stopped an inch above my knees. In an effort to throw some color into my drab ensemble I stuck a pair of sapphire studs into my ears and wove my hair around a sapphire encrusted butterfly comb.

I was ready ten minutes later. Snape was sitting downstairs in his same black outfit, scribbling on a note pad. Unfortunately for me I couldn't get close enough to see what he was doing before he flipped the note pad closed. He raised his eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

"Did you paint my room?" I asked him. He seemed as if he weren't going to answer me at first, but finally –after righting every skewed item in the room- he did.

"Yes, I painted most of it, but I had a bit of help with your name." I wanted to keep asking questions, but he wasn't much of a talker, so instead I decided to fill him in on my life. That way he didn't have to say anything and I didn't have to sit quietly. He listened politely, scowling whenever I mentioned Harry or Ron, and rolling his eyes whenever I said anything know-it-all like. I was still going on and on when the clock struck seven. In all honest we'd only been sitting here for maybe twenty minutes, but it felt like longer since I was doing all of the talking.

He extended the pot of floo powder to me, "your destination is Malfoy manor." He told me with a smirk. I glared at him.

"Malfoy manor, you can't be serious? Why didn't you tell me before that my godparents were muggle hating freaks?"

"Because I figured you'd object, now go on." He nudged me forward, "I don't want to be late." Grumbling I took a handful of powder and launched it into the flames, "Malfoy Manor." I stepped out of the flames and cleared the fireplace before taking a look around. There was marble as far as the eye could see. The walls of this room were lined with statues of Greek gods and goddesses. I couldn't help the noise of satisfaction that passed my lips as I noticed a painting directly beside the fourth statue. It was the same abstract, free form type of painting that filled Snape's home. Despite the obscurity of it all the painting made me smile. Something about it reminded me of radiance and purity. Snape stepped out of the fireplace, dusting his robes.

"Millie!" A little elf came popping in, wringing her hands nervously.

"Yes master Sev?"

"Announce our arrival," he ordered of her. She bowed clumsily after a string of affirmatives, and then ran off down the hall as if forgetting that she could disappear and reappear at will. She returned quickly with a large dark skinned male running after her. This was new. I'd never seen Blaise Zabini smile a day in my life. When I say never I did mean never; not in passing, not from across the hall…never. Yet, here he was, breathless from chasing a silly elf, with a contagious smile spread across his even, chocolate features.

"Blaise Zabini, these filthy Malfoys say you're my cousin."