A/N: This is an AU fic which is based on Ever After.
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A wizened old lady sat in a velvet covered chair, alluring green eyes and a grey hair which didn't betray any secrets of being a rich chocolate colour in her youth. She delicately sipped tea from china of the finest quality and remarkable thinness, and looked up when two gentlemen walked into the room. A glass slipper was placed beside her.

'I suppose you are wondering why you are here, listening to an adult retell a children's fairy tale?' she asked quietly.

'The letter you owled was most intriguing.' Conceded one of them.

'I find your collection of children's fairy tales wonderful,' she began, crossing her arms in front of her. 'But I found your adaptation of Cinderella most disturbing.'

'There are many, many versions of this family tale.' Admitted the taller one, nervously fingering the clasp of his dress robe.

'Yes, indeed.' Said the other quickly, darting a look at his partner, William. 'Some say the shoe was of fur, others find it hard to believe that it really was a pumpkin, and whether or not the fairy-godmother existed at all.'

'Fairy-tales.' Shrugged William dismissively.

The woman raised her eyebrow skeptically. 'You do write them, don't you?'

'Would you excuse me for asking this, madam, but that painting is most exquisite.' Said the other.

'It is of Hermione Granger, and this is her glass slipper.'

The two men exchanged quick looks. 'Then it is -'

'Would you like to here the true story of Cinderella?' interrupted the lady quickly. 'How do you say it? Once upon a time . . .'

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Seven-year-old Hermione tossed her chocolate hair and spoke to her nanny, Molly, who was braiding her hair. 'Oh, Molly, I am so excited! It is like Christmas, isn't it? A mother and two sisters, all in one day!'

Molly smiled, 'It is, such an honour and of High Order, oh hold still!'

Hermione turned impatiently, and her friend snickered.

'I know she's dying to read her stupid book.' He said.

'Shut up Ron!' said Hermione haughtily, poking her tongue out at him. 'It is not a stupid book!'

'Oh, hush!' chided Molly.

Hermione suddenly sat very still, clasping her hands together in front of her. 'I hope she likes me.' She paused briefly. 'After all, I don't have any practice in having a mother.' She hugged her knees to her chest. 'She's my very first.'

'I'm sure she'll love the beautiful girl you are.' Said Molly, smiling as she tied a ribbon deftly into her hair.

'You look like such a girl.' Said Ron, not in the most admiring way.

'That's what I am, you half-wit.'

Ron rolled his eyes.

'Men!' sniffed Hermione.

'Girls!' shot back Ron.

'Girl or not, you know I can tickle . . .'

A tall man entered the threshold of the castle and greeted the butler. 'Good day, Maurice.'

'Fine day, Mr. Granger, sir.' He said. 'You'll find the house in top order, sir.'

'Very well.' Mr. Granger said. 'But I seem to be missing a daughter.'

Shrieks of laughter were heard, and then the pattering of feet, followed by a happy voice. 'Daddy! Daddy, hi!'

Hermione ran into the room, her hair decidedly unruly and stockings wrinkled. Her father chuckled and bent before her.

'I'd hope to present a young lady to the baroness, but you'll do.' He joked, touching her face.

'She doesn't - she doesn't mind that I'm not - well,' Hermione lowered a voice and her father knelt towards her ear. 'A muggle.'

'Darling, she doesn't mind in the least.' Her father laughed. He paused a moment, noticing her discomfort. 'Sweetheart, being a muggle is nothing to be ashamed of. You take after your mother, a fine woman.'

Hermione furrowed her brow. 'I want to be like you.' She said, her lower lip trembling. 'I've read spells, I'm sure I know how!'

Her father smiled. 'We'll see, eh?' he said, giving her a hug. 'You never can tell until your eleven, can you?'

Hermione smiled.

Maurice cleared his throat and both Hermione and Mr. Granger looked up. 'May I present,' he said. 'Baroness Elizabeth and daughters Marguerite and Jacqueline.'

Her father stood up quickly and gave Elizabeth a quick peck on the cheek and Hermione stood slowly looking at the two immaculate girls, suddenly conscience of the state of her hair after a tickling fight with Ron.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Before bedtime, her father asked her how she liked her new stepsisters. Hermione shrugged. 'Did you see how they ate their dinner? They were so perfect. It's not natural. They need breaking into.' Concluded Hermione.

Her father laughed gently. 'Well, I look forward to seeing it after I get back from France.'

'You're leaving again?' asked Hermione quietly, her chocolate eyes wounded, looking so very much like her mother that he was startled. 'But you only just got here.'

He gave her a kiss on her forehead. 'I'll be gone two weeks, all right?'

Hermione nodded, biting her lip.

'Oh cheer up. You'll be able to break them in while I'm gone.' He smiled at her. 'Now here's a little surprise.' He pulled out a book and handed it to her.

'Utopia?' read Hermione carefully. 'What does it mean?'

'It means paradise.' Said her father. 'Now, off to bed.' He tucked her in and smoothed the covers, taking a long look at her before kissing her goodnight.

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'Safe journey, sir.' Said Maurice, the butler, helping him into his robe.

He kissed all three girls and gave Hermione a long hug before mounting his broom. 'I love you,' he whispered in her ear.

'All right, ladies.' Said Elizabeth crisply. 'Back to your studies.'

'Wait for him to wave at the gate,' insisted Hermione. 'It's tradition.'

Marguerite rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. That's strange, thought Hermione before turning her gaze to her father just in time to see him fall from his broom.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was to be eleven years before another man entered her life, a man who was still like a boy in many, many ways.

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MANY YEARS LATER . . .

'I told you, Lily.' Said James Potter, the Minister of Magic, throwing the curtains open. 'That boy needs to learn responsibility. He needs to make choices . . . and, Good Lord, he'd better make the right one.'

'Darling,' said Lily placing a hand on his shoulder. 'He doesn't love her.'

'He doesn't believe in love! It drives me mad, all these princesses and courtiers throwing themselves at his feet, that boy . . .'

'Perhaps he should. Like father, like son.' She said with a teasing smile.

James softened, and then looked out of the window.

'Someone stop that boy!' he shouted, watching as his son sped away on his broom.

Harry sped through the trees and landed by a stable where he saw a horse. A though stirred in his mind and his green eyes gleamed as he mounted it. 'Yah!' he shouted, galloping away. 'Freedom!' he called.

'Oh no you don't!' called a voice, angrily.

An apple was hurled across, and hit him promptly on the forehead. 'Ow!' said Harry, kneading his forehead, still atop the horse.

'Thief! That will teach you not to steal my father's horse!' shouted Hermione racing towards him.

'I was just borrowing it.' Protested Harry, his back to her.

'Get out or I'll wake the house, you - you -' finding no words, but a convenient apple, she threw it at his head.

'Ow!' He cried again, and turned around, and Hermione gasped in shock.

It was Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. The little brat from the richest wizarding family in England who had saved them from the Dark Lord so long ago. She had seen his picture before, but whenever did he become so handsome? His jet-black hair was a tangled mess, and his green eyes as alluring as ever - right, that train of though wasn't helpful.

'I am so very sorry,' said Hermione, shaking as she curtsied, clutching after her wits. 'I didn't see you.'

'Your fantastic apple throwing skills would suggest otherwise.' Said Harry, running a hand rakishly through his hair.

'And for that, I will be punished?' said Hermione hopefully, an air of confidence about her.

Harry chuckled shortly. 'Just don't tell anyone.' He hopped off the horse and handed the reins to her, walking away.

Hermione called after him. 'We have more horses, if you wish!'

He turned around and gave her one last look, before walking away.

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Unlike the fairy-tale says, the two step-sisters were not in the least ugly. Not the immaculate seven-year-olds any longer - Marguerite, the older one was a beauty, with golden hair and bright blue eyes who could well look like an angel, if not for the discontented look and nose which was continually turned up at others. Jacqueline was a little plumper with pale skin and soft dark hair with gentle eyes.

Elizabeth, their mother, had her hair pulled back into a severe bun and thin eyebrows and thin lips which would purse themselves up if anything displeased her. She was tall and had a long thin nose which she used to her advantage in looking down at all others.

'This egg is cold.' Said Marguerite, pouting. 'And where on earth is my bread?'

'It's just coming,' called Molly from the kitchen.

'Marguerite, darling. What do I say about manners?' Elizabeth said, smiling.

'A lady of breeding ought never to raise her voice any louder than the gentle hum of a whispering wind.' Said Jacqueline gently.

'Jacqueline, please. Do not speak unless you can improve the silence.' Said Elizabeth, her eyes glinting. 'Why is there no salt on the table? Hermione, come here immediately!'

'One of those moods.' Muttered Hermione, brushing her hands on her dirty dress and picking up the salt.

'Tinkle is going to the Americas?' asked Danielle, the cook, urgently as she took the bread out of the oven.

Molly dabbed her eyes, and sniffed over the peas.

Hermione gave them a worried look and walked to the dining room. 'Morning all.' She said, smiling.

Only Jacqueline deigned to answer. 'Morning, Hermione.'

'I hope you all slept well?'

'Look who's been reading in the fireplace again.' Sneered Marguerite. 'The soot and ash just doesn't become you, Cinder-soot.'

'Some people read because they can't think for themselves,' added Elizabeth haughtily. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

'Why don't you sleep with the pigs, if you insist on smelling like one.' Said Marguerite snottily, her ethereal beauty and turned-up nose starting to annoy Hermione.

'Marguerite, please. Child, what can I do to make you try?' asked Elizabeth condescendingly turning her attention back to Hermione.

'Oh I spend every minute trying to please you, ma'am.' Said Hermione, bitingly. 'Perhaps if we got Tinkle back, you'd -'

Elizabeth missed the sarcasm. 'I feed you, I clothe you. It isn't your looks that offends you. It is your manner. All I want is a little obedience for living on my charity. Now, no more talk of house elves returning.'

Hermione made an impatient noise, sick and tired of the pity act that Elizabeth pulled on her. She almost preferred Marguerite's cattiness to Elizabeth's manipulating schemes.

'Is that to much to ask?' finished Elizabeth, in a world-weary tone.

Hermione turned around and walked out of the room.

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Harry sat in the royal horseless carriage, bored stiff. He turned to look out the window and saw several gypsies surrounded an tall thin, old man.

'No, please!' the old man pleaded. 'Please, they are simply calculations! They are my life!'

One of the gypsies sneered, 'Oh are they? Old man!' and he spat on the ground.

The old man straightened up. 'Enough!' he shouted. Drawing out his wand, he banished them to a farm in Scotland.

Harry was most impressed and quickly jumped out of the carriage.

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'Too small.' Sniffed Elizabeth at the gold brooch presented to her.

'Anything larger would topple her over.' Grunted the storekeeper.

'I shall simply keep looking.' She said. 'It must draw attention.'

Hermione was behind a screen while Ron stood outside, waiting.

'Are you crazy? Dressing up like upper class to save a house elf? You're half-blood! Well, they thought you were a muggle until you got your letter to go to Hogwarts, and then Eliza-cow wouldn't let you go. So you had to teach yourself, and you're practically a Squib!' He spluttered, desperately. 'That makes it even worse!'

'I am not practically a Squib.' Said Hermione. 'I am a skilled witch. I have gotten one hundred percent on all of the tests in my father's library.' Sneaking a glance at Elizabeth, she neatly levitated a candlestick. She fingered her wand lovingly, it had been a gift from Molly, something they could barely afford. 'And you'd do the same for me, you know you would!'

'Me? Pretend to be in the Ministry? I hardly know any magic at all. I've never been to a Gala, and neither have you!'

'I won't be recognized, so stop worrying!' said Hermione. 'Hand me the dress.'

'They will never believe it, you are far too nice.'

'I refuse to believe that all upper class ministers are cruel and mean like my stepmother.' Insisted Hermione. 'It just can't be true.'

'But - but . . .' faltered Ron. 'What'll you tell Miss. High Order Elizabeth, then, huh? What?'

'I'm berry-picking! What are they doing?'

'Buy a brooch.'

'Still? Unbelievable. She blames us for her debts and then pretends she has money to burn. Oh no, I think the shoes are too big.'

'No one will be looking at your feet.' Dismissed Ron. 'Aren't you ready yet?'

Hermione appeared uncertainly from behind the screen. She wore a beautiful gown of rich velvet and anxiously awaited Ron's comment. 'Ron?'

For Ron was silent, for once.

'You look beautiful.' He said sincerely. 'You are very beautiful, you know?'

Hermione looked dubious. 'I'm only a servant in a beautiful dress.'

'You're a upper class. You look down to no one.' Said Ron, simply.

Hermione smiled and played with a lock of her hair. 'Thank you.'

'Come here, let's get mother to prepare you.'

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A/N: How you like? Review pretty please!