Abraham's Daughter
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Harry Potter. Clearly, Jo Rowling does. I'm just a manipulator. ; )
The gentle patter of rain splashed against the window pane as Hermione Granger sat at her desk composing a letter. This letter was intended for one of her best friends, Harry Potter. She had been friends with Harry since her Halloween of her first year at Hogwarts and they were quickly approaching their third year of studies. Her hand gracefully moved across the paper as she dotted her i's and crossed her t's when the doorbell rang. Motionless, she sat for several moments before abandoning her chair. She flew down the stairs, but when she was halfway down she found that her mother opening the front door. Professor Albus Dumbledore was revealed to be standing on the other side of the door. Hermione looked at her headmaster quizzically, wondering what intention he had at her home on summer holiday. She had already received her supply list for the upcoming school year and she couldn't think of another plausible explanation for his unexpected arrival. Her mother greeted Professor Dumbledore cordially before allowing him entrance into the Granger home. Dumbledore door thanked Mrs. Granger kindly and recognized Hermione's presence with a stiff nod.
"Miss Granger, I hope that your holidays are going well I presume?" Dumbledore asked.
"Quite well, headmaster," Hermione agreed.
"Very good, now Mrs. Granger I need to speak with you and your husband in private," Dumbledore said with his eyes resting on Hermione at the end of his sentence.
"Of course, my husband is in the sitting room as we speak; just follow me," Mrs. Granger smiled.
Professor Dumbledore attempted to return the smile; but there was a grim shadow covering his normally twinkling blue eyes. Hermione watched as her mother led Dumbledore away from the foyer and into the sitting room. She took this as her cue to head back to her own room, which she grudgingly did. She wanted nothing more than to be downstairs with her parents and Dumbledore. What could he possibly have to tell them? If she had been with Harry and Ron at this very moment, they surely would have snuck downstairs and into the sitting room under Harry's Invisibility Cloak; but alas, she was alone in her muggle neighborhood without even magic at her disposal. But she desperately wanted to know what Professor Dumbledore was telling her parents. Had she failed out of Hogwarts? She had missed many classes last year because of her bad batch of Polyjuice potion and then again because she had been petrified because she saw the reflection of the Basilisk in the mirror. Then to top it off, Dumbledore had called-off all exams. Was it because of all this that she could be flunking out of Hogwarts? She needed to know, so she quietly moved down the stairs skipping the second stair from the top because she knew it squeaked. She was about halfway down the stairs when she stopped because she could perfectly hear the conversation and she still had a short distance to get upstairs so that she wouldn't get caught.
"Professor Dumbledore, you came to us after we formally adopted Hermione. Do you remember what you said to us?" Mrs. Granger asked.
Hermione gasped before quickly throwing her hands over her mouth. She was adopted! One would think that they would know they were adopted before they were thirteen, almost fourteen years old! She had only questioned her parentage for several fleeting moments when she was accepted to Hogwarts, but Professor McGonagall had assured her that Hogwarts had many students whose parents had no magical heritage. Surely, she had just heard her mother, if she should even call her that, wrong.
"I do Mrs. Granger. I told you that your daughter's biological parents were not going to be coming after her. But the situation has slightly altered," Dumbledore said.
Daughter's biological parents. It was true then. She wasn't really Hermione Granger and whoever her parents were, they had to be somehow involved in the Wizarding world, otherwise Dumbledore shouldn't be here. Right? It was the only thing that made sense.
"Slightly altered? How so? Is it her real mother?" Mrs. Granger questioned.
"Hermione's mother died in the Wizarding war," Dumbledore replied.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I suppose there's a lot we don't know about Hermione. I never thought to question it. You said to raise her as our own," Mrs. Granger sighed.
"And you will continue to do so," Dumbledore assured them.
"I don't mean to sound rude, but why are you here then?" Mr. Granger asked.
"As much as I would like to continue, Hermione has been listening to our conversation from the stairs," Dumbledore said.
The teenage girl's eyes widened as she quickly dashed up the stairs and to her room. She could hear footsteps following after her when she shut her door. She leaned against it and slid to the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks. The more she let the information of her true parentage process through her brain, the angrier it made her. Her parents, if she could even call them that, had lied to her for years. She knew it was wrong, but she even felt bitter toward her parents for not telling her sooner. She tried not to let it bother her then, but Malfoy's name calling had caused her to break down in tears more than once. If she had known then, what she knew know she could've been spared some heartache. A knock came at the door as she used her sleeve to wipe away her tears.
"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said.
"Go away!" Hermione sniffled.
"Hermione, please," Mrs. Granger sighed.
Hermione roughly wiped away another tear before she stood up to open the door. Mrs. Granger looked at her adopted daughter with an expression of concern on her face, while Hermione attempted to mask her emotions with her arms folded across her chest. The older woman enveloped her daughter in a hug, one which Hermione didn't return.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked coldly.
"Sweetheart, we thought it was for the best," Mrs. Granger said.
"Best for whom? For you? It certainly wasn't what was best for me!" Hermione screamed.
"Hermione, don't talk to your mother like that!" Mr. Granger called from downstairs.
"You're not my mother," Hermione hissed.
She pushed the older woman's arms off her and snuck past her and ran down the hallway until she reached the stairs which she also ran down. She ran until she was out of the house. She tried to get her mother's face which was contorted in pain out of her memory. She knew that it was hurtful and that she shouldn't have said it, but it just came out. She was really mad. They had lied to her for years! Didn't she have every right to be angry? She hurriedly ran down the street just wanting to get as far away from her house as possible. Besides, it would give her parents the time they needed with Dumbledore, or so she had rationalized in her head.
Hermione walked for what seemed like hours until she came to the one place she always felt safe: the library. Even though it was raining, she sat down on the bench outside the library. She wished she would've remembered to have grabbed her wand before she left. Even though it was illegal for her do to magic outside of school, it at least would've made her feel safer. She curled her knees up to her chest as she sat on the bench trying to sort out her thoughts. None of this made sense, yet at the same time it made other things make sense. But what she wondered is who were her real parents? Dumbledore had mentioned that her mother had died during the Wizarding war, but what of her father. What happened enough to make Dumbledore worry?
In the distance, Hermione could see a big black dog, without an owner, trotting down the road. She felt like the dog was looking right at her, but that seemed rather stupid. The dog kept its eyes directly on her as it came closer and closer. Maybe it was hungry. She searched her pockets for something to give the dog, but they were quite empty. Something about the dog intrigued Hermione, almost like she had seen it before. But her parents, the ones she lived with, had never had a dog as long as she could recall. Her neighbors were more cat lovers than dog lovers, so she highly doubted that she could've seen the dog in her neighborhood. Maybe on one of her countless trips to the library she had come across the animal. The shaggy haired dog was almost within arm's reach, so Hermione stuck her hand out to pet the dog. The dog walked right up to her outstretched hand and allowed her to gently scratch it. Her hand searched around the animal's neck for a collar, but she didn't find one.
"Hermione, you don't know where that thing has been."
Hermione dropped her hand as she turned around to find her mother standing behind her.
"How did you find me?" Hermione asked.
"I may not be your biological mother, but I'm still your Mum. You're my daughter and I know you quite well. Besides, the library was the most obvious choice," Mrs. Granger said finishing with a smile.
The dog seemed to hang its head before it trotted across the street and into the bushes. Hermione rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands before she sighed.
"Hermione, you know better than to take off like that," Mrs. Granger said.
"I'm sorry, I was just so angry," Hermione said.
"I know you were. You have every right to be. I never meant for you to find out like this," Mrs. Granger furthered.
"Did you ever mean for me to find out?" Hermione asked somewhat bitterly.
"Your father and I agreed to tell you when the time was right; but the time just never seemed right," Mrs. Granger sighed.
"You should have told me," Hermione said.
"I know. I was just so scared to lose you," Mrs. Granger explained.
Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to lie and say that it was okay that they lied to her, because it wasn't. But she also didn't want to fight with the woman who had raised her since before she could even remember. Instead, she just sat there staring at the bush that odd dog had disappeared into as the rain gently fell on her face. Mrs. Granger wrapped an arm around her daughter and Hermione allowed herself to be held. The two sat there in the rain until Mr. Granger eventually showed up with the car so that they could go home to try and sort out the mess that had been made.