A/N: Hello! I had this idea after writing my first Dramione One-Shot and I hope you'll enjoy it! As always, most things belong to J. K. Rowling :) And please review- I appreciate feedback so so much! Enjoy :)

Hermione Granger put her head in her hands, sinking down into her gray couch. She'd always loved that couch. It was the only piece of furniture that remained from the very first home she'd ever had, the very first thing she'd bought with money she'd earned.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Draco. You know that Harry's son is in the same year, and I don't think-" she began, but Draco silenced her, sitting down next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"Hermione, what other choice do we really have? I know you're brilliant, but Hogwarts is simply an experience we can't hope to replace through homeschooling. And if we keep hiding from them? That's letting them win, love," Draco said softly, and Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing. He was right. Of course he was right. Hogwarts had changed her life, and to deprive that from Grace- she didn't think it was fair. But seeing Harry again…

"It will be alright," Draco said quietly, stroking her hair gently. Hermione wanted to believe him. She really did. But ever since she'd had to choose between the boys and Draco, she'd tried to hide Grace away from their whole feud. And why shouldn't she, when Harry and Ron missed out on everything that was important to her, ignoring her invitations and desperate letters. They didn't come to her wedding, for Merlin's sake, nor did they invite her to theirs. They had never met Grace, or had even bothered to visit her at all.

"Mail's here!" came a cheerful voice from the hallway, and Hermione was jolted out of her trance. She sat up straighter, Draco's arm around her like a brace, holding her tightly.

A small girl entered the room, a serene smile on her face. Hermione's heart warmed as it always did whenever she saw Grace. When everything else was wrong, Grace was always right. She had her father's smooth blonde hair and quiet smile that always seemed to slide into an easy smirk. But Grace's chocolate brown eyes and delicate features were from Hermione.

"Here," she said simply, holding out a stack of letters towards Draco, who grinned and took them from her. To be honest, Hermione wasn't sure how Draco would act once she found out she was pregnant, but he was a great father, and Grace adored him.

"Thank you ever so much," he drawled, and she grinned at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"You're quite welcome," she said, and Hermione laughed, snatching the letters from Draco's hands.

"Let's see here… One from your father, as usual," she said to Draco, whose face darkened for a minute before he turned and handed the letter to Grace.

"Care to do the honors?" he asked her, and she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Draco, I hardly think-" Hermione interrupted, but Draco waved away her concerns.

"Relax, Hermione, the kid's never even met the man," he said, and handed the letter to Grace, who promptly sprinted over to the fireplace and tossed it into the frames with a flourish.

"That's my point," Hermione said coldly, and Grace scampered back across the floor to her parents. "We've also got to renew our subscription to the Prophet," she continued, tossing another letter to Draco, "and this is probably an invitation to another one of those dinner parties that coworker of yours does. Oh, and look! One from Neville!" she said excitedly, setting aside another two letters until the last one sat in her palm. "And this is-"

Hermione stopped, staring down at the letter in her hands. She had known this was coming. She just hadn't expected how soon.

"What is it, mom?" Grace asked, a concerned expression on her face, and Draco leaned over her shoulder to see the letter.

"Grace, maybe you should-" Draco began, but Hermione stopped him with a look, slipping her hand into his.

"It's for you," she said simply, holding the letter out to her daughter, and Grace took it cautiously, inspecting the front. Slowly, she slid the parchment from the envelope and unfolded it gingerly, taking in each word.

Dear Ms. Granger-Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

"It's real, isn't it?" Grace asked, the excitement visible on her face. Hermione knew her daughter had been looking forward to attending Hogwarts her whole life. But it was still hard, knowing that she was going somewhere where Hermione couldn't protect her.

"It's real, Grace," Draco said, standing up and moving over to put an arm around Grace, whose hands were shaking, whether from fear or excitement Hermione wasn't sure. Her daughter took out the list of supplies, reading over that too.

"I- I can't believe it's finally here," she said with a small smile, the same smile that was echoed on her father's face. "When can we go to Diagon Alley?"

"Soon," Hermione said, laughing, and Grace grinned at her, flashing her slightly crooked teeth. "Don't get too excited. You've still got some time to wait."

"But not nearly as long as I've already waited!" Grace said excitedly, gripping the parchment tightly between her fingers. "You know, I've been thinking a lot about what house I'll be in, and I really have no clue! Do you think I could get an owl of my very own? Also, could we get a few extra books at Flourish and Blotts when we go? I really want to know everything I can about Hogwarts, and there's so much more that I-"

"Alright, alright, Grace, calm down," Draco said, ruffling her hair, and Grace batted his hands away. If there was one thing Grace had inherited from Hermione, it was her knack for talking fast and for long periods of time.

"I'm glad you're excited, but there are some things-" Hermione began, but Grace was already listing off her necessary supplies. Hermione sighed, leaning back into the couch. She knew she shouldn't be worried. Draco was always telling her she worried too much, but when it came to Grace, Hermione always seemed to be worried. She took a deep breath, listening to her daughter's bubbly laughter mixed with her husband's teasing comments. This was her family, and neither Harry nor Ron could take that from her.

Grace Granger-Malfoy had dreamed of Hogwarts for as long as she could remember.

When she was five, her mother walked out to their small garden to find Grace lying on the grass with about a dozen flowers levitating around her head. She was promptly marched inside and told a long story about a magical school with four houses and a place for everyone, no matter where you came from or what kind of magic you could do.

When she was eight, she read about a man named Harry Potter in the Daily Prophet one morning, a man who had fought in a war against an evil wizard and won. She asked her mother about it, which made her almost faint, and Grace was told another long story about two boys and a girl and a few of their many adventures in the magic school. When she asked why she'd never met the two boys, her mother sent her off to play and refused to tell her anymore.

When she was ten, she learned the truth. And the truth was that the two boys grew up into two men, and the two men didn't like her father. But her mother did, and when her mother chose to get married to her father, the two men decided that they'd never speak to her mother again. Grace hated the two boys after that.

But Hogwarts had always seemed like a haven. A haven where the daughter of two estranged wizards who never knew their families could belong, and make friends of her own that wouldn't leave her without a second glance. She'd never known either set of her grandparents. The only family she knew was her Uncle Neville and Auntie Hannah, who, as far as she knew, weren't even related to her.

And when she got that letter, it was like everything fell into place. Finally, after years of waiting, it was finally her chance to go to the magic school, get a wand, be sorted, live the life that she'd always dreamed about but never really had to chance to get a glimpse of.

Now, here she was. Smack in the middle of Diagon Alley, with the list in one hand and her father's hand in the other.

"Why don't l go get your books, Grace," said her mother, who was shooting worried looks at all the passerbyers around them. Although they tried to hide it from her, Grace knew that both her parents were famous. She'd seen their names in the Prophet more than once. "Dad will take you to get your wand." Her father nodded, squeezing her hand.

"Are you excited?" he asked her, and she nodded slowly, her heart fluttering. A wand. Her first wand.

When they reached Ollivander's wand shop, Grace was visibly shaking. She made her way to the door, ready to push it open when her father stopped her, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"Hey, Grace. I know you're nervous, but you don't need to be. I'll be right here," he said, and for a second, something Grace couldn't register flitted across his face. Regret? Pain? Memory? She couldn't tell. "I won't leave you, okay?"

"Okay," Grace said, nodding, and her father squeezed her shoulders before standing back up and leading her inside.

"Hello there," said a warm voice almost as soon as they'd entered the store. A young man stood at the counter, a smile on his face. Grace slowly walked to the counter, staring at the man with wide eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, welcome," he said, taking notice of her father.

"Hello," her father said stiffly, and the shopkeeper smiled.

"I'm Darian Ollivander. My father passed on his knowledge to me before he passed away," the man said, holding out a hand, which her father shook gruffly. Her father seemed to transform into a different person whenever he was around other people, all cold and serious and no-nonsense, different from the father Grace knew at home.

"This is-"

"Grace," Darian said matter-of-factly, and her father stood up a little straighter at Darian's knowledge of her name.

"That's right," Grace said, and Darian smiled at her. "I'm here for my wand."

"I can see that," he said, "And I've already got one in mind." Darian turned and marched to the back of the store, rifling around for a wandbox. When he emerged, Grace's heart was beating like a drum. It was time.

The first three wands Grace tried did not seem to be the ones for her. The first time, she knocked a stack of books off the counter. The second time, she blew a hole in the counter. And the third, she knocked both Darian and her father off their feet.

After brushing off multiple of Grace's apologies, Darian brought out another wandbox, this one older and dustier than the last few had been.

With a flick, Grace twisted the wand in her hand, and suddenly, there was a burst of light and a gust of wind, and she felt energy thrum through her veins. This was the one. She could feel it.

"That's it!" declared Darian, and Grace ran a finger down the graceful, twisting wood. It was light in her hand, and every time she touched it she felt a little burst of something surge through her. "Beech wood with a dragon heartstring core and rigid flexibility."

"Brilliant," her father whispered to her, and Grace grinned. She had a wand.

By the time they got back to their house, it was nearly sunset, and Grace's school supplies were strewn about the big kitchen table. Her hands were wrapped around a warm mug of cider, and her mother was looking fondly at each of her schoolbooks, caressing the spines and muttering little facts she remembered about them.

"Ah, Hogwarts: A History! I bought this one special for you, Grace, because it has so many fascinating facts about the castle. Although I'm sure you'll finish it quickly, it's only about 1000 pages," she mused, and her father winked at her.

"Don't worry, Grace, I'll protect you from all that reading," he whispered, and her mother looked up from the book, a frown on her face.

"I'll have you know that reading has saved my life more than once," she said sternly, and Grace put down her mug of cider, giving her mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, mother. I love it," she said sweetly, and her mother gave her a warm smile.

"Well, at least someone's respectful around here," she said mockingly, and wrapped Grace up in her arms.

At home with her little family, Grace felt like everything fit perfectly into place. But something in her 11-year-old heart wished for more. And somehow, she knew she'd find it at Hogwarts.