A Misplaced Person
Summary: What if Hermione wasn't who everyone thought she was? What if she was like Harry and just raised in the Muggle world?
Warning(s): This fic is very, very AU, it also contains sexual situations, crude language/humor, violence, adoption, character death, and a good dose of angst.
Pairing(s): Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, OFC/Tom Marvolo Riddle, James Potter/Lilly Evans-Potter, Ronald Weasley/Lavender Brown, Ginny Weasley/Harry Potter, and several others.
1: Why Now?
Hermione Granger had always prided herself on her self-control. And right now she was very glad that she had at least that. Her "mother" sat across from her with her head buried in a handkerchief crying while her "father" stared at the floor and twitted his thumbs.
"We're so sorry sweetheart. We should have told you about this before but we didn't think it would be necessary. But now with everything that has happened...well, we just thought that you might appreciate knowing." Faith Granger looked up at her daughter and felt a new wave of tears overtake her. Hermione sat ram-rod straight in her chair and didn't speak. Thomas Granger reached over to comfort his wife but he knew there was little he could do. He had told her from the start that it would be a mistake to tell his dear Hermione about their deceit.
"Hermione, please dear, say something...anything." Faith pleaded as she stared at her. The brown eyes that were so much like her mother's clouded with some indistinguishable emotion.
"In all of seventeen years, you couldn't find one single moment, not a single second, to tell me that I'm adopted." She spoke through clinched teeth and felt anger like never before bubbling up inside of her. How could they have lied to her? How could they have never told her the truth? She supposed she shouldn't have been so surprised. There had been so many indicators that looking back now she could have kicked herself for not seeing it before. She didn't look like any of her supposed family members. She had never liked any of the same things that most of her family did. And of course there was the fact that she was a witch in a family full of Muggles!
"Oh God, Hermione. There were so many times we could have, probably should have, but baby-doll we just couldn't. You are our daughter no matter what. This doesn't change anything." Thomas spoke softly trying to coax Hermione into some sort of emotion. It didn't work. She still sat there in the pastel pink arm chair, in the living room that she had played with dolls in, where she had had tea and scorns with her "family" in almost every day for the past seventeen years. But they weren't her family.
"Yes, it does Da...Thomas. It changes everything." Hermione rose and walked to the large floor to ceiling window at the far side of the room. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and her "parents" as she could. Her mind was racing with thoughts as she stared across the yard to the neighbors' house. The neighbors were outside enjoying the nice mid-summer day. Their daughter (Kristy, if she remembered correctly) ran from her father. They were laughing and when the man caught the little girl he lifted her in the air and spun her around. It reminded her of a long ago summer when she and her "parents" had been to the lake. Her "father" had done that exact same thing to her and for a moment she'd been flying.
Suddenly the memories of all those long forgotten summers, the things that she'd taken for granted as simply part of being a family, all the things that she'd loved about being with them started to flood back. She felt tears sting the backs of her eyes, felt her chest begin to ache with the force of the scream building inside of her, her hands balled into fists with the rage and anguish she felt. She'd watched her own father be murdered and hadn't even known. Not that it would have made a different, or at least she liked to think it wouldn't have. She wheeled around and looked at the two people who had meant more to her than anyone else in the world. They were her family as it were; they were now the only thing she had left. But she wanted to push them away; she wanted to make them sorry they'd never told her. And she could. She was of age and could legally do magic outside of school. She could do all kinds of things that would make them regret they'd ever stepped into that orphanage one cold winter day seventeen years ago and picked her out of all the other children laying there.
But even as she thought about it she felt a little panicked. If she were to do something to them, something as hideous and vile as she'd been thinking, then it wouldn't make her any better than him. Sure she could excuse it as bad genes or something of that nature but in her heart she knew that it wouldn't be right. She had been raised better than that. She had been educated better than that.
"I'm sure had he have known that I would have been a liability to Harry and not an asset. My "father", as he was, would have killed me anyway." Faith's head shot up as she stared at the girl who was her daughter of the heart even if not by blood.
"Whatever are you talking about, dear? How do you know your father?" She asked and Hermione gave her a look before remembering that she had erased their memories during those few months before Voldemort had finally meet his match with Harry.
"Well, he...he was the one who killed Harry's parents and tried to kill Harry when he was a baby. I was able to erase your memories and send you on a holiday while we destroyed him. He didn't go by Tom Marvolo Riddle anymore, he was Lord Vol...Voldemort." Even after seven and a half months she still had trouble saying his name.
"What?!" Thomas leaped to his feet absolutely outraged that his daughter had gone messing with his head. His mind wasn't as good as it used to be and he didn't all together like the fact that she had been messing around there.
"I had to. I was trying to protect you from being tortured or worst killed. If you would have rather stayed in London and waited on the Dark Lord to come and kill you then I'm sorry that I ever tried to help." The anger from moments before had finally won the battle that her emotions had been raging and she was happy about that. It would let her get a little steam off so she could think clearly. She was only mildly concerned that her anger may have been as misplaced as her person was at the moment.
"Hermione dear, please just sit down and let us discuss this like civil adults. You are of age in the Magical World. Please, don't make this more difficult than it has to be." Faith rose and started toward Hermione but she held out her hands keeping her at a distance.
"I don't want to discuss this anymore. I'm going to bed." It was a little after six in the evening but she felt as if it were midnight. Her body ached with the physical pain that the emotional stress caused. She was not going to stay down here with them and talk about this. It was out of the question.
She moved quickly from the room as Thomas opened his mouth to protest. She power walked down the short hallway that led between the living room and the front entrance. Then she skipped several stairs on her way to the second floor. Once she reached the landing she broke into a run to her bedroom at the end of the hall.
Opening the door she stepped inside and was greeted by Crookshanks who hopped off the bed and strutted toward her. She knelt down and scooped the cat into her arms and squeezed him tightly but not enough to hurt him. He bumped his head against her face and she felt the tears she had been fighting in the living room rise up and grip her. Burying her head in Crookshanks fur she let them fall.
She cried until there was nothing left, until everything inside of her went numb and she felt nothing of the pain that had originally gripped her. She lifted her head and walked toward the bed. Laying Crookshanks down on the pillow beside her she stretched out and sighed. What was left of the afternoon sunlight broke through the lace curtains covering her window and cast the patterns of the fabric into the room. She looked at the strange shadows move as the curtains blew in the air coming through the vent below.
She closed her eyes as Crookshanks got up and moved to lie at her side. He maneuvered until her hand rested on his back. The soft rhythmic purr lulled Hermione into a fitful sleep.
TBC…