Violette-Astrid Lyra Granger, or simply known as Violette, grew up to be a peculiar child. At 10 years-old, she was rather mischievous than average. Her troublesome antics could even give the Weasley twins a run for their money. Whenever she had her mind set on something, she rarely changed her mind. Slytherin at its finest.

She did wonder how she was so "sneaky", as her mum's friends described. Her mother and sister were uptight to say the least, only disobeying if they felt it was necessary. Violette paid extremely close attention to her mother's past escapades at Hogwarts when her mum's friends were talking. Sure, what her mum did seem more dangerous than what Violette would have intended, but she did it in the name of justice. Violette, on the other hand, would still disobey because she felt it.

The stuff that Violette wanted to do wasn't "evil". Normally, it would satisfy her hunger or curiosity. Most notably, was in the case of her father. Violette was extremely interested in the whereabouts of her father.

"Why do I have a grey eye? Your eyes are brown, mum."

"Why is my hair not brown but dirty blonde?"

These questions irritated her family to say the least. Her mother would avoid any topic to her father, while Rose would lash out. She had actually slapped her younger sister and told her to shut up, once.

Still, none of that had distracted the youngster's interest in the slightest. If anything, it had amplified it.

"Mum, why don't I have a dad?" Violette asked. It was just Violette and her mother, since her sister was at Hogwarts. They were currently eating dinner across each other from the table.

Hermione had stopped eating her pasta. Violette was being advent again with the interest in her father. Lately though, it had gotten more aggressive and Hermione just wanted it to stop.

"This isn't something we'd talk about over dinner."

Violette sighed. Her mother had always stubbornly refused to talk about her father. She just wanted answers, that's all.

"Mum-"

"If this is about your "father", I don't want to hear it," she spat, special emphasis on that word with disgust. Hermione's nose was flaring. She REALLY didn't want to talk about this, at all.

Violette set her fork on her plate. She was finished with dinner. She excused herself and stomped towards her room, slamming the door behind her. She plopped herself on her bed. Grabbing her DS, she was going to preoccupy herself. She needed to calm herself before she can face her mother again. Few moments later, she gave up playing after losing to the Elite Four more than once. Still not satisfied, she grabbed her sketchbook and started doodling.

Everyone has stated Violette was exceptionally talented in the arts, especially visual arts. It baffled Hermione, since she was only decent at instrumental. Sure, she had perfect-pitch, but she was completely hopeless with every other art form. Seeing Violette great at it really amused Hermione. Was it in an innate talent her father had? That was what Violette Granger was most curious about.

Violette was quite proud of her work. She had finished a sketch of her family: her, her mum, and older sister, Rose. She tried to draw a realistic version of her father as best she could. She assumed he was blond, had grey eyes, and a sharp chin. It looked very realistic, worthy of being sold to someone else. Violette was happy it turned out well. She wanted to improve her artistic ability to hopefully attend Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Art, a magic art school. She didn't mind the idea of Hogwarts since her mother and sister have enjoyed their time there; however, she felt a closer connection through her father when doing arts. She felt that by attending, it can provide the solace of not having a father by sharing that artistic connection.

Closing her book, Violette Granger had an epiphany. If her mother, sister, and everyone else refused to share information about her father, then she was going to go hunt for him. Whether they like it or not.

~Rose~

Shutting her book down, Rosalyn was heading towards the Great Hall. Rose had lost herself in the book she had been reading in the library. It was Divination. She didn't take it in third year…. her mum technically forbade her. Though, secretly… she was interested. Not necessarily for the possibility of possessing the sight, no. It was the prophecy that the deceased Trelawny had predicted a long time ago. Her mum had said that her predictions were scams… but Rose wasn't convinced that the prediction made about her was false. After all, she had foreseen Harry's fate, right?

Her interest in that prophecy was always there, but steadily increased over the years. Mainly, the taunts she received from her peers.

Everyone in the wizard world had eventually found out about what had happened to her mother, no thanks to Rita Slimy Skeeter. Ever since Rose had introduced herself, people had been making secret judgements. All because of who her father was. To hell, with Malfoy! She didn't even think of him as an influential figure anyways!

Rose had sat herself at the Gryffindor table beside her best friend, Owen Wood. He was the son of the famous Quidditch player Oliver Wood. He was the exact carbon copy of him in looks.

"Well, well, well. The half-blood Malfoy has come to dinner," a taunt came from the Slytherin table. Rose tightened the grip onto her robes. Owen noticed this and patted on Rose's back.

"Rose, ignore them," he said. Although a lot of wizards judge her, it was the Slytherins who taunted her.

"Your mother must've secretly liked it," another voice said.

Rose glared at the table, her grey eyes flashing with rage. "Piss off," she muttered. The table of Slytherins laughed… except for one. Blaine Zabini. She never knew why he was associated with them. He wasn't a savage like them. He treated her quite civilly whenever he had to talk to her. Most of the time, he avoided her. She never knew why. Perhaps he was hiding his disgust that way? Either way, she tolerated him the most out of the Slytherins.

The food finally arrived, and like every dinner, she had pounced at her food. Owen laughed.

"I never get bored watching this," Owen said amusingly. Teddy and Victoire had finally arrived and they all ate dinner like they always did.

"Look at Rose attack that chicken! I bet that's what Malfoy did to that Mudblood!" a voice taunted.

'That's it.' Rose stood up and was going to approach the Slytherins until Owen grabbed her arm.

"Rose, it's not worth it. You have to set your image as the Gryffindor fifth year prefect!" Owen reminded her.

Rose sighed and left for her bed.

She sat herself on her bed and contemplated. Everyone was eating dinner still so she had alone time. She was going to cry.

Rosalyn Stella Granger was NOT an evil kid nor does she have any plans on helping the Death Eaters. She hated Draco Malfoy SO MUCH for what he did to her family. Her mother didn't deserve the anguish he had caused her.

Rosalyn wasn't what the prophecy had foretold and she was going to prove it. Somehow.

Okay, here's the sequel to my past fanfic, My Precious Rose. Unlike the last one, this would most likely be OC focused, but there will be interactions with Hermione and the main cast. I think I'm going to include a twist on the Cursed Child in some way, but I'm not entirely sure. I've been told that the story was flawed and sucked, but I'd do my best to block those out. I mean, this is the fanfic universe.

Based on this chapter alone, it's revealed how Violette wants to discover her father and Rose is going to disprove the prophecy. Thus, contributing to the title, Flowers have Roots, metaphorically referring to Hermione's daughters and how they have origins that haven't been exposed yet.

Read and review as always.

~InsanelyFangirlism