-THE GRANGERS-

Two years after the war...

Hermione forced herself to smile. 'That's great, Dad,' she said, trying to look sincere.

The corners of her father's lips lifted up into a sad smile as he could see right through her false tone. He placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder – or what she thought was supposed to be reassuring. 'I'm lonely now, Hermione.'

'But you have me,' she said quickly, hoping against all hope that that would change his mind. She started ticking things off her fingers. 'I can cook, Dad. I can bring home money...' she trailed off, frowning. 'Um, it would be in galleons, but I can easily convert it into pounds! I can do all the housework for you. We can play Monopoly all the time just like how we used to. We can –'

'But soon you're going to move away,' he began, 'and –'

He was cut off by Hermione's interjection, 'I won't move then!' she cried almost hysterically, grasping at loose straws.

He sighed, pulling her close to him. 'I need a wife, sweetheart. I'm lonely,' he repeated.

'Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to latch onto the first thing wearing a skirt and red lipstick,' she snapped, not being able to stop herself. She immediately felt horrible when she felt him stiffen. She held him tighter. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered, her head tucked into the crook in his neck. 'I shouldn't have said that.'

'Perhaps not,' came his soft reply.

She pushed away from him. 'But, Dad, this is...this is...' she waved her hands in the air above them, not being able to articulate her thoughts.

'Hermione,' her father said, 'I still miss her. I still love her.' His voice sounded hollow.

Hermione looked up at him silently, not trusting herself to speak.

'Ever since...' he trailed off, swallowing. 'Every single day I think about her. I haven't stopped.'

Breathe in, Hermione, she ordered herself. Breathe out.

'But it's been two years, Hermione. Two years. We need to move on.'

Hermione couldn't hold back a glare. 'Are you saying we need to move on from Mum's death?'

He winced. 'No. No, that's not what I meant.'

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. 'She died a very tragic death, Dad. She was killed by Death Eaters, Dad! In Australia!'

Her father buried his head in his heads. 'I know,' he whispered, his voice muffled.

'Then why are you saying we should move on!' she exclaimed.

Her father didn't reply.

Hermione sat down in her chair. She couldn't even cry anymore. It had taken her years until the crying had stopped. Now, whenever she thought of her mother, all she felt was pain.

'I should've known,' Hermione said, now sounding defeated. She briefly forgot about her fight with her father, now walking down another terrible path in her memory. 'I should've realised that there would be pictures of our family in the Muggle word, too. I should've realised that Voldemort would have had his army looking through those pictures, too.' She looked up at her father, only to see him staring unblinkingly at the carpet.

'I would have rather been the one cooking in the kitchen, than be the one who was shopping for stupid car parts that we really didn't need,' he said in a dejected tone, shaking his head. Hermione felt her heart clench at the pain that was written across her father's face. 'It was my entire fault. I should have been –'

'What? No, Dad!' Hermione exclaimed, attempting to bring her father's train of thought to a standstill. 'Don't even think that! If it was anybody's fault, blame it on me, okay? Or Voldemort, or the Death Eaters, or...anyone else, really.' She got up, and crouched next to her father. 'It was not your fault,' she stressed, trying to look into his eyes but he refused to meet her gaze.

He nodded, but she knew that he would still take the blame for his wife's death.

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her wild curls. 'Maybe you're right, Dad,' Hermione said, sighing. 'Maybe we should move on.'

He looked up, a brief glimmer of hope swimming in his pain-filled eyes.

'But so soon?' Hermione asked in a gentle tone. Her father didn't deserve to be harshly shouted at.

'Then when, Hermione? When?'

Hermione opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say, so she closed it.

'Exactly,' he said softly.

She rested her head on his knee.

'We'll get through this, sweetheart. We'll get through this,' he said, stroking her hair.

-X-

6 months later...

'A witch, Dad?' Hermione yelled. 'A witch?'

Mr Granger looked up, mildly amused at his daughter's reaction. He folded the newspaper, tossing it to the table. 'Darling, you know what it does to my heart when you Apparate into this house like that,' he said, smiling.

She stalked over to him. He looked over her clothes, and shook his head. Why did she choose to become an Auror of all things? he thought as he saw her slashed clothes, the bruises on her arm, and the healing cut on her neck.

'Don't you darling me, Father!'

'Lord help us, she's calling me 'Father',' he sighed, looking up at the heavens.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Oh, quit the dramatics,' she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

He raised an eyebrow. 'Of course...as soon as you stop yours,' he said, reaching forward to take a sip of his coffee.

Her eyes were still narrowed. She waved her wand, and he was just in time to duck, narrowly avoiding an attack by the newspaper she charmed to land in front of him.

'Show-off,' he muttered, briefly wishing magic existed within him, too.

'That wasn't a show of my abilities,' she snapped.

'Oh?' he asked, deliberately reaching around the newspaper for his coffee. He knew what was in that newspaper of hers. He knew because he was there when the picture was taken.

'Read it!'

'Hermione, dear, I know what's in it,' he said, regarding her calmly. She has her mother's temper, she does, he thought fondly.

He waited while she fought the anger off. He watched the big clock mounted on the wall behind her. One, two, three, four...

...eleven, twelve, thir—

'Well,' she said in an eerily calm voice. He returned his gaze to her. 'Would you like to explain the meaning of this?'

'I'm sorry,' her father said in mock politeness, 'I wasn't under the impression that you were my mother.'

She jerked her head. 'Someone has to be the responsible one around here.' Her eyes narrowed again. 'Stop looking so amused, Dad! This isn't funny!'

He sighed. 'Isabelle Carmell and I met for lunch at Diagon Alley. Someone took a picture,' he finally said.

'She's a witch, Dad,' Hermione repeated.

'Now now, there's no need to go around calling her names,' he chastised her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his immature joke.

'Yes, she's a witch, Hermione. And I'm fine with that.'

'Dad, do you even know what she's famous for?'

'She's a very powerful dueller, Hermione, I know. But that doesn't mean she's dangerous.'

Hermione stared at him incredulously. 'Are you even listening to yourself? She's won countless of duels, Dad! There is not a duel she has fought that she hasn't won! What does that tell you?'

'She can be loving and caring, too,' her father said, shrugging.

Hermione took a deep breath. They were going nowhere fast. 'Dad, she is a powerful witch; she fights, she wins. She's dangerous.'

His lips twitched. 'So just because she's a powerful witch who wins her fights, she could be dangerous?'

'It's a possibility,' Hermione said, feeling relieved that he understood.

'Uh huh,' he said, pretending to ponder. 'I had no idea that you were dangerous. Should I call security before you kill me?'

And just like that, her relief disappeared with a poof. 'That is not what I mean, Dad,' she snapped.

'Come on, honey. You helped win the war! You're powerful, you win fights...and at the same time, you're the best daughter a father could ever ask for,' he said, smiling sincerely.

Hermione tilted her head. 'Dad.'

'Yes?'

'I'm your only daughter.'

'Doesn't mean you can't be the best daughter,' he said, grinning.

Hermione shook her head, not being able to stop the smile that lifted up her lips. She walked over, and sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder.

'Honey, I'm taking things slow. And I thought you said you don't mind me dating?'

'I don't, Dad. But you need to be careful – especially of witches with wands.'

'Your old man can take care of himself,' he said, winking at her.

Hermione looked at the carefree look on his face. She half-smiled. He looked so...happy. He smiled more freely, laughed more easily, and his eyes were devoid of that pain that made her feel sore just looking at. It had been a while since she had last seen him this relaxed. She took a deep breath.

'Fine.'

'Fine?'

She nodded. 'Fine.'

'Good,' he said, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

'But be careful,' she warned.

He saluted her. 'But of course,' he said, grinning.

Hermione shook her head, still smiling. She got up from his lap. 'I need to go now, Dad. Harry has some documents that I need to fill out for Azkaban.'

'Thanks for stopping by, sweetheart.'

'Just don't get too serious, or move too fast,' she warned.

He rolled his eyes. 'I'm a dentist, Hermione. We don't know the meaning of serious or fast.'

-X-

4 months later...

'We don't like you,' came the snooty voice of one Sabine Carmell-Granger.

Hermione didn't even bat an eye. She glanced at the tall, beautiful girl. 'Oh, you break my heart,' she muttered sarcastically.

'Really?' asked Astina Carmell-Granger in a hopeful voice, her bright blue eyes looking even brighter with newfound hope, oblivious to the definition of sarcasm.

Hermione snorted. 'Into a thousand pieces.'

Astina beamed, satisfied. 'And you know what we're going to do to those pieces?'

Hermione glanced at her watch, and then at all the people in the house. Thirty more minutes. 'Pray tell,' she said, walking around the kitchen, finding plates to put snacks on.

'We're going to smash them.'

Hermione looked at her. Then she looked at Sabine. Then she looked back at Astina. 'Uh huh,' she said slowly. 'Well, I hope you know that I'm deathly afraid of both of you right now,' she said in a cheerful voice, bending down to find another plate.

'Good,' came Sabine's irritating voice. 'Because once we smash them, we're going to –'

'-feed them to hippogriffs!' interrupted Astina ecstatically.

Hermione rolled her eyes, still looking inside the cupboard.

She jumped a little, bumping her head, when she heard a slap behind her. 'Ow,' she muttered, rubbing the spot on her head that had connected with the cupboard frame. She turned around.

'What did you do that for?' cried Astina, holding a hand to her face, glaring at her sister.

'You just ruined a perfectly good threat, you bint!' yelled Sabine.

Hermione rolled her eyes again, edging out of their way unnoticed.

'Oh really? Like you could have done any better?'

'As a matter of fact, I could have!' Sabine yelled.

Hermione quickly piled biscuits and cupcakes onto the plates, eager to get out of the suddenly cramped kitchen.

'Well, I find that hard to believe!'

'Excuse me? You're the stupid one!' Sabine exclaimed incredulously.

Hermione bit her lip, knowing that they had long forgotten about her.

Astina gasped. 'How dare you say that!' Hermione had just left the kitchen, when she heard Astina continue, 'We're both stupid!'

Which was shortly followed by another slap.

Hermione quickly placed the plates on the table in the dining room, before muttering a few pleasantries to the guests before racing up to her room.

She looked around it, sighing. 'Ron, Harry, where are you?' she whispered, sitting on the bed.

'Right behind you, of course,' came Harry's voice.

Hermione quickly turned around, a huge smile on her face. 'Harry! Ron!' she exclaimed, hugging them both. She let go of them. 'I didn't even see you there!'

'Pathetic Auror skills, if you ask me,' Ron said, a teasing smile on his face.

Hermione slapped his arm. 'Shut up,' she laughed.

'So how is the gruesome twosome?' Harry asked, plopping himself on her bed.

Hermione scrunched up her face. 'Ugh.'

'That bad, huh?' Ron asked, sitting next to Harry.

'Like you can't imagine,' Hermione said, shaking her head. She sat between them.

'No, what I can't imagine is that they're your sisters now,' Harry said.

'Step-sisters,' Hermione corrected with a grimace.

'Well, Hermione,' Ron said, 'look on the bright side.'

Harry and Hermione both turned to look at him, waiting for Ron to continue.

Ron looked back at them. 'Hang on, let me think.'

Harry held up a hand. 'What did we say about doing that?'

Hermione cracked a small smile.

Ron, on the other hand, frowned. 'Hey, I sometimes come up with good ideas!'

Harry smiled. 'Of course you do.'

'Ron, you were saying about there being a bright side...' Hermione prompted.

'Ah!' Ron said.

'Well, are you going to tell me?'

Ron kept quiet for a full minute, looking as if he was in deep thought. He clicked his fingers. 'Yeah, there's no bright side.'

'I appreciate the effort, Ron,' Hermione said glumly.

'They can't be that bad, right?' Harry asked, trying to be positive.

Hermione merely looked at him. 'They're the spawn of the devil herself, Harry.'

'She can't be that bad, right?' Ron asked, echoing Harry's hopeful tone.

'She's too...' Hermione trailed off, searching for the right word. 'Fake.'

'But your dad loves her, Hermione,' Harry said gently.

'I miss him,' she sighed, ignoring what Harry said about love.

'Well, good thing he's on his way from his honeymoon!' Ron said, trying to bring some cheer into his voice.

Hermione made a face. 'Honeymoon,' she repeated, sounding disgusted, images of her father and ...that woman coming to mind. She shook her head, feeling even more disgusted.

'Hmm,' Harry said.

Hermione looked at him. 'Hmm?' she echoed.

'On the bright side...'

'Oh, not you too,' Hermione said, groaning.

'No, no really! Seeing that she's also a witch, you don't have to hide your magic from her.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'That's not a bright side, Harry. That's fact.'

Harry shrugged. 'I tried.'

The three of them sat in comfortable silence, before her door was thrown open.

'HARRY!' screamed Sabine, rushing into the room. Harry couldn't even escape before Sabine had thrown herself onto him.

'Oof!' Harry gasped, feeling all the breath leave him. A second later, he was being straddled by the beautiful girl. Next to him sat an amused and slightly sickened Hermione, and a laughing Ron. Harry glared at them.

'Oh, Harry, you handsome man,' gushed Sabine, trailing a finger down his cheek.

Harry shook his head, attempting to shake her finger off his face. 'Sabine,' he bit out.

Sabine was either ignorant of his cold tone or was deliberately ignoring it. 'My, my!' she squealed, squeezing his arms. 'Your muscles are...mmm!'

'Sweet Merlin,' Harry muttered, trying to throw her off him. 'Sabine, could you please get off?'

Sabina let out a tinkling laugh. She smacked his chest playfully. 'Now where would the fun in that be, silly?'

'SABINE!' came a strangled cry from Hermione's doorway. All four looked up.

Sabine rolled her eyes. 'Control yourself, Astina. I told you that he's mine.'

Astina stomped her way over to her sister who was still straddling Harry. Of course, neither sister could see that Harry was mouthing SOS messages to Hermione and Ron who refused to do anything.

'How could you, Sab?' Astina cried. 'I even showed you his and my wedding album!'

Harry's eyes bulged. 'Our wedding what?' he gulped.

Sabine turned her eyes on him, batting them flirtatiously. She traced Harry's lips with her finger. Harry silently fought the urge to bite her finger off. He held his breath, counting to ten. 'She made an album of what your wedding would look like. Not to worry though,' she said in a low (and what she thought was sexy) voice, smiling wickedly. 'I burned it.' She adjusted herself on Harry's lap, causing Harry to groan. It was a really good thing he wasn't attracted to her.

A strangled sound came from Astina, and before anybody could do anything, an invisible force threw Sabine off Harry, making her land on the floor far away from the bed. Harry got up, seeing that Astina was the one who cast the spell on her sister. 'Thanks,' he muttered gratefully.

A dreamlike expression graced Astina's features. 'Anytime,' she murmured. Harry smiled uncomfortably.

'God, Tina, could you be any more pathetic?' Sabine asked scathingly.

The dreamlike expression disappeared, only to be replaced by one of anger. 'You burnt my wedding album?' she screeched.

'Oh, God,' Hermione muttered, massaging her temples. 'here we go again.'

-X-

One year later...

On either side of her sat her two best friends, holding her quivering hands. It felt as if she was in a vacuum...she couldn't hear, she couldn't feel. But she could see.

She saw the coffin being lowered into the ground. She saw the dark earth being piled into the grave. She saw the marble headstone that gleamed in the sunlight. She saw the tears on her family's faces. She saw the tears on her friends' faces.

But she couldn't feel the tears on hers.

She bowed her head as soon as the ceremony was over, unwilling to participate in whatever happened next. It felt too familiar. Harry and Ron stayed with her, clutching her hands even tighter when they heard the whispers:

'...sudden heart attack...'

'An orphan at nineteen years of age...'

'I suppose she'll live with the Carmell-Grangers...'

She clenched her jaw, closing her eyes tightly, wishing that she could shut out the noise.

They were still sitting there two hours later. It was just the three of them left in the cemetery, and yet still no words had been spoken.

Harry glanced up at the sky. It was getting dark.

'Hermione...' he said softly.

'Why do I feel so empty, Harry?' she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. Ron frowned at her pain, drawing soothing circles on her back. 'Why do I...?'

Harry knew it was a rhetorical question. But he couldn't just not say anything. 'Nothing I say will make the pain go away, Hermione,' he murmured, smoothing her hair.

'But having friends around can,' Ron said.

Hermione said nothing as the tears kept falling.

-X-

One week later...

'You've all been called here as the final will of Mr George Granger is being read,' a woman in a smart suit announced. There were many people crammed into the small office: Hermione and her step-family, her aunts and uncles, even a few of their cousins.

Hermione wasn't paying attention though. She didn't care what her father had given her. She didn't care what family heirlooms were now hers to keep. She didn't care if she now had money to move to another country and set up house there. She just didn't care. She would give anything, anything, to have him back.

But even in the wizarding world, the events of the past couldn't be rewritten.

She sat there, glaring at her step-sisters who couldn't contain their squeals of delight when it was mentioned that they had been left money. Her step-mother had more class, of course, by containing her glee. No one noticed, but upon closer inspection, Hermione saw the satisfaction in her step-mother's eyes.

Hermione's nostrils flared. How could this woman possibly have been in love with her father? How?

' "And to my darling daughter, Hermione,"' the woman was saying, ' "to whom I leave a third of my assets, namely..."' The list went on and on. When she thought that it had come to a stop, she looked up and nodded, thinking that that was the appropriate thing to do. But the woman continued, ' "All of these assets will be placed under Darleen Carmell-Granger's control and it is my wish that Hermione remains at home with my wife until Hermione chooses to get married –"'

For the first time in over a week, Hermione found her voice. 'What?' she asked in a very low voice, getting up slowly from her seat.

The woman looked up from the paper, not pleased with the interruption. 'I'm sorry, but is there a problem?'

'Could you please repeat what you said?' Hermione asked, not sure if she heard right.

The woman pursed her lips. ' "It is my wish that she remain at home with my wife until she chooses to get married –' Hermione sat down slowly in her seat, disbelief racing through her system. ' "—It is also my wish that she dedicates her time and effort to the maintenance of the house, and helping my wife out in whatever way possible –" ' Hermione's eyes bulged. What in the bloody name of – ' "-This would mean that she would have to resign from her job until she chooses to marry—" '

This was unbelievable.

George Granger would never have done this. Hermione looked up to meet the eyes of her step-mother. Isabelle Carmell-Granger smiled – and her smile seemed to be a bit too smug. Hermione frowned.

Why did it feel as if she was being cheated? Why did it feel as if those weren't her father's words at all?

Why did it feel as if she was being sentenced?

A/N: Right, so basically all my other fanfics are on hiatus. I'm focusing all my energy on this baby right here. So, it's not as dark as it seems to be. Trust me, you'll find the usual clichéd Cinderella goodies coming through soon enough. It'll be fun..Promise : )