Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue me.

Daddy's Little Girl

She couldn't take it anymore. The night was too quiet, and her thoughts were simply too loud. She needed to get out of this silent house and find a place where she could be truly alone.

After checking that Ginny was in fact asleep, Hermione threw off her covers and left the bedroom the two girls were currently sharing. Closing the door gently behind her, she crept down the stairs and found herself alone in the Burrow's cluttered kitchen. It had been nearly impossible to find a time or space to oneself in the two weeks since the end of the final Battle at Hogwarts. Hermione was afraid that she would soon hear a creak on the stair and be discovered by one of the many Weasleys who still filled the house.

She silently opened the door and headed outside towards Mr. Weasley's shed. The door lock gave way with a single, muttered spell and a swish from Hermione's wand. (The last few years of experience had taught Hermione never to be far from her wand.) She almost smiled at the evidence of the Weasley family that lay cluttered 'round the yard, but her expression faded the moment she saw piles of Muggle artifacts Mr. Weasley so loved. They reminded her too much of the thing she had tried so hard to avoid.

In the last weeks, Hermione had spent every waking moment comforting Ron, reassuring Harry, or even helping Molly scrub her already spotless home in preparation for the numerous visitors who had come to comfort the grieving family. These tasks kept her days occupied, but even as she comforted and cared for one family, she knew had neglected her own.

Tears she hadn't allowed herself fell down her cheeks as Hermione cleared a space on the floor and slid slowly down the wall. With nothing to occupy her hands or mind, she couldn't help but consider her greatest fears.

What if she couldn't even find her parents? What if the memory charm was irreversible? What if she simply wasn't good enough and had somehow left them damaged? And what if they were unable to forgive her not telling them the truth? Would they understand that she was protecting them?

Hermione drew up her knees and buried her head on her crossed arms. Sobs shook her shoulders as the unanswered continued to race through her mind.

Arthur Weasley came down his beloved home's creaky stairs and drew his wand the instant he saw the front door was slightly ajar. (Arthur, too, was still never far from his own wand.) After a quiet revealing charm, he determined no one was in the Burrow who should not be. But now he feared that someone who should be home was not.

Though he did not show his concern as, well, outwardly as his wife, Arthur worried as he watched his family try to deal with the aftermath of what was being called the Second Wizarding War. With a heavy heart, he lit his wand and left the front door himself, closing it quietly behind him.

A quick scan of the yard informed him that the shed door was open, and he resolutely walked towards it. Arthur admitted that the Weasley men, himself included, were not the best at publicly expressing emotion. On more than one occasion during the last two weeks, he had encountered one of his sons, with suspiciously red eyes, exiting his sanctuary. Sighing, Arthur headed towards the door, wondering which of his boys had looked for solace in his own hideaway.

He was shocked when he saw not Weasley red, but bushy brown hair on the figure who sat crying on the floor. Arthur considered backtracking and sending Molly…surely she would know better what to do with a sobbing teenage girl! His fatherly instincts took over before he could leave, however, and he found himself pocketing his wand, sliding down the wall, and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the young witch.

Hermione sensed the person beside her, and tried to take a calming breath before raising her head. Out of all the Weasleys who could have found her crying, she honestly didn't expect Ron's father to be the one who sat beside her with that look of quiet empathy. Scrubbing her hands over red eyes, Hermione was immediately ashamed of herself. The man beside her had lost a son, had been attacked himself in the name of the Order, and now he sat beside her, giving comfort. She who had lost no one, had sacrificed nothing.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley. I never should have broken in. I just…I needed to…"

Tears began again as Hermione's voice trailed away. Mr. Weasley responded by pulling the witch into a fatherly embrace. "You just needed to stop being strong for a moment, Hermione. I've seen how you've been there for Ron and everyone, and I can only imagine what you've been through in the last year. It takes a particularly brave person to do all that."

With a little regret, Hermione pulled herself away. "You're wrong. I'm not strong at all. I'm not even brave enough to find my own parents."

Ah, so that was it, he thought. Hoping for wisdom, he began, "You'll find them Hermione, and when you do, they'll be yours again. And they'll be so proud of the clever, beautiful young woman they've raised."

Hermione managed a trembling smile, but doubt crept in as she asked, "And what if they don't?"

The words came more from his heart than his head as Arthur replied, "Then you'll come straight back home to us."

Knowing the sentiment was true, Hermione placed a kiss on the older wizard's cheek. "You'll tell them where I've gone?" At Mr. Weasley's nod, Hermione stood and headed for the door.

She was going to be alright.