Confessions of a Broken Heart; Daughter to Father

Hermione Granger was sitting in the Headmaster's office in shock. She had turned eighteen today, and when she had been called up to this tower, she had been expecting something school related.

Not this.

Never this.

Her whole, entire, life she had simply been Hermione Granger; daughter of Jane and David Granger, one of their several children, and loved dearly by all.

Today everything had changed.

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore's worried voice cut through the rapidly thickening air around her, his eyes were sparkling with pity, making her feel as though she were a child to be pitied.

"Professor?" She tried not to let her ragged breathing show as she spoke; but she wasn't very good at hiding her pain, she never had been.

"Are you alright?" He pressed, leaning forward over his great looming desk, his hands folded innocently beneath his chin.

"I'm fine." She stood up slowly, gritting her teeth as she began to feel anger sweep through her; no, she was not alright, she was not fine. She was hurt, and angry, and had no way to express these feelings. She left his office in a hurry, not wanting to hear another word.

Ron and Harry sat on either side of her at the Gryffindor table for every meal for the next three weeks. They would take turns piling food onto her plate, and blocking her view of the staff table when necessary.

She had stormed into Gryffindor tower on the night of her birthday; swearing and swinging her fists at the walls. It hadn't taken long for them to come to understand what the matter was.

And, just as good friends should, they stuck to her side and calmed her down; gave her reasons too wacky and wild to be taken seriously when she broke down and asked why. They kept her nose out of her books and took her out flying when she was restless; took her to see Hagrid when she wanted to do some hard work.

And, currently, they were planning her a trip into Hogsmeade with Ginny.

"No, I really don't –" "Come on Hermione," Harry cut her off insistently, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "Ginny's going to stop by that new Apothecary, didn't you want to go there too? Why not go together?"

Hermione flinched and stood from her seat, "No. I don't want to go anywhere near an Apothecary ever again." She picked up her book bag and tried to exit the hall without notice.

Luck, however, was not on her side. She crashed into two tall, slightly lanky forms as she tried to hurry though the doorway.

"Watch it you –" She froze in place on the ground as she recognized the voice speaking to her. Draco Malfoy. And, when one of the two people you bumped into was Draco Malfoy, the other was usually Professor Severus Snape. The last person she wanted to speak to, ever.

She tried not to look as she clamoured to her feet, but her eyes were drawn up like a magnet until they locked on his surly face. He had always seemed, to her, inhuman, with his pallid skin and crooked sneer, his dark greasy looking hair and his fathomless black eyes. But now, now he seemed to be carved from stone.

She didn't know if he knew yet, that she had been told, she didn't care to find out either. In fact, part of her dared to hope he didn't even know at all.

She shuffled away quickly, feeling more self-conscious than she ever had. She ducked behind the first door she found; and once she was alone, she broke down.

Harry and Ron had been sticking so close to her the past few weeks; she hadn't had time to come to grips with the sudden turn her life had taken. They would constantly distract her and put off her pain, but she needed to be alone now. She needed to get out her thoughts.

She pulled an old notepad out of her bag and an old blue pen she had snuck into the school for use on her diary. Strictly speaking, muggle inventions weren't allowed.

She set the pen on the paper and let the words flow.

I wait for the postman to bring me a letter
I wait for the good Lord to make me feel better
And I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders
A family in crisis that only grows older

Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go

Daughter to father, daughter to father
I am broken but I am hoping
Daughter to father, daughter to father
I am crying, a part of me is dying and
These are, these are
The confessions of a broken heart

And I wear all your old clothes, your polo sweater
I dream of another you
The one who would never (never)
Leave me alone to pick up the pieces
A daddy to hold me, that's what I needed

So why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go
Why'd you have to go!

Daughter to father, daughter to father
I don't know you, but I still want to
Daughter to father, daughter to father
Tell me the truth, did you ever love me
Cause these are, these are
The confessions of a broken heart

I love you,
I love you
I love you
I...
I love you!

Daughter to father, daughter to father
I don't know you, but I still want to
Daughter to father, daughter to father
Tell me the truth...
Did you ever love me!
Did you ever love me?
These are...
The confessions...of a broken heart

Ohhh...yeah

I wait for the postman to bring me a letter..

She finally stopped writing and sighed. All she had managed to do was write out a song she had heard on the radio during the summer. But it seemed to fit; if only she could find the courage to say it all, instead of just write it.

The door to the room she was sitting in opened quietly, revealing her worried friends.

"Hey…" Harry said softly, coming to sit beside her, "…when we saw who came in as you were leaving we thought you might need us."

Ron sat down on her other side and placed a hand awkwardly on her shoulder, "Had a few choice words with them too; we've each got a month's detentions. How are you holding up though?"

Hermione sighed and shrugged, hugging her short would-be letter to her chest to hide it. "I'm fine."

"Bull shit." The two boys said in unison, prying the paper out of her hands. "Nobody would be fine going through this. Hell, we're not even fine, and we're just one the sidelines." Harry said firmly, skimming his eyes over the words on the page before handing it to Ron.

"Well, what do you expect of me? I get called up to Dumbledore's office on my birthday, find out my entire identity is a lie, and the only family I have left never felt the desire to confront me himself –" the rest of her words died on her lips as Harry gently pressed his finger over them, and gave her a weak smile.

"Hey, you're no different now then you were before your birthday. It's not like you suddenly switched D.N.A." She sighed and looked down at her feet, "I guess," Ron handed her back her letter and grimaced. "You don't actually…love him….do you?"

She felt movement behind her shoulders and knew Harry had just punched him in the arm.

"Yes….sort of. He's my father." She hugged herself tighter. "Even if I never knew before now."

Here's a ... depressing ... little treat.

I was listening to an old playlist, which happened to contain 'Confessions of a broken heart' by Lindsay Lohan and it got me thinking.

What would it be like if Hermione didn't find out Snape was her dad until she was grown up? This!

Completely unrealted to the rest of the A Girl Named Hermione Granger series; except that, well, Snape is her father! Also completely non compliant to the ending of Half Blood Prince and most of Deathly Hallows.