A/N: This is a MMHG fic at its core… but note that this will be a very slow burn romance considering the age gap. So far we're following Hermione through her side of the school years of the original books. Enjoy!

Hermione Granger woke up to the sound of her mother calling her name up the stairs. Deciding she would much rather stay in bed that little while longer than admit to the daylight creeping through her curtains, Hermione didn't move at first.

"Hermione, post!"

The word 'post' certainly made her move, and Hermione quickly changed her pyjamas before thundering down the stairs to grab the thick envelope resting on the bottom step. She ran back to her room with it towards privacy, dropping onto the bed to read it. Raised with the habit of trying to understand the purpose of a sealed letter before opening it, she stared suspiciously at the envelope in her hands. It was glistening with emerald green ink and read, as plain as the eye could see:

Miss H. Granger

2nd Bedroom

12 Merchant Crescent,

Newbury

She frowned, turning over the envelope and running a finger over the wax seal. "Wax seals haven't been used a very long time," she muttered. She picked up a pen from the floor and used it to make a slit along the top of the envelope, and pulled out two thick sheets.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Hermione's frown deepened as she read the letter again. "Weird. Witch indeed, there's no such thing," she muttered. All the same, she took the letter downstairs with her and put it in her rucksack.

Her parent's dental surgery was a regular place of research and study for Hermione, so when, an hour or so later, she took the pieces of could it be parchment? from her rucksack and placed them both in front of her on the desk it was a familiar routine. She wondered if she should tell her parents about the letter but realised that she wouldn't be able to answer any of their questions if she did. Today's plan was to try and work out where it had come from.

The first sheet appeared to be an acceptance letter, and the second contained a list of necessary uniform, equipment and books stared back at her, daring her to believe in them. She laughed at the contrast between, "all pupils' clothes should carry name tags," and a list containing none other than a cauldron.

"Mustn't forget it has to be pewter, and whatever "standard size two" is," she said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "I wonder who conjured this up." She snickered at her pun, and continued reading. 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration' stood out to her. She had no idea what it meant, and as she always did when she came across a word that was new to her, she took out the large dictionary from the shelves in her mother's office.

transfigure (v) Latin 'transifigurare' to change the form or appearance of an object into a more beautiful or appealing state.

That didn't sound so bad. She often dreamt about getting away from the girls who taunted her for her frizzy hair. It wasn't just the books she read, the questions she answered, it was more than that, so she had to assume it was because of the way she looked. Even her so-called friends sometimes turned on her.

Only a couple of months ago, the girl she had called her best friend had joined in with the teasing at school when Hermione hadn't had the best mark in the class. She had misread a single question, demarked by enough to be second in a list of the year end exam results.

"86%? You must be losing it, Hermione," Louisa had said, waving her own test paper with a red 98% at the top. It was probably meant to be good-natured, Hermione had thought. The last few months of term had been difficult for both of them, constantly being teased for being what the others called swots, but battling each other to be top of the class. Until then, Hermione had always won.

This time, someone else joined in. "Slipping standards, Granger. Can't win everything. Can't brush your hair either, by the looks of it,"

Louisa had seized the opportunity. "No wonder no-one likes her. Probably has nits too. Mangy Granger."

Hermione had snapped. The exam results sheet had burst into flames, the windows had shattered, and Louisa had screamed and run away along with everyone else. Hermione had burst into tears and run home, convinced the school wouldn't allow her back in September to the senior school. Instead, nothing had happened to her, and nobody believed what she said had happened. Louisa never spoke to her again.

Hermione released her grip on the parchment as soon as the memory faded, wondering now if there was another explanation for the fixed glass, the definitely-not-burned-walls the next day. Magic seemed absurd but an albeit reasonable explanation for some of the things Hermione was certain had happened. She knew she had a very good memory. There was no room for failure when your classmates are waiting for you to trip. Transfiguration sounded pretty good to her. Shame it wasn't real.

A week later, just when Hermione had firmly considered the first letter to have been an elaborate joke, she received another.

'Dear Miss Granger,

Please accept our apologies for the delayed communication. Due to complications regarding your muggleborn status, a magical-muggle liaison supervisor will take you to Diagon Alley at 10am on 1 August. We will be happy to answer any questions you have regarding Hogwarts and the magical world at that time.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress'

She gripped the parchment tightly. She knew August 1st was soon, and it sounded like someone was going to come to the house to talk to her parents. She didn't know what the date was, but she knew she didn't have much time. She walked into the kitchen, wondering how on earth she would explain.

"What's going on, Hermione?" her father asked, looking bemused. Instead of reading the newspaper, he had his own letter. He passed it to Hermione to read.

'Dear Mr and Mrs Granger,

Your child has a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on 1 September. Due to complications regarding your child's muggleborn status, a magical-muggle liaison supervisor will arrive at 10am on 1 August. We will be happy to answer any questions you have regarding Hogwarts and the magical world at that time.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress'

She read it again. She didn't want to look up at either of her parents. "I don't know, Dad. I guess we'll find out soon".

"I must admit I was surprised when you said you didn't want to look at other schools. It is important to explore your options. But don't you think this is cutting it a little fine?"

Her mother snorted into her tea. "Did you miss the bit about witches and wizards? I think I'd know if my daughter was a witch."

The rest of the morning didn't go well. Arguments bubbled around the Granger household, and the days until August 1st dragged. Meanwhile, Hermione read the letters over and over again until the green ink and cursive handwriting with its promises were all she could think about. She'd seen the owls delivering the letters. The letters might have been on the doormat at the same time as everything else, but that was just luck. There wasn't much of a leap between trained owls and transfiguration and magic. Maybe it was all real.