Helping her grand-mère and her great grandfather bring home her mum and dad had been fairly simple with a little bit of magic. The hospital had arranged a special international Floo trip straight to St. Deni in Paris. Once there, St. Denis had arranged for a live-in nurse who had no issues being in a mostly magic-free environment. Because it was through St. Denis, Hermione was the guarantor. Signing all the paperwork had taken a while — partly because she felt vaguely guilty for signing everything as "Hermione Granger. Her accounts at Gringotts would cover the first month or two, but she was going to need to figure out something quickly.

After all the paperwork was completed and Hermione had helped the nurse settle into the small suite next to her Mum and Dad's room, Hermione was exhausted both physically and emotionally. She stayed one more night at her grand-mère's place in Limoux. The next day she had returned to Paris and taken an international portkey to London. Her first stop was Grimmauld Place. She had barely stepped out of the Floo when Kreacher had flung himself at her, clutching her knees.

"Kreacher's Miss Hermione has returned!" Kreacher wailed theatrically.

"Yes, of course, Kreacher," Hermione said as soothingly as she could. "I just had to make some arrangements for my parents. I've only been gone for—"

"You've been gone a week," Harry interrupted her. He was leaning in the doorway and frowning at her. "Where the hell have you been, Hermione?"

"France and Australia," Hermione admitted. She bit her lip. "My mother's family… they're actually Squibs. I never knew. My great-grandad, or… the man I thought was my great-grandad is Marius Black."

"Kreacher's Miss Hermione was with Young Master Marius?" Kreacher asked curiously.

"He's not as young as you might remember him," Hermione cautioned Kreacher.

"Why didn't you send me a note?" Harry demanded. "I've been worried sick about you! Kreacher was worried about you."

"I'm so sorry." Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. "I didn't know that my mother's family were related to the Blacks. I just… I had no idea. Apparently, they kept all that a secret from my Mum. I was able to take them to the hospital in Australia, and we were able to bring my Mum and Dad to my grand-mère's house. We just got them settled in with a nurse from St.
Denis."

"No, I'm sorry," Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He flushed. "I may have panicked a little bit."

"What do you mean, you panicked?" Hermione asked slowly.

"I got a frantic Floo call at 3 am two days ago," a cool voice drawled, and Draco poked his head into the room.

Hermione blanched and stared at Draco for a moment before she swung her gaze to Harry's face.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed at him.

"He made me promise not to tell Mother and Father," Draco offered. He shrugged. "That was probably for the best. Father would have had a fit and ripped apart the wizarding world to find you."

"So, what… you've been here the entire time?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"No, just the last two days," Harry muttered and flushed.

"And the house is still standing?" Hermione blinked and looked around, searching for signs of spell damage.

"We were a little more focused on you," Draco informed her and quirked a pale brow at her in silent judgment. Hermione pressed her lips together. He frowned at her then, his forehead furrowing. "What's wrong with your… your other parents? Is it something we can help with? Father has contacts all over the world."

"I…" Hermione stared at Harry mutely.

"He's your brother, Hermione," Harry said gently. Hermione couldn't help the start of surprise at Harry's words.

The surprise must have been visible on her face. because Draco's jaw tightened, and he averted his eyes. Guilt made her throat tighten and she moved to sit down in one of the chairs, Kreacher dogging her every step.

"My parents are Muggles," Hermione began. When a muscle jumped in Draco's jaw, Hermione sighed. "I've spent my entire life thinking of them as my parents, Draco. That's not going to change overnight."

"Nor should it," Harry added firmly.

"I didn't say anything," Draco muttered.

"You didn't have to," Hermione countered drily. She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin. "During the war, I was worried that they… that they would be at risk. So, I… I tried to protect them."

"How?" Draco asked quietly.

"I used a memory charm I found in one of the books here," Hermione admitted. She bit her lip and twisted her hands in her lap. "When I attempted to use the counter spell… I didn't realize that Mum and Dad were already under another memory charm."

"Oh." Draco's voice was soft, and he was busy staring at his own hands when Hermione snuck a peek at him. He glanced up then, his silver-grey gaze catching hers. "I'm sorry. I can't even imagine… I'm sorry, Hermione."

"The Australian magical Healers did their best for them, and they've improved quite a bit. They were able to release them to my grand-mère and my great-grandfather. I made arrangements with St. Denis to hire a medi-witch who has experience working with Squib and Muggle families," Hermione explained with an air of determination that made both Draco and Harry watch her with almost matching expressions of concern.

"A live-in medi-witch has to be expensive," Harry observed with a frown. "Do you… Merlin, Hermione, you know that I'll help you out however I can."

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "I spoke to Grand-mère and we've decided to sell Mum and Dad's townhouse here in London. It's not like they'll be able to live in it on their own any time soon."

Draco cleared his throat and Hermione turned to look at him. Pink stained his pale cheeks and the tips of his ears. He appeared flustered and worried at the same time, which was odd enough that Hermione found it unsettling.

"What's the matter with you, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a frown.

"You should never sell real estate," Draco said hesitantly, as though he expected her to yell at him. "It's one of the first things that Fa—that our Father taught me."

"I can't really help that, Draco," Hermione pointed out.

"You… erm… you have money," He told her.

"A little," Hermione admitted. "Enough to last a couple of months, but Harry's correct. A medi-witch isn't cheap."

"No, I mean… fuck," Draco swore and ran a hand through his hair. The blush that stained his cheeks grew darker. "Look, he was trying to do the right thing, okay? And that may be weird and fucked up, but, well, welcome to Pureblood Society," Draco rambled anxiously.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, utterly bewildered.

"It's… it's a tradition," Draco began slowly. He swallowed and rubbed his hand on the knees of his trousers. "As soon as Father found out that you… that you existed… he went to Gringotts and set up an account for you."

Silence grew thick in the library as Hermione tried to unpack that sentence. Her brain faltered somewhere in its ability to parse words and she shook her head helplessly.

"What?" She rubbed at her temples and went through Draco's disjointed rambling again. "What do you mean 'as soon as he knew I existed'," she demanded.

"He didn't," Draco explained. "As the heir, he was bound to protect the Malfoy family. In addition to that, our grandfather forced him to take loyalty spells to both him, and to the Dark Lord. Mother couldn't… she couldn't tell him anything. His magical oaths would have forced him to confess everything to grandfather."

"And the very first thing he decided to do wasn't to try and come see me, to talk to me, but to go open a bank account in my name?" Hermione scoffed.

"I know that it's…," Draco groaned and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. "It's a Pureblood tradition. If he had known about you, there would have been a vault set up and ready to go the day you were born. It's one of the first things a Pureblood father does for any witch born to the family."

"Before or after he holds his new-born baby in his arms?" Hermione asked drily.

"Traditionally, the father is only allowed in after the first forty-eight hours," Draco said quietly.

"So, before," Hermione muttered and grimaced.

"I know this is… not how you were raised," Draco said as tactfully as he could. "But don't you see? You can help your… your other parents now. You don't have to worry about selling their house. I mean… just in case they… they might need it again someday. Wouldn't it be better if they could have it back again? Something familiar?"

The hope that Draco held out so casually was like a punch to the gut. What if there was some way to eventually heal her parents' minds? What if they could return to their townhouse in London someday? Hermione took a shuddering breath and then another. Harry moved quickly across the room to crouch by her chair.

"It's okay, love," he murmured at her and took her hand. Hermione gripped his hand tightly. "Do you want to take a trip to Gringotts? Get everything set up for your parents?"

"Yeah," Hermione agreed and gave Harry a wobbly smile. He stood up, pulling her up with him. When she turned to face Draco, he got to his feet awkwardly. The muscle in his jaw was jumping again, and he avoided direct eye contact.

"I should go," he muttered. "You need to… I should go."

"Will you come with me?" Hermione blurted out.

Startled, Draco's gaze locked with hers. The uncertainty and hope that warred on his face made her stomach clench uncomfortably. She did not want to feel sympathy for Draco Malfoy. She was still working her way through six years of animosity and casual hatred. She was not ready for this.

"Are you sure?" Draco asked hesitantly. His gaze darted to Harry and then focused back on her. "It probably would be better if you didn't have me there. I mean, I'm sure someone will take a picture and it will end up in the Daily Prophet."

Hermione snorted and tossed her hair. "I don't need you to garner the front page of the Daily Prophet," Hermione informed him. "I can do that all by myself."

"Besides, thanks to our wartime activities, the goblins aren't exactly fond of us," Harry added.

"We've made reparations with Gringotts," Hermione hurried to assure him. "Harry, Ron, and I did the goblin equivalent of community service a couple of years ago."

"They still don't like us," Harry muttered.

"They really don't," Hermione agreed. She sighed. "Come with me? Please?"

It was easy to see the exact moment that Draco caved. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he rolled his eyes. Hermione allowed herself a smug smile and Harry laughed.

Gringotts was just as Hermione expected it to be. The goblins watched every move that she and Harry made suspiciously. They seemed to ignore Draco for the most part. He followed Hermione as she made her way up to the counter.

"Yes?" The goblin's lip curled as he looked Hermione over.

"Erm… yes." Hermione paused and turned to Draco. "What do I do?"

"She should have vaults that have been transferred to her from the Malfoy estate," Draco explained to the goblin. "I believe that she is to be granted access under Hermione Granger or Hermione Malfoy."

The goblin's lip curled even more, revealing razor-sharp teeth. It slid three keys across the counter. Hermione stared at them for a moment and then huffed at Draco, waiting for an explanation. He cleared his throat again and pointed at the keys in turn.

"This first one is your personal trust vault, the one I was telling you about. This one is an inheritance vault. Our grandmother Malfoy wanted any granddaughter of hers to have independent means. It's yours, no strings attached. This one…" Draco indicated the last key. "That's the key to your dowry vault."

"My what?" Hermione's voice rose and Harry shot her a warning look after he glanced around the bank.

"It's—" Draco began with a sigh.

"If you say 'tradition,' I am going to punch you," Hermione growled.

Draco pressed his lips together and glared at Hermione.

"Hermione, I'm the last person who wants to defend Malfoy, but he doesn't have anything to do with this. I mean, aside from being your brother," Harry observed. When Hermione turned her glare on to him, Harry just shrugged. "It's true."

"Father informed me that he had set everything up for you after the fact," Draco muttered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I told him that it wasn't a good idea. I told him that you wouldn't understand, but did he listen to me? No, of course not."

The goblin tapped his sharp nails against the counter and Hermione jumped, turning to face him properly.

"Do you have a preferred name for your correspondence from Gringotts?" The goblin demanded. "We have been accepting financial paperwork for both Hermione Malfoy and Hermione Granger, but we need a name to forward mail to."

"Oh."

If this conversation could be put off for the next fifty years, Hermione would be fine with that. She felt like Hermione Granger. That was who she had been her entire life. That was what had been on her Hogwarts Letter. That was what had been on her wanted poster during the war.

"Hermione Granger, for now," Draco answered for her. "If she decides to change it in the future, she'll come to Gringotts and fill out the appropriate forms."

"Very well," the goblin agreed.

"I need to transfer funds to my original Gringotts vault," Hermione said before he decided to dismiss her. "I've filled out paperwork with St. Denis and the Paris branch of Gringotts for direct payments."

"Very well," the goblin agreed. "How much do you need to transfer?"

Startled, Hermione turned to Draco.

"How much is the monthly fee for a live-in nurse?" He asked quietly.

"390 galleons per month," Hermione whispered. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Transfer 10,000 galleons to her original vault," Draco said drily. Hermione bit her lip, worry in her dark eyes. Draco shook his head at her. "Wait until you get your first statement. It's a drop in the bucket."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"Because my trust vault was opened with 100,000 galleons, and Father made regular deposits every year," Draco informed her. "I have no doubt that he calculated what you ought to have had, and then threw a couple hundred thousand galleons on to that."

Hermione goggled at him and Draco sighed.

"My trust vault is pretty ridiculous, too, Hermione," Harry admitted. "The first time I got an actual statement I almost fainted."

"I suppose," Hermione agreed reluctantly. "If it helps Mum and Dad, it's worth it."