Disclaimer: Anything associated with Harry Potter does not belong to me.

So this is a test chapter…a very long test chapter. For my purposes, I'm totally ignoring the fact that Blaise is black. The 6th book made me mad and so pretend none of it happened for the purpose of this story. This takes place in the summer after 6th year and just pretend that nothing exciting happened in 6th year. If you want more, please REVIEW. I am a review WHORE. Do it and I will be eternally grateful.

Hermione trudged up the stairs dragging her large trunk behind her. She struggled near the middle of the staircase and swayed dangerously before regaining balance and continuing. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the door to her room. She and her parents had just gotten back from King's Cross. Only one more year at Hogwarts until I'm gone. She shook her head emptying thought from it. She didn't want to think about that now.

She dropped her trunk next to her closet and flung herself back on her queen sized bed located in the far corner of her room. Staring at her ceiling, she just reveled in the feeling of her soft mattress pressing against her body and the softness of her pillows under her head.

Her hair was still its usual, frizzy mess, but over sixth year she had started to gain a figure. Finally, she thought to herself. It sure took long enough. Her body was slender, but her hips curved enough to show that she was female. Her breasts had also grown over the year, and she hadn't missed the appreciative looks she got from her schoolmates and a few random boys on the way to the car from the station.

The only people who seemed to not notice how she was growing up were her two best friends and pretty much all of the Slytherin house. I will always just be another mudblood to them. The rebellious part of her said that she didn't care. If they weren't willing to be open minded enough to look past her muggle upbringing, then she wanted nothing to do with them anyways. But another part of her was only saddened by the name calling. She wanted them to take the time to see her as a person, and a smart witch rather than someone who was beneath them.

However, she was almost glad that Harry and Ron had remained oblivious to her changing body. Well . . .perhaps not oblivious But at least she could count on the fact that neither one of them would try to romance her in fear of hurting their friendship. And that was perfectly fine with Hermione. Sure, Harry was very handsome, and had sure grown a lot since their first year, In more ways than one. But she saw him as more of a brother. He was protective of her but she was grateful because he always left her to make her own decisions. He trusted her enough to know she could handle herself, but was there to help when she needed it.

Ron, on the other hand, took the over-protective-brother thing to a whole new level. He had a very short temper, which ran on Hermione's last nerve a lot of the time, but she knew it was just him showing how he cared. If either of her best friends was going to try to see Hermione in a new light, as more than a best friend, it would be Ron. She had not failed to notice his staring at the Yule Ball and sometimes after that when she was studying in the common room. But she was confident in the fact that he wouldn't try anything. At least, he better not.

She was startled out of her thinking by her mother calling up the stairs. "Hermione, can you come here, please?" Hermione thought she heard a touch of something in her mother's voice, but couldn't place it. She shrugged and got off her bed stopping in the center of her room to kick off her shoes before she padded downstairs in her socks.

She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and took in the sight before her as years of being Harry's best friend had taught her. She checked the exits and took in the details. Sure, it was just her parents, but you could never know what danger could come, especially with Voldemort back. There had been more and more unexplained attacks on the people of London lately. Of course, they weren't unexplained for the wizarding world. It was the Death Eaters having more fun with muggles. They had been getting braver and more daring in their attacks. Perhaps knowing their master was getting stronger was giving them more confidence.

Her mother and father were sitting at the small, circular table in the middle of their kitchen. A third chair was pulled out from the table closest to her. She didn't overlook the look of suppressed sadness on her mother's face and her father's comforting hand resting on hers. She also took in the opened letter resting between them in front of their overlapped hands. She sat in the chair cautiously as if it would bite her in the butt if she sat down too hard or fast.

"You needed me?" She asked innocently, deciding to play the I-know-nothing card which she had perfected to fool teachers. Not that she used it often . . .

Her gaze flickered between her parent's faces trying to decipher who it would be to talk. From the look on her mother's face, the news wasn't good.

"Hermione, darling," her mother started, voice wavering, but stopped trying to talk as loud sobs came out of her opened mouth. Hermione looked at her mother in alarm. She dropped the innocence card.

"You guys, what is it? What's wrong? Did someone die? Where's Uncle Mike? Is he okay?" she rattled off questions growing more and more unwound as the possibilities set in. It was Voldemort, or the Death Eaters, it had to be, what else could it be? Nothing. That's what. It was Voldemort. Someone's dead. Oh God, someone's dead.

Her father's head snapped up from looking at his wife and immediately tried to calm down Hermione who was finding it hard to breathe. "No, no, nonono." He said quickly trying to calm her down. "It's nothing like that, really. Uh, you see . . ." he faltered. Deep breath. "You are adopted, 'Mione. Your mother and I adopted you."

Her mother stopped sniffing long enough to look up at her daughter, concern and guilt written on her face. Hermione just sat there staring at her dad. She searched her mother's eyes for confirmation, and found it lying deep in the centers. Inhale. Exhale.

"Well that's not that terrible, is it? A lot of people are adopted. It doesn't mean I love you guys any less. Is that what this whole thing is about? That's why you're so upset?" Hermione said, relief showing on her face. And to think I thought someone was dead. As her mother pondered what she was going to say, Hermione took the time to look at her parents. Really look at them.

Her mother's hair was a straight, dark blonde which fell softly to her collarbones, while her father's hair was a light brown, much lighter than Hermione's own brunette. And over the year, Hermione's own chocolate brown eyes had lightened distinctly into hazel flecked with green. Both her parents had blue eyes, her father's just being a darker blue than her mother's.

How could I have not seen it? She asked herself. I look nothing like them. And to think I'm supposed to be the brilliant girl who knows everything.

Her mother seemed to have recovered from her crying and now gestured to the letter lying in front of them looking so innocent. "Your birth parents wish you to go live with them." She said her eyes flicking up to meet with Hermione's.

A few emotions floated around her head and she struggled to grasp one at a time. Excitement. Which ebbed into mere curiosity. Which diminished into anger. "They just give me up for adoption and then expect me to come running back sixteen years later?" she asked, really talking to herself. "Yeah, right. There's no way in hell."

Her mother looked taken aback and relieved at the same time. "Well, in all fairness, Hermione, they had no choice from what we were told. You see, you were from a wizarding family. That man," she gestured wildly in the air as if trying to find the answer from her flailing hands, "you know," she continued impatiently, "the Lord man. The evil one."

"Voldemort?" Hermione questioned, still stuck back on the fact that her birth parents are wizards. It would explain more, though.

"Yes!" her mother exclaimed, and looked mildly pleased that someone knew what she was talking about. "Yes," she continued, "Voldemort was going to kill you. They had no choice but to give you up."

Hermione took time to process this in her already reeling head. Only one word seemed to pull itself out of the jumble of thoughts that was her mind. "Why?"

Her mother looked thoughtful. "We don't know. That's all we were told about why they gave you up. I would understand if you wanted to ask them," she said hurriedly as if trying to get the words out before she stopped herself.

"No," Hermione stated resolutely. "I have no curiosity." Lie. "I'm happy with you guys and I'm not just going to up and leave you because they suddenly want to meet me."

Identical looks of relief washed over her parent's faces and tears leaked out of her mother's eyes once again. They stood up and embraced Hermione between them tightly. "We love you so much, honey. You have to know that. No matter what happens, you'll always be our daughter." Her mother said and hugged her tighter.

Air was becoming an issue for Hermione who was trapped snugly between her mother's large breasts (another point that should have tipped her off to the whole being adopted thing, since she certainly hadn't inherited them) and her father's chest while a few stray whiskers on his chin tickled her cheek, but she didn't complain. She just savored the feeling of being loved.

Finally her parents pulled back and she inhaled a large amount of fresh air. "How about we go out to dinner," her mom said looking at her dad. "To celebrate Hermione's homecoming and home-staying," she joked. Hermione and her father agreed and they all spent the evening at a fancy restaurant, ordering whatever appealed to them at the time and laughing about random things like her parent's patients at the dentist's office.

When they arrived home, Hermione headed up to her room, the night's events still swirling in her head, and pulled on a pair of tiny, pink shorts she slept in (courtesy of her mother) and a plain white tank top. She crawled under the covers of her bed and flipped the switch of the light next to her bed, allowing her enough light to read the large book she clutched in her hands.

Around half an hour later, both her parents came in to wish her a good night. "We love you so much, Hermione. Please just remember that," her mother said, and kissed her on the forehead. She stroked her hair back from Hermione's face and smiled down at her. Her father came over and scooped her up in a hug and kissed her forehead as well. "Love you, kiddo," he said. They left the room, her mother sparing a last glance at her daughter before she shut the door.

That was weird, she thought. She shrugged and flipped off her light, settling her book down on the floor beside her bed before falling asleep.

The next morning Hermione woke up and stretched luxuriously before rolling out of bed. She took off her shorts and slipped on some jeans before throwing her hair up so quicklythat pieces of hair fell out of the hair tie. She skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen. As she approached the refrigerator, she eyed the letter still sitting on the table. Abandoning food, at least for the moment, she picked up the piece of paper and read over it.

Dear Hermione,

I know that after reading this you'll be very confused and probably angry, as well, but please try to understand. I'm sure you're aware that you're adopted. If not, well, then I'm sorry, and you know now. We had to give you up. The Dark Lord has superstitions about twins that grow up together. He could sense that you and your twin brother were strong before you were even born, and he didn't want to run the chance of being overpowered one day. He thought you would be weaker apart. So he forced your father and me to send one of you away or else he would kill you both.

I'm sorry Hermione. Picking between you and your brother was the hardest decision we ever made, and I'm sure now, more than ever, that there was no right decision. We don't love your brother more than you, please never think that. It's just the way things worked out.

I understand if you don't want to ever meet us and are terribly mad at us, but just please know we love you and we would love if you would come to live with us. Now that you are almost of age, the Dark Lord has said that you may come back to us. I hope you do come. There's not a day that goes by that I don't regret ever putting you up for adoption, but please believe it was the only way.

You have a twin that is very eager to meet you. He is sometimes linked to your emotions. If you are feeling a strong emotion, he can sense it. There have been many occasions where he has come to us to tell us to not worry, because you're happy.

I hope to see you sometime in the near future. We love you so much, Hermione.

Your loving family,

Madison, Pierrick, and Blaise Zabini

Hermione nearly dropped the letter. I'm a Zabini? Not only am I from a wizarding family, I'm from a pureblood wizarding family that is in league with Voldemort. Zabini is in Slytherin. Zabini is my twin! This can't be.

The letter left Hermione with an even larger, if possible, curiosity and desire to speak to these people. No. You have Mom and Dad. You don't need the Zabini's. Even if your birth mother is desperate to meet you. As is your twin. And your father. She sighed. She still wouldn't just leave her parents.

She folded the letter and put it in the back pocket of her pants and headed once more to the refrigerator. Upon opening it she found absolutely nothing to eat. She checked in the freezer. Nothing. Pantries? Nothing. Geez, does no one shop in this house? She headed to the counter and picked up the jar containing the loose cash for groceries. She pulled out a handful of bills, and snatched her dad's car keys off the coffee table before heading to the door. Pausing only to slip on a pair of flip flops, she headed out of the door to the car and set off for the grocery store.

She rolled down her window as she drove and turned the radio on a little louder as she coasted down the road. She had received her driver's license the past summer and loved driving, although she rarely ever got to do it.

Finally, she arrived at the store. Pulling into a spot in the semi-full parking lot, she got out and headed towards the door. She spent at least an hour getting all kinds of meat, veggies, and some snacks. Finally she went to check out.

On her way home, she took a different route. A route which she knew led to a donut shop. Good start to the morning, I think. She bought a few plain donuts for her parents (because they're dentists), and a few of her choice. She paid for the yummy breakfast and headed home.

A few blocks away from her house she brought the car to a screeching stop in the middle of the road. An enraged driver sped around her, yelling and making obscene gestures, but she paid no attention. Other drivers passed, horns blaring. All Hermione could focus on was the Dark Mark hovering in the sky.

Maybe it's not my house, she thought trying to reassure herself. She stomped on the gas and tore past the streets before finally turning into her neighborhood. There it was. The Dark Mark polluting the sky directly above her house. She stopped abruptly in the driveway and tore out of the car, running as fast as she could towards the front door; the front door, which was no longer there, having been blown off its hinges. She ran around the downstairs looking for her parents but couldn't find them. She took a deep breath and sprinted up the stairs towards their room.

She yanked open their door without preparing herself, and nearly vomited at the sight in front of her. Her father was sprawled across the bed, blood dripping off his hand which hung over the edge of the bed. There was blood covering his face and body. The tore her gaze from him and saw her mother on the floor in a bloody heap. They had obviously used the Cruciatus Curse on her. Her face was the picture of agony. Both were unmistakably dead.

Hermione collapsed to the ground onto her knees. Deep sobs wracked her body as she took in the sight of the people who had raised her into the girl she was.

She stayed like that for at least an hour. Finally, she got up off her stiff knees and walked, in a daze, towards her room. She pulled the letter from her birth parents out of her pants and stared at it as she walked. That was the only place she could go. She retrieved her wand out of her trunk and muttered a spell so that the entire contents of her closet were miniaturized and thrown into her open trunk. Same with her books, and anything else of importance. Finally, she miniaturized her trunk and put it in her pocket.

She didn't care that she had just used illegal magic. She walked downstairs to the fireplace and took a handful of the floo powder that sat next to it before tossing it in. Hermione's parents had had their fireplace hooked up to the floo network the summer before her third year. They were always so supportive of me, she thought. Suddenly she stopped. Where did the Zabini's live? She ran back to the kitchen and grabbed the discarded envelope from the table. Coming back, she grabbed another handful of floo powder since the previous handful had worn off and tossed it into the fire. Glancing once more at the envelope she held in her hand she stepped into the flames and yelled "Zabini Manor!"

Like I said, please review or else I'm going to completely abandon this story. There's no point of writing stories if people don't like it. PLEASE REVIEW. CLICK THE LITTLE BLUE/PURPLE/WHATEVER-EFFING-COLOR-THAT-THING-IS BUTTON.