"Morning, Love." Hermione smiled as she made her way down the stairs to breakfast, her mum and dad moving around in what she could only describe as a dance. They never bumped into one another, always moved out of the other's way just when they needed to. Her smile widened when she imagined herself much older with a faceless man who she would be so lucky to call her husband. Her mum was humming away to Sunshine of Your Love by Cream, doing small air guitar solos as she went, a small whoosh sounding, accompanied by several clicks every time she moved or spun, thanks to the beads attached to whatever jacket or shirt she was wearing, it was a bit hard to tell.

When they saw her approach, her father was the first to lead her to a seat. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that everything was alright, but she knew it would do no good. Naturally, her parents were worriers. They'd seen her at her lowest, held her when she'd cried herself to sleep many a night, all because she feared being judged for the child she once was.

"How are you feeling?" It was an innocent enough question, and if she was completely honest with herself, she was feeling great, as great as she could, but there was something that she needed to get off of her chest before it drove her crazy. Opening mouth to speak, she frowned, her mind going back to the night before, when she'd lain awake until nearly midnight. Taking a deep breath, she looked to her parents, seeing their eyes glued to her.

"Before I left, I did something terrible," she started in a small voice. The thoughts that kept her awake at night were not of her argument with Ginny and Ron, one that could have cost her their friendships, but they were of Pansy Parkinson. The girl had been nothing but a common bully for their entire educational career, but she felt bad for saying what she said. They looked at her with their ever patient expressions, knowing that whatever she had to say, it was important. Taking a deep breath, she decided to just say it and face their disappointment head on.

"I made a horrible remark about a girl in my year, Pansy Parkinson." Straightening her posture, she saw understanding flash over their features. She'd told her parents about the bathroom incident in their third year, about the things that she'd heard Pansy say about herself, and it didn't take a genius to know that Hermione had thrown it in her face.

"Hermione," her mother breathed out, the sound of the woman's voice nearly breaking her heart. There was no anger, no heartbreaking sadness, nothing but sheer disappointment, and that hurt more than anything she could have yelled at her.

"I know, Mum. I know."shaking her head, she wiped her face, knowing that tears would get her nowhere. "I wasn't raised that way, I don't know what came over me. I crossed a line and I don't know if she'll ever forgive me." Before, it was just insults. She knew when someone's heart was in something, and if she was completely honest, Pansy Parkinson was nothing but a hurt girl with a lot of bark and no bite. To an extent, she was harmless, which was why she surrounded herself with those who weren't so harmless, friends who would definitely fight for her when push came to shove. The insults were empty and easy to brush off, but what she said, she'd said it to hurt, and she knew the words had hit home.

"It seems like you owe this girl an apology." Nodding quickly, she stood, feeling her mother's eyes on her and going to do just as her father said, not even bothering to touch her breakfast.

…

"Looks like there's trouble in Paradise." Pansy Parkinson looked up from her pudding just to see what looked like the ass end of one of the redheaded blood traitors being thoroughly old off by Longbottom and Saint Potter, and if she was completely honest with herself, It was kind of hot. She'd never seen either of them look so furious, which could only have something to do with Granger. She hadn't seen the Gryffindor since their altercation, but she knew it likely had something to do with her new look. If Pansy herself was honest, she would have admitted that Granger could now give any pureblood a run for their money in the looks department, but all in all, she was not an honest woman, so Granger was pretty for a Mudblood at best.

A nearly ear-splitting caw pulled her from her dangerous train of thought, her azure eyes scanning the skies for the odd sound, eyes widening when whatever it was seemed to be heading straight towards her! She ducked, but it was unneeded, as the creature gracefully landed in front of her, his giant wings casting a shadow over one of the few young ones nearby, who all shrank back in fear.

She watched as the great beast straightened his posture, staring down at her with a look of superiority that would likely end above that of Lucius Malfoy himself. He extended his leg to her, letting out the same hoarse cry that he'd filled the hall with. On one leg, the one extended to her, there was a green envelope. He cocked his head to the side as she stared at it, moving his leg closer, a sign that she was definitely meant to take it. Carefully grasping the letter, she placed it in front of her, her hair fanning as she looked up to see him take off, making his way over to the Gryffindor table, dropping a letter right into Saint Potter's lap, not even bothering to stop as it let out another cry, leaving the Great Hall in awe.

"I heard it's from the father of her daughter," It was nearly ridiculous what the younger Slytherin could be convinced to believe, and the most recent rumour, started by the Ice Queen herself, Daphne Greengrass, was that Pansy had slept with one of the ever so prestigious and married Lords of wizarding High society, managing to get herself knocked up in the process. She'd delivered her love child in private over the summer and was bravely showing her face at Hogwarts to finish her education and make a life for herself and her daughter, the only people she'd told being her lover, Draco Malfoy, and her best friend, Daphne Greengrass. It was so unbelievably ridiculous, she hadn't even been angry, she just had a good, long laugh.

"Someone seems to be in a good mood." She looked up at the sound of the low drawl, a smile falling from her face that she didn't even know she wore, blue eyes meeting silver.

"Draco," she whispered, her eyes doing a quick scan over him, from his nearly empty gaze to his slightly ruffled appearance. Since they were young, she and Draco had been close friends. She would do anything for Draco, all he needed was just ask, and it made her sick to her stomach. Such feelings were weak. Clearing her throat, she held the letter closer to herself, schooling her features into an impassive mask, though she knew that there was no use for it, he could read her like a book. Together, the two of them made their way to the Slytherin common room, neither saying a word as they went.

"Are you going to open it?" She'd been staring at the letter warily. They's collectively performed every spell they knew on it, and after a while, Theo and Blaise came and performed a few more. As far as they knew, there wasn't a curse waiting on the other side of the seal that closed the letter, a strange substance, smooth to the touch, unlike any seal that they'd ever seen. "What if it's dark magic? I don't know how to combat that." Draco shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dark Magic makes your insides writhe, it makes itself known." Taking a deep breath, she turned it over, partially calmed by it not being Dark Magic.

"Bloody hell." There was no mistaking the loopy handwriting of Hermione Granger. They all stared at it, confusion on their faces as they wondered just what the hell Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's prized Mudblood Princess, was doing writing to Pansy. Draco grabbed the letter from her, Theo casting a muffalto as they all looked to him. Pansy managed to shake her surprise, casting a concerned look to Draco as he watched a myriad of emotions go before his eyes. When he'd finished skimming, he took on a look of deep concern, releasing a puff of air, his rigid posture relaxing. Before anyone could ask what had happened, he began to read.

"Parkinson,

This feels weird, writing you, so I most definitely won't make it a habit. I've written this letter several times, said the right things, said the wrong things, said things that don't even make any sense. It just baffled me that for once, I attacked you. I was the one in the wrong and I'm having to sit here and wonder what to say.

How are you able to do it? How are you able to be such a bitch? I don't mean it that way, I actually admire you for it, but don't get used to it, because if anyone asks, I'll deny it until my dying breath. I can't do it, I wish I could, but I can't sit here and be so spiteful and vindictive to those who do not deserve it.

You, Pansy Parkinson, are a terrible person. You're a blood purist, an elitist, a classist, a racist, and one of the most disgusting people that I have ever had the inconvenience of meeting. You are all around unpleasant and it is a wonder to me how you managed to make any friends. Honestly, I hate to see you coming, you're such a cow. It makes me sick to my stomach whenever your name is brought up in polite conversation because I know that what will follow will be something horrid that you've said or done, making me ashamed to call myself a woman. You are a bully and I often pray that someone will come along and beat you into a puddle when you speak to them so callously. It's evident that I vehemently dislike you, as many people do. The list of angry and justifiable things that I can and likely will say about you whenever you are brought up is rather extensive, and I can say this with no remorse.

With that being said, the things I said to you just yesterday were not only untrue, but inexcusable as well. You are not a whore. You are not some slag, and I know you aren't sleeping with Malfoy, despite the rumors. You see him as I see Harry, I know that because I am observant. I am ashamed of my behavior and I am asking for your forgiveness. You have just as much a right to your body as anyone else and I should never have said the things I said. I know that you may think that I'm writing this to you because I was made to, but I knew what I did was wrong before I did it, though I still told my parents what I had done. They were so ashamed of me and even knowing how vile of a person you are, they agreed that I was wrong and should apologize as well.

I don't know why I'm telling you this, but it's breakfast time. My mum and dad are downstairs making breakfast, it's a tradition that we spend the first day of summer together, as my parents are often busy. They're dentists, you see. A dentist is something of a Muggle healer who specializes in teeth, making them look nice. Since Muggles don't have magic, they make do and it's rather impressive that they can survive and thrive without magic.

It's odd, writing this to you. It's hard being home when I know everything is going on in the wizard world. My mum and dad know about everything that's going on, but the rest of the muggle world is absolutely oblivious. Six billion people. That's how many muggles there are. Six bloody billion, and only a small portion of them know that our world is in danger, that life as we know it is about to change and muggleborns are going to hurt in ways that you'd never think possible. I know this because it's happened here before, in the muggle world. We didn't have a dark lord, but what we had was just as bad.

Twelve years, twelve years of suffering, oppression, senseless murder, and genocide. That is what is going to happen, and it will shake the foundations of the world as we all know it. I don't look forward to it. But I also know things like this have to happen. You will be more afraid than you have ever been and you will make decisions that may haunt you for the rest of your days. Sometimes, you will see them with your waking eyes until the day they close permanently. They may even follow you in death.

Morbid, isn't it?

Hermione Granger

London

"Bloody hell." After Granger's letter, the friends sat there, mulling over her words. When Draco was was reading the letter, she'd been furious. Granger had the sheer audacity to write such things about her, but her anger quickly disappeared when she realized that she couldn't disprove a thing that had been said about her. Even though Granger's words were harsh, they were true, and that was what hurt the most.

At Granger's apology, she couldn't help but be confused. Despite the fact that Pansy had gone out of her way to crush the spirits of the Gryffindor Mudblood, she still managed to remain the bigger person and apologize for words that she'd said. Words that Pansy wasn't even aware that the Golden Girl knew. Sure, Granger was a swot and a cow, but she was not cruel. Shed seen in Granger's eyes that she'd said something that she meant to say, something to hurt. When the words let Granger's mouth, Pansy felt her gut twist. Yet, as soon as she'd said it, she could tell that she wanted to take it back.

"Do you think she's right about this all?" They all looked up at Theo, Pansy frowning when she watched his hands shake slightly, but his eyes weren't on his hands, but on Draco. The blond's jaw tick, a common trait he had when he wanted to open his mouth and spill something, but he knew he shouldn't. He cleared his throat, placing the letter on the table.

"Muggles are subhuman. They wouldn't know anything about the complexities of war, you know that, Pans." They all looked at Draco, Blaise's eyes widening slightly. They hadn't heard the blond say much about muggles in weeks, neither to down them or uplift him. They'd begun to collectively believe that he'd given up on it altogether, but it seemed that he hadn't, judging from his hard expression. Shaking his head, Theo sighed, running a hand across his face. "Six billion," was all he said, and with that, the conversation shifted.

….

"Did you get a letter from her, too?" Harry Potter looked up from his seat before the fire in the Great Hall, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline at the sight of, not Ron or Ginny, but Neville. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, giving the sandy haired Gryffindor room to take a seat and stretch his legs.

"I didn't know that you and Hermione were on writing terms." Neville smiled at the mention of Hermione's name. "You do know that Hermione was my first friend at Hogwarts, right?" At that, Harry had a flashback of eleven year old Hermione on the first day she'd met him. Bossy little thing, she was. She'd asked him and Ron if they'd seen Trevor, Neville's toad that even in their current age, had a habit of getting lost somewhere in the castle. A smile crossed his face as he watched Neville lean forwards, running a tired hand through his hair.

"A Dimitriou at Hogwarts, who would've ever thought?" Turning his body towards Neville, he scanned the boy who shared so much of the pain that he himself experienced. When Hermione told him to think on the things she'd told him, it lead him to wonder what other people that he'd neglected, thinking that his priorities were all together. While he was thinking, he hovered a lot on Neville and Luna, friends that were obviously willing to do anything for him, to sacrifice their lives and sanity just for him.

Neville was an invaluable friend, always willing to protect his friends, even if it meant going bare knuckled to save them from themselves. He'd taken a cruciatus curse from the very woman that had destroyed his life, yet there he stood, not even batting an eye or showing a lick of anger towards Harry for being the cause of it.

"What's so special about the Dimitriou family? Are they really the descendents of Merlin?" The silence that followed his question caused him to shift slightly, but Neville shook out of whatever trance he was in. Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture, getting more comfortable in his spot on the couch, "Sorry, I sometimes forget that you weren't raised in the wizard world." Taking a deep breath, Harry realized that Neville was about to go into a story.

"It's really not a grand tale to tell, but yes, the Dimitriou family are the descendants of Merlin, making Hermione a prize like no other. People from far and wide have wanted to marry her to their heirs, some even wanting to claim her for themselves when she came of age. They're a Greek family, her mother and father known as beautiful and dark people deeply rooted into pureblood supremacy. Her father was rumored to throw cruciatus curses here and there to whoever displeased him and no one dared arrest him for it."

"It seems that not only is Hermione the first friend I made in Hogwarts, but she's my first friend as well. Her grandmother and my nan were best friends growing up and we took a trip to Greece every summer. I remember he father, it wasn't hard to believe that the rumors about him were true, the man could probably stare You-Know-Who in the face and make him piss himself. Hermione looks nothing like him, she looks just like her mother, save for her hair. She gets it from her grandfather, I've seen him in a picture."

"Her mum wasn't so bad, but she was pureblood, so she wasn't likeable, but you didn't hate her, either. When I met Hermione for the first time, it was very interesting. She's pureblood, she was a giant brat, not many people liked her because she was at that point where she wasn't considered civilized enough to introduce to other children, but she was nowhere near as awful as kids like Parkinson and Malfoy were. She didn't like to share, she liked to monopolize your time when she had it, and she had a knack for getting into trouble. The main thing she was selfish about, however, was her house elf." Harry raised his eyebrow at that. He couldn't imagine Hermione at any age owning a house elf, even if it was back in her days as a pureblood heiress.

"Her name was Artemis and she was something to behold. You see, other countries actually do have laws in place to where house elves are treated fairly, given room and board, and have to be fed a minimum of three times a day and are not allowed to be overworked. Even still, I don't think as cruel of a man as he was, Hermione' father had it in him to mistreat a creature that he deemed as lesser than him. It didn't make him any better of a man, though. He didn't have a very high opinion of them, but he was insistent that his elves were better than others, if not only to prove that everything was better in his possession. So his elves were literate and well spoken, it was frowned upon if they weren't. He achieved this by having them read his mail to him, aloud, after he had done so. Every morning, he did this, every morning, it was a different elf."

"One morning, it was Artemis' turn, and she did badly." He watched a shadow cross over Neville's face, knowing that just like Hermione's tale, his recount of the man that raised Gryffindor's princess would be as dark, if not darker than the one she told him.

"Artemis was a British house elf, she wasn't raised with the luxury of literacy that the other Dimitriou elves were so privileged to have, which made her unworthy in Stavros' eyes." Clearing his throat, the Longbottom heir shifted in his seat. "It happened so fast, I didn't see it coming, but the screaming, it wasn't normal. I'd heard about what had been done to my parents, but stories of horrified people couldn't compare to what I saw him do, and the scream that I heard, it sounded off. " He licked his lips as his eyes widened, as if he were seeing it for the first time all over again.

"He was looking down, he knew it was her, he looked her in her eyes and he kept doing it. She screamed and she fought the air, scratched at her own face, but she didn't beg, she didn't cry. It was so obvious that she was terrified, but she didn't want to show weakness. That's just how strong she is, how strong she's always been. When he let off of her, she just kept writhing, convulsing on the floor while I cowered in the corner." Harry watched his hands, realizing that they were shaking, Neville's face set in a hard stare. "What kind of man does that to his own daughter?"

It was silent between the two as Harry digested the information. So far, Stavros Dimitriou was a bastard who hurt the weak in order to make himself feel better. He was a man who'd murdered a child and tortured his own daughter with an Unforgivable. He couldn't even find it in himself to be guilty at the relief that washed over him, knowing this man was dead.

"She doesn't even remember it all. I doubt she even remembers me from when we were children, we were so young, no older than five or six years old." Shaking his head, he rose to his feet. "I'm going to write her back. The train comes tomorrow and I want Gran to know about this as soon as possible. Harry nodded, patting the blond on the shoulder and watching as he left. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out his own letter from his pocket. It was unopened, he hadn't wanted to chance Ron and Ginny seeing Hermione's handwriting on the pages and either being nosey or causing a scene. It was a deep maroon, a smile coming onto his face as he remembered one of her summer letters exclaiming her excitement when she found the closest thing to Gryffindor stationery that she could after visiting a muggle zoo, seeing a notebook and envelopes that were obviously leftover Chinese New Year decorations. with Lions stamped on them.

Brother

It's very lonely here. RIght now, it's mid-day, and I've just written a letter and I don't know whether to feel relieved or nervous.

Who might this letter have been to, you may ask? None other than Pansy Parkinson. I know, right? I had to write her an apology letter, can you believe it? I said some things that were very uncalled for and out of my character to her on my last days and it was eating me up inside. You should've seen how disappointed Mum and Dad were in me when I told them what happened, I was so ashamed.

It's rather boring today, Mum and Dad are off to work and they've left me here to my own devices, though if I'm completely honest, I'm a bit relieved. They've taken to waiting on me hand and foot, treating me like some invalid. I know they're worried and concerned, but I caught my dad looking at a book about baby proofing the living room.

Onto lighter and more serious news, I'm going to be meeting with my family solicitor and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me. If you have plans to see the Weasleys, I can understand, but I'm not ready to forgive Ron and Ginny right now. I can't believe they would think so lowly of me, especially Ginny. She's m closest female friend, it hurt.

I've also written to Neville and extended an invitation to him, asking if he wanted to visit Dimitriou manor with me. I know he can be lonely sometimes and this is my first summer that I'll be spending in the wizard world, I want to do it with my friends, the right way. Do you think Lady Longbottom will allow him Neville along and having him crucio'd, II was sure to write a lengthy apology note to him and I expect you to do so as well, Harry James Potter.

You're so lucky to be spending all the way until term end at Hogwarts, the grounds are always so beautiful in the last few days, almost as if Hogwarts is seeing us off until we meet again. I usually grab a good book, go to my favorite nook in the school library, and watch the scenery while I read my last book of the year. It's no Quidditch pitch, but it gets the job done for me.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Hermione.

A smile crosses his face as he reads the letter once more, shaking his head as he rises from the couch, making his way towards the stairs to fetch his invisibility cloak. It seemed that he had somewhere to be.

Hello babes! I know, I should've had this chapter up ages ago, but I am in fact an unreliable dick. This story, I know, is very unconventional, and things aren't as they likely should be, but the truth is (And I'm not even sure if you all were aware, and if not, this may be a shock), I'm not JK Rowling. Sure I'm taking my liberties with her character, and the Dimitriou family belongs to me, as well as any other unrecognizable characters, but this is not the Harry Potter you know and grew up with, the characters have gone through different things in life, so naturally, they will be entirely different people than Jk created them to be. If I wanted the same old Harry Potter characters that JK Rowling created, I would read Harry Potter. If you don't like the story, that's fine. If you are curious about some of the liberties that I'm taking with the characters, feel free to leave a review or inbox me your questions and concerns. I obviously don't have a bta, so there's likely to be errors as well.