"I swear. I will never say Lucius Malfoy sits on his arse and does nothing all day again." Hermione groaned in agreement with her friend as she sorted through stacks of papers. Familial alliances, shady back alley deals, marriage contracts. Never, in the course of her lifetime, did she think she would ever have to deal with something so barbaric! As it turned out, her father and herself weren't the only Dimitriou left. There were dozens of them, and then there were people who didn't have the same last name as her, but were still considered part of the family, and she was responsible for them!

"My father evidently fathered an illegitimate son in Oslo, and a daughter in France," Neville said, frowning deeply at a document from his pile. He'd spent a good portion of the morning sitting in that very spot, filtering through the Longbottom family's dirty laundry, and boy was there a lot of it!

"Honestly, it seems the moment he would leave Hogwarts for the summer, he went slaggin'. Imagine, my age and a father! To a child he never even met! It says here that his name is Oliver and he died about a month ago, from a gunshot wound to the chest. He served in the muggle military and he died a hero. He was a squib, and he left a son of his own! Not even a full year old, named Jasper. Blimey, Oliver would've been fifteen when Mum and Dad were attacked by Bellatrix!" Neville seemed to be eating up this information, shaking his head in disbelief.

"If Nan is actually going to haunt Longbottom manor, I've got an earful for her. This is information I should have known. Not one, but two siblings just out there in the world, a nephew, who's-"

He paused, his eyes widening as he seemed to scan the same but of text several times, a sound akin to a growl leaving him as he stood, walking over to the window of his bedroom, he ran a hand over his face.

"An orphanage. This child is an orphan, Hermione. What the bloody hell was Nan thinking?! We had plenty of room at the Manor for him, and she let him rot away in an orphanage! And it's a wizarding orphanage, I recognize the name! St. Horace's Home for Lost Souls."

Making her way over to the table, she skimmed over the orphanage name, her mind working out the names of the many places she'd seen, when it all clicked.

"That's the orphanage that I was in," she whispered, a frown coming to her face at the thought of the time she spent there. "I wasn't mistreated at all, but the kids were so mean to me. Then again, that may have just been because of my shoddy personality. I wasnt a nice child, if I remember correctly. Lady Longbottom still doesn't seem to be the type to just let a child rot away in an orphanage. Maybe it's like me. I mean, there's plenty of room here, but I was still placed in an orphanage." Neville grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It may not seem like it, Hermione, but I bet if I turned out to be a squib like she expected, she would have let me rot away in an orphanage. To her, without magic, it's not worth it. She wanted another Frank Longbottom. I bet the only reason this sister of mines is attending Beauxbatons is because she's magical. And she's Ginny's age." Hermione's eyes widened at the implication.

"And here I was shocked that I have an American cousin who's making magically enhanced methamphetamines in Florida. I know it's hard drugs, so shame on him, but that's genius. Muggle chemistry and potion making meet to create what is likely a very dangerous thing, but the kid is only eleven. I didn't even brew my first polyjuice potion until I was that age and this kid is already doing stuff like that? Brilliant!"

The Longbottom heir looked at her with a bewildered expression, but shook his head and continued.

"My sister," he started, moving to the desk he'd abandoned in his rant about his grandmother's morals, ",is fifteen years old and she lives in France with her maternal aunt and uncle in a villa so generously paid for with Longbottom money. Nan pretended to be a long lost aunt from the girl's 'estranged' father's side of the family who wanted to take care of her last living relative. Just a giant load of bullshite."

Shaking her head, Hermione took a small degree of pity on her friend. All his life, Neville had likely been compared to his father, told stories of what a great man he was. Great auror, order member, amazing father, splendid husband. Now, that was all stripped away. Despite that she herself felt that he was a great man and very brave for his decision to fight the good fight, she didn't know how she felt if she found out her father was unfaithful to her mother and fathered outside children that he didn't take care of, one of which she never even got to meet. And a nephew as well!

"How about you schedule a visit with him? Despite the fact that we were well taken care of, we were under no illusions that someone would come back for us. It gets very lonely. I can remember bits and pieces, crying some nights because I missed my grandmother, or even missed my mother. One time, I even cried for Father, but that's because there was a bogart in the closet." It was silent in the room for a while, then he shook his head.

"No. I'm not visiting him."

She went to open her mouth, but he stopped her with a single raised finger.

"I'm getting him the hell out of that place, Hermione. No nephew of mine is going to live out his time in an orphanage. Or live with strangers. I mean, you saw how Harry's family treated him!" Her mouth clamped shut at his exclamation. Sure, Neville's words were said from a place of concern, but she couldn't help his words stinging a bit. Before she knew it, she'd sprang to her feet.

"All adoptive parents aren't like that, Neville. I was adopted and Mum and Dad love me very much. Petunia Dursley is a monster in her own right, but she is not some random stranger off the street that took Harry in out of the kindness of her heart. She was family and she hurt him. Sometimes," she started, choking up a bit. "Sometimes family will hurt you and 'some stranger'," she said, using air quotes to get her point across. ", will be the best thing that ever happened to you." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, leaving the newly appointed Lord Longbottom to groan in self-loathing.

…

"Bad day at the office?"

She'd been tending to Lyra's roses for the rest of the day. After her blow up at Neville, she couldn't bring herself to face him, so there she sat. In the years since her childhood, she had never tended to the roses herself. They were beautiful, though. A special breed of rose that her grandmother had made for her after a particularly nasty winter and a bit of neglect decimated the ones that were there. They would change color according to the mood of the person that was there. Multiple moods would yield multiple colors. For her. There was pink, which signified her embarrassment. There was also an indigo, to signify her deep sadness.

"So this is the infamous Lyra," Harry stated, taking a seat next to her as she stroked the leaves of one of the flowers.

In the midst of the mountain of flowers sat a still portrait, one of herself and Lyra as children. The girls looked like night and day, Hermione's smile beaming widely as she looked up at the darker skinned girl. She truly was the most beautiful creature in the world.

"You weren't lying. She does look like something out of this world," Harry said, placing a hand on her back. She didn't know why, she didn't know how, but suddenly, her throat felt like it was closing and she released the most soul shattering sob that the dark haired boy had ever heard.

"Shh," Harry said, enveloping his friend in a hug, burying his face in her once curly hair. Her apologies were muffled in his shirt, multiple complaints of how it "wasn't fair" and how she'd "taken away Lyra's future" lost in the material of his top.

"Oh, Hermes," a voice whispered from behind him, Harry turning to see Josephine standing with her hands resting above her chest, her husband not far behind. The man looked ashen, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"She does this rather often," the Granger patriarch spoke up, pursing his lips as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "Every year, twice a year, she comes here and she cries and cries until she's either dragged away, vomiting all over herself, or she just passes out. We've tried to get her to see a grief counselor, but she swears she's fine." Just as he said that, the redhead slumped over in the lap of her friend, immobile.

"Well, let's get her inside." The three of then all turned sharply, seeing Jocasta standing tall, fingers laced before her as she examined the scene before her. Brandishing her wand, she wordlessly levitated the girl, heading into the house with nothing else to be said.

…..

"So how are you going to explain this to Hermione?" Harry watched his friend scratch out several words in what had to be the tenth draft of the letter that he was currently writing. After he'd been brought up to speed on everything that was going on with Hermione, Neville took the time to tell Harry everything about his nephew in Norway and his plans for how to move on in developing a relationship with his younger sister. Now, he was doing what was likely equally the smartest and dumbest thing that he would do in the entirety of his educational career.

Neville Longbottom was dropping out of Hogwarts.

Harry could almost hear word for word the rant that Hermione would go into upon hearing that one of her friends was dropping out of school.

Are you on drugs, Neville Longbottom?!

How do you expect to hold down a job, let alone raise a child with the muggle equivalent of a GED?!

Other mixtures of screeching and physical violence upon both of their persons came to mind, but all in all, Hermione would not be happy to hear that her friend was planning what he was planning.

"Before you try to stop me, I know that Hermione is going to freak out about this, but I have to get him out of that place, Harry. I mean, what kind of uncle would I be if I left him to spend the rest of his childhood in an orphanage? Hermione may not understand at the start, but I'm sure that given time, she would get over it. And if not, then oh well. I won't give up on them, Harry, they're," he trailed off, almost looking unsure of the words that he wanted to speak next.

"The only family you have left?" Harry's sandy-haired companion nodded slowly, burying his head in his hands, shoulders falling as a deep sigh left him.

"Honestly, Neville, I commend you. I always wished that I had some long lost relative who could come and save me from my situation. Despite the fact that I love magic, my friends, and everything connected with the two, if I could trade it all for a guardian who cared about me, I would." The taller Gryffindor smiled as Harry clapped him on his back.

"Alright, we probably got an hour or so to play a pickup game of quidditch before Hermione wakes up and either has another mental breakdown or beats the hell out of you." Neville laughed loudly as he threw an arm over the slightly shorter man's shoulder, Harry leading the way to their destination.

….

"You do know that I don't bite, right?"

Theo jumped at the woman in front of him's sudden use of her vocal cords. The two of them had been sitting in her office in complete and utter silence for close to an hour, neither really knowing what to say. Once Tho was finally able to wrench himself out of her mother's grip, he had been instructed by his elder brother to find Hermione and at least talk to her, and that was how they found themselves where they were.

Clearing his throat, the younger Nott adjusted his position in the chair he was sitting in, looking up at the woman before her. So many things about her were different, yet the same. She still had the same stern gaze that he'd often seen her throw Potter and Weasley seemingly everywhere they went. Her voice was the same, height relatively similar, even the oftentimes rigid set in her shoulders. Sure, the two of them had never been friends, but he often found himself watching her.

How could he not, honestly?

Hermione Granger came to Hogwarts and turned everything that he and those around him thought they knew about Muggles on it's head, though he doubted that any of his housemates would ever admit to that.

There she was, this little bushy haired, buck toothed mudblood, waltzing her way through the wizard world as if she held the world in the palm of her hand. Only a fool would deny it. They'd all been given explicit instructions regarding the Granger girl. Teach her her place, show her that real wizards were better than her in every way that she could ever even imagine in her underdeveloped mudblood brain.

But that was not the case.

Hermione Granger had bested the lot of them in more ways than he could count. She was smart, witty, kind, and confident. Never hesitated to help a person in need, always knew the answer to every question was thrown at her, and was clearly the only reason that Harry Potter was still able to walk around with his head firmly attached to his shoulders.

Now, she literally held his bollocks in her hand, and she doubted that she had even taken the time to noti-

"You want to talk to me about your marriage contract to my cousin Ambriah."

Her words were like a slap to the face to him, eyes widening as she looked up from the piece of paper that she was writing on. It had taken him off guard many times, the very…. un-Granger aspects.

Where Hermione Granger was seemingly a well put together creature that knew what she wanted, it seemed that Adad Dimitriou was a different person entirely. So much about her seemed so Slytherin that he wondered if the many often cruel and underhanded things that he had heard she'd done throughout their time in school were a part of that separate entity. Sure, he had barely known much about her since school had been let out, but he annoyed his elder brother into telling him at least a little bit of information.

Sidero had said that Adad Dimitriou and Hermione Granger were one in the same, despite what anyone might tell him. That Hermione Granger was almost like Adad's shield away from the rest of the world. He said that it was something hard for her to accept. Hermione was the girl Adad wished that she was. A sweet and almost naive muggleborn girl that was thrust into the world of magic, surrounded by the wonder of something one could only conjure in their wildest dreams, definitely not reality.

"Honestly, I've been looking into loopholes for a good amount of these contracts, but it seems that the Nott family is as good as they come. Airtight with no possibility of getting out of them. How someone could think of something so barbaric, I don't know. I'm glad that my father didn't believe in such hogwas-"

"Ambriah and I asked my father to make the contracts. We write out contracts, but rarely do ever make them for ourselves. Her parents were going to marry her off to some 30 year old aristocrat, I couldn't let that happen." She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, but was likely only thirty seconds or so. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, she spoke up.

"As foolish of a decision as I personally think it is, the contract is binding and there is nothing I can do about your union. However," she stated, holding up a finger before he could get his hopes up. "Just because the contract states that you two are to marry, your father was considerate enough for there not to be a date upon which this union is finalized, which means that rushing into marriage isn't something that you need to worry about in the near future. Wizards live long lives, I advise that you not squander all the time you could both have discovering the world and things about yourselves that you may have not even known by marrying right out of Hogwarts." The dark haired boy furrowed his brow before rising to his feet and exiting the room, leaving the Dimitriou heir to her work.

Hermione watched as he went. Honestly, in all her years at Hogwarts, she had never truly known what exactly she was expected to make of Theodore Nott. Sure, the quiet Slytherin boy was a snake in the grass just like the rest of his housemates, but even snakes had different skins. As most knew, he was not much of a talker, but many of her housemates had been sent to the hospital wing in the years that she had been a student after attempting to use him as an easy target. He was a capable wizard, both in practise as well as in theory, and he was very high on the academic stepladder. Fourth in their class, if she remembered quickly. She'd always known about her mum's relation to him, often heard her tell stories of how she missed her beloved nephew that she used to rock to sleep at night despite her brother's insistence that she was turning the infant soft.

It was one memory of very few that her mother was willing to share, though as she got older she got, she understood it to an extent. Seeing men like Lucious Malfoy really showed her what kind of environment her mother grew up in, though it may have slightly varied. At the core, though, it remained the same. That thought made her think back to Neville's words, where if he had been born a squib, his grandmother would have sent him away to grow up in an orphanage. She wondered if Josephine's father would have sent her away if she had not been born a Seer, or iof the Carrows would have sent her father away had he not been born an empath. This was how Harry and Neville found her, tapping her chin with an old fountain pen and humming an off key tune to herself.

"Is there a reason why the two of you have been pacing outside my office for the past fifteen minutes?" She watched through a mirror as the two boys jumped, windswept hair pushed away from their faces as they stumbled over one another to enter the room. Harry was struggling to find his balance and Neville's boots dragged across the carpet of her center rug.

"Are-Are you two drunk?!"

Her response from Harry was a loud hiccup, and Neville tried to feign sobriety by straightening his posture and puffing out his chest in a way that was almost comical.

Shaking her head, she rose to her feet, about to help them to a seat when Neville spoke up, and his next words made her blood run cold.

"You'll find yourself proud to know, Hermione," the blond slurred, brushing off the front of his top.

"That I have enacted my first official order as Head of House Longbottom. I," he said, swaying as he pointed to himself.

"I, Neville Longbottom, am dropping out of Hogwarts and adopting my nephew."

Harry's drunken cheers from the other side of the room were drowned out by the pounding of her pulse in her ears as her slender hands wrapped tightly around Lord Longbottom's neck

Hello! So, I am not officially an owner of a PC and writing is no longer a chore for me, so hopefully, there will be many more updates to come. I love you all and I hope you are having a tolerable quarantine.