A/N: My computer is fixed, yay! It had to be wiped, and with nothing backed up to the cloud, I've had to start from scratch. I've learned my lesson, though.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 6: Truths

Hermione stared at the group of vampires that surrounded her. She wasn't sure how long they had all been standing there, staring at each other, but she knew it must have been at least half an hour. Nobody said a word. Nobody moved. She barely dared to breathe.

"So, let me get this straight," Rosalie sneered at the petite brunette, crossing her arms protectively across her chest. It had been forty-five minutes since the rest of the Cullen coven arrived at the house after Alice's rather distressed call to Carlisle after Hermione announced that she knew their secret. In the time since their arrival, Hermione managed to say one sentence before everyone began shouting hysterically. It was fifteen minutes after that when the stand-off happened. Hermione wasn't really sure where to go from there. "You claim that you're a witch."

"I don't claim to be anything," Hermione frowned at the blonde beauty. Her standoffish nature reminded her of a certain Malfoy, and that wasn't a comparison she wanted to get into right now. "I know that you're vampires because I'm a witch. I've studied your kind at school, I know what to look out for. I've even met one, for Merlin's sake!"

"There's a school?" Emmett asked from beside Rosalie, a hint of a smile gracing his face. Unlike his wife, he didn't see a reason to doubt the woman in front of them. Why would she lie about something like that. At Hermione's hesitant nod, the smile on his face grew bigger. "Awesome."

"You've met a vampire before?" Carlisle couldn't help but ask. He frowned at Hermione and a wave of something crashed over him, something that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Was it concern? Genuine, honest-to-God concern about her well-being. He couldn't remember the last time he felt emotions like this. It was certainly before he had been changed.

"Yeah, back in my sixth year when I was seventeen. Our potions professor liked to host these dinner parties and he would invite these important people to speak to us, so we could talk potential career paths," Hermione began to fidget with a silver ring on her finger that belonged to her mother once. "At one of these parties, Professor Slughorn thought it would be a good idea to invite someone from the Italian Ministry of Magic to come along. One of my fellow students had Italian heritage, so assumed that this person could help him decide which government he wanted to work for."

"Italian?" Carlisle asked with a frown. Hermione could see the thoughts running through his head. His frown deepened to something akin to fear and complete bewilderment. "Your professor invited a Volturi to a school full of magical children?"

"How did you know it was a Volturi?" Hermione asked, not answering Carlisle's question first. How knowledgeable was this community of vampires, to know about the Italian coven? Hermione didn't think that there were that many vampires in the world, let alone that they knew each other. "It was Aro who came to the dinner party. Professor Dumbledore, our headmaster at the time, only allowed one vampire on school site and he had to sign some really strong contracts to even be allowed anywhere near the students."

"What sort of contracts?" Edward asked from behind Carlisle. Like his adopted father, Edward didn't look too happy at the thought of a vampire at a school for magical children. He couldn't even imagine the chaos.

"Magically binding contacts that basically ensured the safety of all the students, and he wasn't allowed to drink from a witch or wizard regardless of being in school or not. That one was for the Ministry of Magic more than Hogwarts, though. We have potions and other treats that are made specifically for vampires to keep their hunger at bay so they don't attack anyone." Hermione smiled at the intrigued look on Emmett's face. "I'll have to owl Harry to send over some blood pops, you'll love them."

"I think we're getting a bit off topic here." Rosalie muttered, her arms still crossed over her chest.

"Sorry, I tend to do that when I'm nervous." Hermione muttered, fiddling with the ring again. She twisted it round and round her finger, catching her nail on the small amethyst stone set into the centre of the ring. "Just be glad I'm not lecturing you, Harry and Ron still hate when I do that."

"So, you say you're a witch, and you've met Aro of all people and survived." Rosalie barely held back her scoff and roll of the eyes. Hermione noticed Emmett send her a frown at the way she spoke to her, but she was used to it by now. If there was one thing Hermione was sure of now, it was that Hermione had faced someone scarier than Rosalie and survived. The scars on her arm and neck were proof of that. "What are you even doing here in Forks? We're not part of your world, we haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm not here to hunt you down or anything." Hermione was quick to defend herself, "I didn't even know you were here, nor did I realise what you were until the other night. I really am here to find my parents."

"So, Monica and Wendell are your real parents?" Alice asked with a smile, pleased that Hermione hadn't been lying about that.

"Yeah. It's a long story, but I had to wipe their memories of me for their safety and sent them to Australia. It took me a while to track them down here. I'm going to try and get their memories back, now that the war is over."

"War?" Jasper spoke from beside Alice. He had been calmly observing the conversation around him but was immediately intrigued by her last comment. If anyone could relate to being in a war, it was him. "You were in a war?"

"Like I said, it's a long story and I don't think I've got it in me to talk about it today." Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, suddenly finding the floor under her feet interesting. "Anyway. While I was trying to find them, I did a bit of digging into my family history and found something that could only have been a coincidence, if I hadn't seen the truth for myself."

Hermione took another breath, bracing herself for a conversation she wasn't quite ready for, then looked up at Carlisle.

"I have a Great-Grandfather called Carlisle Cullen. He died in 1663 when he was twenty-three years old, leaving behind a pregnant girlfriend. She quickly married someone called Thomas Harvey Jones to legitimise the pregnancy. I thought it was a coincidence that you shared his name and was even from England too, but when I couldn't stop thinking about your eyes and other vampiric qualities you possess, I put two and two together." Hermione gave him a hesitant smile, which quickly turned into a frown when she saw that there was no surprise on either of their faces. "Hang on… did you know?"

"I sort of told him," Alice admitted sheepishly, stepping forward. "One of my gifts is that I can see people's future based on the choices they make. I knew you were coming as soon as you discovered that your parents lived here, and then I saw you telling Carlisle that you were his granddaughter. I couldn't keep something like that from him."

"I was only supposed to remove the Obliviate on my parent's memories, get myself together after the war, then return home." Hermione let out a choked laugh, though there was no humour behind it at all. She could feel her palms begin to sweat. "And here I am, in a room full of vampires, one of whom I'm related to. This wasn't how this trip was supposed to go. I wasn't even going to say anything, not until I realised what was really going on."

"Sweetie, you need to calm down." Esme began to approach Hermione carefully, her hands held up in the universal sign for peace. She was walking towards her like Hermione was a wounded animal which, in a way, she was. "You're starting to panic, and that won't be good for you."

"I feel like everything is on top of me now, and all I want is my mum," Hermione whispered, allowing Esme to pull her into a hug. She was cold, but hugged Hermione with the comforting strength that only a mother could give. It didn't take long for Hermione to start crying on her shoulder. She didn't even know why she was crying, why everything seemed like it was starting to crush her. She supposed she hadn't grieved properly after the war, but she had started this meeting with the Cullens so confidently, pleased that she had worked out their dark secret.

And now here she was, crying on Esme's shoulder like she had lost a member of her family.

When did Hermione become broken?

What had happened to the strong, emotionally stable woman that Hermione was proud of?

War, probably.

There was something about being tortured on the floor of your school bully's mansion that broke you.

"It's okay, sweetie, she'll be back soon." Esme continued to whisper into Hermione's ear as she stroked her hair soothingly. Hermione didn't hear what she was saying though. She couldn't focus on anything but the heart wrenching sobs that forced their way out of her body.

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"What do you mean, she's something worse than a vampire?"

Billy ignored Jacob as he moved his wheelchair so that he could call Old Quil and arrange an emergency council meeting.

"Dad!" Jacob ran around the table to the phone and pushed down on the receiver so that Billy's call wouldn't go through. "You can't say something like that then ignore me."

Billy glared up at his son and wondered why Jacob was suddenly so protective of the British woman. Did she put a spell on him?

"You will not talk to me like that, Jacob." Billy warned him, dialling the number for Old Quil's house again. "Let go of the phone."

"Not until you tell me what's going on. Hermione's my friend. She's done nothing wrong! You sound like you're about to shun her from the community."

"She's a witch, Jacob!"

In his shock, Jacob let go of the phone and took a shaky step backward. It was as if he had been punched in the gut.

"What?"

Seeing the devastated and confused look on his son's face, Billy sighed and put the phone on the table. It wasn't exactly how he wanted to reveal her true nature to him, he could tell that Jacob was more than a little infatuated with the witch, but he had to know. For his own good. He watched before as a group of wizards wreaked havoc on neighbouring villages and towns, he wasn't going to let anything happen to his own tribe.

He certainly wasn't going to let anything happen to his own son. Not while he could still do something about it.

"Vampires… bloodsuckers are one thing, but witches are another entity completely." Billy turned himself around so he could look Jacob in the eye. He watched as his son dropped into a dining chair. Good, her certainly needed to sit down for this. "You know here you stand with vampires. They feed on blood and kill you once you're dry. Witches, they can do so much more. The power they have is terrifying, they can destroy cities, ruin families. They can kill you without so much as a blink of an eye if they felt like it. There's a reason Sam and his pack are shifting now, and not when the Cullens first arrived back in Forks."

"You're trying to tell me that Hermione, that small, polite British woman, is an evil witch who is out to kill me?" Jacob was in disbelief. "There's no way. I'm not saying I don't believe you, but I think I need a bit more proof than your words, dad."

"She's obviously got one of her spells on you." Billy sighed. What would it take for Jacob to believe him? What happened to the boy that hung onto every word that his father said?

That witch. That's what happened to him.

"Hermione hasn't done anything to me! I can admit to vampires because I can actually see them. I don't have any proof that what you're saying is true. I can't believe it. Not until I talk to her." Jacob sat still for a minute before he abruptly stood, his chair falling to the floor with a loud bang. "I need to talk to her."

"You are not going anywhere near the witch!"

"You can't tell me what to do! Besides, she lives with Quil and Joy. If you're right, then I need to make sure that they're safe, don't I?" Jacob stared down at his father, feeling a bitter resentment in his chest at the accusations Billy had just flung at him. "I'll be home for dinner."

"Jacob, don't you dare go near that witch!" Billy shouted after him, trying to wheel himself after his son, but the teenager was too fast. He grabbed a jacket from the coat rack near the front door and slammed the door behind him when he left.

Billy sighed, resigned to the fact that his only son would be in certain danger. He eyed the phone, then picked it up after a bit of deliberation. He dialled a number and held it against his ear.

"Sam? We've got a problem."