I own nothing.
CHAPTER 4.
Ginny and Hermione where just opening the bedroom door when they heard a Woolf whistle, both looked around perplexed, seeing nobody, they heared it again, and realisation dawned on Hermione, in the form of a large portraits of a round, greasy looking man, in a gilded frame.
"One of Sirius relatives no doubt." said Ginny, glaring at the painting in distaste.
"A fine specimen of a wench," the painting drawl, whilst leering at Hermione, eyes roaving slowly from her head to her newly painted blood red toes.
"Oh you've got to be bloody kidding me." Hermione muttered, she was being harassed by a painting, this really didn't boad well. When she told ginny as much, the young red head started laughing, they both went Into the room, shutting the door, and got ready for bed, something Hermione struggled with, because all her pajamas where now uncomfortably tight.
She ended up in a sleevless tank top that clung to her like a second skin, but was the only thing comfortable enough for her to sleep in. She also decided on shorts, for her trousers where all now inches too short, which just annoyed her.
By the time both witches where lying down, Ginny had calmed somewhat from her giggle fit, but the affect was ruined by the sounds of the paintings moans coming through the heavy oak door.
Hermione went and opened the door, both girls curious, she wasn't prepered for the sight that reached her.
"He's not...OH MY GOD THAT IS DISCUSTING." Ginny's screams could be heard through the entire of the upstairs.
Hermione was frozen in horror, that painting was...thinking about her... "Christ." she muttered under her breath, as she staggered back to cover herself with her bed sheets.
The girls abject horror was interrupted by the arrival of the four oldest Wesley boys and Sirius, who had heard Ginny's yells.
"What's going on?" asked a confused looking Bill, who was looking about the room as if expecting to find Lord Voldemort himself hiding behind the wardrobe.
"Mya, are you all right?" asked a concerned Charlie who was now kneeling before the frozen girl, Hermione was still staring in horror in the direction of the hall, her gaze locked with that of the portrait.
Charlie put his finger under her chin, and pulled her face to look at him, "Mya?" he asked softly. Hermione dragged her gaze from the door to the landing, and tried desperately to focus on something else.
"What happened?" asked Fred, who had the remnants of what looked to be gun powder in his hair, what the hell were they creating?
"Yeah, we heard screaming." George finished, there was no gun powder on him, but his eyebrows did look sightly singed.
The girls where about to answer when the moaning started up again, only mutch louder this time, without the door shut to muffle the sound. The five men turned to the source of the noise, and Sirius growled in understanding.
"I can see you little wench." The painting groaned, looking straight at Hermione, who had gone rather pale, and seemed to be trying to shrink into her bed covers, feeling extreemly exposed in the revealing night wear.
In contrast Charlie seemed to swell with rage, it was a truly frightening thing, a pissed off dragon tamer, thought some abstract part of Hermione's mind.
Sirius was now advancing on the painting, wand drawn, with the others not far in his wake.
"In my day we paid a lot of money for a whore as pretty as you.." Hermione flinched, jumping off the bed, and moving to lean her back against the wall, trying to avoid the paintings eye line, but anger had now started to spark within her, and her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Ginny went to stand next to her, arm around her waist and started yelling again, only this time she was joined by the enraged chorus of five angry men, all of whom converged on the painting.
By now the commotion had awoken the rest of the house who had congragated on the landing, all in varying degrees of undress and confusion, they seemed to have arrived in time to hear the paintings lecherous insults.
Mrs wasley, clad in a marigold dressing gown and carpet slippers, with rollers in her hair, was in front of the two girls in a flash, muttering about "foul pureblood house" under her breath.
"Come along girls," she said gently, " I think you should both sleep somewhere else until we can remove that monstrosity." she said, sending the painting a truly filthy glare, one that would send the most hardened of death eaters running for cover. Hermione and Ginny both heartily agreed, and scrambled quickly to comply.
They where half way across the room, when the painting gave a particularly loud moan, muttering something about "Curls," and Hermione made the mistake of looking at it.
The occupant of the painting seemed to be flushed, something Hermione didn't know painting - magical or other wise- could be, he was biting his bottom lip, and staring at Hermione through half closed eyes. She growled in distsate, however the painting then levelled it'e gaze on Ginny, who flinched.
Acting on instinct, and a need to have some sort of outlet for the stresses of the day, Hermione levelled her wand at the occupant in the gilded frame, and let her emotions wash over her.
It wasn't a conscious decision, not even a specific spell, she just wanted that damned painting gone, she was therefor surprised, when from the tip of her wand, flew icy purple flames that hit the black family heirloom directly in the face.
The occupant yelled, obviously shocked, and dived to the side, off the edge of the canvas, in time for the frame to be completely destroyed, leaving him no way to return and harass her or Ginny any longer.
Breathing heavily, Hermione lowered her wand, now that she had caved to her anger, she felt ashamed, turning to Sirius she said, "Im sorry Sirius, I didn't mean to, but...", but she was cut off by Sirius' incredulous laughter. Hermione stared confused, noticing for the first time, that everyone else in the room seemed to be staring at her in amazement, well all except for Ginny, who had a smug expression on her face.
"I've been trying to take these blasted things down for months!" Sirius gasped through his laughter, before being overcome with another bought of chortles.
"Do you think you could do the same to the portrait of Mother dearest in the hall downstairs?" He asked, a hopeful expression, tinged with excitement on his face.
Faltering, having expected anger, Hermione gave a questioning look to the other, now chuckling order members around her.
"I guess I can give it a go?" She said uncertainly, "But maybe in the morning would be best?" she suggested. Sirius just nodded happily, turning to retreat to bed, laughing as he went.
The crowd now started to thin, what with the spectacle finished, Bill dragged a gaping Charlie - who was muttering something that sounded like, "But she looks so innocent, tiny, harmless..." to which Bill muttered, "Baby Dragon."- back into their room calling goodnight as he shut the door.
Fleur, who was grinning proudly, dissapeared back into the room next to theirs. Whilst the twins joked about getting on Hermione's bad side, and bowing teasingly at her, finally after Mrs Weasleys assurances that they would be fine now, the girls once again retreated to their rooms.
As soon as the door was shut, Ginny broke into a peal of bell like laughter, throwing back her flaming hair, and chortling heartily. Hermione just stared at her as if she'd gone insane.
"Did you see the looks on their faces?" was he first coherent sentence the red head managed after she'd calmed some, "That'll teach them to mess with us, Girl power Mi! Hogwarts won't know what's hit 'em."
Hermione gazed at her for a moment, before shaking her head and climbing into bed, hoping to give the day up as a bad job.
It took Hermione hours to fall asleep that night, her mind buzzing from the developments of the day, but in particular a conversation she had had with Professor Mcgonagall before she had left.
"Hermione dear, might I have a word with you." Came the scottish broague of her favourite teacher. Hermione looked up from her spot at the dinner table, and nodded, sliding back her wooden chair and getting to her feet.
She felt eyes following her as she left the room, following her teacher into the deserted hallway, where she turned once again towards Hermione, a large envalope being pulled from inside her tartan cloak.
"Hermione, this was left for you, by your birth parents. It was to be given to you at the time of you majority, when you knew their story." The scottish wonam had a sorrowful look on her usually stern face, and she patted Hermione on the shoulder before walking away.
Hermione just stared silently after her, grasping the parchment envalope to her chest, in shock. She headed away from the hall, into the empty living room, shutting the door behind her and settling on the old sofa. With trembling fingers she flipped the aged envalope, and tore through the royal purple wax seal.
A letter and a photograph fell into her lap. She looked at the letter first, a feeling of trepidation sweeping through her as she leveled her eyes upon the black ink.
Our dearest Hermione,
If you are reading this letter then it will mean a great many things.
Firstly, it will mean that your mother and I will be long gone, having never had the oppertunity to watch you blosom into the beautiful young woman that I am sure you have become. Belive me my darling, when I tell you how truley sorry I am for that.
It is the strangest thing, I am looking at you as I write this, you are asleep in your mothers arms. But also knowing that you're reading this as a grown woman, I can't help but wndering what you will be like. Are you a Griffyndor, like your mother and I were? Did you inherit my love of books, or your mothers hatred of flying?
Where did you grow up? Perhaps you'll have brothers and sisters. Your mother wonders if you have a boyfriend, some handsome young man who dotes on your every word, and adores you the way you deserve. We both hope you have a happily family, one that loves you to the ends of the earth. The way we do, did and always will.
No child should grow up without parents, and I hope that wherever you are, that you are happy, and safe.
Secondly, it will mean that you are now of age, and so Happy Birthday sweet child, I wish you many, many more, unclouded by fear or trouble. It is my hope, that by the time you read this, all evidence of the dark lord's presance on this earth will have been destroyed, and that you will havebeen able to live a happy, normal childhood. But if that is not the case, then be strong, the light will always prevail.
Finally, it will mean that Albus has removed your protective spells, and that you have come into your mothers inheritance, your Veela side. I am sorry that it was kept from you, and am guessing that it would have come as quite a shock to you, but be brave dearest Hermione, for you were born with the strength to handle anything life throws at you, and I know that you will do so beautifully.
For you my child, the skies are the limits, you can swim the deepest ocean, or climb the tallest mountain. May your limits be unknown, like shells on the shore, may your efforts be your own, if you're anything like your mother, then you with be spectaculare.
Be strong, be brave, you will be capable of wonderous things. It was the most diffiult thing your Mother and I ever had to do, the hardest decision we ever had to make, giving you up. We can only hope that you understand it was for your own safety, and that you can some day find it in your heart to forgive us.
Know that your mother and I love you, and will continue to care for you, from beyond death. Remeber, that no matter how alone you feel, we will always be with you.
With all our love, angel child,
Goodbye, and I'm truley sorry,
Father and Mother.
The tears were now streaming down her face, she felt such pain for these people she had never know, that they had loved her so much, and that she couldn't repay them in kind, not half as much as they loved her. The guilt she felt was all-consuming. She placed the letter gently back into her lap, to look at the picture.
It was of a young couple, holding a new born baby, smiling sadly down at her. As she watched, the man in the picture, her father she realised, wrapped an arm around his wife, who had silent tears marring her lovley face.
Taking a closer look at the couple, Hermione realised she bore a striking resemblance to both. She had inherited her father's eye's, and also the almost black colour of his hair, which was curly, just like hers. But her features and figure were an almost carbon copy of her mother.
Her father tightened his arm in the photograph once more, he had be young, very young, perhaps three years older than Hermione was now. And heartbreakingly handsome, she noticed, his dark curls and vibrant eyes were striking, but he also had a blinding smile, which he flashed at his baby daughter, and a strong jaw line.
Tearing her gaze from her father, Hermione took her mother in for the first time. She was even younger than her husband, and had long, straight blond hair, tha fell almost to the middle of her back. Her figure was much as Hermione's had become, statuesque in it's perfection. She had the same pale, heart shaped face as her daughter, but light blue, almost violate eyes, that leaked tears as she looked at the baby she had to give up.
Looking at her younger self, Hermione smiled through her tears. She was fast asleep, her body obscured by a large blanket wrapped around her, the only bits visible where her face, with one black curl on her foarhead, and a tiny hand, which was tightly grasping a lock of her mothers hair.
She couldn't look any longer, it hurt too much. She folded the letter, and put it and the picture back into the envalope, before running quickly upstaires to hide them in her trunk.
As Hermione lay in bed, she reached up to swipe a tear from her cheek, and wondered what her parents were like. She wondered how it would have elt to grow up in the wizarding world, with the order, her family, perhaps even brothers and sisters...
She pushed those thoughts away, it was pointless to ask 'what if', instead she slosed her eyes, nd rid her mind of all thought, waiting for sleep to claim her.