Harry, Hermione and The Grangers

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't make a profit.

An: I know this took forever, but I had to rewrite the entire thing three times because I didn't like the way it was going. But here it is at last so read it, enjoy it and please review it.

Harry hunted through the confines of the library, picking up this book and that book, searching each page for an answer to a question his sister desperately needed answered. But what could he do to relieve some of the pain and heartache that had settled in Hermione?

Hermione had always been the brains behind his bravado, the plan behind his determination, so what was he to do now? Whenever Hermione had something she needed to work out her first stop, and last, was always the library. Sure the Black family library wasn't as grand as Hogwarts, but Harry knew there were books in this room that Dumbledore himself hadn't seen in his lifetime.

Harry crashed down into one of the winged back chairs, his body sagging with the weight of his best friend's grief. When they had arrived back at Grimmauld Hermione had locked herself into her room with only Kreacher being allowed entry. The surly house elf had given Sirius a serious tongue lashing when he first came from Hermione's room and Harry hadn't seen or heard from either man or elf since.

He just needed something, anything, to help his friend, his sister, his Hermione. Harry sighed as his head dropped lower, his eyes trained on the ground…and on the book that lay there, as if placed. He flipped through the pages absentmindedly, not reading the words until it lay flat in his hand upon a random page. He couldn't quite understand what was going on within the story, but as the girl spoke to the boy, what she said struck him.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself though, not a Montague.

What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O! be some other name:

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

As he read Juliet's words over, or rather Shakespeare's words, he started to grin and he wondered if Hermione had ever read his work before. He bet that she did, even when under the worst fire from the Slytherins for being a Muggleborn she had tried to keep in touch with that part of herself. Though now, when faced with the lie of who you thought you were and who you actually are, Harry doubted that his friend remembered such a passage. He should remind her.

Hermione searched her photobooks, both Muggle and Magical, trying to find some semblance of herself within the pages. Was Ron right? Was her last name so unforgivable? Her lineage? Though she had no choice in the matter, did the family she was born into hold more weight upon who she is than the family that raised her? Well this is the Wizarding World, Hermione reasoned, of course the Black name will always be all that people hear and care about once they met me. And regrettably, Hermione truly understood that.

But did that all negate who she is? Everything that made her, her came from the Muggle world and her Muggle parents…didn't it? Or would she have always been like she is now regardless of who raised her? Hermione growled out in frustration, her life had become a debate of Nature vs Nurture and she wasn't thrilled about it, not one bit.

Maybe she was overthinking things…again. After all, who says that it wasn't a combination of the two? Surely her morals, mannerisms and way of thinking were directly related to those who raised her. That being said certain personality traits, characteristics and looks were those of her birth parents. And so, if this was true, than she was still who she had always been, she just understood herself better now.

What made her, her was a crazy mix of the two worlds, both Magical and Muggle, and they had always been with her. She was merely aware of the origin of certain ones now, so why should that change her perception of herself? It shouldn't. But it did.

Because whether Hermione liked it or not, the weight of the Black name rested heavily upon her shoulders. With Narcissa's child, Draco, being the heir of the Malfoy family, Bellatrix without child, Andromeda disowned and in extension her daughter Tonks, Sirius disowned and without child, the child of Regulus was the sole heir to the Black family and the Lady of the house.

This will change the way everyone looks at her. It changed the way she looked at herself. Suddenly she had this entire heritage; she meant something. Since stepping into the Wizarding World she had been nothing more than the Mudblood know-it-all best friend of Harry Potter.

Dumbledore could only hold off the announcement for so long and that when she stepped onto that Platform everyone would know. Hermione thought about the look on Malfoy's face when he spotted her and chuckles. Poor Malfoy didn't know what was coming to him. Hermione sighed and threw herself back onto the bed, why was it always her? She had to run into the Troll, she got petrified, she controlled a time turner.

"You're thinking too hard Mione." She looked up at the sudden voice to find a smiling Harry standing in her doorway.

"Harry." Her voice was found as she looked upon the boy. He had been her saving grace through this entire ordeal, her rock. She'd have to find a way to thank him properly.

Harry smiled at her, and carrying a book at his side he sat himself in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. "I found something and I think you should read it." He opened the book to the marked page and offered it to Hermione, watching her eyes as she read.

"Shakespeare." Hermione sighed with a remembering king of smile.

Harry's grin only grew. "I know you're having a hard time with all of this, and really, I don't envy you." He chuckled sadly. "But I think this guy sort of had a point you know? What's in a name? I mean I know things will change, they've already changed, but everything you are hasn't just changed because you have a new last name."

This was why she absolutely loved the boy. Harry was as thick as Ron on his worst days, though never a prick, but on his good days Harry was as observant and insightful as Dumbledore. Thankfully Harry wasn't as cryptic either.

She met his stare with a watery smile and threw herself into his arms, hugging herself to his shoulders and feeling more at peace than she had in a while. "Thank you Harry, really." She wiped her tears as she finally pulled away, not at all surprised when she spotted Harry doing the same. "There's just one thing that I have to do…and it needs to be done before we head off to Hogwarts." She looked at him pensively.

"Whatever it is, you know I'll help you." The boy vowed before even knowing what he'd be swearing himself to.

"I need to speak with my parents." Hermione frowned. "Harry, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that they didn't know about me or my…family. I need to make sure things will be okay now that I know. Things…things haven't been good Harry. Every year it seems like they pull away that much more because they can't understand who I've become." She looked down, fiddling with the bedspread. "I'm afraid this might be the final straw." Though she whispered, Harry heard her loud and clear.

He reaches out and put his hand atop hers, catching her gaze when she looks up at him. "You're my sister Hermione, nothing you ever do, nothing anyone ever says, will ever change that. Your parents love you and if they can't accept you as you are, as you've always been, then they don't deserve to be called your parents. You and Sirius are the only family I have, yeah the Weasley's are nice not including Ron at the moment, but you guys are my family, and we're yours, regardless if you need us or not."

Again Hermione was in tears. "Oh you silly boy! Of course you're my family Harry. Sirius too." She wrapped him in another hug as the pieces of herself slowly affixed themselves back into place.

After the fiasco of Ron's reaction, Hermione knew that going solo to her parents was a rash idea. So she had enlisted the help of Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore and Sirius of course seeing as he was one of her Godfathers. What truly stunned Hermione, and perhaps everyone else except for Dumbledore, was Professor Snape's insistence upon coming with.

She could see the logical part of it, she was his Goddaughter and after having to spend three years playing the villain toward her in order to not reveal her identity, because even though Snape didn't know he still somehow knew, he was trying to be there now, as much as he could anyway. That didn't make things any less awkward.

They were in there now. Immediately upon arriving at the Granger residence the adults had moved into the kitchen and left Harry and Hermione in the living room, and of course they had casted a silencing charm so the two teenagers couldn't eavesdrop. Hermione was a nervous wreck and though Harry tried to help, she knew that nothing would help her until this was resolved.

The creek of the kitchen door got their attention as the Wizards and Witch stepped into the room, her parents nowhere in sight. "They're waiting for you my dear." Dumbledore spoke to her more gently and informal than Hermione could remember him ever doing. It scared her even more so than the fact no one besides her Headmaster would meet her eyes.

On shaky knees Hermione carried herself to the door and as she breathed in to prepare herself she felt a heavy hand fall onto her shoulder. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had been Sirius or Professor McGonagall, but it wasn't either…it was Snape. She looked up at him as though praying for an answer, and maybe she was. They jaded man held her eyes for the longest second Hermione had ever experienced and then he spoke slowly, his voice the softest she had ever heard from the man. "You're more than what they think, more than what anyone will ever think, including yourself."

The most surprising thing of all?

Hermione believed him, with all her heart.