In the end, Hermione's parents were left in their graves under the names Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Instead of exhuming them and disturbing their peace (and raising questions she didn't want to answer), Hermione elected to have a small memorial service for them in London. They explained the lack of bodies as the Grangers being lost at sea a year prior. The funeral home ate it up.

Tony insisted on paying for the service and after four months of him throwing his money at her every whim Hermione let him. She didn't have any money; it wasn't like the Wilkins had left their estate to her. It was a lovely affair: flowers, canvas prints of photos of the Grangers, professional lighting for anyone who stood to speak about the late couple.

Some of the Grangers' family and friends were invited. They moved to Australia so suddenly and enthusiastically that the guests assumed they were simply forgotten in the excitement of it all. Tears were shed and apologies were whispered under people's breath. Those who knew Hermione as she was growing up hugged and kissed her, told her they were here for her, said it was such a shame she was on her own so young.

Hermione didn't feel like she was on her own. She had Harry and Ron, and she had Tony. She even had Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis.

In a strange way it felt like because Hermione had already grieved them once, the second time was easier even though it was more real, permanent. She guiltily held this feeling close to her chest; no one needed to know what a bad daughter she was.

The service was small. The Grangers didn't have an expansive circle of close friends and Hermione didn't invite sycophants and loose acquaintances. There was only one family member who was missing, though.

Some days, Grandma Peggy was fully cognizant.

Today, according to Hermione's grandmother, the president was Harry Truman and Tony was his father.

Peggy Carter wasn't herself anymore. Or, she wasn't Grandma Peggy anymore. She'd started to go before Hermione left for Hogwarts, and according to Tony the Alzheimer's progression hadn't slowed. If anything, the slope had gotten steeper.

Hermione still wanted to see the woman who had been so special to her as a young girl, and so Tony took her to the glamorous assisted living facility he was paying for her to live in. It was a cushy place, good attention to detail on the decor, and Hermione prayed they paid just as much attention to their background checks and their employees.

Then again, she thought approaching her grandmother's apartment, if anyone tried anything, there was every chance Grandma still carried a weapon.

Three knocks. Time seemed to crawl as Hermione waited to see her grandmother for the first time in six years, but eventually the door cracked open and a familiar face peered out. "Oh, it's you!" Grandma exclaimed. "One mo'." She undid the deadbolt and opened the door wide, appraising them.

Hermione looked at her just as appraisingly. She was thinner than the last Hermione saw her, almost too thin. Were they feeding her here? She ignored the fact that their wrists were probably the same size around.

"Howard, who is this young lady?" Grandma interrupted her inner monologue. Judgment was clear in her eyes. Hermione remembered dimly that Tony came by his playboy ways honestly.

"Hello, Peggy," she said slowly and clearly, her grandmother's name like acid on her tongue. "My name is Hermione."

"Hermione," Grandma murmured. "Yes, hello, Hermione, of course! It's very nice to see you again!" Peggy wore a placid smile but her eyes betrayed some tension: she had no idea who Hermione was. "How have you been?"

Peggy Carter had once been the lone adult confidant of a buck-toothed, bushy-haired know-it-all little girl. She knew all of Hermione's secrets, from the insecurities her parents passed onto her to the very first magic she'd ever done. "I've been well," said Hermione. "How are you?"

Peggy took a long moment to answer. Two long moments. Three. She looked away. "I wish Daniel would visit," she mourned. "Do you know when he's going to be here?"

Tony forced a smile on his face, not that Hermione thought Peggy could tell it was fake. "He's coming next week. No letter for you, but he says he loves you."

Peggy smiled more genuinely. "He's so sweet. Now, Howard, tell me what I'm missing at SHIELD." She patted the sofa next to her and motioned for Hermione to join them on the armchair. "I'm very interested in hearing about your work, Agent," she warned Hermione, who gave a watery smile.

"I'll tell you all about it."

Hermione was quiet as they left the facility. Tony let her have a moment but quickly grew uncomfortable in the silence.

"You were good with her."

She shook her head. "I had no idea what to say. I felt horrible just making things up about SHIELD." She glanced at him from the side. "What is SHIELD, anyway?"

"From what I can tell? Shadow surveillance organization. When she knows who I am, she won't talk about it."

Hermione's brows raised. "So you're taking advantage of an old woman's dementia?"

"When you put it like that, I sound like an asshole," Tony complained.

"Exactly."

"Once I can find them and hack them, I'll leave her alone about it."

"I don't think she'll leave you alone about it, Howard. At least you'll have new stories to tell her," Hermione added lightly.

"Most stories are new to her," Tony said ruefully. "But yeah, I think she'll enjoy it."

Hermione should've seen this coming; it was just like Tony to make a grand gesture like this.

She let him flit in and out of the living room, pacing, opening his mouth like he was about to tell her something before closing it and fleeing again, for longer than strictly necessary before digging in. "What have you done?"

He looked affronted. "Why do you think I did something?"

She gave him her best unimpressed look and gestured at him generally. "You're acting like you did something."

Tony chuckled. "That's why I did this."

"So you did do something," she said with narrowed eyes.

He just nodded. "Yup. I hope you like it," he added nervously, and she could see that he was being genuine — he wasn't sure if she'd appreciate what he did. Her heart softened a little and she gave him a small smile.

"I'm sure I will. Now, what did you do?"

He held up a finger and left the room again. When he returned shortly after, he was holding a manila envelope. She eyed it curiously when he set it in front of her. "Well, open it."

The front page was a fax cover sheet that simply read, ADOPTION PAPERS.

"You're adopting a child?" she asked in shock. "I'm happy for you Tony, but—"

"You're such an idiot! No, I'm adopting you!"

She blinked. "You can't adopt me, I'm an adult."

"Fine, it isn't adoption," he admitted, "but it's as good as. Take a look."

She perused the papers in front of her: a copy of Tony's will naming her as his sole heir and several versions of a pre-notarized name change form ready for her to become Hermione Granger Stark, Hermione Jean Stark, or Hermione Jean Granger-Stark. A fourth notarized sheet left the name line empty, waiting for her to write in her own choice.

She choked on whatever words tried to escape her and Tony seemed to realize she was literally speechless. "I know it's a lot, but you're my problem now," he said roughly, "and I want you to know I'm taking that seriously."

"Tony," she tried. She coughed and managed, "Tony, there's no need—"

"I know, but I want to. I care about you, Hermione. I've already named you sole inheritor in my will, so don't bother arguing about that."

She laughed wetly. "There are so many other ways to show someone you care."

He shrugged. "I don't know those ways, this is all I got."

"I don't want to be your heir. Heiress," she corrected. "I don't want your money."

"Don't worry," he soothed, "you won't have to run the company or anything, that's what Obie's for. And by the time he dies we'll have another great guy handling things, I promise."

"You better have a child before you die, because I swear to god I'm not inheriting your money."

"Come on, you were a rich kid too," he needled. "Tell me you don't want a black Amex with your name on it. Whatever name you want," he added earnestly.

"I was never rich like you," she pointed out, "and I don't want to use your money, Tony. I didn't come here for that."

"Either you spend it or I spend it for you. And I already put you in the will, so there's no use fighting it. Besides, I've been paying for stuff for the last six months, how is this any different?"

"It's only been five," Hermione corrected, "and it's not like I enjoy you paying for things."

"Maybe you should. So, what do you say?" Despite the enthusiasm with which he delivered his arguments, he was still nervous.

She thought, and thought some more. The silence between them grew heavy and Tony started looking between the papers before him and the stairs to his lab. He was ready to leave, and she realized she didn't want him to.

"Hermione Granger Stark," she decided, stressing each word individually.

"What?" He choked on the word. "You really don't have to, the Starks were there to make Granger-Stark seem more reasonable!"

"If you didn't want me to take the option," she said primly, "you shouldn't have offered it." She bit her lip, a habit she'd been trying to break. "There are no more Grangers, and I'm not a Wilkins. I could be a Stark." She blinked away rapidly forming tears. "I could use family."

He half-smiled. "You could be a Carter. You have Peggy."

Hermione glared at him. "No, I don't," she said in a steely voice. "Don't try to make me feel better by lying to me." She was glad when he looked abashed; he shouldn't have tried that.

"What's the first thing you're gonna buy with your money?"

"It's still your money," Hermione complained, "you're just giving me a card."

"Your card, your money. No limit, by the way."

Hermione brought her hands to her face. "You're not helping," she said into her palms. "I don't know what I want to buy."

"I suggest some clothes. No offense," he rushed to add, "but you have like, three outfits. Jarvis won't have to do the laundry as often," he said, knowing how she hated Mr. Jarvis doing so much for her. "Besides, once you make your debut, you need to look the part."

She dropped her hands immediately and looked at Tony with wide eyes. "Debut?"

"Well, yeah," he said like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "People are gonna find out you're a Stark, and it's always better to control the narrative. God, I need to teach you these things. No, I need Pepper to teach you these things! Have you met Pepper?" He said all of this very quickly.

She shook her head.

"She's my assistant; she's new, but I think she's gonna stick around for a while. I haven't scared her off yet, she seems like she's pretty sturdy."

"She must be to put up with you all day."

Tony just grinned. "She really is something else." He blinked. "You've met Happy, right?"

"No." She harrumphed. "I know he's your driver, but we haven't met. You made me call a cab, remember?"

"I was out of town that week!" Tony defended. "And that one time, I was at work! Anyway, Pepper's gonna take charge of Operation: Little Sister. I don't want people talking bad about you in the papers."

Hermione smiled softly. "Very sweet of you, but I'm no stranger to it, remember?"

"Starks get a whole new level of abuse," Tony warned.

For family, though, she'd take it.