A/N - This is a crossover between Harry Potter (13 years post-war and ignoring the epilogue) and the Marvel Cinematic Universe (right before Avengers, canon will not be respected at some point in the Avengers movie, while I love Agents of Shield I will ignore it as well and the story will twist canon to fit my wants). Some Harry Potter characters beyond Hermione Granger might make an appearance but the story will focus on Hermione, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers mainly. Side characters will be the usual Avengers bunch and Bucky Barnes at a later point. I will stick to the MCU for timeline and characters, up to Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Age of Ultron isn't happening, and therefore no Civil War.

What is grief, if not love persevering (WandaVision, 2021).

Chapter 1 - Unfair

Sunday 28th August, 2011

The cemetery was centuries old, stones covered in vines, an ominous heavy iron gate, graves long-forgotten with unreadable names. This was one of the oldest resting place found this side of London. The sun had started to set, bringing a chill to the Summer air, despite this Hermione Granger was still sitting down on the ground, in front of two new headstones. She had been here since early morning, and still hadn't moved. She came here everyday.

She was dressed in black cotton leggings who had seen better days and a light grey t-shirt who swallowed her small frame, her hair was tangled to the point passer-by might wonder if she was simply homeless. This was her 15th day here, 15 days of sitting down and silently crying. Once the funeral arrangements had been done, she had stumbled into a near catatonic state and refused to see anyone. She only interacted with people when the funeral was held, she had no family left so only friends of the family came, and Hermione's wizarding friends came as well, it had been an exhausting day of condolences and platitudes. When she came home that night, she screamed herself hoarse in the shower and she has not said another word since.

Every morning, Hermione would wake up before the sun, often having slept a couple of hours, and go to the cemetery, sometimes without a breakfast beyond a cup of coffee. She would spend the day there, not moving, barely existing, and go home before midnight only to repeat the same pattern the next day. She was slowly wasting away.

Even though she had friends, she had never felt more alone, an orphan at 31 years old. Harry Potter had tried to be there for her but he had young children to take care of and little free time, likewise for his wife Ginny. Despite the breakdown of their relationship years ago, Ron Weasley was still a close friend but he had recently gotten married and was away on his honeymoon. Molly Weasley tried, in her own way by cooking as much as possible and leaving home-made meals at Hermione's flat everyday. After the war, and after graduating from Hogwarts during her remedial 8th year, Hermione had forged a routine for herself. Going to work everyday, often working overtime, going home to eat, read and go to sleep. She had few hobbies beyond her books and some craft projects she would give up on quickly, after she had rejected Ron's proposal 3 years into their relationship she had stopped dating for a long time. Eventually she had a semi successful relationship with Oliver Wood but he had been offered a position to play abroad and their relationship hasn't survived the long-distance. Crookshanks had died years ago and Hermione had refused to consider getting another familiar so her flat was very much empty.

Beyond work, she would go to the Burrow for Sunday dinner at least once a month and to her parents' house every Saturday for brunch, she never missed those since they had come back from Australia. Her weekly day with her parents was her anchor in her routine, a way to starve off the depression she refused to acknowledge, being stuck in a job that didn't bring her happiness anymore. She had been content, but three weeks ago her routine and her entire world was shattered by some drunkard who decided he was fine to drive. The man died too, so she couldn't yell at him.

So now, on the 15th day of her new existence in a world that didn't make sense anymore, she continued staring at the headstones in front of her as night began.

"Daniel Granger, 1950 - 2011, Husband, Father

'My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep. The more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.'."

"Emma Granger, 1953 - 2011, Wife, Mother.

'When he shall die,

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.'"

Thursday 8th September, 2011

A month had passed, and yet her pain would not lessen, but she eventually found a way to function, if only a little bit. She had yet to return to work, having taken an extended leave, but she was now feeding herself more. She would have a real breakfast everyday and while she still spent the day at the cemetery she left before the sun set and would go home to eat one of Molly's meal. Her sleep still wasn't great but she managed to have at least 3 hours a night, refusing to even think about taking Dreamless Sleep following her near addiction to it after the war.

In order to express what she couldn't say out loud, she had started to write in a journal instead, to try and make sense of the pain and sorrow she felt.

Why...

They were still young, so many plans and things yet to accomplish...

Why survive a war to die like that...

It's so unfair...

Why Why Why

I should have been able to save them, why...

I miss you...

I love you so much...

...I can't go on without you Dad, Mum, it's too hard.

...I loved you so much.

You would be so mad at the state of the flat...

What am I supposed to do without your guidance?

It's like a part of me is missing, and I can't get it back.

I can't believe you're really gone.

Every morning I wake up hoping it was just a nightmare.

I know I can't go on like this...

This isn't healthy, is it?

I feel so angry, but there's no one to direct it at.

I hate him but he died too.

Who can I blame when the one responsible isn't here?

I want to scream at the universe for taking you away.

How do I fill the void you left behind?

I hate that I'll never see you smile again.

I wish you were here.

You always taught me to be strong, but I feel so weak now.

How do I move forward when my heart is stuck in the past?

I don't know how to be happy without you.

She wrote everyday, sometimes for a couple of hours, from random ramblings to pain-filled rants against the Universe, and overtime she could feel the ache in her chest lessen slightly from overwhelming to a dull throb of constant pain.

Monday 19th September, 2011

Today was the first day Hermione didn't start her day before the sun rose, instead she was still in bed, trying to come to terms with her birthday, her first birthday alone with no family. Her thoughts were interrupted by a pecking on the window and she lazily waved her hand to let the owl through. A couple of packages with letters were dropped on her lap and the owl went back outside without waiting.

A few hours later, she finally relented and got up to drink a cup of coffee and open the packages. There were from Harry and Ginny, a first edition of Twelfth Night from Harry and a purple with gold threads silk scarf from Ginny. Both were beautiful gifts and Hermione started crying from the thoughts put into them and for herself. She was only 32 years old, and she had no family left. Her parents had been only children and she had lost her grandparents before even starting Hogwarts from illnesses and another car accident.

Instead of going to the cemetery, Hermione decided to go to her childhood home instead, to feel closer to her parents.

She spent the day walking around, looking at pictures on the wall and finally, around 6 pm she opened her mother's old family photo album. She looked through her mother's life, from a bubbly child to a studious university student, her wedding day to her father and finally pictures of herself as a baby. There was a letter stuck to the page next to her first baby pictures, a letter she had never seen before. It looked old, and worn, she decided to open it.

"My dear sweet Hermione,

If you are reading this, it likely means I am no longer with you, I hope this is happening when I am old and longing for peace, but one ever knows.

I hadn't planned to write this, ever, but after coming back from Australia, I realised I should. We made promises to never tell you, but I feel you deserve to know, to realise you might not be as alone as you must feel with Dan and me gone.

Your father and I tried for a child for years without success, and we had all but given up when someone came knocking, literally, in September 1979.

He said your parents had died, your mother from childbirth and your father from an accident not long after. He asked us to take you in, raise you as our own.

Looking back with what I know now, I assume there was an ulterior motive and when Professor McGonagall came I figured it was related to you being a witch.

However, he didn't say anything more than you needed a family, and as he knew your grandfather Hector, we trusted him despite the strain between Hector and your father.

Albus Dumbledore asked us to take you in, and we did.

We love you as our own, and while he insisted you couldn't know, I assume his death voids that caveat so I'm writing this done now.

At the time, he let slip that you had a brother, a 9 years old brother, too young to take you in of course, but hopefully old enough now to forge a new relationship.

Albus never said anything beyond that, no last names or city, but hopefully with magic you might be able to find him again.

I'm sorry we didn't say anything before, I have wanted to for a long time but couldn't. I don't know how much is my own cowardice and how much could be attributed to magic cast by Albus to control us.

I love you, my sweet Hermione.

Mum."

Saturday 22nd October, 2011

The weeks following the letter Hermione had found passed slowly, she was trying to put herself back together and refused to really think about what her mother had said. She still hadn't gone back to work but she had added a Mind Healer to her routine. Her first session, she barely spoke and the second she spent yelling and crying. Now, she was managing to have real conversations, to discuss her grief and her life beyond it.

Yesterday, she had mentioned the letter to Healer Wayne, and he had encouraged her to look into it, if only to know for certain if she did have family out there.

Which lead to her current position, a blank heritage parchment in front of her on the coffee table. After an hour of simply staring at the paper, Hermione took a deep breath and cut her palm with a cutting spell, and put her hand above the parchment to let her blood drip onto it.

Words started to appear, and she could only stare while her heart started to fill with a burning hatred towards Albus Dumbledore.

Father: Howard Anthony Stark, 15/08/1917 - 16/12/1991

Mother: Maria Collins Carbonell Stark, 05/04/1919 - 16/12/1991

Brother: Anthony Edward Stark, 29/05/1970 -

While Dumbledore had clearly lied about her birth parents, they were still dead now, but her brother was alive. The name didn't ring any bells and she wasn't sure where to start.


A/N - Dates are written Day/Month/Year, as I am French and not American.