Chapter Text
Memories, dreams or an overactive imagination had ultimately stolen years of precious sleep. The dreamscape had made itself known at a young age, the strange rather erotic images that played out every night on a daily basis left the young brunette displaying concerning behaviour and at times inappropriate conduct among her peers.
The first real incident happened during break time at primary school in her 4th year. Hermione to her acknowledgement didn’t realise the her actions that day would have severe consequences. Harsh judgement from outsiders and horrified stares from her peer group.
The dreams that continued to plague her had become a safety net. While she didn’t understand the significance surrounding that world she did find them comforting and familiar.
After being bribed shamelessly by her worried mother she conceded into seeing the countless psychiatrics that came a regular occurrence in her childhood years. None had an answer to give, neither did they understand the way Hermione refused to indulge the nature of the dreams. They did come to a conclusion that her intelligence surpassed her peers and believed she had become tedious with the world around her that she had invented up fantasies to cope with the mundane reality.
Her parents took the information with a pinch of salt. Their daughter was many things, a fantasist wasn’t one of them. So they watched with growing fear of their only child withdrawing from the world around her to further isolate herself into her mind.
Not only was her inappropriate behaviour worrying, since she was a baby strange things would happen around her. Jean had caught the young child using supernatural means to reach for a book out of her reach. Her temper tantrums resulted in shattered windows and the electronics around their home would short circuit.
Two years later and still no answers the Granger family found themselves at wits end. Jean’s frustrations at the lack of help resulted in numerous arguments between herself and her husband Graham. The gentle man she had fell in love with had started to vanish hours on end, his disappearance from their home had gone unnoticed by their daughter. His stoic attitude towards her increasing suspicions at reached an impasse. Graham’s cryptic reply remained the same ‘you’ll understand soon'.
Soon came in the form of a tall brown haired woman dressed in particular emerald green robes and a black pointed hat perched upon her head.
“Good morning Dr Granger, I believe your husband Graham is expecting my visit.” The Scottish undertones relaxed Jean enough to invite the woman into her home, so mystified by her presence she hadn’t asked for her name.
Graham greeted the visitor with familiarity of an old friend. “Minerva, I’m glad to see you again. This is my wife Jean and our daughter Hermione.”
The 10 year old brunette was seated on the window seat with to Jean’s horror was greedily soaking up one of her guilty pleasures. A lesbian pornographic magazine that the older brunette kept hidden in the back of her closet.
“Hermione Granger.” She scolded the barely aware girl, snatching the glossy pages away from her daughter. In her hurry to hide the filth she accidentally backed into the woman, Minerva who in a flash of an eye gripped her hips to stop her descent. Not expecting warm hands to touch her skin she had dropped the magazine at their feet.
Minerva once sure that the younger woman was steady, she bent down to pick up the dropped possession. The imagine of two naked women entwined on the front page caught her eye, years of experience at catching hormonal teenagers in awkward situations around her school had built up the neutral mask that remained on her face.
“I understand from Graham that you’ve exhausted all other venues before desperation had him seeking out our help.” Not waiting for a reply, she turned to the silent brunette who to Minerva seemed lost in thought, her bottom lip clenched unnervingly between her teeth. “We have been given permission to offer Hermione a place at our school a year earlier than usually accepted.” She quickly unseated her wand from her arm holster.
The strange but familiar wooden stick in the stranger’s hand caught Hermione’s undivided attention. In the dreams that tool was used to perform spectacular pieces of magic, a wand that’s what her dream called it, the women that frequented her unconsciousness used the wand to dissolve their clothes leaving them naked. The dark haired woman would then press the slender stick between the blonde’s thighs.
The floating couch brought her crashing back to reality. Her heart racing at the two women writhing and moaning.
“I can do that but not with a wand,” Hermione surprised herself by hearing her voice echo around the room.
Minerva released the spell, turning in stunned disbelief to the smiling muggleborn. “How did you know that Hermione?”
The girl shrugged returning to her seat. The smile gone replaced by a dazed look as she stared out the window.
“Your daughter is a witch and it’s my pleasure to formally invite Miss Granger to Hogwarts of witchcraft and wizardry where she will learn to control her magic and understand the wizarding world.” She politely informed the nervous mother.
Jean looked ready to pass out at any moment. Minerva had seen that disbelieving glazed look on many muggle parents, she didn’t quite understand it herself seeing as the families knew their child/children struggled to fit into the world around them and or displayed unexplainable moments that could not be otherwise explained by muggle science. In more extreme cases parents or carers would consult with a priest of questionable religion prompting the death of the young witch or wizard by the form of exorcism. Minerva found that barbaric and utterly heartbroken.
“Hermione is a witch love. I know this is hard to believe but trust me this is the only way to help her,” Graham added, bringing his tearful wife into his arms. “She will be safe at Hogwarts and maybe, just maybe we’ll get the answers we've been searching for.”
Jean sniffled, stiffly sitting on the couch with her head in her hands. “How do you know all this Graham? Were you ever going to tell me about this magical world?” she brokenly asked her pale husband.
Graham gingerly sat next to Jean. “I come from a long line of purebloods,” the confused stare from Jean made his heart sink. “Purebloods are families that come from a long line of magical folk but in increasing cases like myself I was born a squib, a child born from two magical parents that have low magical reserves that they can’t tap into.” Minerva could hear her old friends bitterness rear its ugly head once again.
“Your parents never invited me to their home, not once in the fifteen years we have been married.”
Graham sadly nodded. “When I said it was difficult to find I was telling the truth. My family’s estate is hidden in the magical world under heavy wards that prevent muggles, non magical folk and blood wards to stop invited guests in accessing the grounds.”
Minerva stepped away from the couple and taking a seat on the bench beside Hermione.
“I had a great childhood, my parents never resented my unfortunate birth, they loved me just as much as my older sisters Apolline and Juliana. I was raised in France by my mother Tatiana and our clan leader and mother Celeste unlike myself most squibs are cast out into the muggle world like day old trash. Hated by society, a burden on the ministry of magic.” He fondly smiled at the mention of his family. “You met both my mothers and they love you Jeanie. I suppose you could say I wasn’t born from a pureblood family in the sense of the Malfoys and the Blacks..”
Hermione’s head shot up at her fathers words. Blacks, that name was so familiar to her. Minerva noticed the subtle changes in the girl at the mere mention of the oldest and purest pureblooded Houses.
“I’m from a long line of Veela, only the girls inherit the magical creature that hides beneath their skins. Creatures that are beautiful as they are deadly... I didn’t think Hermione would be magical let alone inherit the Veela but I’m starting to doubt that now.”
That was six years ago and the last conversation she had with her parents. The last time she saw them alive just before a car crash took them away from her permanently.
Professor McGonagall had helped pack up her belongings that very same day and took her to a new world full of magic. Magic that was neither ‘light’ nor ‘dark'. A world full of hatred and pain and it seemed a world that didn’t accept her.
So here she was six years on, orphaned and friendless, well not friendless she was just specific about who she spent time around. Her only escape was the still unexplained dreams of the two erotic women that haunted her every night. She wanted to find the two witches, to know if they were real or she was losing her mind but try as she might the problem with the dreams she couldn’t pick out the finer details, couldn’t describe the women beyond the colour of their hair and the husky voices that cooed in her ears each time they visited.
A loud clang interrupted her thoughts, blinking away the haze that had fallen over her eyes she grimaced in dismay at the sight of Ronald Weasley shovelling handfuls of chocolate cake into his mouth.
The redheaded wizard was a bloody menace that took great delight in making her life a misery just by mimicking an farmyard animal eating at its troth. The youngest Weasley boy was best friends to Harry Potter, the boy who lived to be a pain in her ass. The messy haired bespectacled wizard was busy reading the daily prophet unaware of her scrutiny.
The front page caught her eye.
The ministry of magic publicly apologies for the wrongly imprisonment of Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy.
A grey and white wizarding picture below the headline showed the snarling face of Sirius Black. A man convicted in his early twenties for the slaughter of a dozen muggles and a former friend Peter Pettigrew.
The other picture showed a tall regal man dressed in finely made robes, his left hand leaning on a cane, the head craved into a serpent. Lucius Malfoy had been convicted for the torture of two well known Aurors, Alice and Frank Longbottom sixteen years ago who to this day remained long term patients in the Janus Thickey Ward for the insane. Not that anyone actually called it that.
Harry grumbled unintelligibly as she screwed up the newspaper in disgust. She remembered hearing around the common room in Gryffindor tower that Sirius was his godfather, the man had managed to escape the supposedly inescapable fortress of Azkaban.
A slight hitch to her right made her look away to meet the distraught face of Neville Longbottom. She knew Neville well, the boy was timid and blundered his way through most of his classes all expect Herbology. Herbology class was where he shone brighter than anyone in their year. He was kind hearted and a dear friend to Hermione. She felt bad for him that the man responsible for taking away his parents was now free.
Lucius Malfoy was a pureblooded aristocrat that favoured the apparent ‘dark' side led by a foul wizard commonly known as Lord Voldemort. A man that resembled a snake with legs, his face grey and flat resulting from his rebirth two years ago.
She involuntarily shivered at the horrid event that had taken place that year. She was a year younger than those in her year but her maturity made up for it which is how Harry survived the three deadly tasks that pitted three chosen champions against one another. It had supposed to be restricted to students over seventeen but somehow the chosen one had his name removed from the goblet of fire and represented Hogwarts much to the complaining and mocking of most of their fellow peers led unsurprisingly by Slytherin house and their self appointed president Draco Black.
One upside of fourth year she had finally met her father’s family in person. Since first year she had exchanged letters via owl to the Delacour clan in France. She had met her cousins Fleur and Gabrielle with slight apprehension but the moment the younger sibling had came bouncing up to her with such childish enthusiasm that only an 8 year old could get away with Hermione couldn’t help but let her walls crumble down around her heart.
At the last challenge of the tournament Fleur introduced her mother, Hermione’s aunt Apolline and their grandmere Celeste and her mate Tatiana. All three older Veelas had embraced the bookworm with open arms and welcomed her into their family.
Hermione was meant to meet them at the funeral of her parents but the then 10 year old witch hadn’t been functional enough to attend the send off so in her absence Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore attended on her behalf. Albus and Minerva had afterwards graciously accepted the lioness into their lives and formally adopted the young brunette as their granddaughter.
Another obnoxious clanging sound erupted outside the Great Hall. The students and staff turned towards the large double doors just in time to see the caretaker Argus Filch scuttle in, his spiteful furball of a cat Mrs Norris was trailing after him.
“What on Merlin’s name is the matter Mr Filch?” the Headmaster met the pale faced squib halfway down the isle that separated the Slytherin and Gryffindor House tables.
Before the out of breath caretaker could deem a response the sound of something hard was clicking on the stone floor, seconds later the face of Lucius Malfoy in all his former glory.
“Good evening Albus.” The tone of his voice did not convey his polite greeting.
The man was a pompous bastard that deserved to rot in the cold dank cell that he had somehow managed to crawl out of.
“Lucius I wasn’t aware of any scheduled appointment between us that would lead you to..”
The rest of the conversation was abruptly cut off as the doors swiftly shut behind the men.
“Fucking hell who the hell let that scum to roam the halls?” Ronald spluttered out breaking the uncomfortable silence that had rocked the Hall.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Though she did agree with his sentiment, she wouldn’t of used such vulgar language in the presence of impressionable first years. First years who right then looked rather scandalous at the crude words. “Language Ronald.”
The redheaded wizard had the grace to blush. “Sorry Mione."
“It is rather particular that a man who has just been released from prison this morning would be at Hogwarts. Seeing as his seat on the board of governors were evoked along with his Head of House status.” Hermione loudly mused.
Harry shrugged. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s here to cause trouble.”
That trouble came two days later via a large black European eagle owl swooping low over the heads of the red and gold table.
The large predator landed with a thud by Hermione’s breakfast. His golden eyes leering at the bacon on her plate, she sighed giving the owl the bacon as she gently detached the glossy envelope from its neck.
“Thank you Mr owl.” He blinked owlishly in reply and with a loud hoot, the bird flew off.
Miss Hermione Granger
You have been cordially invited to this years Black Ball on 21st - 28th December. You are expected to stay the week at Black manor where a set of rooms have been provided for you.
Yours
N.B & A.B & B.B
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.
Toujours Purs
“What the hell does that mean?” Ron demanded stabbing a dirty finger at the Black motto.
Rolling her eyes at the ridiculous motto. “It’s French for ‘Always Pure’.” A very pureblooded house motto if she had ever heard of one.