Updated as of June, 2020. I'm revamping it slowly.

Disclaimer: I have not nor will I ever own Harry Potter. If I did, things would be a lot different. The changes of which you can read here. Hooray!

This fic is dedicated to my tired ass.

January 1985

Doctors Beatrice and Roger Granger were a fairly young couple living in Chalk Farm, London, England. They owned a successful dentistry practice in Central London and were very good at what they did. They were rather ordinary in looks, the type of faces easily forgotten, but their kindness and humor made them memorable. They were the kind of dentists that didn't scare people away because of how much they cared about their patients. They always made sure they were comfortable, thoroughly explaining procedures, and offering alternative cleaning methods for patients who found brushing uncomfortable or even downright painful.

Roger Granger was a kind and soft-spoken man who enjoyed reading, cooking, gardening, and all types of theatre. Before dental school, he attended a military academy starting at primary school, which led him to spend a few years in the army as a drill sergeant. Since then, he vowed never to raise his voice at anybody unless they truly deserved it. He believed in keeping an open mind and defending those who could not defend themselves. Roger loved his wife more than anything in the world and knew he was going to marry her since they first met in college.

Beatrice Granger was a kind and outspoken woman who also enjoyed reading, playing games, and watching movies. Before dental school, she lived with two wealthy parents who didn't quite have much time for her. She spent her high school and undergraduate years doing volunteer work and running charity drives. She was a firm believer that everybody had a voice that deserved to be heard. Beatrice loved her husband from the moment she saw him, and he was her world. Everybody who met Dr. and Dr. Granger believed that they were a lovely couple as well as lovely neighbors. They were so open and welcoming even the nosiest and snobbiest of people couldn't help but warm up to them.

They lived on Herbert Street in a beautiful, white stone terraced house with an olive door. Rather than a backyard, it had a high walled garden with flower beds, a stone patio, and lovely wrought iron furniture. Roger spent a lot of time planting beautiful flowers so that every time he and his wife had tea, they were in their own little world. The top floor of the terraced house was their master bedroom and bathroom, the floor below also had a large, but not quite as large, bedroom and bathroom with a small office attached. The ground floor held their kitchen and reception area. The majority of the reception area was transformed into an elegant library with a display case for rewards and photos of accomplishments, and a section by the window had an L-shaped couch perfect for reading with a coffee table just the right size for a puzzle. The basement was their tv room with the laundry room tucked in a corner and a computer against the back wall.

It was lovely and absolutely perfect.

With their world finally in balance, they wanted to have a child. Beatrice Granger wanted to adopt rather than try to bear one and Roger Granger readily agreed. They decided on the gender and age range; a girl between the ages of three and five, and they prepared the room on the second floor of their house for her.

They painted it a periwinkle blue and furnished it with beautiful walnut furniture. They set up a canopy bed with pastel green curtains, a dresser with pink flowers painted on it, a desk with a variety of drawers for her school supplies when she was old enough, a vanity for when she got older and more independent on styling herself, and numerous bookshelves that she could fill in with whatever she wanted. A chest for toys was placed at the base of her bed and the little sitting area had a rocking chair with a child-sized table and tea set ready for use. They even got some stuffed animal friends to attend her parties.

"What if we got her a puppy?" said Beatrice jokingly.

"Don't be ridiculous, love," said Roger, cracking a grin. "What if she's a cat person?"

One chilly January day, their background checks had gone through and their paperwork was approved. Finally, finally, finally, they were allowed to go to the orphanage and find the child that was right for them. After that, there would be even more paperwork, but they didn't care as long as their little girl was perfectly happy. They scheduled meetings with several children organized by the owner of the orphanage, Mrs. Smith.

They arrived early and were shown to a meeting room that looked more like a playroom with books and a small assortment of toys for the children to entertain themselves while they waited for prospective parents to arrive.

"The children are so excited to meet you," said Mrs. Smith. "They all would love a good home."

"It almost sounds like you're describing that pet shelter commercial," Beatrice muttered.

Roger bumped her with his elbow. "Darling, hush."

"After you meet with them, I will be in the office next door awaiting your decision," said the stern-looking woman.

Roger and Beatrice took their seats on the open chairs. Over the course of several days, they met with many little girls and one boy. They were all adorable children and were friendly enough at first, but as soon as the word 'dentist' popped up… well… Roger and Beatrice might as well have said they were professional boogeymen. What sort of dentist would traumatize these children? It had the Grangers want to report them for it.

"We're nice dentists," Beatrice said to Chester, a young boy who had for some reason been thrown into the mix. "Honest."

"No!" he cried and ran out of the room. "No dentists!"

"I didn't think it would be this hard," Roger sighed. "Are we doing something wrong?"

"Well, they should know what our profession is," said Beatrice. "They're young, the dentist and doctors are still new and scary places to them. This place is all they know. Maybe we should see about meeting the older children?"

A child entered through the open door. She had long, curly brown hair and wore a giant red sweater over the uniform the other children wore. She couldn't have been more than five years old.

"Oi, spaz," an older child said from the hallway, "better scram before old Smith catches you."

The girl paid the child nor the Grangers any attention. She flicked her fingers in front of her as if she were holding an invisible camera and approached the bookcase.

"I thought we were meeting all the children within our criteria," Beatrice whispered.

The little girl didn't look at them. She just ran her fingers along the spines of the books until she spotted one on the shelf just out of her reach. Finally, she looked at the couple and walked up to them. She had beautiful brown skin and striking cognac-colored eyes.

"Hello," said Roger with a kind smile. "What's your name?"

"M-my name is…" she got a foggy look in her eyes and shuddered, tapping her temple, "Hermione."

"What a beautiful name," said Beatrice.

Hermione pointed at Rogers seat. "Chair."

"Yes," he said, not quite understanding.

Hermione shook her head and pointed at it again. "Chair."

"Oh, I see." Roger stood up.

"Gracias."

"Oh, you speak Spanish?" Roger asked.

"¿Hablas español?" Beatrice asked.

Hermione lit up. "¡Sí!" She pointed to the bookcase. "Quiero ese libro, por favor."

Roger went over to the bookcase and checked which one she was pointing at. It was a chapter book by the name of The Little Prince. He pulled it down and handed it to Hermione. She took it in both hands and held it tightly.

"Gracias," she whispered, looking down at her shoes.

"Please, have a seat," said Roger, patting the smaller chair the children had been sitting in.

Roger asked questions while Beatrice translated into Spanish. They asked how old she was (five since September), things that she liked (books and dancing), and other small tidbits. With each answer, they felt their hearts swell with love.

"Now, Beatrice and I are dentists," said Roger. "Are you okay with that?"

Hermione tipped her head. "You c-c-clean te-eeth?" The girl seemed to stammer with English and only on 'p's with Spanish.

"Yes."

"G-g-good f-for you," she stammered. "I-I am p-p-proud o-of you."

Beatrice placed a hand on her heart. Hermione grinned and went back and forth between fiddling with a turtle-shaped pendant or flapping her hands.

"What a lovely necklace," said Roger. "Where did you get it?"

Hermione frowned and flicked her fingers in distress. "Ni idea. Ni idea."

"Drs. Granger," said Mrs. Smith as she entered the room. "Have you made a decision?"

"Hello, Mrs. Smith," said Beatrice. "We were just having a conversation with Hermione."

Mrs. Smith looked furious and crossed the short distance to grab Hermione's arm. The girl shouted and smacked at the woman for being handled.

"I am so sorry," said Mrs. Smith. "Hermione is… slow. She was brought in from a hospital and we think she might have some sort of brain damage. I've told her to never come in here when we have visitors, but she hasn't seemed to grasp the concept."

"We find her to be perfectly sweet," said Beatrice. "In fact, I think we have made our decision."

She looked at Roger who nodded. Mrs. Smith let go of Hermione in shock. The little girl scrambled away and muttered, "Don't touch," repeatedly under her breath.

"We'd like to adopt Hermione if that is what she'd like," said Roger.

"Hermione is a problem child," said Mrs. Smith. "She was brought in here January of this year. There are no records on her anywhere that we can find, so it will be a process to create documentation for her. She is also incredibly odd. She doesn't get along well with the other children and there are some serious anger problems. She has some compulsive behavior and—well, I'm not sure if she'd be the right fit for you."

"Are you trying to convince us to not adopt her?" demanded Roger angrily.

"So what if she's different?" Beatrice added, growing rather defensive for the child. They hadn't even adopted her and already the mother's ferocity was showing through.

"Lots of people are different. We'll… we'll work with her, right love?"

"Right," he said with a nod. "We'll do everything to help her adjust. But we won't push her out of her comfort zone."

"No. Of course not," Beatrice agreed. "I meant the social problems of course. People can learn those sorts of things, but… we've only spent ten minutes with her, and we love her."

Hermione spent this conversation flipping through her book.

Mrs. Smith sighed and shook her head before turning back to the girl. She spoke very loudly and very slowly. "Hermione. This is Dr. and Dr. Granger. Do you understand?"

Hermione looked up but didn't make eye contact. "Sí, pero se me hace difícil hablar Ingles." She swallowed. "I s-s-stutter."

Roger and Beatrice grinned at each other while Mrs. Smith looked flabbergasted.

"Hermione," said Beatrice, holding out her hand.

Hermione tipped her head and accepted it.

"Would you like to be our daughter?" Roger asked and Beatrice translated.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Leave here?"

"Oh, she is terrible with change!" Mrs. Smith cried. "She always pitches a fit. It's dreadful."

"Mrs. Smith, please," said Beatrice, annoyed.

Hermione beamed and began bouncing up and down with excitement, her curls bouncing with her.

"I think that's a yes," Roger chuckled.

"Hermione, calm down and sit on your hands."

Roger and Beatrice scowled at the woman before getting up and jumping up and down with her, much to the young girl's delight.

Mrs. Smith asked them several times as they filled out the paperwork if they were sure they wanted a challenge like Hermione, and each time their answer was the same; "We love her already."

Once the last signature was scribbled, Beatrice and Roger made their way back to their new daughter. Hermione had her meager possessions stuffed into a tiny backpack. On top of her sweater was a hand-me-down jacket. She had no stuffed animal to call her own or even a blanket, but her eyes lingered to the book she was reading that had to be left behind.

"Ready to go, Hermione?" Roger asked with a smile.

"R-r-ready aaas I'll ever b-b-be. Sí. Vámonos."

So, she stuttered with English, but spoke Spanish very well. Not uncommon when it comes to stutterers. Roger took the little girl by the hand and led her out to their car to take her home. From that day on, she would be known as Hermione Granger. Even if Hermione wasn't any good with change, she seemed eager to get out of that place. She let them lead her over to the car. A brand new turquoise Ford Anglia. When she saw it, they noticed that she became scared and uncertain.

"It's alright," said Roger. "We don't live very far."

Beatrice repeated it in Spanish for her and she seemed to relax and readily crawled into the back seat. They took one last look at Mrs. Smith who was watching them from the front door. She became distracted by a young woman in a bright green coat with long braids down her back.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Manola Sanchez, we spoke on the phone—"

"Haven't I turned you away often enough?" Mrs. Smith snapped.

The new parents didn't hear the rest of the conversation as they got into the car.

"Thank God I took Spanish in secondary school and college," said Beatrice, driving them home.

"I wish I took it rather than French," Roger replied with a grin. "I guess she'll just have to learn both. Hermione, Tu voudrais apprendre le francais?"

"Oui, je p-p-peux p-parle en francais."

"We just got the most brilliant child in the world," said Beatrice.

"That we did, love," Roger agreed. "How lucky are we?"

When they pulled up to their house, Hermione pressed her gloveless hands against the window and quickly pulled them back with a shudder. They would have to take her clothes shopping in the morning, but for now they wanted her to get settled in her new home.

Once out of the car, Roger and Beatrice each took a hand and led her up the steps to their house. Hermione giggled excitedly and bounced on her toes. Grinning, her new parents lifted her up into the air, much to her delight. They laughed and unlocked the door.

"Welcome home," they chorused.

Hermione gasped in delight as she took in the beautiful rooms decorated in jade green, turquoise, whites, and deep browns. There was comfortable leather furniture, massive bookshelves filled with wonderful books of every subject, and the amazing smell of spearmint toothpaste.

Getting caught up in her excitement, Roger and Beatrice gave her the tour of the house, including her bedroom.

"It's all mine?" she asked in Spanish.

"Yes, it's all yours," said Beatrice.

Laughing with disbelief, Hermione ran around her new room, examining everything she could and chattering excitedly. Beatrice and Roger watched her with giant grins.

After jumping on her bed a couple times to test out its softness, she leapt off and ran back to her new parents, embracing them in a hug. Feeling so much love in their hearts to the point of wanting to cry, they wrapped her up in their arms and kissed her head.

It was that moment of pure, unconditional love that made them a family.

A few weeks later, Hermione woke up early and heard the voices of her adopted parents downstairs. She smiled and sat up eagerly. She liked them a lot. They were nice and spoke softly. They didn't mind that she didn't like hugs and they spoke to her in English and Spanish, and were even starting her on French. She pushed the soft covers back and ran downstairs to greet them. They were both in their pyjamas and had big smiles on their faces.

"Buenos días," they greeted her.

"Buenos días," she repeated.

"Now that we've gotten to know you, we want to give you a little birthday Christmas celebration since both have been missed," said Beatrice, gesturing to a small pile of presents.

She had presents! That was so kind of them!

"Gracias!" she said, throwing her arms up in the air.

"Wait until you see them first," said Roger with a laugh. "For your first present we'd like you to close your eyes."

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands. She heard her present before she smelled it. It snuffled and made loud licking sounds.

"Open your eyes."

When she took her hands away, she saw a short, squat little dog with fur like a toasted marshmallow. He wiggled his tailless butt when he saw her face and yipped with delight. He climbed onto her lap and licked her face.

Hermione squealed and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his soft fur.

"What are you going to call him?" Roger asked.

"Pongo!" said Hermione, thinking of the movie she watched the other day.

The dog seemed to like this. He barked once, then looked a bit startled when Hermione squeaked. He studied her a moment, wiggled his butt, shuffled his paws, and made a soft, "Arf."

"Would you like to open your next present?" Beatrice asked.

Hermione looked up in surprise.

"More?"

A lot more apparently. Since Hermione had nothing, they wanted to give her things she could call her own. A dog for starters to help her build emotional attachment and teach responsibility (with some help). She also received a cute stuffed rabbit, some clothes, all of which were soft fabrics, she got books, puzzles and puzzle books, games for all of them to play together, and a small record player with records, of course. She was super excited over all of them and made sure to thank Roger and Beatrice enthusiastically. Roger took a few pictures of her reactions to frame later.

Finally, she came upon the last gift. She tore back the wrapping and looked at the cover of the book. It had a little blond boy on a little planet looking out at the stars.

"The Little Prince," she read aloud. "By Antoine de Saint-Exupery. Gracias! Muchas gracias!"

She gave them both another short, but loving, hug which they eagerly accepted.

Hermione didn't know who she was, or where she came from, but it didn't matter because there were now two wonderful people in her life who loved her.