Thank you all so much for following, favorite-ing and reviewing my story. You guys really make my day, when I get the notification of a new follower. I am so sorry that it has taken so long for me to update this story, but real life has gotten more real and between work and redoing my office space and living room, the Holidays. I have just been completely overwhelmed. My muse keeps knocking on my brain, begging me to write something, anything, so here goes.

It is a short chapter, but we need to get the story moving.

The Family That He Needed – The Beginning

Chapter 5

The sun hadn't risen yet and the moon hadn't yet set, when Hermione found herself rolling out of bed, ready to start taking back her life.

By removing her unwanted presence from the person that she never thought would have abandoned her, his zealot girlfriend wanna-be and her harpy of a mother, she thought that she might find her way. She had better things to do then continue with this feeling of resentment and misdirection. There were others out there that needed help, that may appreciate her help and making herself useful to others would also serve to help get her out of the funk that had followed her since the final battle.

She was so tired of feeling exhausted, she was tired of feeling sorry for herself. She had helped to defeat the big bad Voldemort, she had fought for her place in this world, for the peace of mind that she wouldn't be rounded up like cattle, for being a Muggleborn witch, for being best friends with Undesirable number ONE and for being an unofficial member of the Order of the Phoenix. It was time to take her place in that world.

After completing her morning ablutions under a silencing charm as to not wake anyone in the household and writing a note to leave for Ronald, she quietly made her way down the stairs until she reached the basement kitchen. She knew that she would not be interrupted by anyone at this time of morning, as each of the individuals sharing the house with her had their own schedules that did not include rising with the sun.

She approached the ancient stove in the corner of the kitchen, but before she could heat the water for her tea and make herself a slice of toast, there was a soft pop and Kreacher appeared in front of her effectively chasing the remaining sleep from her body as she tried to contain her sound of surprise from waking anyone.

"Missy mudblood, needs to sit down and allow Kreacher to serve her." Growled Kreacher looking even more irritated than usual. With a snap of his fingers, the tea pot started to heat, and a bowl of porridge floated over to her place with a drizzle of honey and several raspberries, just the way that she had once enjoyed it. Stress had made eating anything so heavy a chore for her and she had usually forgone the treat in favor of eating toast with just a small schmear of butter.

Behind her, the table had been set with a mug for her tea, along with a small glass of orange juice and a small plate of fruit. About to object, Kreacher snapped his fingers once again and a chair appeared behind Hermione, causing her to sit abruptly before softly pushing into the table. Kreacher continued around the kitchen, clearing old Daily Prophets from the end of the table and sending the broom out to various rooms in the manor, a constant litany of grumbles regarding the sharp tongued harpy that had taken over his home, his clueless master to the plans of the harpy in training and the muddy witch that wasn't taking care of herself.

Comforted by the sound of Kreacher grumbling, Hermione slowly ate her breakfast while enjoying the emptiness of the kitchen. The lack of Ginny fawning over Harry and Harry holding her hand when she appeared melancholy. The site of Mrs. Weasley's smug smile when she noticed Harry not speaking to Hermione. The sadness that encompassed the rest of the family. Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Percy and gods poor George were barely holding on at times. Ron tried to help everyone, tried to be there when Hermione had her nightmares, when George woke in the night screaming for Fred and talking to Percy whom was feeling increasingly guilty that he wasn't the one dead, for leaving his family when he came out against Dumbledore and his half-baked plans.

Grabbing her cup of tea and watching the sun rise through the miniscule windows that framed the basement kitchen of the Most Noble House of Black, Hermione felt peace fill her for the first time since she had re-entered this house over two months ago. The decision had been made by the remaining older members of the Order, that the younger members should remain out of sight, except for the funerals that they would and could have never missed.

She knew that her peace would be short lived for the next couple of months. The trials of the captured Death Eaters would be held soon, and she planned on attending quite a few of those trials. There were always two sides to a war, but many different reasons for people to go to war. Quite a few of the captured and incarcerated Death Eaters were students that went to school with her. People that but for her blood could have been her friends, if not friends, then her equals or contemporaries. But there were a few that she counted as friends, not that Harry, Ron or anyone else could have been told of this while they were in school. Slytherin's were bad, Gryffindor's were good, and heavens forbid that anyone ever thought differently.

Turning around, about to take her dishes and teacup to the sink, Kreacher snapped his fingers and the dishware had disappeared, before appearing back on the counter, stacked and clean once again.

"Mistress mudblood, needs to be leaving the house now" croaked Kreacher nodding softly at Hermione and making shooing gestures with his hands. "I hear the harpy lady moving about upstairs, mistress needs to leave the house now."

Looking at Kreacher with a tilt to her head Hermione thanked the elf for the breakfast and for his words of warning. As she climbed the front steps leading out of the kitchen, she could hear the heavy footfalls of Molly Weasley as she descended the back staircase.

Quietly dropping the wards on the front door and easing it open in hopes of not rousing the cantankerous painting of the former Mrs. Black, Hermione silently slipped through the door before closing it behind her and standing on the stoop to look over Grimmauld Place. Sending a prayer upwards that the people that she was leaving behind that morning would be kept safe, she turned on her heal and disapparated away from the only home she now had and her friend that no longer had a use for her.