Disclamer: Nothing is mine. Everything belongs to You-Know-Who (NO! Not Voldemort, J.K. Rowling).

This is a fic (non-betaed) I wrote ages ago. I found it and changed a couple of things. It has strangely enough each and every little element that makes a typical, almost cliché-like Hermione/Severus story. Only this one is completely different and has actually a weird plot, just like Angelic Layer (my other fic).

(The full summary)

Have you never wondered why Hermione was so little with her parents. Never wondered why Snape is so dark? Well, here some things are explained, some aren't and emotions show their powers.

BUT ANGELIC LAYER AND 'Never go to bed angry. Stay up and fight." HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON. It's not the same story at all. This one is supposed to be funny. Let's hope my sense of humour is not crappy.

The prologue and first chapter might be confusing, but it's all on purpose. Read and review please!

Never go to bed angry. Stay up and Fight!

Prologue: Human Waxdolls Remplaces Parents.

Something had happened. The Order just knew it. It was bound to happen.

Although Dumbledore had put several very complicated and powerful spells on the Granger's house, Death Eaters had found it. They attacked the Granger's residence in the middle of one July night.

Hermione had been outside, in a muggle concert with a friend of hers, having fun and made up for the time she hadn't been there.

Hermione has been lightly paranoid after what happened in the Department of Mysteries. She hadn't owled much her friends and hadn't gone to the burrow this summer. She needed some time with her parent, friends and relatives.

The last time she saw her favourite dentists alive, was when they waved her good bye and wishing her a good evening.

Professor McGonagall was worried when Hermione didn't give sign of herself since that morning. Normally, Hermione always owled or flooed her, to tell her that every thing was alright. She apparated just in front of the Granger's house. There was no light burning in the house. She entered slowly to house. The scene she saw took her breath away...

Hermione was on the ground watching the bodies of her dead parents. She was perched on a table and just watched. Watched so hard her eyes looked huge in her face. Her make up was smeared all over her face. Not in the 'I've-cried-my-eyes-out" way, but rather the "I-forgot-I-had-make-up-on" way. Her eyes were red and puffy. But not from crying; from exhaustion and sleep. She whispered her parents name's over and over again, like it was some kind of mantra.

"- Child…"

" -It happened last night. I wasn't home. I should have known. I shouldn't have let them be alone. "

" -It isn't your fault. I'm…. I'm terribly sorry for your loss… Is there something I could do?"

" -Could you please leave me alone?"

Hermione voice was neutral as her face. But she was visibly tense and her eyebrows were knitted in concentration.

Professor McGonagall silently nodded and apparated to Grimmauld place. She hated being bearer of bad news.


The days after the attack were very blurry in Hermione's mind. She didn't realize what happened around her. She wasn't aware of many things. The only thing she remembered was a hand on her shoulder. A haze of words of comfort, of caring. If a question pierced the haze she was bathing her mind in, her answer was always:

"- They aren't my parents. They are dead now. Shells of them. Waxdolls. Dull, dead boring Waxdolls. They are like broken toys; unfixable. Even if they would come to life again, they would never be the same.

But Hermione was away. She seemed to be somewhere else. She didn't know that exactly during those moments, she seemed to be fade away. She didn't either that during those moments she looked exactly like her mother. Her mother with the beautiful mint green eyes.

The bodies of Marigold and Sebastian Granger were brought to the Hogwarts Infirmary. The Ministry had thought it was more sensible to do this then to deliver the corpses to St Mungos. (They somehow hoped to be seen in a better light for doing this.)

Where ever the corpses were was completely the same to Hermione. One question and one question only pre-occupied her: How could she survive without them?

Now I'm an orphan. Well… Almost.