AN: I was too embarrassed by the idea of this story to even read it until today. But I realized that people were follow/favoriting it so I wanted it to be right when they did. So this is the next story in my series of stories to be updated. The plot was good but the writing was so absolutely terrible that I had to update it before anyone else read it. If you've read it before, let me know how you like the changes. If you've never read it, enjoy the product of me being much older.

Summary: Hermione's parents dies and in order to get her inheritance she must lose her virginity. The plot is inspired by Get Some Love by Nina Foxx.

23, August 2000

The landscape whizzed by in a blur which was for the best as the car's only occupant was too distressed to notice its beauty in the dusky light anyway. Monday evening found Hermione Granger racing along the M40 towards London. She found it difficult to drive with eyes blinded by scalding tears. She desperately needed to reach her destination though. A wild breeze whipped through the open passenger window, blowing her unbound curls, further obstructing her vision.

Which was probably how she missed the cop flagging her down in the rear view mirror. She looked down at the speedometer and realized it was just under 100 which means God only knew what speed she was going when the officer first spotted her.

She slowed, pulling onto the road's shoulder. This wasn't exactly the worst thing to happen to her today. She rolled down her window and waited. She watched in the rear view mirror as the officer approached.

"Evening, miss" he said looking down at a note pad. As he looked up, she thought about what she must look like. She knew she looked a mess from his surprised expression. She'd prolonged looking for a tissue while driving as she knew it wouldn't help the barrage of constant and steady tears streaming down her face. She'd attempted to use the few fast food napkins that were in the car to wipe her face earlier. They served as no help, simply leaving bits and pieces of residue on her face and smearing her make up. Instead, she'd allowed her hair which surrounded her head in an unkempt halo to mostly dry her face. She knew her clothes weren't much better than her face. Hermione had been in a rush to leave and had donned only a camisole, sports bra and shorts. She'd been set for a run and in her haste to leave, she didn't exactly have time for an outfit change.

She was certain she looked quite a sight.

"Are you alright, miss?"

"Delightful, sir." Ordinarily, it was not in Hermione's nature to be biting but today, she would make an exception. He chose to ignore her, continuing with the standard line of questioning. Despite her acerbic tone and terrible attitude, Hermione was sent on her way with simply a strong warning to decrease her reckless speed and to be safe. She'd have to remember to tell her roommate that the thing about girls and tears on officers was not a myth.

Hermione shifted gears in the car, a present from her parents on her eighteenth birthday. She smiled at the memory of her father demanding that she take the extravagant gift. He was very clear on his stance that she was a good daughter and eighteen was an important year even if it wasn't in the wizarding world. Really, he was just hesitant about apparation being her only mode of transit. Hermione reached for one of the disintegrated napkins to dry her eyes.

She didn't want to think about him. She just wanted to go home. She needed to be amongst family at a time like this.

A few short minutes later found Hermione pulling up to a familiar small cottage on Lancaster road. She grabbed her leather jacket from her passenger seat, pulling it over her unorthodox outfit. With heavy steps, she unlatched the gate and walked up the few steps to the front door. She rang the doorbell and listened for the chime, an action that would usually be unnecessary as she had a key, but it was growing late and she was unexpected. After years of war, she didn't want the home's occupants to be frightened into action.

She waited, arms crossed and anxiously shifting her weight from foot to foot to stave off the chill. Any other day she would have reveled in the unusually chilly summer night but under the circumstances, she was feeling a little short. She waited only a few moments before she heard the sound of footsteps and laughter behind the wooden door, when it swung open on its hinges.

"Hermione?!" Harry gasped, surprised.

Hermione's chest tightened at the very sight of him. She felt as though she couldn't breathe and then all at once, the emotions of the past few hours resurfaced. The tears behind her eyes returned with a vengeance and she propelled herself into Harry's arms. He caught her with the grace of an athlete and a man who had years of practice with her particular brand of affection. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her into the house, slamming the door behind her.

"Ron, it's 'Mione!" he yelled down the entrance hall. She heard shuffling as she heard a second set of footsteps joining them.

"Oy, Hermione, what's she doing here-," Ron stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her weeping into Harry's neck. "What happened?" She felt it as Harry responded with a shake of his head but otherwise continued to just hold her as she cried her heart out into his skin. He wrapped an arm around her neck and pulled her as close to him as possible.

Ron watched on, unsure how to respond. Hermione's emotions had never been his area of expertise. It was a lot of why their break up came about a month before she left for uni.

She'd decided to complete her final year of Hogwarts, to sit for her NEWTs and to quickly follow it up by attending Oxford University for History and Politics. She wanted to tackle magical creature rights but felt she could only do so with what she deemed a complete education. The day of her final potions NEWT she got word that rebel Voldemort supporters had somehow located her parents in Australia. After the most grueling three hours of testing in her life, she's discovered her mother had been slaughtered in their home. Ron had no clue what to do or how to handle her grief. Harry, ever the Hermione-whisperer, stepped in and obtained a special request portkey for the three of them to Sydney, Australia. They found her father -who'd thankfully been at the market at the time- and diligently worked to restore his memories of his daughter and their life together.

That was the day that Ron discovered that he had no clue what he was doing with Hermione. He didn't understand her and he certainly didn't know how to handle her. That was best left to Harry who always seemed to know the right thing to do in situations that involved her. So he watched on as Harry once more played his role in their triad.

He watched as his best friends embraced as though they were never going to let go. Harry rubbed up and down Hermione's back between her leather jacket and shirt, whispering comforting words into her ear.

She, in turn clung to his shirt with all her strength, sobbing as though the world had ended. She'd driven all this way to be with the one who knew her. She held tight to him, hoping to drive away the pain and hurt. She wanted to be held. Hermione wanted to be as close to Harry as possible. Almost as if Harry heard her thoughts, she felt her weight shift and her toes lift from the floor. He paused and lifted her bridal style with little effort. She laid her head against his chest as he carried her into the house and plopped down with her on the living room sofa.

Harry held her to him while she collected herself. In the distance, Hermione heard the light clanking of metal and glass. She wondered what the sound was until Ron reappeared in her line of sight with a tea service. He shrugged with a sheepish face. He was clearly at a lost for what he was supposed to do in the situation where his ex-girlfriend and best friend showed up to their home distressed without warning. His natural inclination was to get an explanation and make whoever hurt her pay. Harry must have given him a look that told him not to ask. Her heart warmed at the love they showed her. This is what she came for.

Ron settled himself on the couch with her feet in his lap and a cup of tea, attempting to wait patiently for her to be ready to talk. Hermione lay with her head tucked into the crux of Harry's arm. She inhaled deeply taking in the familiar scents of his body mixed with Ron, tea and the Godric's Hollow air. She felt safe here.

When Harry and Ron were invited to train as aurors, Harry decided they needed an actual home. He wanted somewhere that they could live in relative peace. The Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow seemed the perfect place. But years of serving as a memorial to the Potter family meant traffic was high and admirers would know where to find him. Instead, multiple apparation ward and protective spells later, a similar house a few doors down became his. A house that didn't have the horrific emotional stains of its neighbor.

Naturally, he'd invited Ron and Hermione to live with him. Ron took him up on his offer without hesitation, needing to get away from the Burrow's claustrophobic atmosphere in the wake of Fred's death. Hermione stayed during the summer before seventh year and during breaks from uni, choosing instead to stay on campus. But she considered the cottage, or the den as it was affectionately referred to, to be her home. With her parent's relocation to Australia, they'd packed up her childhood home so this was all she had.

"You ready to talk?" Harry asked, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.

"No?" she responded, hoping to avoid the inevitable.

"You know that's not really an option… What are you doing here, Hermione?" He asked running his hand through his already disheveled hair. He'd been running his hands through his hair for a while. She'd forgotten how anxious her being upset made him. Yes, they needed to talk.

She sat up. Needing to remove herself from the comfort that he and Ron provided lest she be lulled into not talking again.

"They found my father's return flight crashed," she said without preamble. "He's gone." She watched their faces as they reacted to her news. They were stunned much like she herself had been when she'd received the call. "He's been all over with those dental relief agencies lately, to this country and that country, and he was on his way to Bahrain and they crashed. They just crashed." She was trying to collect herself and not just continue to dissolve into tears.

"Holy shit," she heard Ron whisper. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but one look at their horrified faces and she felt the tears well behind her eyes.

"Come here, Hermione," Harry reached for her hand and pulled her into him. He removed her jacket, tugging it from her arms and threw in onto one of the unoccupied armchairs. He pulled Hermione down and circled her easily into his arms. "You should have called. We would have come to you."

She shook her head against his chest. "I needed to come home. There is no way I could stay in that dorm. Kara's great, honest, but just no."

"Missed us that much, huh?" Ron cut in. She felt it as Harry glared at him for being insensitive. She chuckled. Her first laugh of the day.

Same ole Ron and Harry.

"Yeah. I missed you that much," she said giving Ron a soft smile. He smiled back understanding her gratitude.

"Okay," she said a bit of time passed, dislodging the melancholy atmosphere. "Distract me." Ron immediately made his way to the kitchen, happy to escape the gloom.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it," Harry asked once Ron was out of ear shot.

"There's nothing to talk about. It happened and truthfully, I don't think my heart can really bare it right now. I'm here. With you both. And that's enough for now." He nodded dropping a kiss in her hair.

"You know I'm here when you need me." She nodded. Harry shifted her body forward so he could get up to set the television and VCR for a movie night. He held up four cases, presenting the titles for her choosing. She chose a comedy that Ron favored deciding that the night called for a heavy dose of his commentary.

Minutes later, she was tucked on the sofa between Harry and Ron with a cornucopia of snacks that Ron prepared in seconds. She lay beneath the comforter that Harry summoned, certain that if nothing else, she could always count on her boys to be by her side.