Disclaimer: The list of things I own is a pitifully short one. There is only one thing: this plot. I don't even own the clothes on my back. Sad is it not.

"What?" Hermione Granger, white with shock, with a dangerous calmness, stared straight into Professor Dumbledore's eyes. She did not like jokes. Especially when it stated that the entire life she knew was a lie.

Harry sat beside her with a crooked grin on his face. "That's very funny, Professor, seriously now, what did you really call us here for?"

"I am quite serious, Mr Potter. I had not wanted to keep this information from the both of you for so long, but certain events pushed the thought from my mind." Albus spoke seemingly unaware of the tension laced through the air, "I figured I should tell you now before you finish your final year here and leave before I get the chance to mention it. Lemon drop?" He offered a green ceramic bowl filled with small, round yellow candies.

Hermione ignored the offering and continued to glare and the headmaster. How could this be? She never would have thought that…

No, this is all just some sick joke, Hermione decided. "Professor, I enjoyed your lovely form of humor, but I have more important things to be doing right now such as homework, for one."

Harry stared as Hermione stood, shocked that she would actually speak like that to an adult, the headmaster at that.

"Miss Granger, please sit down. There is much I must tell you and even more to you, Mr Potter," Dumbledore turned to face Harry.

"Okay, Professor, let's just say it is true. But then, who is my birth mother?" She questioned, vexed at the headmaster. This was getting old. Hermione already had to deal with Ron's constant teasing and annoyingly short temper; she did not need Dumbledore shortening her patience even more.

"That I do not know, and considering the circumstance, I doubt I will ever know unless you want the whole story put into the newspapers in hopes that someone will respond. Even that might not work since I do not know if she is still living or not." He gazed at the two sitting across from him from behind his spectacles, each looked disbelieving as the other.

"So you are saying that my entire life is a lie? That the woman I've called 'mum' is not my mother? That my father is someone completely different from who I always thought he was?" Hermione finally lost it. She could no longer control her anger. "And on top of that, you are saying that my father, my biological father, is not even a Muggle, but a pureblood? Oh, and not just any pureblood, no that's not good enough for your sick idea of a joke. My father just happens to be James Potter, and not just any James Potter, but the same James Potter who, surprise surprise, happens to be Harry's father! And that's not it! You don't even know who my real mother is, much less if she's even still alive!" Hermione had jumped up from her seat and was seething with fury as she yelled, face turning red with rage.

Harry just sat there; knuckles white from gripping the arm rests a tad to tight, staring grimly at his feet. He didn't seem to notice Hermione's outburst.

"Miss Granger, please, I understand that you are upset, but please lower your voice."

"You understand? How in Merlin's name could you understand what it is like to have lived seventeen years believing one thing just be another and have the whole life you knew shattered in seventeen seconds?"

"Miss Granger!" Dumbledore's voice vibrated through his circular tower room. Hermione flushed as she realized how disrespectful she'd been and sat down, suddenly very interested in her shoes.

"But how?" Harry had been somewhat forgotten by the other two, who's heads turned to face him. "How could Dad be Hermione's dad too? I'm sorry Professor, but I just can't accept that my father cheated on my mum."

"Ah, but he did not. There was a point where they separated for some reason or another and, well, I'll tell you details later," The headmaster saw the confused look on the young man's face, but chose to ignore it. "That is of no importance at the moment. What I had wanted to tell you was that, though your mother agreed to give you away, she was not pleased. But she finally gave in to the fact that you had to be safely hidden."Dumbledore gently massaged his temples. He had not wanted to say so much, but once he started, he saw it would be impossible to keep the rest of the story from them.

"But why?"

A simple question with the most complicated answer a man has ever seen; an answer that would have to be edited so that it would be presentable to the two teenagers.

"Voldemort, of course."

A simple answer. One that answered the question, but just enough to satisfy. Though, to whom it satisfied is still up for debate.

"So Hermione is my half-sister…"

"Yes, Harry, she is."

--

The two stood outside the stone gargoyle, unable to speak.

"You were always like a sister to me," he said, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

"So I guess nothing has really changed, except that we know the truth." Hermione began walking towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Hermione, wait," Harry hurried to catch up with her. "This changes nothing between us okay?"

"Okay," she answered quietly. Nothing would be the same anymore, Hermione thought, But Dumbledore never said, why was I hidden away? Wasn't the prophecy specifically about Harry? Who is my mother and where the bloody hell has she been for the last 17 years!