A/N: This is just something fun I thought of while working on Expecting. It might seem unrealistic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

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“Why are you still so horrible to Harry? The war is over now.” Hermione Granger was sitting before my desk, wide-eyed and innocent. Part of me wanted to tell her to leave, but another part begged for the truth to be finally known, at least what I could tell.

However, I reined myself in; what was the use in telling this girl her life, as well as that of her friend’s, was a lie? “Miss Granger, what did you possibly need to see me for, other than to waste my time?”

“Well, sir,” Hermione said, “I wanted to talk to you about the potion I tried out. I was wondering if you could check it and make sure it was done correctly.” I was surprised that she allowed the change in topic; she must really be worried about her potion.

She held out a flask. Rolling my eyes, I took it. My inner curiosity wondered if the little Know-It-All had messed up. The fumes wafted to my nose. I nearly dropped the flask as the familiar ingredients assaulted my senses. “The ‘Parent Potion’?” It seemed that the discussion was going to take place whether I wanted it to happen or not.

“Yes, I was practicing. I am working as a Healer at St. Mungo’s Maternity Ward, and since I had never brewed the potion before, I decided to test it with my own parents.” Her head was down, and her hands clasped the arms of the chair so hard that the knuckles stood out white. “It’s a simple potion, and one we rarely use, so it isn’t focused on in our schooling. I wanted to be prepared...”

One hand came up to cover her eyes. When she removed it, tears were smeared across her face. She somehow looked very pretty with puffy eyes. “The man you know as your father isn’t your father.” There, she now knew the truth. And soon my burden would be hers to share as well.

“You knew?” Her brows were furrowed with anger.

I snorted. Oh yes, I knew. I got up and walked around my desk. I perched on the corner, letting my legs stretch out in front of me. “Unfortunately, I am the only person left alive who knows the full story.”

“You?” She seemed incapable of forming long sentences.

“Yes, me. I regret to inform you that I also took an oath for some of the information, but you can try to guess it out when we get to that point.” I conjured a glass of water; this tale might take a long time to tell, especially to little Miss Question. “Let’s begin where everything seems to begin: the Potters.

“Lily and James began to date in our seventh year, and continued to date for a while after that. It was no surprise when their engagement was announced. From what I was told, it was a month before their wedding when the golden couple got into a tremendous fight. It was so dramatic that they ended up postponing the wedding to work through their problems, but the mess just seemed to escalate. Soon, Lily had lost her trust in James, and for good reason. As it turned out, he had taken up with a Muggle.” Her face went white. “Yes, Hermione, with your mother.

“From what I had overheard, James would Obliviate her after each encounter. I believe your parents were together at the time, and trying to conceive. You would have to ask them what was going on at the time, but I think your parents had trouble, and the stress led to your mother going out to local pubs. James needed stress relief from Lily.” More tears flowed from Hermione’s brown eyes. I might have been too callous, so I mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and continued. I was feeling generous. “SIrius always had a big mouth, so it wasn’t long before Lily not only found out about James’ transgression, but that your mother was pregnant. James swore it would never happen again. So, Lily kept her wedding date, but sought me out. At this point, Lily and James were a week from their wedding.”

“Oh, Merlin. What did she do?”

When had Hermione taken my hand? “This you must guess out. I think I can confirm what you say, I just cannot tell you outright.”

“Okay, well, you said that she sought you out. She obviously made you take the wand oath.” I nodded. “I am here, and so is my mother. James was definitely killed by Voldemort when he was married to Lily, so that rules out poisoning, abortion, and any revenge tactics against my mother. Let’s see.” She tapped a finger against her lips. Her full pink lips. When had she grown up so much? She looked up at me with horror. “She cheated on James with you.”

“If we were still at Hogwarts, I might have awarded you with five points.” I disengaged my hand. I had never been good with displays of affection.

She looked at me inquisitively. “Wait, does this mean that Harry is my brother? Well, half-brother, I guess.”

“No. The story isn’t finished yet.” I had an idea. I went back to the other side of my desk, and I pulled out a Muggle photograph that pictured me as a child of seven. “Here, this might help you to figure it out. My oath forbade me to talk of what happened that night with Lily, as well as anything that resulted.” I handed the picture over.

“Why do you have a picture of Harry?” she asked. And then it hit her. She must have recognized the nose. And the lack of a scar. The photo fell to the floor. “But everyone says how much he looks like his father, James.” I’m surprised her eyes hadn’t popped out at this point.

“People see only what they want to see. Only Lily and I knew the truth of her son’s parentage, and she is now dead. James thought the boy was his, and everyone seems to forget how I looked at a young age. Besides, I had fixed my eyesight and grew out my hair by the time we were all at Hogwarts. Thankfully, Harry got more from his mother than just his eyes.” I let one finger trail down my nose. “It drives me to insanity every time I hear the statement.”

Hermione nodded, understanding my predicament. Or maybe it was just shock. “Harry Potter is your son. I am James Potter’s daughter.”

“Yes.” Hmm. I guess since Hermione guessed the truth on her own my oath allows me to speak of it to her. “For his entire life, he has been my constant reminder that I had been hoodwinked by someone who I thought cared for me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the eyeballs floating in a jar on a shelf. “Perhaps I have been a little too hard on the boy. I guess it really isn’t his fault.”

Hermione huffed. “Well, if he is supposed to be your son, it really is astonishing how you treat him. It's absolutely dreadful.”

“Honestly I did not know he was mine until I used that same potion at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. I felt a small bond with the Dark Lord as soon as the act was performed to bring him back. I swiped some of Harry’s blood and performed the test on my own. When the results were positive, I can only assure you that I was in just as much shock as you are. Like everyone else, I truly believed he was James’ son. Obviously Harry must take after his mother, for I have tried and failed to find any other similarity between the two of us.”

“But why didn’t you try with him after you found out?” Hermione was slumped in her chair.

“Miss Know-It-All, think! What would have happened if it had gotten out that Harry Potter was really my son? I was in the clutches of the Dark Lord at that point.” I took a drink of water, not bothering to notice the flare of anger in Hermione’s eyes when I used her old nickname. “The odds were that I was going to die. I’m not even that cruel to completely upend his life. Harry also needed to be focused at that point.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “I won’t tell him now, if that's what you want.”

“It’s probably better not to.”

She stood, and blood flushed her face as she wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you.”

“What for?” It was quite unbelievable that I could even speak at this point. This was the most human touch I have had since Madam Pomfrey had to patch me up after that one torture session. Even longer since an attractive female was flush against me. I shifted my hips away from her body.

Hermione seemed to get closer to me. “For telling me anything.” She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I must say, you are much more pleasant now that the war is over. And talkative. You look better too.”

I sneered. “I wish I could say the same.” Yes, I could still be childish.

Hermione giggled and smacked my chest. “Don’t be a tease.”

I was glad that she was off of her parentage. “I am being completely serious.”

“Well, some part of you is attracted to me.” Sassy witch.

“Are you done, Miss Granger? I have no desire to be plagued with your existence for the rest of the night.” I left my perch on the desk and whipped around to my chair, causing my robes to swing and hit a couple jars on the shelf.

Hermione had the mess cleaned up before I finished letting out a couple well-chosen expletives. I did not thank her; I was still rattled from her comments. I sat in my chair and began to blindly go through correspondence, hoping to hear a door slam from her departure. Minutes ticked by with nothing.

Taking a chance, I looked up. She was leaning on my desk, with a small smile on her lips and mischief in her eyes. “My father abandoned me. It seems that I have some ‘daddy issues.’”

I narrowed my eyes; what could she possibly be getting at? “Indeed.” I bent back over the parchments, and was careful not to stare down her blouse too long.

“You still seem to hold a grudge against James Potter.”

“That is neither here nor there, considering he is dead.” I flipped the parchment around, noticing that I had been looking at it up-side-down.

Her small hand palmed my cheek. I looked back up, focusing on her eyes. Thank the fates that she looked like her mother. “Did you know that most of the girls at school found your voice to be quite sexy?”

“Did they?” She was leaning further over my desk.

“Oh yes, but I found it to be very sexy, but that is nothing compared to your intelligence.” Her breath smelled like peppermint.

“Intelligence is a wise thing to look at in determining a mate.” I was leaning over my desk as well.

She kissed my nose. “I think the moral of your story is to live life to the fullest when you can.” I was being seduced; she was quite good for a Gryffindor.

“I believe that the moral is to not trust anyone.” I looked down her blouse; her lacy bra was black. It looked delicious against her skin. “And that James Potter is the root of all evil.”

“I believe that I agree. Shall we get revenge?” Her hand had left my cheek to play with the buttons at my neck.

“And how shall we go about getting revenge? Do you not remember that he is dead?” I allowed my fingers to graze her breasts through the cotton of her shirt.

Cool air hit my upper chest. “I can think of one way that a man’s daughter and his childhood enemy can have their vengeance.”

Parchment, quills, and ink smashed onto the floor, and I found that I did not care what was ruined as I watched Hermione crawl across my desk and into my lap. Nor did I care about the countless jars that smashed to the floor as we shook the walls.

It was much later, and in my bed, that we decided that the best revenge would be for us to not only be lovers, but to actually try at a relationship. James must be rolling in his grave knowing that I am defiling his daughter. Revenge indeed.

At least, that is what I keep telling myself.