Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I would like to dedicate this story to my great-grandmother who passed away on Thursday. She was 100 years old.

"Look what kind of driving habits you're teaching me."

Mr. Granger looked over at his daughter and his breath caught in his throat. No longer an awkward teen, a beautiful young woman sat beside him. She was all grown up. He gave her a look that told her to mind her own business before accelerating again, this time pulling ahead of an old lady who was already well over the speed limit.

"For some reason I don't think you'll be doing much driving," he said. He heard a faint 'pop' and his eyes flicked off the road and over to the passenger seat. Hermione was gone. He sighed. This happened fairly often; she would turn up sooner or later.

A giggle from the back of the SUV made him jump. He checked the rearview mirror and found his daughter laughing silently behind her hand. Frowning, he chided her. "Honey, it really frightens me when you do that. I'm worried you're going to leave a limb–"

With another small 'pop' Hermione sat next to him once again, both arms and legs still firmly intact.

He shook his head. "A heart attack every time."

"Dad, please," she said. "It's easy. I'll be fine."

"Yeah, I'm sure disappearing and showing up somewhere else is real simple," he muttered.

Hermione sighed, giving up. They always disagreed about her magical ability. They sat together without talking, Hermione quietly humming along with a song on the radio. Mr. Granger listened to the words and heard "daddy's little girl." He turned down the volume making Hermione protest feebly.

"There's a few things I want to tell you," he said. Hermione instantly focused all of her attention on him.

"Men, well, we try our best. If he gets something wrong, just tell him. He'll do it right the next time. Or try to at least." He smiled at her. "And it usually seems like we want one thing and one thing only," he grinned sheepishly, "and we do." Hermione blushed.

They were now parked on the street outside the church. Mr. Granger placed a hand where he imagined his daughter's knee hid beneath layers of white skirt. "If he hurts you, you come to me. And I'm not just talking physical hurt."

Hermione nodded.

"Mostly though, you just have to find something to live for. Something that will keep you going, keep you positive, make you complete."

Hermione looked towards the church. "I've already got that. He's in there waiting for me."

They got out of the truck and walked up the stairs to the church, arm in arm.