Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Naruto. I gain nothing from writing this but a creative outlet.

Summary: Hermione Granger had a normal childhood, well, mostly normal. She had a mother and father who were respectable dentists in London. They lived in a quaint home with two floors and soft carpets. The three of them lived quite contentedly, though they never had family visit because there was no family to visit. It felt like their life in the suburbs was just a façade. This tension existed that she could not explain.

A/N: This is just a little oneshot, nothing more. Enjoy ~ much love, depressedchildren Edited 2/19/17 for grammar

Hermione Granger had a normal childhood, well, mostly normal. She had a mother and father who were respectable dentists in London. Her mother and father fell in love during their tertiary school years and then opened a practice together. They moved to a pleasant London suburb with a fenced-in lawn to raise their family. It was a small quaint home with two floors and soft carpets Hermione had loved to lay down on as a baby and toddler. The three of them lived quite contentedly, though they never had family visit because there was no family to visit, which was odd.

Indeed, there were many odd things about her family when she pressed her parents for answers, and each answer led to more questions.

Why did her parents have accents? They are not from London.

So where then did they come from, and why did they come to London? Her mother was from Serbia. Her father was from Nigeria. They came to London to escape conflict.

Why didn't her mother teach her Serbian or her father teach her his family's language? She had read there were a multitude of languages spoken in Nigeria besides English, so surely there was a language her father had grown up speaking at home? No, Hermione was to learn only English, so she could be a proper Brit.

Why did they have such English names? Where did Granger even come from?! They changed their names to fit in. But why?! Most immigrants Hermione knew hadn't changed their names.

Each question she asked led to unsatisfying answers and more questions. She wanted to know who she was, who her parents were, but they were always very quiet about everything. Where did they come from and why wouldn't they tell her anything?

Both her parents claimed to be only children, but Hermione always wondered if that was truly the case. What if her father had family in in Nigeria he did not want to acknowledge? Or her mother had family in Serbia facing bomb threats on their own? Or worse…what if conflict in those countries killed any aunts and uncles she might have had, along with her grandparents?! Her parents had always told Hermione that her grandparents had died before she was born, but they never gave details. She grew up wanting the big families her classmates talked about, but no aunties or uncles or grandparents visited.

It felt, at times, as if their life in the suburbs was just a façade. A tension existed between her parents and their interactions with the neighbors and strangers. When she was younger, Hermione passed the tension off for racial tensions; after all, she had become aware of her race early on and understood in some fashion it impacted her relationships with others. However, as Hermione grew older, she realized that (while that tension did exist) it was not the unnamed tension which had her parents looking at shadowed corners with suspicion.

So, on the surface, Hermione had a normal childhood, but beneath there were many unanswered questions. When she had received her Hogwarts letter, Hermione had thought that this was the answer to her parents' oddities, but they had only looked at the letter skeptically until a ministry official came to help her get her school supplies. Her parents' awe was muted but genuine when they had entered Diagon Alley. Like her, they were drawn to the books on wizarding history; they encouraged her to learn as much as she could and tell them about it too. She had hoped her being magical was the reason why they were so secretive, but it was not. … There was something else, but no one would tell her.

It was the summer before her fifth year when she learned at least part of the truth. She said her goodbyes to Harry and Ron. She still worried about Harry after what had happened with Cedric and you-know-who. With you-know-who out in the world at with his powers back, Hermione couldn't help but worry about her parents. Her stomach twisted painfully in fear as she left the station—what if the muggle raids began again?

She left the divider and looked about. Frowning, Hermione moved over to the usual pick-up place and hoped she could find her parents coming back from the fountain or a shop. She looked about the crowded train station from spot, but Hermione could not see her parents anywhere. Immediately her throat closed up in fear. Where were her parents? They were never late and always looked forward to her coming home to them.

Hermione bit her lip as she moved over to the telephone. She rummaged through her muggle clothes and found a few coins to fill the machine. She dialed her home phone number. It rang and rang and rang. By the time her call was diverted to the answering machine, Hermione reminded herself they could be driving on their way here and were merely a little late.

Taking a calming breath, Hermione moved her trolley to a bench and tried to pet Krookshanks through the pet carrier. Her parents would be here within twenty minutes, thirty tops. Surely you-know-who hadn't attacked her family already? Honestly, did that vile…being even know about her parents or where to find them?

Hermione garnered a few looks due to her large trunk with the Gryffindor crest on it. Perhaps she should cover that up? She bit her lip again and looked around.

Hermione paused for a moment on one young man who was staring at her, though perhaps that was her imagination. The man's eyes rested half-mast, as if he was perpetually bored. His hair was also a shockingly white color—perhaps he bleached it? Actually…the man had the same bulbous nose as her father and their skin color was nearly the same dark shade. Hermione looked away quickly and glanced up at the clock. Half to six… Her parents should not be this late. Perhaps they were held up at the office? She should try calling them again.

Moving the trolley with her, Hermione reached the payphone again and put the last of her coins into the slot. She dialed the number again but was again diverted to the answering machine. Perhaps they had been at the office when she first called and now they were on their way here?

Hermione swallowed nervously and moved back to the bench she had been at before. She slowed her approach when she saw the white-haired man who looked like her father sitting at the bench. His posture matched his lazy expression. Already on edge, Hermione debated whether or not to sit back down with him. She fingered the wand in her pockets nervously, even though she was supposed to use it (let alone in such a crowded area).

Oh it would be obvious she didn't trust the man if she did an about-face, but at the same time the man was very suspicious. However, he was just sitting casually on the bench and staring straight ahead of him. Perhaps it was nothing then? Her gut was saying no though, so she had not taken another step forward.

She heard the man sigh heavily before he pulled out a manila folder from his baggy rain-jacket. He then set the folder down on the bench. He stood up and shoved his hands into his baggy black pants. He looked back at her for a moment before shifting his gaze to the folder he left on the bench. The lazy yet suspicious man then began walking away. Absentmindedly, Hermione realized he was heading toward a drinking fountain.

Swallowing thickly, the young witch approached the bench and then opened the folder. There were several sheets of paper and two paperclips holding together separate sections. Hermione nearly dropped the folder when she saw her father's face staring up at her.

He was younger than she had ever seen him, probably only in his teens. He also had hair on his head, and it was white—just like that suspicious man. Her father had religiously shaved his head to the scalp, but in this photo he had a few centimeters of hair. He was not smiling in the photo and he appeared to be wearing some sort of flak jacket. He also wore a dark cloth with a metal piece around his neck. Engraved on the metal was some kind of iconography of clouds.

Hermione's mind immediately connected her father's appearance in the photo to some sort of military, but what military dressed like that? She looked at the paper attached to the photo. It was in a language she couldn't understand, but the forms looked like personnel papers for some sort of government or military. She looked at the next set of papers and saw her mother staring back at her. Her picture was just as stoic as her father's picture had been. Her mother's dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail and contrasted even more sharply with her pale complexion. Hermione's mother also wore a piece of cloth with metal on it, but she wore it over her forehead. Engraved on this one was a swirl with in an arrow (she wasn't sure what to make of the engraving). The forms on her mother were much less filled out.

What was this? Her parents were military? But what military did they belong to, and what did those symbols mean? Were they in different divisions?

Hermione nearly jumped when she realized the man was back. "What is this?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly as she gestured to the folder.

The man cocked his head to one side. "They did not teach you our tongue," he spoke, but Hermione had no clue what he said. Regardless of what he meant, his words still managed to convey his laziness and annoyance.

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He then pulled out a dictionary of some sort. She watched the man flip through the pages before he held the book over to her and pointed to one of the entries.

"Uncle…?" Hermione murmured as she stared back up at the man and focused on his nose. He was her uncle but…but her parents had always said... The man pulled a bit away from her and began to beckon her to follow him. She shook her head.

"Why should I even believe you? Why should I go with you?" She was garnering attention now, but perhaps that was good. The man looked annoyed. But he sighed again and flipped through the book. He pointed at her parents' photos because Hermione still had the folder open, and then showed her the entry his thumb was by. The folder fell from her hands and the papers went flying. Hermione then sat down heavily on the bench as she put a hand to her mouth. She could feel the tears coming but…but…

The man…her uncle…began picking up the papers in a slow manner before he put the folder back into an inside coat pocket. Hermione couldn't hold back anymore and began to sob. Her parents—Oh Merlin, why were they dead? How could they be dead?! Was it you-know-who?

The man shifted awkwardly before he sat down next to her. He set a hand on her shoulder, but she flinched slightly at its weight. He patted her awkwardly while mumbling some strange words under his breath. She couldn't stop crying. How could her parents be dead?! Before Hermione knew what was really happening she was being ushered out of the train station while the man pushed the trolley with one had while the other was wrapped around Hermione's shoulders.

She didn't know how long they walked, but eventually they came to some sort of hostel. Hermione felt numb and couldn't stop crying. She was sat down at cot and then handed a mug of tea. Still crying, she managed to drink some, which helped calm her down slightly. Her parents…

The man sat across from her and was thumbing through his dictionary while writing down words every now and then. Mostly composed, Hermione looked over at what he was writing. Parents deserters. Hunted and killed for desertion.

"What?!" How was that even ethical or possible?! The man looked up at her with an eyebrow raised before looking back down at what he was writing. He frowned for a moment and then pulled something out of his coat. It was rolled up, like a scroll. He handed it to her. There were two rolled up pieces of parchment, the first and larger was written in a foreign language, while the second and smaller was written in English and addressed to her.

My dearest child,
If you are reading this, then the hunters have found us and we have paid for our desertions and crimes. Know your mother and I love you very much, and wanted you to have a normal life. We come from a place hidden from the rest of the world. There was an amendment here in the margins: It's hidden like the wizarding world is hidden from us, but we are not wizards and don't know what makes us different from them but we are, you are. It's called the Elemental Lands. I am from the village Kumogakure while your mother is from the village Konohagakure. The Elemental Lands is militant with each nation having its own army.

Your mother and I were from opposing armies and were raised to hate and distrust each other. Perhaps we were foolish to fall in love, but we did. Your mother was a medic at the border and I was often sent out as a medic for missions in other countries. We met by happenstance and nearly killed each other the first time we met, but we didn't. Then we met again and again. We began meeting in secret after a time. We discussed leaving the Elemental Lands for good.

Being a militant world, we were at war. We were born into one war and then made to fight in the next one not ten years later. We saw no end to the war when we met, but we were so tired of killing each other that our peaceful meetings were like a salve. We fell in love and you were conceived. I was twenty, and we did not want you to grow up in that world. We fled, selling secrets to buy our way out of the Lands. We knew we would be hunted down for this, but if it meant you could grow up without knowing war, we had to.

I left my younger brother, Darui, in Kumogakure. Should I die and should he still be alive, Darui will likely come for you. Undoubtedly the hunters told him of you and found this will. I hope you are old enough to live on your own, or choose to live with friends, but he is your only family. The war made orphans of your mother and I, and we had hoped you would not live that same fate. Know we love you always and wish the best for you.

Hermione stared down at the paper numbly before looking up at her uncle. She couldn't go with him and leave her friends alone. Those boys would get themselves killed if not for her—or so she told herself. Her parents wanted her to live away from the elemental lands, and damn it she would!

Her hands trembled as she took the two way dictionary. She began searching for the words she wanted to use and wrote them down. She wrote down the characters she saw next to the words as best she could and the man cocked his head quizzically to one side before hummed as if in understanding. Hermione had her own war to fight; she hoped she had conveyed that. Now she had letters to write in order to arrange where she would live for the next few years, but—

Hermione looked back over at her uncle. He was her family, and she had wanted to know the rest of her family so very badly. She had wanted to know where she came from since she was a child. This was her only opportunity, and she couldn't let it pass.

Biting her lip, Hermione took the dictionary back and flipped through it until she could write down her question as best she could. If possible, after the war, she hoped to visit the place her family came from—even if it was such a terrible place that they sent people (hunters) to kill deserters. Her uncle frowned slightly as he tried to parse out what she was saying. He then took the dictionary back from her and motioned to several words. She couldn't leave once she visited… Hermione supposed that made sense; these Elemental Nations people were secretive, but she felt the loss of learning her heritage deeply. She had always wanted to know where she had come from and now she knew part of it.

Her uncle gave a weak attempt at a smile as he patted her shoulder. Hermione sighed, and the man did too as he retracted his hand. Who knew? Perhaps (after the war) Hermione would be so sick of the wizarding world, she might like to leave it permanently. For the next fifteen minutes she did what she could to convey that message to her uncle, but really, who knew what the future held. For all Hermione knew, she could die before the war was over. That was a sobering thought. Despite all the adventures she had been on with Harry and Ron, Hermione had never thought of actually dying—not even when the Basilisk petrified her.

Over the next few days at the hostel, Hermione and her uncle (Darui she reminded herself) created a sort of lingua franca to communicate and explain a little about each other. He did not say much of anything about Kumogakure except that it was in the mountains and cold, and she did not say anything about the wizarding world either. He did not question her when owls began to show up with letters attached to their legs, but then again her parents hadn't found the messenger birds odd either.

When Professor Lupin arrived to take Hermione to a safe house, Hermione was actually starting to feel attached to her lazy uncle. It wasn't that he was actually lazy, Hermione amended; he just acted that lazy. It was a sort of façade, though he did often call things boring and also seemed to apologize a lot. She only learned the latter part when they finally had an oral means of communicating, but he did apologize far too often.

During her time with Darui, Hermione would wake up at night crying because of her parents death, and her uncle was there to comfort her as best he could with many apologies mixed in. Perhaps someday she would get to know him better and would get to leave the wizarding world behind for her heritage.

Regardless, when it was time to leave, Hermione hugged him tightly and he returned the gesture. He was partially shocked but began smiling sadly as she left with Lupin.

When the Order asked her how her parents died, Hermione said nothing and let them believe it was Death Eaters. When they asked her who that man was, she said he was her uncle but that he could not take care of her. Mrs. Weasely smothered Hermione in hugs, and gave her cups of thick hot chocolate almost every day. Ron just skirted about the issue and was abnormally sensitive to her; it was endearing. Hermione would always miss her parents, but at least she knew the truth now and had her friends to support her.

A/N: Short and simple. There aren't too many fanfics with kumo-nin, so I figured why not? Plus, Darui is pretty cool.

Now, obviously her parents could have taught Hermione about ninjas and all that, but they were trying to fit in and fly beneath the radar. Also, young children are not the most subtle, so teaching Hermione about her heritage could have been a severe liability (even if it was ninja training, kids tend to talk and be oblivious). Her parents decided to tell her nothing so that she would be completely innocent when/if hunters ever came. In turn, the hunters would let her alone because she knew nothing of import. Finally, her parents never wanted Hermione to be a ninja, so why the hell would they train her to be one? The Grangers threw their scent as much as they could and they were cautious with everyone they met, so they were paranoid ninja but they also knew they would not be able to survive against hunters because of their relatively low rank. They did everything they could to protect their daughter, and part of that was to keep her in the dark.

But by all means, if someone wants to take the idea (parents being ninja) and run with it (make Hermione a badass ninja in London), go ahead [just make one of her parents kumo so we get to see kumo-nin eventually! ;) ]. I'd love to read that story. Oh, and Mr. Granger was 10 years older than Darui if you're wondering about the time line, and Hermione should be about the same age as Naruto at the start of Shippuden.