Preface

I always thought that there was something lacking in the fanfiction surrounding the Hermione/Ginny pairing. In particular, there was no gradual development in the characters to decide that they wanted to be with each other or even to realise that they no longer wished to be in their canon pairing. In addition, the effects of the war seem to be for the most part forgotten or glossed over when, in my opinion, would have had lasting effects on their emotional balance (or perhaps lack thereof) and psyche - especially in the case of Hermione - when an astounding amount of history evidences that participants in war (voluntary or involuntary) suffer from a number of disorders in their post-war lives.

Therefore, I write this fanfiction in the hopes of filling this void and promise to do my best to keep my rendition of J.K. Rowling's beloved characters as close as possible to their original selves.

Please be aware that this story occurs immediately following the end of the seventh book but before the epilogue, so spoilers are involved.

Crossroads and Decisions

Hermione sighed as she stared out the cab window, watching the crimson and orange trees of autumn disappear behind the automobile and out of sight with an empty gaze. It had only been three months since Ginny had come to; nearly a month later she was allowed to return to the Burrow for further rehabilitation. With her overprotective family and Harry looking after her, Ginny would be alright. Or so Hermione told herself when she decided to leave the Burrow and return to the Granger house to search for clues of her parents' whereabouts.

Hermione smiled ruefully to herself. Eighteen years passed – almost nineteen – and she hadn't given much of a thought about her parents and how they were coping. She even separated herself from them before the war, but then, what else could she do? They were so alienated by her talents, her magic. But she still needed them.

A humble house slowly came into view as the cab turned a corner and rolled to a halt, breaking Hermione's blank stare and reverie. "'Ere y'are," the cab driver said as he twisted in his seat to give her a crooked smile.

"Thanks," Hermione breathed as she pushed open the door and dragged her empty suitcase out behind her. She paused and leaned into the window of the cab.

"I'll only be a few minutes."

With the suitcase held in one hand, her keys in the other, she approached the front door and unlocked it. The door opened inwards slowly; the hinges squeaked ever so slightly as the bottom of the door brushed against the welcome mat, pushing aside the sprawling pile of unopened letters and newspapers, still rolled up in elastic bands. Hermione set the empty luggage down in the foyer and stepped into the vacated house.

She wandered down the hallways, her eyes following the white skirting board to her room. Setting down her suitcase in the centre of her room on the rug-covered hardwood floor, she opened the dresser drawer, breathing in the stale but familiar scent of freshly laundered clothing.

The sentimental knicknacks, the books she had left behind, and a few other choice possessions including framed photographs, some moving, some eerily still were all packed away. The latches of the still half-empty suitcase snapped into place as she shut the lid, her eyes scanning her childhood bedroom carefully one last time.

Her fingers traced the bevelled edge of the granite kitchen counter top and stopped when it reached the corner of a Classified section laid open from a foreign newspaper. The red marker used to circle advertisements was left lying in the fold, its felt tip dry with the cap discarded on the floor. She leaned over, scrutinizing the small print, jotting down notes on a yellow Post-It note with a broken pencil.

She collected her things, patted her jacket for her wand and, assured that it was still safely stowed away in her pocket, closed the door behind her and locked the door with the key she hadn't bothered to take out of the keyhole. The jingling bits of metal fell into her pocket as she picked up her suitcase and settled into the cab. The one way plane ticket slid halfway out of her coat pocket as she rearranged herself in the seat.

"Heathrow Airport, please."

—

"What do you mean, 'she left?'" Ginny demanded.

Her hands gripped the edge of the kitchen table she leaned over, glaring at her brother as she shrugged off Harry's attempts to calm her. The card addressed to the Weasley family on the table toppled over, closing in on itself and Hermione's neat writing inside.

"Why didn't you tell her to stay? You could've gone with her, at least!"

"I did tell her to stay! And I did try to go with her!" Ron retorted, crossing his arms across his chest defensively where he sat in his chair. "She didn't want help or anything. Besides, how hard can it be, finding two Muggles in Australia?"

Ginny opened her mouth, but Harry was quicker. "Voldemort's dead, Ginny," said Harry, his voice harsh. "The Death Eaters have been disbanded and all of them have been sent to Azkaban or have gone into hiding. Nothing is going to happen to Hermione. It's Australia, Gin. If she does get into a bit of trouble, she knows we're here for her if she can't get out of it."

Ginny swallowed heavily, speechless with anger as she glared at the both of them in turn. Growling her frustration, she snatched the card off the table and stormed up the stairs to her room.

"Ginny!" shouted Ron, his chair tipping backwards as he stood up. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you!"

Harry clasped his hand on his best friend's shoulder, stopping Ron from following Ginny upstairs. "I'll sort it out with her, alright?"

Ron fought with himself but logic won out. He nodded with an aggravated sigh, put his chair upright and sat down in it again.

"Ginny?" Harry held his breath, his knuckles tapping lightly against the door. It swung open, revealing Ginny sitting on her bed, her knees drawn up as she examined the card Hermione had left as a good-bye to the Weasleys. Harry stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Did you know she was leaving?" Ginny asked, her tone accusing as she looked up from the card.

Harry frowned. "I knew she was going to leave some time sooner or later," he replied as he crossed the room. "Ron told me the night before she left, he was pretty upset." He sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped his arm around Ginny's shoulders. "I was actually sort of surprised she stayed as long as she did. I mean... She modified her own parents' memories. I know I'd want to go find them as soon as I could."

"I guess," Ginny muttered. She straightened out of Harry's half-embrace to look at him carefully. She held her gaze level with his for a while and then turned away, staring at the floor.

"I'm surprised," said Harry thoughtfully, glancing down at Ginny. "When I told you I had to hunt down Voldemort, you didn't make as much of a fuss about it."

"Yeah, well," Ginny sighed, her tone nonchalant as she leaned back into him, "You had help. And it's not like my mother didn't try to trip you up. It just makes me mad that Ron let her go so easily."

"Like you let me go?"

"It's not the same, Harry." Ginny pulled away from him again and shrugged ruefully. "I guess I'm a little mad at her for leaving without really saying goodbye. At least I had time to say goodbye with you."

BANG! Their gazes jerked to the ceiling at the sound of an explosion originating from Bill's room upstairs, the walls shuddering around them.

"Let's see what George is doing." Ginny suggested suddenly as she leapt off the bed. "Last one there's got dinner chores tomorrow!"

"Hey, not fair!"

But then, Ginny never said that Apparating didn't count.