The Obliviation

by Nikki-Love013

...because there is no way Hermione had no muggle friends...

This is a one-shot, but if it turns out good, and you all like it, I may continue! Let me know!

"Hermione dear, would you like some tea?"

I looked up from my magazine, staring softly at my mother, who was watching me from the back porch, and shook my head. She pursed her lips together, and before she could shake her head slowly, I trained my eyes back to the magazine.

It wasn't until the sound of the door shutting, did I sigh and look away. Guilt pressed down on my chest like an iron-clad, and I bit my lip. I hated what I was doing to myself… doing to them. But they didn't know, like I knew, that there was limited time. That in a matter of weeks, they would be in Australia, and I would be god – knows – where, finding and destroying things they couldn't even imagine. Not even in their wildest dreams. Not even in the movies they watch, which are progressing every year, every minute –

Not that I would know that or anything. I knew nothing about their world – of my own – like they knew nothing of mine. Because I've been detached from them, from their life…from their way of life. Who cares what Hollywood is producing out in America, when there are Horcruxes to find? Who cares of skiing trips and Christmas's vacations, when there is the Weasley and the Order of the Phoenix to deal with?

It wasn't fair, and it had taken me up until now to realize that.

You never realize what you have until you lose it.

I swallowed hard. Those words had been ripped from my own head, from my own heart.

The skiing trip last Christmas…that had been an attempt, I realized now, to draw me closer to them. I had been so wrapped up in that world, I had forgotten the one I had actually been born into, raised into…

Mother peeked out at me from the kitchen window, and I looked quickly at the magazine, flipping a page. I knew how she was looking at me. She was concerned. She was confused. She was scared. She knew something was wrong, and I knew she knew, as she watched me through the glass window, that I was truly reading this magazine. That my mind was elsewhere. And that frightened her beyond anything else.

Father was a bit more oblivious. But even he couldn't push off why I had been acting strange. Crying at random. Skipping meals. Spending days in my back yard, reading the same magazine, when I could be elsewhere, hanging with Bella…

Bella. The thought chocked me. I had thought that, if I didn't think of her, then all would be well. Besides, she was just a good friend; it wouldn't be as hard to say goodbye to her, would it? But even as I thought that, I knew I was wrong. I had tried all summer to underestimate the pain I would feel when I did this too her, by thinking of my parents. It would hurt to betray them a lot more, therefore, it shouldn't be that bad to do it to her…

But a stab of pain shot through me, and I knew I had just been lying to myself.

Mother walked away from the window, and yet again I sighed and looked away. My eyes trained over the house, the pool, the dog house…

All this, the core that bid me to myself, would be gone. Poof.

Yet I had to do it, I knew. And no matter how much I hated to think it, I flipped to the last page of my magazine, where Skeeter's article was hiding. I had tried not to read it, for that would be foolish – her history with Harry and my own was a bit rocky…but I did. I read a few words, and felt a bit of anger at her words. But just like anything, her stories had truth in them. And that ended and started with the words: the greater good.

Because these are the words I had to remember. My one bit of strength I possessed when the time would come…

If I didn't do this, if I didn't betray my parents in the highest way possible, the Wizarding World, and the Muggle World, would be destroyed forever.

I just hoped they understood this when it became time to explain.

If there ever was.

I shivered, the summer day becoming suddenly cold. That was another unpleasant thought that I had tried many times not to think of.

What if I never had the chance to explain? There was no guarantee, me nor Harry nor Ron, that we would make it out of this alive. None at all. Yet that wasn't what hurt the most, no…it was that, the possibility that that day can come, when my parents destiny were set in stone – as Wendell and Monica Wilkins – because my heartbeat ceased. Would they know? Would they care?

Of course not. They would simply say, "Did you hear of that young girl that passed away down in London?"

And my mother would say, "Oh yes. That Hermy girl?"

I suppressed a sob, letting my legs fall to the ground, and my head droop. If my mother were to look out the window now, she would know something was wrong. I looked as if I were praying, if one were to look at me quickly. That is, until they noticed my shaking body.

I sniffed, and reached into my pocket. I had to do this. I had to.

And as I stood up, shaking, it wasn't the parchment by Rita Skeeter that read: The Greater Good…

No, it was a picture of Harry and Ron and myself. It was a picture I had persuaded Colin to take in fourth year, just before the Third Task. The photograph shook in my hand, and pieces of lose pony tail fell into my vision.

This picture meant so much. So, so much. Because though we did not know it at the time, that moment was precious. It was hours, minutes, before the turn of life. The turn of the Wizarding World, of the Muggle World. It was before Harry went into the maze, before he faced Voldemort, before he had risen again. It represented a time of laughs, of happiness, of innocence…

And that's what we were fighting for now, right? Harry, Ron, me and the rest of the Wizarding world? For exactly what this photograph represented? We wanted to feel that way again, didn't we?

The picture was unmoving, because Colin had taken it with a muggle camera. It hadn't come out right at first, for Dumbledore had enchantments around the castle to prevent technology…but we got it in the end. A decent one. And with the help of McGonagall, she was able to make it looking as good as new.

I stuffed it in my pocket, tucking my bangs behind my ear and rubbing my eyes. I needed composure, I thought, as I wiped my nose with my sleeve. I took many deep breathes, closing my eyes, and suddenly my feet were dragging me forward. I couldn't fight them, didn't want to, but wanted to all at once. Was I really going to do this? How could I do such a thing?

My wand pressed against my thigh, stuffed into my pocket. That's how, it seemed to say. This is how you're going to do it. Because you have to. You have to do this.

I reached the side of my house, which was my driveway. It was smoother than I remembered, and I wondered vaguely when Dad had re- cemented it…not that I would know or anything…

I passed the garden, and into the street. I looked at the ground as I walked, my head bent and my thumbs tucked into my back pockets. I didn't want to look up, didn't want to see my childhood. Yet it was like I didn't need to look up to know where I was, what I had done here.

And with every step came a new thought, and it seemed every memory was like a brick piling up on my heart, waiting for it to break, to snap…

I walked over the crack. The big one that tore from one sidewalk to the other, and images flashed through my head like a photo-album…This crack had been so important in our childhood. It had separated Bella's world, from my own…

Yes, we played house. To one side I had my own home, and the other side of the crack was her house. And in order to cross the border, we had to pay money…

And that bush over there, in the corner, had been the leaves we used for this money…

And that house behind the bush, the abandoned one, had been our source of mischief when we felt up for an adventure. We would venture through the dust, daring one another to walk ahead, and Bella would always say: "You have a wand Hermione, you can protect us."

And I would reply, "Don't say that too loud! And besides, I can't use it outside of school…"

And she would giggle, and I would roll my eyes, but I'd pull it out for good measure, while she carried her stick in her hand…'her wand'…

And when we played games of princesses, of princes, of magic and laughter, I would us a stick for my wand, afraid of accidental magic…

I turned the corner, and stopped. This was it, I thought sadly. I felt in my pocket, felt my wand, felt the picture, and walked forward.

This yard, gosh how I missed this yard. I felt a pang as I remembered what I thought earlier…would I ever see it again? Bella's creamy yellow house shined in the sunset, and her grass grazed green. I walked up the walk way, and church bells rang in the distant. Bella loved those church bells. She would always stop whatever she was doing, and listen to them. They had always sounded so peaceful, so beautiful; but now it was like bereavement echoing off the walls in the silent night.

"I want you back when the street lights turn on, and when the Church Bells sound, you hear?" Her mother would yell at us from the front porch. We would nod, running down the walkway, though we weren't really listening. We heard it every day. We knew what she was saying.

I slowly climbed the wooden staircase, which lead to her porch, and just ahead, her front door. It creaked under my feet, some of the yellow pain chipping off, or what was left of it anyway…

Her father really had to get to fixing this place up, I thought.

I sighed, looking to my side and catching sight of the swing. The swing to the left of her door, which hung from the ceiling porch, was creaking as the wind blew it back and forth…back and forth…

The amount of times Bella and I had sat there, singing, laughing, talking, braiding eachothers hair…

And without warning, my hand knocked fiercely on the door. I gulped and stepped back, my breathing soft. Seconds passed, but it felt like minutes, years and days, before the door creaked open, and suddenly –

"Hermione!"

A smile, a flash of brown, and arms were thrown around my own. I stumbled back a bit in shock, than slowly wrapped my own around her. Her laugh in my ear, her smell…

I would miss it all. So, so much. She was my bestfriend. How could I do this? It felt wrong, no matter how much I justified it, no matter how I tried to reason with myself. She and myself, we had a friendship that no one understood. Yes of course, there was Ron and Harry, but they were guys. This was…this was Bella. The girl who gushed with me about guys, looks, and movies, and dates, and gossip…

Yes, believe it or not, Hermione Granger was and is, a typical teenage girl.

She pulled back, smiling and breathless. "Oh Hermione! I missed you so much! I can't believe it, what took so long? I've been waiting forever, and your parents said you weren't home every time I called! Oh but you'll never believe what you've missed – but first, you have to tell me what I missed! I mean, those letters were so vague and…blah, I got nothing out of them -!"

"Let her breathe dear," said a voice from the doorway, and I froze. It sounded raspy, sick and fragile…it was not recognizable. I looked over her shoulder, and felt something shift in my stomach. It was a man, about my dad's age. He was skin and bone, his eyes and face sunken, his hair matted and bags under his eyes. He looked to be someone that aged too fast too soon. And with a jolt, I realized it was Mr. Martin.

I was at lost for words, held stock – still as he smiled at me. My mouth moved, in an attempt to be polite, but nothing came out. Something was wrong, terribly wrong –

Bella shifted, coughing slightly and scratching her head. "I – erm…wanna go to my room, 'Mione?"

I nodded, my eyes still round and my mouth still open. She sped through the door, past her father and up the stairs. It took me a moment, but then I felt my legs, and followed her. Mr. Martin did not move, but as I shut the door behind myself, I heard him cough as if revealing some of his lungs.

"Explain," I said, pressing myself against her door. She was sitting directly in front of me on her bed, playing with her hands and looking directly at me. There was a moment of silence in which I wished I had not spent this Christmas Holiday skiing, and rather spending time with her and catching up.

She gulped. "My father…he's well, he's not doing too good."

"I got that much," I said breathlessly, not daring to breathe. She looked up, and stood up. She was now standing in front of her bureau, fingering her jewelry. It took her a second, and then she dropped her hands in defeat, sighing and slumping. She caught sight of me in the reflection, still pressed against her door.

"Hermione he's…well, he's dying."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, I gasped. My knees had gone weak, and I stumbled to her bed and sat down.

"No…" I breathed in disbelief. She nodded, her back to me.

I shook my head, blinking fiercely. I couldn't deal with this, not now. Not after everything I just went through, the Death of Dumbledore, the funeral…not to mention what I would be doing now, in a few minutes…

She turned around to me, her eyes watery, and her hair swinging around her small face. It was the first time I saw her properly in over the year, and she seemed to have grown a lot. Her petite body was longer, her brown hair falling down to waist, and her hazel eyes swimming in tears that she fought back.

"But what…how?" I managed, chocked up. My vision was blurring by the second. She shrugged, her chin quavering.

"Cancer."

I gritted my teeth, trying hard not to cry. She walked over to my side, and sat beside me.

"But…but you can help, can't you 'Mione? Your of age now.." she said, turning to me. I felt something like hope rise in me. Yes, I could help. A simple healing charm, and he would be fine. But then I deflated just as quickly. I couldn't just whip out my wand for them, and do this. They didn't know my secret. And by telling them, I would be putting them in danger. By doing it, I would have to erase their minds as well..

"Oh Mione, please…" she begged, seeing the doubt in my eyes. They were overshadowed with tears, and I looked away from her, feeling the guilt and the sadness crush me to death…

"I can't."

It was barely above a whisper, but it seemed to echo through the room.

"But why?" she asked, and by her voice, I knew she had been waiting a year to ask me this question. It was her only hope. I was that bit of thread that connected her father's life to the world, and I had just cut it. "Your seventeen, 'Mione! You said! You told me that that's when you become of age, and can do magic and…"

She trailed off, biting her lip in earnest. She seemed unable to continue. Of course she would know this. This was only the summer we had been waiting years for. The summer I could finally perform magic for her, for the first time…

"It won't work," I lied, "Cancer isn't something that can be healed…"

Maybe it wasn't an entire lie. I wasn't sure. I made a note to ask Mrs. Weasley.

She seemed crushed, but convinced. And it was the confidence her eyes that set me on end, the total trust she felt in my words, because she believed me…and I was lying..

I was such a horrible person. We sat in silence for a few seconds, then she sniffed, sitting up. "Anyway…" she looked at me, and even though her eyes were red, a true smile replaced her lips, "Tell me everything."

I stared at her. Usually, I burst right into speech. Tonight, however, I found I couldn't find my voice.

"What?"

I coughed, shaking my head. "N-nothing…I just…"

"Wait!" she cried, and she jumped up. I jumped slightly, but looked at her. She had an attention span of a fly, she did, and it seemed she no longer wanted to hear of my adventure's this year. She just figured I could tell her later, that's all. But only I knew this was a lie. She always loved hearing of my stories, of time travel, of stones and chambers, of Dark Wizards and Battles…

But this year was different. Though some summers were harder than others to re-tell, this was would be hardest of hall. For instant, last year, I explained Sirius's death, and cried. She had comforted me, told me I was brave and strong and…

But what would she think now?

She held her hand out, smiling brightly. I stared at her for a second, then smiled. Right…

I sat up, pulling my wand from my pocket. She took it, gave me a look, and I rolled my eyes. She had been waiting forever for this day. Sense we were children. The day I became of age, she wanted to try out my wand.

"What was that spell again?" she asked, bracing herself and taking a deep breathe. I laughed, knowing muggles can't do magic no matter how many times I told her.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

"Right," she said, and pulled my wand in front of her. She pointed it a pencil on her desk, and cried, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

I thought of Ron; she had not only pronounced it wrong, but she did not swish and flick. I didn't correct her though, because I knew it didn't matter either way. The pencil did not move. She slumped in disappointed, and I laughed kindly. She handed me the wand, and in that instant, everything else was forgotten. She didn't even seem upset that she failed to do magic.

"Go on then!" she cried, practically bouncing. I knew she was dying to see magic, for she had been ever sense we were little.

"Alright," I said, and nonchalantly I waved the wand and sighed, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The pencil lifted into the air. She yelped in surprise, and withdrew a few steps. No matter how much she braced herself over the years, she still seemed shocked. To add some fun, I let it drift close to her face, around her head, and back to me. She laughed, staring at with awe and amazement –

There was a knock on the door, and we both jumped. She seemed more ready however, for a hand flew to the pencil to make it look as if she were holding it in the air, not the work of magic -

"Hello Hermione," smiled Mrs. Martin, nodding to me, then looked at Bella, "Suppers almost ready."

"Mhm."

Mrs. Martin narrowed her eyes at her daughter, looking from her face to her hand, which was holding the pencil. She shook her head and closed the door behind her.

We both sighed in relief, and I flicked my wand so the pencil would cease to float. She was still holding it in place however. Her face was masked over with shock and amazement, and she walked to her bed as if mimicking a zombie. The pencil was held limply in her hand.

"Wow…" she breathed, looking at me. "That was…"

I giggled, and she looked up at me, her lips cracking a smile. "Amazing."

I shrugged, smiling at her. I knew it made her day, which made me feel a whole lot better for some reason; my last act of kindness to her.

I wondered what she would think of magic after I did this to her.

She walked over to me, and wrapped me in a hug. "I had been worried about you."

I looked at her, surprised. She nodded and wiped her nose. "After everything that happened last year, I didn't know what to expect this year."

I nodded in understanding. She was right. This year had been bad. But it wasn't me she need to worry for…

"So, tell me everything," she smiled, stepping back, and I weighed my options. Could I do it now? Should I? I bit my lip. I could tell her, but she just wouldn't remember. Then again, I wasn't sure how much she could handle; did I want her last few memories of me to be bad?

"Well," I sighed, deciding on a safe topic of romance, "You remember Ginny, right?"

She nodded eagerly. She liked Ginny, though Ginny did not know who she was. She had admired her in a sense ever sense the Chamber, and as she progressed over the years - thick skin, stubborn and strong – the more eager Bella was to hear more about her. "Well, her and Harry kind of kindle a…romance."

She squealed, and I laughed. "I knew it! I knew it! I mean, being Harry Potter's girlfriend can't be an easy task, and she's perfect!"

I nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. We had talked last year about Cho, and agreed that she was horrible for Harry. I mean, Harry had enough to deal with, without her sobbing on his shoulder and accusing me of fancying him.

"And what about Ron?" she pressed, "Have you guys-?"

I blushed and shook my head. "What have I told you!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come on 'Mione, you know you fancy him…"

Lavendar's face popped into my vision, and I set my jaw.

"What is it?"

I looked at her. Anger and jealousy had over driven everything for a moment, that I forgot where I was. I shook my head and composed myself. "Lavender Brown and Ron took a little liking to each other this year, that's all…"

Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. "No!" she gasped, and I nodded. "What a - !"

"They broke up," I added quickly, trying hard not to turn this gathering into a Ron - and - Lavender bashing session. She sighed in relief, and looked at me. "Why?"

I bit my lip. For some reason, their break up amused me to no end. Then again, maybe it was because it was partly my doing that caused this little incident…not that I minded that much…

But the reason behind the reasoning came back to me, and my eyes darkened instantly. Draco Malfoy flashed through my vision, the poison, Ron on the bed, Dumbledore –

"Ron was poisoned," I said through my teeth, and Bella gasped. "He's fine now, but when he was…incoherent…he, I don't know…said my name a few times…"

A blush was creeping up my neck, and my face was burning. My voice died in my throat, and I looked to my feet, unable to meet Bella's knowing stare.

"You mean, he was dreaming of you?" she insisted. I shot her a look, but we both knew it was true. She smiled brightly, then rolled her eyes. "Honestly though, at this rate, you two will never so much as snog by the time your thirty - "

"Bella!"

"But who knows, maybe seventh years a charm."

I smiled, the thought of me and Ron –

I shook my head. Not now.

"So tell me more."

She turned to face me, her legs crossed indian style on her bed. She leaned forward to hear more. I unconsciously levitated the pencil as I spoke, and she smiled brightly.

"Well…" I bit my lip, thinking. "We got a new teacher."

She rolled her eyes, laying down on her bed. "You do every year, Hermione."

I shook my head. "But this year's different. His name is Professor Slughorn, and he teaches potions."

Bella shot up, her hair flying about her face. "Potions? But what about that Snape git - !"

I set my jaw so tightly I'm surprised my teeth didn't shatter. She was too shocked to notice however.

"He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts - "

"What? But you said Dumbledore wouldn't - "

"I know," I sighed; talking about Dumbledore and Snape seemed to both anger me and upset me. I felt as if I swallowed a brick. "Maybe that's why Snape…"

I trailed off, whispering. I had been talking to myself, for something in the back of my mind had clicked. Is that why Snape killed Dumbledore? Because being our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had brought him back to old ways? I felt angry. Angry at Snape for killing Dumbledore, angry at Dumbledore for trusting Snape…

"Maybe that's why Snape what? Bella? Bella!"

I looked up at her, and she stared back at me, concerned. I knew she knew something was wrong, and cursed myself. I would have to tell her now.

I gulped, too angry or sad to even beat around the bush. "…why Snape killed Dumbledore."

Her eyes went a bit off. She clutched either side of the bed for support, and swayed slightly. "Impossible…" she breathed, looking at me. She seemed to be waiting for a sign of lying, a sign of a joke, but when none came, she positively shuddered. "But Dumbledore, he's the – he's the – he can't die."

Tears stung my eyes. Her words reminded me a lot of that night, when I had finally made my way to the courtyard where Dumbledore's body had laid. "It was horrible," I said, walking over to her window, and staring at the church, not truly seeing it. I crossed my arms. "People were crying, screaming…"No one's safe"…"Who will save us now"…" I gritted my teeth in disgust. I had been so angry then, shaking and crying; the grief had defiantly played a big part in it though. A man had just died, and all they could worry about was their own safety! "And as if, almost on cue….Harry walked by. He walked to where Dumbledore's body had been minutes ago, and picked up his wand, and walked away…"

She was watching my back, I knew, not breathing. She was horrified. Now that I thought of it however, it was scary. Dumbledore had been that strong point, and without him, and his protection, we were so vulnerable…Even Bella knew this, and she was muggle. It may even affect her more so though, because of that. She was muggle, defenseless, and without Dumbledore, she was as weak as ever.

"Harry is the chosen one," I finished quietly, and she gasped. I had told her about the prophecy thing last year, but in my naïve state, had said it was rubbish, nothing…"He's the only one that can end it."

I turned around, and looked at her. She looked horrible, pale and her eyes were unusually wet. "But how can he-?"

"Dumbledore left him a mission," I said stiffly; we were getting close, and it seemed to hit me suddenly. In a matter of minutes she wouldn't know me. "Horcruxes, they're called. There objects that conceal someone's soul to make them immortal. You-Know-Who has seven."

Silence fell on us. A tear fell down her face.

"You're going to help him, aren't you? You and Ron?"

I stared at her, my arms still crossed and my breathing quick. I nodded, blinking fast. She suppressed a sob. "I can't go back to Hogwarts, Bella. Death Eaters will have control of it, and I'm a mudblood, best friends with Harry Potter and a Blood-Traitor…"

I trailed off. She flinched at the word, 'mudblood.'

"So where are you going to go?" she whispered, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"I have no idea." I whispered, "Far away."

She stood up, and in that instant our eyes met, I knew she knew. I knew she had put it together. But she also had understanding underneath that pain and sorrow. I was a danger to the world, to her world, and to her.

"It's going to end soon," she whispered, referring to the war. "But first it's got to get worse."

I gulped, looking away from her. She walked over to me, and touched my arm softly. "Please be careful," she begged. "Be safe."

I looked at her, and it was like physical pain had coursed through my veins, beginning and ending with my heart. I set my jaw but it quivered immensely.

She shook her head, taking a breath. "Do it," she said simply. "Do whatever it is you have to do, and go on with it."

I sucked in a breath, unfolding my arms and looking at her. When she made no move to elaborate, I slowly pulled my wand from my front pocket. My eyes were locked with hers, and she was breathing hard. She didn't know what was coming, but she knew something was. I raised my wand, my hand shaking as I pointed it at her face.

"Kick ass," she whispered. I let out sob.

"Obliviate!"