Author's Note: This challenge began, like all wonderfully terrifying things, as the result of a conversation in the Teachers' Lounge. This is written for them, with love.

Chapter 1: Coming Home

Hermione Granger buried her face in her hands as she rode in the back of the black cab taking her from Heathrow Airport to her home in Cheltenham. It was dark and rainy outside – too dark to read, leaving her alone with her thoughts – and with a wry smirk at a dreadfully cliché allegory, she noted that the weather matched her mood quite nicely.

Hermione was on her way home from visiting her parents, formerly Dan and Emma Granger, who explained to her in no uncertain terms that they would rather spend the remainder of their days as Wendell and Monica Wilkens, and that they would prefer it if Hermione would re-alter their memories to facilitate their wishes. Dreams of a happy reunion and shared war stories over tea dashed, she did just that, maintaining the same stiff upper lip her father had insisted upon when she'd come home heartbroken during her sixth-year Christmas holidays, after Ron had thrown her off for Lavender.

Ron. Sweet, sweet Ron. Hermione clasped her arms tightly around her torso as she thought of the kiss they'd shared during the battle, and then her throat began to tighten as she remembered the crushed look on his face when she said it just wouldn't work. The look that didn't match the tears welling up in his eyes. The look that cut through his assertion that he'd always be there for her should she need him. "Well," she thought, "I need you now, Ron."

Hermione began to shuffle through her purse for £70 as the driver made the turn off of the A40 into the center of town. After directing him to Pittville Circus Rd., she graciously accepted his help bringing her things into her house, and tipped him an additional £5 for his trouble. She switched on the light, left the luggage in the middle of the foyer, and flopped into an overstuffed armchair in the sitting room, allowing herself to cry for the first time since she'd left Australia.

Three minutes later, Hermione looked up. Through the rain she heard two distinct pops in her backyard. She pulled out her wand and shut off the light switch with a light repulso. She then crept towards the French doors that led out to the patio and switched on the floodlights.

"Gah! What is that?! Harry, make it stop, mate!" Ron shouted, completely taken off guard by the bright lights now shining directly into his face.

"Jesus, Ron. You're going to wake the whole neighborhood, you twit. It's a floodlight, probably on a motion detector. Come on, we're probably at the wrong house, anyway."

Hermione, hearing this, left her wand on the dining room table, threw open the back door and ran into the yard, fairly tackling both boys into a tight embrace.

"Not at all, boys," she said through tears. "You're exactly right."

The three old friends stood in Hermione's backyard for several minutes, holding each other tightly. As she began to sob into Ron's chest, Harry moved around to the other side of her, and the two boys enveloped her in the same warm hug. After Hermione was able to catch her breath, she suggested that they might want to come in out of the rain, and they did just that.

Ron guided Hermione over to the sitting room couch, while Harry turned on some lights and put a kettle on the stove.

"Your parents aren't here, are they?" Ron asked. "I guess it didn't go so well, did it?"

"No. Not so good at all, Ron," Hermione answered. "They wanted nothing to do with me. They asked me to take their memories of me back. They said I abandoned them, Ron. They said I sent them away, that I raped their minds! I only wanted them to be safe, Ron. And now they hate me. Or worse – now they don't even know they have a daughter." Hermione once again collapsed into sobs, and Ron held her close. When Harry came in with the tea, and saw what was going on, he set the mugs on the coffee table and helped Ron comfort their oldest friend.

"Well, I suppose I'm now officially the worst hostess in Gloucestershire," Hermione chuckled after she was able to compose herself. "I can't even go five minutes without turning on the water works."

"It's not as though we're exactly guests, though," Harry replied. "I mean, with all that we've been through together, we really don't need to be putting on appearances for each other, do we?"

"I suppose you're right," Hermione said. "But enough of all that. Harry – my god, Harry!"

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, frantically.

"You did not just set those tea mugs straight onto my wooden coffee table, did you?"

"I – you're having me on, aren't you?" Harry asked. This time it was Ron who could barely contain his laughter. Hermione was chuckling, too.

"Well, mostly," she said. "But still – boys, I suppose. There ought to be a spell for getting tea rings out of wood furniture, though, wouldn't you think?"

"I'll ask mum about that when we head back," Ron answered. "There's bound to be, there are spells for every other bloody thing you'd want, right?"

"Are you still staying at the Burrow, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that a little awkward with Ginny there?"

"No, I'm not," Harry replied. "I'm back at Headquarters. Even with the détente between us, looking at her every day, knowing how I broke her heart – I just can't do that. Plus, well, you know."

"No. What?" Hermione asked.

"Fred."

"Merlin, Harry. You don't blame yourself for that, do you?"

"No, no of course not," Harry replied quickly. "It's just that there's this pall over the place, you know? Every meal, every time I catch Molly's eye, or - Merlin - George. And I know what George is going through; he's trying to grieve, but at the same time trying not to notice that people are looking at him as though he's an amputee. Which, in a way, he is. So, no. I'm not at the Burrow. I was just over there for a bit when we saw your hand on the clock change. Since it was so early, we wanted to come by to see if 'Home' meant here or Australia. I'm glad it meant here, Hermione."

Hermione, who'd been absentmindedly winding her fingers through the loose curls in Ron's hair, gave Harry a watery smile.

"I'm glad it meant here, too, Harry," she said, and rested her head on his shoulder. Ron lay his head in Hermione's lap to allow her to continue playing with her hair.

They sat like that for a few minutes. It was late, and decorum dictated that they had grossly overstayed their welcome. But neither of them wanted to leave, and nothing was said on the matter until Harry's arm began to tingle. He looked over to see Ron fast asleep on Hermione's lap, and made his decision.

"Er, we should probably get going, Hermione," Harry said. "Come on, Ron. It's late."

Ron slowly extricated himself from Hermione's lap, and sat up, shaking the cobwebs from his head. He began to stand when Hermione grabbed his hand.

"Would you boys mind staying here tonight?" she asked. "I - it's just that-"

Harry smiled. "Of course. Ron, why don't you pop on back to the Burrow and leave a note for your mum?" Ron nodded and popped away loudly, just managing not to splinch himself, despite being only half awake. Harry hugged Hermione fondly and kissed her cheek. "We'll be right back," he said, and popped away.

Both boys returned quickly with small overnight bags in tow, and followed Hermione up the stairs.

"Here," she said, when they'd reached the master bedroom. You two can stay in here, I'll sleep in my old room." Harry and Ron looked at each other a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, grow up you two," Hermione exclaimed. "The bed's about six foot wide; you've slept closer than that in Ron's room. I'll be across the hall." Harry shrugged his shoulders and went in. Ron followed suit.

About 3:30 the following morning, Ron saw the light on underneath Hermione's door as he walked back from the toilet. He opened the door slowly, thinking that she'd perhaps fallen asleep with the light on. Instead he found Hermione sitting on the edge of her bed in her pyjamas, looking off into space. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied. "Guess I'm all cried out." Ron nodded in reply.

"D'ya wanna talk about it some more?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. It's just - it's so final, you know? I mean, they were never the warmest people on earth, and certainly after I started Hogwarts, the relationship was even more strained, but still, they were there. And now... now they'll never be there again. I don't have any other family to speak of, Ron. I'm alone. Andromeda has little Teddy; and even Harry has that horrid aunt and her family. But I have no one.

"You have us," Ron replied, softly.

"And you're lovely, really. But your mum still looks a bit cross at me after you and I didn't work out, Ginny still thinks I'm after Harry, George is nearly always drunk... And as much as I'd love to be one among that wonderful, messy whole, I'm really not."

"We could dye your hair, you know," Ron said.

Hermione chuckled and slapped his arm lightly. "You know what I mean. I didn't grow up there. Molly and Arthur aren't my parents. I'm an honored, beloved guest there - I truly know that your family loves me, Ron - but I'm still a guest."

"I wasn't talking about me family, 'ermione."

"Oh, you mean you and Harry. Well, yes, I mean we've been through so much together, but-"

"But nothin'. It's the three of us against the world, innit? Always has been. And as far as I can tell, that's stronger than family."

"Right. Well, why don't you go back to bed, Ron? It's late, you should get some sleep."

"Come with me, then," Ron said.

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, no. I didn't mean anything like that. It's just that maybe if you weren't so alone in here, you wouldn't feel so alone, and you could get some sleep. Besides, 'arry's there. 'ow much trouble could we get into?"

Inside, Hermione was smiling broadly. After her horrific trip to Australia, a bit of comfort from her two favorite boys was exactly what was called for, she reckoned. Outside, however, she remained stoic.

"Oh, very well. I suppose it couldn't hurt."

Ron took her by the arm, switched off the light, and walked her to the room he was sharing with Harry.

"In y'go," he said softly, lifting the covers for her.

"Right. But if I'm not asleep by five, I'm waking both of you up to keep me company.

"Fair play. Go to sleep, then, 'ermione."

Harry woke up around 8:30, and immediately noticed that his head was cradled in the nape of Hermione's neck. He gasped quietly, and then subtly felt for his t-shirt and boxers. When both were present and accounted for, he breathed a small sigh of relief, and got up to shower.

Ten minutes after that, Ron opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his face had somehow wound up in the crook of Hermione's shoulder. The next thing he noticed was that he was cradled in Hermione's arm, and that their feet were intertwined. Slowly, carefully, he rolled out from Hermione's arm, and removed his feet one at a time from her legs. She stirred a bit, and he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Back to sleep, love," he said, and she murmured fondly in response, before rolling over to his pillow, clutching it tightly. Ron slipped his trousers on, and then walked into the kitchen, where Harry was rummaging around the pantry.

"Not a blessed thing in here that isn't beyond its sell-by date," he half-whispered when he saw Ron. "We're right in the middle of town, though. There's got to be something around, don't you think?"

"Right," Ron replied. "I'll go with you, then. Just let me finish getting dressed."

Forty-five minutes later, the boys popped into Hermione's sitting room with three bags of groceries. They walked into the kitchen , putting them on the counter, only to see Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, wand in hand, staring into space, surrounded by broken teacups and saucers.

"Alright then, Hermione?" Ron asked, walking over to his friend and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"No, it's not alright," she replied. "I mean, it is, but it isn't. I woke up more refreshed than I ever have in my life, saw that there was tea already made - thank you, by the way - and I summoned a teacup and saucer, and it flew at me and smashed on the wall. I tried it again - same thing.

"It's my magic, Ron. It's like I can't control it - it's far too strong."