Disclaimer:

I own nothing but the plot this story sits upon.

Thanks to JKR for the amazing world of Harry Potter

A/N

I'll do my best to update this story, I know where it's all going, so it's just a case of filling in the blanks now.

Also, huge thanks to a great beta Ser Serendipity

Hope you all enjoy!

Obliviate

It was a Sunday; the second Sunday before Hogwarts opened its doors for Hermione's seventh, and final, year.

The familiar scent of roast chicken, potatoes, and veg was drifting through her home; a four storey townhouse in the bustling village of Thatcham Heath. Muted laughter and the quiet hum of television met her ears, greeted with a small smile. Downstairs, her parents were watching Grand Designs, a favorite of theirs. The sound of their voices, commenting on the newest building revelation, was a balm to her fraught nerves, as only a parent's voice could be.

The evening had been rather typical of a Sunday at the Granger residence. At around four they had over-indulged in a delicious roast dinner, followed by a leisurely walk in the woods a few miles from her home. The pattern had been introduced when she was a child, and she found comfort in its predictable and relaxed rhythm.

She was sitting at the top of the main staircase: it was something of a regular haunt. As a child, when scared or lonely at night, she had crept to this spot to be lulled by her parent's voices and the glow from the fireplace below. It was affording her the same luxury now.

If only it were enough to chase her demons away.

Her hands cramping from peeling vegetables the muggle way, Hermione gripped her wand in whitening hands. It was tucked snug under her cream, cable knit jumper, which was bulky enough to hide its telltale shape. It wasn't to be seen tonight.

The Grangers were not an intolerant family, quite the opposite; her parents often encouraged her to use magic (since she'd come of age). They had passed many a balmy evening watching her - wine in hand and wand in the other - refining her charms, enchantments, and jinxes.

Their garden, protected by wards against muggles and wizards alike, had played host to a display of fantastic magical talent over the past few months, and her skill was increasing. The relaxed and peaceful summer that passed had allowed her to feel as close to normal as she had since the beginning of the war.

In a way, it was a farewell; a final burst of sunshine before the coming storm. It was time to evacuate the threatened areas, and she was about to take a step that frightened her more than anything she had known.

Her parents, safe in their muggle world, had become a haven to flee to, should the wizarding world become too much.

Malfoy tormenting her? Mother would simply rebuild her shattered confidence, and speak of the perils of teenaged boys.

A fall out with Harry and Ron? A nightly call to her muggle friends had kept a (small) smile on her tear-stained face.

Received an Exceeds Expectations in Defence Against the Dark Arts? Father helped boost her bruised ego, ultimately praising the astonishing witch she had become.

However, she was grown now, and losing the comfort her parents offered for the sake of their safety was something she had fought hard to come to terms with.

Fear and self-doubt seeped into her mind as she silently stood and began to descend, each stair bringing her closer to a decision she had already made.

At the entrance to the living room she paused, and gathered her wits about her. Drew herself to her full height; a mere five foot, three inches. A long breath in propelled her forward: she came to a stop behind the sofa on which her parents were snuggled.

Both were clad in comfortable pajamas and slippers. Each held a small glass of Pinot. Their good-natured bickering reached her brain as if they were moving through molasses, the weight of her soon-to-be-actions slowing her thoughts. They were debating the 'controversial' use of straw insulation over the more typical synthetic. Hermione admired their well-structured arguments: her mother's teasing, long-suffering tone, and the way their hands were causally linked between them.

A wave of nostalgia and guilt threatened her resolve, and her wand, now grasped tightly in her hand, shook with the power of her conviction.

Steeling herself, she forced herself to lean between the two, and quickly plant a kiss on each of their cheeks.

"I love you, mum, dad," she whispered, smiling through glistening tears. They turned toward her simultaneously, sporting surprised, gentle expressions. Before either could open their mouths, she lifted her wand.

"Obliviate."

Thursday morning, and the sun was shining brightly in what was widely considered a particularly pleasant Indian summer.

A mere three days stood between Hermione and the comfort of Hogwarts; a stark contrast to her busy, damp and dreary stays at Grimmauld Place. She had been awoken that morning by an irate Mrs. Weasley, ordering her and Ginny to Diagon Alley, where they would be met by Ron, Harry and the twins.

Her spirits high for the first time since the previous Sunday, Hermione rushed Ginny along, who was taking her time with glamor and concealment charms. The younger girl's clothes were still lying out on the bed, and she was still in her fluffy dressing gown.

Having taken only ten minutes to get ready, Hermione had managed a low bun, messy with escaped curls, and knotty to boot. She had thrown on a pair of jeans and a navy jumper before calling it quits. Her expectations were low when appearances were involved.

"Ginny, you look stunning as is," she said, tapping the toe of her brogues against the polished, wooden floor. It made a rather satisfying sound.

"I need not remind you that Harry hasn't seen you in a month, you could be wearing a potato sack and he wouldn't notice - he's going to be blown away by you all over again." Her tone was gentle, but firm, she didn't think Ginny needed much encouragement.

Ginny sniffed slightly, the only noise she had made since they had both been awoken. Moving to stand behind her, Hermione rested her hands on the young witch's shoulders. In the ornate dresser mirror before them she could see Ginny's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her cheeks tear stained.

"Oh, Gin," she signed, spinning the dressing chair Ginny was sitting on around to face her, "You can't work yourself up about this, Harry is awful at dealing with emotional girls." Raising her wand, she muttered some glamor charms.

"Now, get dressed and meet me downstairs, I'm going to make us a cup of tea and we're going to talk this out before we go anywhere."

Ginny offered her a watery smile, and nodded, turning back to the dressing table mirror. "I'll be down in a bit," she said, meeting Hermione's eyes in the reflection.

"Okay," Hermione replied, walking to the door, "I'll be sending Kreacher up if you're not there in ten minutes."

Ginny gave a mock shudder, smiling as Hermione pulled the door shut behind her.

Hermione and Ginny's room was on the first floor, and as she made her way across the landing, she could her the shuffle of many feet above her, going about their morning routines. The house was rather full at present; Molly and Arthur were permanent residents and they were currently playing host to Remus, Tonks, Neville and Seamus.

Her two classmates had joined them a few days after Hermione arrived, both clamoring to start the term and be done with sitting at home doing nothing.

Entering the kitchen, Hermione noted, with relief, that she was the first one down for breakfast - a meal that could prove testing to her short morning-temper. The rabble was something she could enjoy after a cup of coffee, but not before, and she set to work making two mugs, the muggle way.

The kettle had boiled, and Hermione was stirring the two coffees by the time Ginny entered, looking, at least in Hermione's eyes, gorgeous, in a cream swing dress.

"Perfect," Hermione smiled as she sat down, "Harry won't know what hit him."

Ginny bowed her head with a small smile, not entirely uncomfortable with the compliment. She gratefully took the offered cup from Hermione's hand and drew a long sip. She sank into the seat opposite Hermione and waited for the older girl to start the conversation; she had no idea where to begin.

"Now explain to me why the prospect of seeing Harry is making you act exactly like you did when he first left," Hermione said, her tone soft and her cup lifting to her full lips.

Ginny paused, seeming to consider her reply. Her teeth were working furiously at her lower lip, and Hermione scrunched her nose as she realised it was sore and chapped from constant abuse. She should have brought this up long ago.

"I don't know, really," she began, truthfully, "I mean, I think I was a bit shocked - in all the time he's been away, I've had four letters from Harry, and suddenly I'm being woken up with the order to go and see him this afternoon." Ginny's tone had taken on a slight whine.

"I love Harry, and I do understand why he wants to keep our distance from one another at this point, I'm his vulnerable spot, as he puts it." She paused, and sighed.

"But I'm just so tired of pretending it's okay that we're apart. When he explained his reasons, I imagined he'd be doing something much more courageous than taking a summer holiday with Charlie, not even in this country!" Letting her head drop into her hands, Ginny closed her eyes. "And I feel awful for saying, or even thinking it, but I do wonder what they've been doing over there, whether he's even missed me at all."

Hermione smiled a little, and took Ginny's hand across the large wooden table.

"Listen, Harry always has his reasons. Sure, he's impulsive and a little reckless at times, but when it comes to long term plans, he knows what he's doing." Hermione lifted Ginny's chin with a delicate finger, meeting her gaze with an open and frank expression. "Give him the benefit of the doubt just this once, and give him the chance to explain himself. Just hear him out."

Ginny let out a long breath and nodded, "Yes, Hermione," she said, her tone low, and a perfect imitation of Ron when he was being told off. Laughing, Hermione swatted her on the arm and shook her head.

"Now if you don't mind, we're going to be pretty late, and I don't intend on turning up to Hogwarts without all the assigned textbooks." So saying, she took another long sip from her coffee, reluctantly poured the remainder down the sink, and cheered herself with the thought of buying another in Diagon Alley. Reading herself to leave, she grabbed a handful of floo powder, along with her traveling cloak.

She heard a snort behind her, "As if you haven't had this year's textbooks since year three, working ahead." Ginny smiled, watching as Hermione took her position in the fireplace.

Shrugging, and with a small smile of amusement, Hermione dropped the powder.

"Diagon Alley!"

Three hours later saw Hermione perusing the back rooms of Flourish and Blotts, combing for any books she thought might help in the coming school year, academically or otherwise.

She had already met with Fred and George, who had left her to her own devices after realizing she was planning to spend a significant amount of time just browsing. They had asked her to meet at The Leaky Cauldron at five o'clock since Harry and Ron were running late, which left her with little over two hours.

So far she had purchased all items on her list, found a small toy for Crookshanks, and withdrawn enough money from Gringotts to last the year.

The bookstore was a gloomy place at the best of times, and back in the unused rooms, it was downright dark. Any light shed from the numerous candles around the room was instantly blocked by the tall, imposing shelves that ran in untidy rows and corridors. It was amazing just how much shop there was behind the Flourish and Blotts facade, she thought as she blew away a cobweb from a particularly old-looking book. The wooden floorboards creaked and moaned with every delicate step she took; the sound was muffled and lost in the tomes around her.

Hermione was passing through the foreign curses section when she spotted a red, leather-bound book entitled 'Salazar's Secrets; Serpents, Sires and Seduction'. Her interest piqued, she made her way towards it; it was a few rows across from her.

Rounding the corner, Hermione suddenly felt a small shiver travel up her spine, and the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. Swiftly, she grasped her wand, quick to embrace her alert state.

"Homenum Revelio," she whispered.

Several seconds passed, with no noticeable change. The floor creaked again.

Hermione loosened her defensive pose a little. The war had sharpened her nerves, and often she was left feeling shaken after nothing more than a cold breeze or a startling telephone ring.

Suddenly, a loud gasp was ripped from her throat as the tip of a wand was pressed firmly into the back of her neck. Just as quickly, it was taken away, and she spun to see a heavy black cloak swirl around the corner from which she'd just come. Steeling herself, she peered around the corner, wand raised and ready to attack.

Nothing.

A sigh of relief escaped through her lips, and the imagined scenario of Death Eaters surrounding her was wiped from her mind. Damn her overactive imagination.

The fact that she had just been held at wandpoint, nevermind that it was for a short amount of time, worried her. The wand clutched tightly in her fist was not lowered, and she backed up a few paces toward the exit, her eyes roving around the room for any sign of her potential attacker.

Once she had reached the safety of Diagon Alley unharmed, she turned and hurried toward The Leaky Cauldron. The street was bustling with pre-term shoppers, and the loud babble of excited children and exacerbated parents was beginning to make her head hurt. Pushing her way through the crowd, she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of the twins, Harry or Ron.

Finally drawing to the entrance to the old pub, Hermione sighed quietly, letting herself relax as she stepped over the threshold. The overwhelming smell of pea soup hit her nostrils, and she scrunched her nose slightly; perhaps Florean Fortescue's would have been better meeting place.

The pub was dimly lit, as always, and the light straining to shine through the small windows was contesting with decades of grime and soot. The majority of tables, all different shapes and sizes, were full, and the general hubbub of chatter was at a low hum. Making her way to the bar, she smiled at Tom, who recognized her instantly.

"Good day, Miss Granger," he drawled, bald head glistening in the flickering candlelight, "what may I do you for this afternoon?"

Hermione held back a shudder as he hocked back, and spat into the glass he was 'cleaning'.

"Urm," wondering whether to give up and tell the boys to meet her at the ice cream parlor, Hermione cleared her throat. "I'll just have a Butterbeer, please, Tom".

Her eyes wandered to the back of the room, searching for a spare, private table. She wanted someplace quiet to sit, and to get her mind in order.

A hand grabbing her shoulder startled her from the hunt, and she spun around, an affronted 'hey' on her lips.

"He- Harry!" She exclaimed, as she realized who it was, "It's so good to see you!"

The sight of her two friends, deeply tanned and rugged-looking, brought her close to tears, her fraught nerves quickly calmed. She felt as if a part of her had been replaced, since being ripped away by the departure of her parents.

Hermione threw her arms around Harry, who was taller and leaner than she remembered him. His tangle of hair was still very much the same, however, and she laughed at his bungled attempts at fixing his glasses - clearly he had resorted to muggle techniques, as they were practically all Sellotape.

Harry squeezed her small frame against his much larger one until she beat her fists against his broad shoulders. Finally, laughing, he let her go.

Looking thoroughly rumpled, Hermione shot Harry a mock glare, completely negated by her hand finding his, and turned to Ron. Standing awkwardly behind Harry, Ron had also changed since she had last seen him. Now standing a full head and shoulders above her, his previously gangly frame had filled out substantially.

Hermione's eyebrows rose in spite of herself.

"Hey, Ron," she said, smiling up at him.

"Hey," he replied, in a deep baritone, "It's really good to see you, 'Mione. I -" He paused and scratched the back of his neck, a red blush creeping up his face,

"We missed you loa-" The wind was knocked out of him as Hermione pulled him into a fierce hug. His arms immediately wrapped around her and she felt his head rest atop hers. She hugged him as closely as Harry had her, and by the time she drew away, a tear had escaped her dark lashes.

"Come on," she mumbled, brushing the tear away impatiently, "I think we all could use a drink."