Part 2 – (B)

At the End of the War

A/N: I will be focusing on the events and reactions that will be important to understanding the relationships of the characters for later on. So there will only be like 2 chapters dedicated to events during Hogwarts time and/or the immediate aftermath of the second wizarding war. These will have more diary entries than letters because it sets up the status of Hermione's life after the war. Also this chapter has very, very little interaction between Hermione and Draco. But much of this will be important later on. And I needed to tie up some loose ends. Just bear with me.

Thanks for the reviews from vmg and mcheri96, those of you who favorited or followed this story, and everyone else who read it. I really hope you enjoy the rest of this story and keep reading. And reviewing. It means the world to me. (I hope I don't let down any hopes you may have) The next chapter will be along quickly.

JK Rowling owns these characters, this world, and a piece of our hearts (mine at least).

"So many stories of where I've been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don't mean anything

When you've got no one to tell them to"

-Brandi Carlile, The Story

Present:

She continued to look down at the pages without meeting his eyes. "But the love of her life was not my father." She paused, mulling over the words in her head. "It was yours."

Rose looked up searching Scorpius' grey eyes for understanding and comfort, but only found a mirror to her own confusion. As he stared at her with growing concern, he picked up some of the pages from where she left off.

She ran her hand along his jaw. "Over the years, my mother had a tortured love affair with your father. They could never really be together because of their own stubbornness and times that they lived through. And well… some warped understandings of the 'greater good.'"

He let out a small laugh. "Come on, this is clearly a joke of some kind. Incredibly twisted, but some joke, maybe from Albus…"

Past:

21 March, 1997

I wish Harry would just leave it alone before he does something stupid. He has been following Malfoy around on the map constantly. While I think we should perhaps be concerned, I still don't know that Harry is right. Could Draco Malfoy really be a Death Eater? I don't know. But…there is something going on with Malfoy. I was walking back from the library last night and walked right into him. All of my books and parchment scattered around the floor. I bent down to gather them, and looked back up. He was just standing there. No sneer. No harsh remark. It almost seemed that he was confused as to why he was there, or I was there, or what had happened. "Malfoy?"

I was standing so close to him. I could see the bags under his eyes. His hair hung limply over his eyes. His overall appearance had a haggard quality to it.

He shook himself and set a sneer on his face. "Careful where you are going Granger, or you may get yourself hurt." Then he was just gone. I wasn't sure if it was a word of caution or a threat, but it was certainly not what Malfoy was known for.

For the past 5 years, Draco Malfoy had been a constant pain in the arse. He always oozed cold superiority as he looked down at me, Ron's family, and anyone else that crossed his path. He fought to best me in nearly every subject, only to come in second. He had always kept himself the picture of perfection. Early in the year, his arrogance seemed to be at a new level. He had strut through the halls with renewed arrogance. He had threatened us in Madame Malkins' with his usual fervor. But now…he just seems different. He seems lost.

If he was a Death Eater like Harry says, why not take the opportunity to mock me? Call me a filthy little mudblood? Look down at me for any number of things? Ask me to swipe the filth of his robes? Or some other derogatory comment? If he is a Death Eater now, why would he be less aggressive? He seems like a shell of himself without the fire, arrogance, and audacity of the boy who would mock me for my heritage, who would compete with me for grades, or who would drive us all mad for the sole purpose of riling us up.

But since Christmas this year, he had rarely interacted with anyone else. He rarely made so much as a snide comment to anyone. He skipped classes and paid little attention to what was going on when he did. Instead of the cool, untouchable façade, he seemed unhealthy and ragged. Scared even. So, he has certainly changed…But why?

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 July, 1997

How could this happen? Death Eaters in Hogwarts? Professor Snape killed Albus Dumbledore? And it was also set up by Draco Malfoy? It just doesn't make sense.

I let Snape walk right by me on his way to kill Professor Dumbledore. I didn't even suspect a thing. Meanwhile, Professor Flitwick lay unconscious in Professor Snape's office. Meanwhile, Order members are fighting in the hallways. Meanwhile, Harry watches Malfoy threaten to kill Professor Dumbledore. I just stood guarding an empty hallway near students and let the real murderer walk right past me.

It seems impossible to think that we can live in a world without Professor Dumbledore to guide us, or having the sacred safe haven of Hogwarts. No matter how close we came to death over the last few years, there was always a feeling that as long as we were at Hogwarts, nothing truly bad could happen here. Especially with Dumbledore here.

Bill is still recovering from Greyback's attack. And we are making funeral preparations for Professor Dumbledore. I find it all so hard to believe this could happen. Yet this is what we have been fearing. This war. We have all experienced tragedy the years prior, but this attack has robbed us of any sense of refuge and safety we had managed to maintain. If Voldemort's followers could infiltrate Hogwarts and kill one of the greatest wizards that ever lived, what else could they do? What hope do we have? Nothing will ever be the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 1997

I am not entirely sure of the date anymore. We have been camping out here for months. It is so strange to be out here so separated from the rest of the world as it falls apart. To be honest I have been avoiding writing anything down for fear that it could be found and used against us if…something goes wrong.

The horocrux gains a stronger hold of us every day.

The locket has an effect on all of us, but Ron seemed to lose all rationality under its influence. I wish he acknowledged that wearing it has been hard on all of us. I can feel the pressures of this search, the doubt, and fear that I will never see my parents again. Just like Ron, I think about all the people that could be dying, that we might never see again. I think about my failure to be able to figure out the next step. But none of it is Harry's fault. Or mine. Or Ron's. I know that.

When Ron left, I couldn't believe it. He abandoned us; he abandoned our mission over a ridiculous, juvenile paranoid accusation.

Harry is my brother. Ron is my…something…

Ron asked me to choose between him or Harry. But how could he not see that he asked me to choose between running away with him or helping Harry: save lives, change the world, and defend my own existence?

What if we can't complete the mission left by Professor Dumbledore? What happens then? What if the books I brought aren't enough. I still have not managed to figure out why Professor Dumbledore left me a children's book. I have read it cover to cover so many times that I could recite it aloud. The margins are filled with notes, looking for hope that something will be triggered at some point. There is a symbol that I know it have seen before, but I am having trouble placing it in my head…

I don't know exactly what we should do next.

But we must continue. We cannot lose hope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

December, 1997

Ron came back. A right Christmas present, I suppose. All that nonsense about following a little light to his heart. Honestly. I mean. I am glad he is back. So very glad. But something was broken between all of us when he left. I will try to go back to the way things were before. But it's there.

Right now we have more important things to consider. Another horocrux down and maybe four more to go? Diary, ring, locket. If there really are seven, we still have to find four. But we still don't know anything for sure: if there are seven, what they all are, where they are, or what this has to do with the book Professor Dumbledore left for me.

I do believe that I recognized the symbol in the book from a necklace that Mr. Lovegood was wearing at the wedding. But that doesn't really offer any guidance. There is no guarantee that we would get much help if we managed to safely find him. He is just as likely to rattle off some information about nargles as anything useful… All we know is that it is something to with Grindelwald and a grave in Godric's Hollow.

We do have more hope now. Ron, Harry, and I. And we have the sword. Once we find the other horocruxes, we will be able to destroy them. We will be able to do this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

10 May, 1998

It's all over.

Voldemort was defeated. We won. We are alive.

Yet we still lost so many others. We spent most of the week attending and organizing funerals for all those who died during the battle. But it seems as though there has been no time to slow down. We have barely had time to take stock of our lives. Everything is in a constant up and down. Funerals and celebrations. With emotions of relief and sorrow so overpowering, it is hard to sort out how I feel about anything. I feel like the adrenaline is still pumping through my veins, pushing me forward.

But Ron and Harry promised me that today we would leave for Australia to track down my parents. Thankfully I haven't had much time to contemplate how they are since the battle, because it has been so chaotic. But every day that passes it weighs on me more.

I told Harry and Ron I would wait for them before going out to search for them, because we don't know what we will find or how long it will take. While we all needed time to unwind and heal with those who had survived the war, I need to do this and I don't think I can wait any longer. The Weasleys and the rest of my family in the wizarding world mean so much to me. But it's still not quite the same as my own family.

This morning I went down to kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. I took a few moments to just breathe in the comforting aroma of my earl grey. I heard a shuffling down the hall. "Hello Mr. Weasley," I said as he came around the corner.

He gave me a half smile, poured himself some pumpkin juice, and sat down with me at the table. "How are you doing, Hermione?"

"Reasonably well. All things considered." I paused and looked down into the mug clasped between my hands. "How are you doing, sir?"

"Well…it has been a bit tough for all of us, hasn't it?" The silence fell around them. He was looking around trying to focus on something else to prevent the tears from falling again. "I am afraid we will be running out places put the pies soon." He said finally.

I breathed what could have been a laugh in other circumstances. Ever since things started to settle down Mrs. Weasley had taken her doting on everyone to a new level. At times it seemed that she was afraid if she stopped moving, she would fall apart. Mostly she ended up baking pies continuously to send to other families and friends. Everyone was dealing with the loss in their own way and we were all beginning a new world. I opened my mouth to say something when we heard a thud above us.

"Bloody hell," came Ron's grumble as he walked down the stairs. I raised an eyebrow in question as he came into view. "Does it have to be this bright in here?"

I laughed. "Perhaps if you weren't hung over, it wouldn't bother you. Honestly, Ronald I don't know what you expect to happen when you consume half bottle of firewhiskey on your own."

Ron came around the table and kissed me on the top of the head. "Morning." He said as he slid into the seat next to me. I felt my cheeks burn.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, "Well better go check on Molly and let her know you all are waking up." He left the room and headed back down the hallway from which he had come.

"Nervous?" Ron asked before he began shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

I scrunched up my nose at his display. He was trying though, so I shrugged it off. "Yes." I took a sip of tea. "I don't know how to feel. I am excited, nervous, terrified, and cautiously optimistic."

"They'll be fine. We will see your parents soon and it will all work out." He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I found comfort in his arms and allowed myself to sink into his embrace. I wrap my arm around his waist and pulled him closer, breathing in his warm scent.

Ever since that kiss during the final battle, Ron and I have been nearly inseparable. After all these years, we moved from friends to a relationship with relative ease. That kiss had been something to remember. After all the waiting, all the anticipation, that kiss was everything I had hoped it would be. It was the kind of kiss that I didn't know was possible. While people talk a lot about fireworks, I always thought it was just lyrical embellishment. But in that moment I felt the fireworks. It was a kiss that I felt down to my toes. It feel like anything is possible. In that moment knew that our fights, jealously, and disappointment had led to something that would be worthwhile. This would work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

14 May, 1998

My parents are safe. They have been living in a small house just outside the suburbs of Sydney. A seemingly blissfully happy life as Monica and Wendell Wilkins without me. Harry, Ron, and I have been monitoring them for last few days. I was so relieved the first time that we saw them again I broke down and cried. Ron held me gently and smoothed my back, as Harry investigated more.

Healer Margaret Wiggenhardt arrived by portkey two days ago to evaluate my parents. She is a specialist from St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward, Memory Charms Division. She posed as a local muggle doctor that they had an appointment with so that she would be able to ask them questions and run tests without raising too many unnecessary questions and concerns. I sat in the chair looking out the window biting my lip and tapping my fingers along the edge of the chair arm. She was due back any minute to inform us of my parents' evaluation results. Ron came over a placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. I tried to pull up a matching smile but failed. I heard the roar of the floo behind me. I bolted out of the chair and turned around wand raised, and saw Healer Wiggenhardt. She gave an apologetic smile. With trepidation and relief, I lowered my wand and approached her.

She settled herself on to the couch and motioned for me to do the same. I hesitated and looked over at Ron before following her lead. He nodded and took a seat in an arm chair next to me. Harry moved into the room from the small kitchen and leaned against the doorway watching. Looking into her eyes I search for some kind of indicator as to my parents' fate. She had kind blue-green eyes and round face. Her wavy graying hair was pulled back under her cap. Everything about her seemed soft around the edges, but there was a steely reserve in the way she carried herself. "Miss Granger…"

"Please just tell me everything." I blurted out.

She nodded firmly. "Your parents are in near perfect health. They have been kept quite well for here in Australia. The charms you placed on them were near perfect. They have had no lingering effects, as of yet. No migraines, flashes, or hallucinations. They believe firmly that their lives have always been lead as Monica and Wendell Wilkins. They have no recollections of you as their daughter at the moment." She paused.

Hearing the last statement caused a sense of guilt and sorrow twist in my chest. I realized that so far all of this sounded good, if not bittersweet. But the difficult part would be in what she said next.

She spoke with a hint of admiration and caution. "Your charms have been performed quite well. Clean margins in their memories so that they have been able to adapt to successfully. There is good chance that when we proceed with the therapy and reversing the memory charms they will be able to adapt and make the connections between their lives as they are now and how they once were with you. In that case, it would be a relatively basic process of working with them and helping the mind along in the process. With therapy, they would be able to choose what parts of each life they will continue to possess…But with such clear delineations in their memories and the fact that they are muggles, there are some concerns about how they will respond to therapy."

I chewed on my button lip. "So what does that mean?"

"It means as I have said, there is chance that once we attempt to bring back their memories it will go smoothly and with time, they will remember their lives before this, you, and their time in Australia with some very minor side effects. Or the therapy could result in their minds being unable to make sense of the fact that they can recall two sets of memories so clearly separate from one another that they never be able to full accept one or the other. This is of special concern in their case because they are muggles and we don't know how the introduction of magic will truly effect the process. Also they may not trust the memories from their prior lives, but will simultaneously question their lives here…leaving them in a state of uncertain reality. And once we begin therapy, regardless of the outcome, there will be no going back."

Healer Wiggenhardt let it sink in for a moment before continuing. "They would unable to cope with their lives independently. We would have to relocate them to St. Mungo's most likely."

My mind was reeling, my breath escaped me. I closed my eyes and attempted to calm myself. After a moment of silence I asked, "What are their chances of either outcome?"

"It is difficult to say, but I would estimate 50-50 either way. Had they not been muggles, I would have said 80% chance of successful memory reintegration, but it is much more difficult to predict how they will respond to so much magical exposure and the knowledge of their past life."

Ron reach out to me in comfort, "Well…could be worse."

When I opened my eyes, they flicked from Ron to Harry. Harry still stood next to me, silent. His brows were knitted together, his arms were crossed, and his expression brooding deep in thought. I looked back into Healer Wiggenhardt's eyes. "What if they stay the way they are? What if we never introduced therapy or reversing the charms?"

She gave a weak smile. "I feel confident saying they would be able to live happy, safe lives as Monica and Wendell here in Australia without any side effects from the memory charms you placed on them. Of course we would monitor them periodically to check for signs of deterioration."

I bit my lip again, weighing the options. "So if I decided to try and get there memories back there is no way to change my mind, but if I left them here to live their lives as is the Wilkins, I could try a in few years maybe?"

"Well that is mostly true. It does become more difficult to regain their memories in this type of situation the longer they spend living this life. The more residual memories they have from this life, could make it more difficult for them to accept their old ones. You're odds are the best they are going to be."

"So this decision should be made soon…" I looked down at the coffee table. My own smiling face with Ron stared back at me from the cover of Witch Weekly. It was picture taken from outside of a local ice cream parlor. The headline read, "War Heroes on Vacation in Australia: Well Deserved Reprieve or Shirking Responsibilities to Rebuild?"

What are my responsibilities now? What do I owe my parents? I was the one that took their memories. Without their consent. Yet I am making the decision about which life they would want: the life of ignorance is bliss or the life they worked for and our family?

"Miss Granger, I advise you take some time and consider this seriously. The therapy will be a delicate process that will take time and lead to uncertain results. Contact my office when you have made your decision." She smoothed out her cloak and skirt as she stood up to leave.

After I walked her back to the fireplace, I leaned my back against the wall next to it. Do I risk their happiness and sanity to try to get their memories back? Or do I let them live out their lives without me knowing if they will be happy and without me?

I don't know what I want to do. I don't know what I should do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

16 May, 1998

I spent the last two days thinking about my choice and it is not any clearer to me than it was before. The night we met with Healer Wiggenhardt, I was standing outside resting my cup of tea on the banister around the balcony of our rented flat looking out in the direction of my parents' cottage just out of sight. I heard the sliding door open and close behind me. Harry came over and stood next me in silence.

"I don't know what to do. I have done the reading. I have consulted the experts. I just don't know what to do. There is so much uncertainty."

I didn't need to look at him to know that he nodded his head.

"Harry, what should I do?" I looked over at him as he pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"I think this is a decision you need make on your own."

I exhaled and looked back over the town around us. "How can I make this decision on my own? I am determining the fate of both my parents, not just myself. This is their lives I would be risking."

"Your parents would understand no matter what you choose." Out of the corner of my eye I see Harry look over at me with a slight smile. ''You just have to follow your instincts. They haven't led you wrong yet."

For a moment, I feel my own lips curve into a smile. "I suppose…But Harry…what if it was your parents?"

For a moment of silence, I didn't know if he was going to respond. "I would love to be a part of their lives anyway I could, but I don't know if I could risk losing them to do so. But I have never known them. I have never seen them alive. As much as I would love to have them as parents, I would love just to be able to get know them. I wouldn't be recovering memories, I would be creating new ones one way or another." I nodded. "Do whatever you think is best. And whatever happens, you need to be able to live with your choice, good or bad." Then he left me alone to think more about everything.

There is just so much uncertainty. There are even chances either way. There is no way to expect one thing or another. There is no factual, logical path that I should follow. Well I suppose that's not entirely true. If I leave them be in this life…they will be fine. So that would be the proper choice, right? To let them exist here. And maybe like Harry, I could be involved in their lives like this. Not as their daughter, but a friend? Although that might be strange…

Actually I don't know that I could be around them without my parents knowing who I am. Truth be told, I feel like I don't know anything. I miss them so much. I want them back more than anything, but I don't know that taking this kind of risk is the right thing to do.

So, I needed to see them. I needed to see for myself what it would be like if I met them in this life. What it would be like to develop a relationship with them in this life. Well that was part of the reason. The other reason was that it was killing me to stay away from them. Every day I have watched them: pick up groceries, go for walks, and cook dinner. After months of thinking about them, they were just within reach, but still too far away.

So today I approached their front gate, I could see my mother crouched over a flower bed pulling up weeds. It was a favorite past-time of hers at home. "You have a lovely garden."

"Thank you!" She brushed the hair and dirt across her forehead with the back of her wrist. She squinted into the sun behind me until her eyes focused. "Do I know you?"

"No," I felt my eyes brim the tears. I refocused my gaze down the street. "I am actually looking to move into the neighborhood, and I wanted to know how you liked living here."

"Oh it's a lovely area! My husband and I have lived here for… just about a year now. We always wanted to live in Australia, and last year we decided that there was no time like the present." She stood up and removed her gardening gloves. "Would it be your family or just you?"

"Just me." It came out as nearly a whisper.

A kind smile spread across her face, although it lacked the loving warmth I was used to. "First time living alone?"

I nodded.

She reached out gave my arm a squeeze, "I'm sure they will miss you."

I looked up into her eyes. My voice was caught in my throat. Everything I missed about her threatened to spill out.

I remembered making pancakes in the kitchen with her. I thought about when she tucked me into bed at night as a child. How we always discussed our favorite books over dinner. How I would catch her up my adventures at Hogwarts. I thought about how she scolded me when I ate a whole bag of candy at the age of six. I remembered her kissing my knee when I fell off my bike. I remembered how she always made sure that I felt loved and special.

"Monica!" The warmth in my father's rich baritone rang out as he approached them. "Who is this?"

"Oh dear, I actually didn't catch your name." My mother said.

"Oh it is…not important." Looking at both of their smiling faces without any flicker of recognition suddenly became too much. I started to see the flashes of memories of my childhood: laughing at my father's corny jokes, singing in the car with my mother, their encouraging words of praise-

"I actually have to get going." I took a step back. If I didn't leave right then, I was afraid I will throw myself into their arms or fall apart. But I paused. "So…so you have everything need here? You're happy?"

My mother smiled. "Yes, we have been very happy here. And for just the two of us its perfect." If I hadn't known my parents better, I would have missed the glance between them and the way my father comforted her by squeezing her shoulder. They missed having a family. They missed having a child. They missed me. And they didn't even know why.

I smiled briefly before leaving. With each step I thought of another memory. The notes my mother would leave my lunch. The way my father liked three sugars in his tea. The voices he used to portray children's book characters. The way I would see them dance after dinner some nights. Christmas mornings around the tree. Birthday parties. Smiles. Laughter. Hugs. Hope. Love.

Suddenly I was running back to the flat, past Ron and Harry. I threw myself down on the bed and cried into a pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~()~~~~~~~~~~~~

17 May, 1998

Pain. I was only aware of pain. All the nerve endings in my body flared at once. It was the type of pain that can only be felt from one unforgivable act. Terror coursed through my veins. I became aware of more sense as I suddenly awoke. The volume of noise around me reverberated in my head. I was thrashing as someone gripped my wrists tightly. I realized some of the noise that pounded around me was escaping from my own mouth. I slammed it shut.

The world around me began to make sense. Ron was the one holding my bruising wrists at arm's length away from him. The noise that was still heard around me was his screaming. "HERMIONE! What is wrong? What happened? What are you doing?!"

I began taking shallow breaths. I noticed Harry bracing himself in the doorway. It was apparent that he had just ran down the hall in concern. "I…I don't know…" I said.

"Are you ok?" Ron asked.

I regained some of my composure and evened out my breathing. "Yes, I think so. What is going on?"

"You were screaming bloody murder and thrashing about. I thought something was wrong. But I think you were sleeping." I managed to pull my wrists out of his iron grip. I rub each of them, willing away his hand prints that have been etched into my skin.

Seeing that the situation seemed to be under control, Harry scrubbed his face with his palms. "I'll go put on a pot of tea." He mumbled before walking back down the hallway of the rented flat.

"Hermione," Ron began. "Is this about your parents?"

"It's…" not. I almost said. But when I looked into his eyes I saw them filled with sorrow, but hint of hope. But hope for what I was not sure. "…It is." We were all mending. Having only one problem of my own that we all had to deal with is probably enough.

"I knew it!" He smiles at me and tucks me under his arm. "I have been thinking. We should at least try. The chances aren't that bad. Everything's worked out so far. And there hasn't ever been something you couldn't do."

I shifted my weight and position uncomfortably. "But Ron, we don't know what will happen. I don't know if I could live with myself if they are left in a state where they unable to function or enjoy their lives. I just don't know if it would be worth the risk."

In a joyous joking tone he said, "Come on 'Mione, where is your Gryffindor courage?" Ron tugged me towards him a little more and laughed. In a more serious tone, "How could you live with yourself if you don't even try?" I turned within his grasp to look up at him with trepidation. I don't know what to say. "We can do this. We can get your parents back," and he smiled at me.

I bit my lip, and I felt my head begin to nod. I began to think about everything we had gained over the past months alone. We were teenagers that had defeated a great evil in the world, something that had seemed impossible. I thought about what I missed from my parents. I thought about what the future could be with my family and the Weasleys gathered around for holidays. Through the warm comforting scent of his embrace, I felt the hope for the future. So when Ron told me it was going to be ok, I let myself believe him. I let myself take comfort in him. I knew that whatever would happen he would be there. I let myself believe that we could fix anything. Even this.