Hermione was sitting cross-legged in Ron's lap, with his legs drawn forward and bent at the knee. His arms were wrapped around her slim waist, his fingers making light circles on the small of her back. She no longer found herself shivering or gawking at his touch. Instead, she found them more or less becoming a part of her. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, though her hands were resting on his head, toying with his hair every few minutes. She was leaning into him, and following him through their kiss, turning at every indication he gave. The feeling of his lips on hers was that of euphoria; Hermione felt sunlight streaming into her body. She pictured all these unnatural things happening: her heart swelling, her insides dancing, her mind no longer having a say in her actions. Only her heart was speaking, and only of her love for Ron.

A twig snapped, and interrupted her heart-spoken thoughts, along with that endless kiss. Ron and Hermione looked up immediately, with her 'wand at the ready'. Even though the war was over, Harry, Ron and Hermione kept their wands by their sides at all times, even in sleep, to take on any stray Death Eaters seeking revenge. Ron let out a small chuckle at the sight of their intruder.

"I don't think you need to stupefy the squirrel, 'Mione." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Oh hush, Ronald." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Make me," He retorted, sticking his tongue out at her. "Or... we could talk about why you're sitting all alone in a park, crying your eyes out." He folded his arms across his chest, and leaned back against the tree, waiting.

"Or," Hermione quickly countered, "We could talk about you. How are you and your family? I have every right to know. You can't deny me of that, you know. Besides, I've missed you guys like mad." She looked up at him with those enchanting, doe-like eyes; two manipulating things that Ron could never resist no matter how hard he tried.

He sighed. "I'm okay, I guess. I mean, things aren't exactly dandy at my house. The tension there is just... maddening. It's so hard to control myself and my anger. Some days I just feel like breaking all my furniture and ripping up all my books, and burning all my jumpers. Other times I just want to... you know... cry." His ears turned pink at this last confession. He felt insecure about crying, because he knew he was one of the few people who rarely shed tears. Frankly, he was depended on for that. "But I feel like I have to be strong, you know? Like, it's the least I can do to not cry and pretend like I'm okay. It just makes me one less person to worry about."

"You can't deny yourself like that, Ron!" Hermione said indignantly.

"But I need to, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rough. "For everyone! Mum is a mess right now! Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and I try to settle myself by walking around the house. I can hear her crying from her bedroom, and it just makes me feel so angry and so disappointed in myself! I start thinking about how I got poisoned in sixth year, and how I drove the flying car to Hogwarts with Harry when were twelve. It just makes me think about how Mum felt. I never understood how much she had to worry. It was always, "Bugger off, Mum. I'll be fine." I never realized how hard these types of things must be for her. And now I'm learning it the hard way."

It was overwhelming, hearing Ron talk like this. He never spoke about his emotions that much, nor did he come off as being able to comprehend them. Now, hear he was, leaning against a tree, talking freely about how he was feeling as if giving a report on the weather. But then, Hermione realized what exactly he was doing. He was finding comfort in her. Things were different between them now, meaning they could talk about these things without any hesitation. It was an act of trust, and love, and Hermione finally understood the immensity of Dumbledore's words when he emphasized the importance of love. It really was the greatest magic of all.

"But now," Ron began, interrupting the silence, "We need to talk about you, and how you feel. Mind you, I'm not Ginny, and I still probably have the emotional range of a teaspoon-"

Hermione cut him off by pulling his face towards hers for a chaste kiss. "You coming here to see me has helped enough," She said in a quiet voice. "Harry and Ginny are good at calming me down, but I find myself always seeking you out secretly. In fact, you're so important to me that it almost hurts. In a good way, though, if that even makes sense. But then again, things don't make much sense with you." Hermione blushed after finishing, but Ron's reaction surprised her.

Though he grinned at her last comment, his blue eyes burned with intensity, and he looked as if he was lost in a deep thought. "I never knew I meant that much to you."

"Oh come on, Ron. You can't be that daft." She playfully smiled at him.

He smiled back at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. "I didn't mean to call you dumb or anything-"

"Nothing's wrong," Ron murmured, picking up her hand and playing with her fingers. "I'm just kicking myself for not asking you out 5 years ago." He gave her an apologetic smile. "I always dreamed about this. I didn't know I could find it well and awake and alive right in front of me."

Hermione lifted his chin so that they were seeing each other eye to eye. Her caramel brown eyes reflected in his oceanic blue ones. "It was always here, Ron. It always will be."

"For how long?"

Hermione paused, before responding, "Forever and a day."


The unsettling passion between Ron and Hermione became stronger as the minutes passed, until Ron happened to glance down at Hermione's wristwatch. After screaming Bloody hell! a few times, and receiving several scoldings from Hermione, he cast the spell that omitted red sparks from his wand in a hidden thicket of trees. The two of them continued to stand there, hand in hand, waiting. Hermione removed her Chudley Cannons T-shirt lovingly, folding it with care and placing it in her beaded bag, while Ron busied himself by kicking a pebble. In a few minutes, they could see Harry frantically walking towards them.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, running up to Harry to give him a hug. "Thank you for coming. It means so much to me."

Harry pulled away, smiling broadly at her. "Don't mention it, Hermione. After all, what are non-related siblings for?"

She smiled at him, feeling considerably lighter. The appearance of her two best mates made such a difference towards her mood, and she chided herself for thinking such dismal thoughts earlier. Harry and Ron would always be there. It was like a magical contract; all three of them were bound together for life. She wouldn't have it any other way.

"Ah, Hermione," Kingsley said, making his presence known. While Harry had practically run towards the duo, Kingsley chose to walk at a slower pace. He didn't want to impose on the trio, who were clearly catching up and asking of each other's well being. It was an intimate moment for the Golden Trio, and Kingsley could clearly see barriers he was not to cross; this moment was too precious to interrupt.

Hermione blushed deeply and sighed, looking down at her shoes. She felt like such a child, and as if she could hear the reprimanding coming.

"It was most unfortunate for you to, shall we say; leave your parent's home like that."

Hermione nodded, waiting for the unavoidable scolding.

"It was most helpful that you chose to run to the business district, though. It made our search entirely easier, especially for Ron. After all, he is the one that found you first." His eyes twinkled.

Hermione gaped at him, completely shocked. In the course of a few minutes, she prepared a short apology in her head out of fear. Clearly, Kingsley did not pursue her for one. In fact, he seemed rather indifferent, as if setting off on a wild goose chase to find a teenage witch hardly bothered him.

"I'm terribly sorry-" Hermione began to say, opting to repeat her apology to the Minister regardless.

Kingsley, however, interrupted her, holding up his hand. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. I must say that the situation in your Australian home became rather out of hand very quickly. I don't think I've ever been called a 'Minister bloke' before. Of course, It doesn't help that I haven't been in this position for too long."

Harry and Ron looked amused, wondering what was said in Hermione's home, and Kingsley himself chucked jovially. "I'm only trying to lighten up the situation, dear. I hope you aren't too upset."

Hermione glanced at Ron, whose ears turned pink at her gaze. "Not anymore," she said calmly.

If Kingsley noticed the looks between Ron and Hermione, he did not press that matter any further. Instead, he began to explain to Hermione about his plan. He discreetly withdrew the Pensieve from his trouser pocket, and asked for Hermione's consent. She heartily agreed, and proceeded to stand beside Harry and Ron. She naturally linked arms with Harry, who continued to ask her if she was alright, Ron, who smiled shyly at her, and Kingsley, who apparated them all to Hermione's home.


Ron looked at Hermione's home with awe. Aside from Uncle Vernon's living room, he had never seen a Muggle home before, especially from the outside. It was nothing like the Burrow, which sat on a field that seemed to stretch forever. There was no chicken coop situated on the side of the house. Instead, a garden of intricate looking flowers seemed to weave around the house. There was a walkway that led to the front door, which looked as if it were made out of slabs of concrete. The house itself was shaped differently, not resembling the cylinder-shaped Burrow at all. The house was a deep shade of blue, which made him unconsciously touch his eyelids with his face. He wondered if Hermione noticed that small similarity. It looked fairly large, but Ron could never get used to the idea of houses sitting so close to each other. It just seemed mad. Then again, most Muggle things didn't appeal much to Ron, who usually questioned the point and the function of them. Either that or he couldn't figure out how to use them. Still, this house seemed welcoming, because for once, he was going to step into the life of another family without the grievances and troubles of his own.

Ron was interrupted out of his thoughts by the sight of Hermione's mother, who resembled her greatly. She had the same bushy hair, though it was lighter in color and tamed a bit. She wore comfortable clothing, and was beautiful in a way that Ron could not place. She instantly reminded him of his own mother, though, when she grabbed Hermione in a crushing hug.

"We were so worried about you, 'Mione!" Her mother's body seemed to crumple as she sagged an inch or two to hug the life out of her daughter. She lifted her head though, and caught sight of Kingsley, Harry, and Ron. She straightened up her body immediately, acknowledging Kingsley. "Minister, thank you for bringing her back."

"Don't mention it, Mrs. Granger." Kingsley gave her a comforting smile, and with her encouragement, he stepped through the front door, followed closely by Harry and Ron.

"Please, sir," She said, smoothing her hair with her hand, "call me Jean."

"Will do, Jean. Only if you promise to call me Kingsley." He smiled at her, before sitting down on a sofa. He noticed that Mr. Granger was nowhere to be seen.

"Mum, these are my friends-" Hermione began to say, but her mother interrupted her.

"Well, they're Harry and Ron, of course," She responded matter-of-factly. It was something that she tended to do. She chortled as Harry and Ron stared at her with looks of confusion. "Hermione has explained you two in great deal in her letters home, you know. Harry is the one with the black, messy hair that will never lie flat. He wears glasses, and has a scar on his forehead. His eyes are green. Ron is the one with the flaming red hair and the deepest blue eyes you will ever see." Hermione was blushing at this point and trying to shush her mother, who was amused at her daughter's antics. "He's about a foot taller than everyone, regardless of age."

Ron laughed, "Leave it to 'Mione to write an essay about us to her parents, eh Harry?" Even Harry could not suppress his chuckles, and soon, the four of them, including Hermione, were laughing.

"Ahem."

A voice came from the corner of the room, which made everyone's head's turn. Jack's father sheepishly stepped into the center of the room, looking meek and regretful. "Hermione, dear," He said, his arms outstretched.

These two words were enough for Hermione to slowly walk into his embrace. Frankly, his expression told her everything, and any anger she had felt a few hours earlier seemed unimportant now after seeing her father look so feeble. He gave her a tight squeeze, something Hermione hadn't received in the longest time.

"I owe you an apology," He said, looking at her intently, as if for the first time.

Hermione equally held his gaze. "I owe you an explanation."

He smiled sheepishly again, before responding. "I promise I'll actually listen this time. You deserve that much and so much more for all you've been through."

Hermione warmly smiled back, but still continued to look at her father quizzically. How had his perspective changed so much in less than a day? Hermione could only associate the reason with her mother, who was one of the few people able to sway her father's opinions. She made a mental note to thank her Mum later.

Kingsley cleared his throat. He gesticulated for everyone to settle in the living room, an open space with a few sofas, a coffee table, two end tables, and an assortment of lamps and other pieces of furniture. Mr. and Mrs. Granger sat themselves on a small sofa, which was big enough for two people. Hermione awkwardly sat down on the middle of a much bigger sofa, with Harry and Ron protectively sitting on either side of her. Kingsley, be default, sat himself on the loveseat. He neatly placed his two hands in his lap, leaning back a bit and adjusting to his seat. The entire room gazed at him expectantly.

"I'd like to start off first by explaining the objective of a Pensieve." He removed the Pensieve once again from his pocket, and set it on the coffee table. It was black, and resembled a small cauldron, with ancient carvings in a foreign language around the edge. Muttering Engorgio, he waited for Jean and Jack's awed expressions to subside before continuing. "A Pensieve is an object that is often used by wizards who feel their mind is too cluttered. It is of great use when one wants to examine something, like a memory, more closely. Which is exactly what this does; it allows you to view your memories."

"Amazing," Jack said softly. Not too long ago, he was furious with Hermione. However, his love of all things magical did not seem to be affected. In fact, out of the two parents, he held a greater interest in magic, along with its objects and laws.

"A memory is viewed by placing it in the Pensieve. The memory itself is extracted out of one's mind, using a wand." After conjuring a vial, he demonstrated this by pointing the tip of his wand to the corner of his forehead with a look of concentration. Harry felt a sense of familiarity envelope him, as he had seen Dumbledore do this several times. After placing the memory in a vial, Kingsley continued to speak. "When one is viewing a memory, he or she cannot affect anyone or anything in it. In other words, you can scream, shout, poke, or even curse, and it wouldn't make a difference. You will not be noticed, nor will you be able to touch anything. Now, we could sit around here and explain a year's course of events. And this passed year has been very rough, I can tell you that. Or, we could view a few memories, which would settle the matter quicker." After he finished speaking, he encouragingly smiled at the Grangers, who considered his idea.

"What do you think, Jack?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"He has a point, Jean. The Pensieve seems like the best option."

"The Pensieve it is, then," Kingsley said. "Who would like to go first?" He looked at Ron, Harry, and Hermione; all three of them had mingled expressions of fear and excitement. "Ah. I believe I am." He smiled at them understandingly, and placed his memory in the large, ornate object. The memory immediately began to swirl as neither liquid nor gas, much to Jack's astonishment. Once again, Hermione found herself linking arms with everyone in the room. She had never been in a Pensieve before, and though she had read about them many times, she still felt anxious. She was not the only one, though. Jean and Jack both looked skeptically at the object, despite their agreeing to use it. Kingsley, however, did not acknowledge their doubts as he linked arms with all of them and plunged his face into the Pensieve. Within seconds, the six of them were falling in what seemed to be a bottomless pit, until ground could clearly be seen. Kingsley and Harry both landed swiftly, having some experience, but the rest found trouble landed on their feet. Instead, they got a bit tangled on the ground. Their pains, however, did not bother any of them as they gazed in interest at the scene unfolding in front of them.

The six of them, along with those present in the memory, found themselves in a dark, dingy room. A young wizard came into view, and he was speaking into a microphone. Beside him sat an apprehensive-looking Kingsley, and a tired Remus Lupin. And so, Potterwatch began.


"We apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters. We've now found ourselves another secure location," Lee was saying, "and I'm pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!"

"Hi."

"Evening, River."

"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus," Lee went on, "let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell. A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.

"Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing the deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse- more evidence, as if needed, of the fact that the Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime.

"Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric's Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic.

"Listeners, I'd like to invite you now to join us in a minute's silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by Death Eaters."

A moment of silence fell among Lee Jordan, Remus, and Kingsley, who all looked deeply troubled.

"Thank you," said Lee's voice. "And now we turn to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle World."

"Thanks, River," said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring. "Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties."However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles' knowledge. I'd like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken."

"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'Wizards first'?" asked Lee.

"I'd say that it's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first' and then to 'Death Eaters'," replied Kingsley. "We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."

"Excellently put, Royal, and you've got my vote for Minister of Magic if ever we get out of this mess," said Lee. "And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature, 'Pals of Potter'."

"Thanks River," said another very familiar voice.

"Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you've appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?"

"I do," said Lupin firmly. "There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. 'The Boy Who Lived' remains a symbol of everything, for which we are fighting the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."

"And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?"

"I'd tell him we're all with him in spirit," said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. "And I'd tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right."

"And our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter's who are suffering for their allegiance?" Lee was saying.

"Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler," said Lupin.

"We have also head within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid, well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a 'Support Harry Potter' party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run."

"I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you've got a sixteen-foot-high half brother?" asked Lee.

"It would tend to give you an edge," agreed Lupin gravely. "May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch tonight applaud Hagrid's spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry's supporters against following Hagrid's lead. 'Support Harry Potter' parties are unwise in the present climate."

"Indeed they are, Romulus," said Lee, so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightening scar by listening to Potterwatch! And now let's move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I'd like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent.

""Rodent'?" said yet another familiar voice.

"I'm not being 'Rodent', no way, I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier'!"

"Oh, all right then. 'Rapier,' could you please give us your take on the various stories we've been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?"

"Yes, River, I can," said Fred. "As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You- Know-Who's running around the place."

"Which suits him, of course," said Kingsley. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself."

"Agreed," said Fred. "So, people, let's try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. IF it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."

"And the rumors that he keeps being sighted abroad?" asked Lee.

"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in?" asked Fred. "Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning on taking any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"

"Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier," said Lee. "Listeners, that brings us to to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be 'Mad-Eye.' Keep each other safe: Keep Faith. Good night."


The memory ended, and everyone felt an invisible cord pulling them back into the living room. Everyone had a different reaction to the memory they had just seen.

The Grangers looked very disturbed. At that moment, Jack felt so much gratitude towards his daughter for placing a memory charm on him, even if it did mean ending up in Australia. It was such an act of love and protection, and it kept them safe. The two parents finally understood how their daughter must have felt practically obligated to do it, as she clearly had foreseen the possibility of future murders.

For Harry, it was as if bad memories were flooding back. He remembered listening to this very broadcast, with Ron fiddling with the radio. Shortly afterwards, they had been captured by the Snatchers, and Dobby had died after rescuing him. The worst part was hearing Lupin's voice, reassuring him in an indirect way. Remembering how he had scathed at the werewolf for abandoning Tonks, but still feeling grateful that he was forgiven. Ginny, he thought. Focus on Ginny. Focusing on Ginny was the only thing that seemed to keep him out of his moods. And while Ron may have been Hermione's 'white knight', Ginny was definitely his 'white princess'.

Ron seemed frozen in shock to hear Fred's voice. It seemed impossible that he had openly talked to Hermione about everything not too long ago. Hearing Fred's voice though, did not comfort him in the least bit. It was only another reminder that he would never hear a good joke again, unless George came around. And that was unlikely. He tried to smile at the fact that Fred still had a positive attitude, even when Voldemort was at large, but every muscle in his body was aching, and he could not do it.

Hermione felt angry about the predicament her parents' could've found themselves in. Most of all, though, she felt a longing for all those who had died. It wasn't fair that Ted Tonks could never hold his grandson, or that an innocent Muggle family had to play the roles of victims in something they were completely unaware of. And she couldn't help but feel a bit of apprehension about Ron, who looked very pale and stiff. She had gone through this for almost a year, and yet to see a piece of it again in mere minutes was almost even more unbearable.

Kingsley was the only one who appeared to be calm, on the outside at least. He felt the same whirlwind of emotions, but he couldn't grieve here. Grieving to him was intimate, and he tried hard to keep a nonplussed demeanor. However, he was concerned. Though the Pensieve proved to be useful, it still was yielding other results. It had affected everyone, more than they probably could have guessed. The effects of a mere memory were very strong, and as Kingsley glanced around the room from face to face, he realized it was going to be a very long night.