"I'm so, so sorry Hermione," he continued, avoiding her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's all my fault, I didn't realize – I mean, I thought you meant it when you said you wanted to forget, that you would do anything, anything – I didn't – didn't think that you and him were that serious."

"Ron!" There was a tinge of fear in her voice. "Do you mean -?"

"You obliviated her?!" Harry, incredulous and angry finally spoke up.

"Uhm . . . yeaah . . ." Ron squeaked.

"How did this happen?" Dumbledore surveyed the trio with concern. Hermione, having received the worst shock of her like, couldn't help but fix her eyes on Ron's clenched form and shake her head. Ron looked away from her, gaze lowered, shame tingeing his skin pink. Harry looked like he was ready to sock him in the jaw. Meanwhile, their professor simply stood there, dumbfounded. It was all he could do to let his emotion show in his face, mourning the children's lost innocence – yes, to him, they were still children, even if they were 16 and almost of age. No matter what they'd had to endure, what their actions or re-actions might have been, their follies, their romances, they were still children.

"How did this happen?" he repeated, looking carefully over at Ron.

"I don't want to hear it," Hermione hissed abruptly. Her expression was hard, fathomless. "Please leave, all of you. I'm sorry Professor, I can't dead with this right now."

Harry eyed Dumbledore questioningly, but the older man simply nodded and motioned for them to leave – Ron going first. As a Mediwitch stationed outside the door pulled it closed after them, Harry caught sight of Hermione practically leaping from the bed to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. But then the door shut completely and she was out of sight.

The party refrained from speaking until they had flooed back to Hogwarts and were, once again, standing in the Headmaster's office. Without a word, Dumbledore shook the ask off the periwinkle blue robe he wore and crossed the room to the cabinet which Harry knew to contain his pensieve.

"Ron," he began, "I think it would benefit Miss. Granger if she could see, when she was ready, what actually happened." Ron nodded stiffly. Harry looked as if he were about to say something, but Dumbledore interrupted his parted lips. "Harry, I think you should go and rest now. Please," he said pointedly.

A mutinous look passed over the boy's face, but he too nodded, and then left.

"What do you need, Professor?" Ron asked, after Harry had shut the door.

"Just your memory, Ron." He smiled, somewhat bitterly, as he approached his student and held his wand up to the mass of red hair. "Just remember what happened, all of it in every detail possible. Let me know when you are done."

Ron closed his eyes and concentrated on that afternoon, that summer's day. He could see the field in his mind's eye. It expanded below him like a green – what, postage stamp? Yes, that's what he had used to try and mail Harry a letter, years ago.

He was on his broom, flying in a downwards arc as a black ball shot out beneath him and gave a resounding clunk as it met with Hermione's head. Turning left, he saw her fall and flew in a nosedive towards her. Twenty feet from the ground he managed to grab onto the collar of her muggle polo shirt and gently deposit her on the ground. Summer breezes fluttered his robes listlessly as be dismounted beside her.

"Hermione, are you all right?" he asked, letting go of her shirt.

"Owww . . . yeah it does," she said, scowling and rubbing the back of her skull. She sat down in the grass with a huff and Ron followed suit. The ground was cool and dry, though the sun was almost at its zenith. The rest of the Quiddich game had paused, and Sirius had gone inside to fetch Molly. A hundred meters away, the played remained suspended in air like ink spots. The Weasley twins seemed impatient to continue.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" asked Tonks, flying over to where she was sitting.

"Yeah," the younger girl replied. "I just think I need to sit this one out, rest for a bit."

"O.k., you'll stay with her, won't you?" she asked Ron. He nodded.

"She's fine!" Tonks hollered, flying back towards the game. "Just taking a breather."

"Alright my side," Charlie shouted, flying circles around his little sister, "Let's put on a good show!"

"I'll fill in as goalie for Ron," George chimed in, and the game resumed.

Back on the ground, Hermione had started to quietly cry.

"What's wrong, "Mione?" asked Ron, letting go of his broom.

"It's – it's nothing," she croaked, sobbing into her knees.

"Does your head hurt that bad? Sirius should be back with my Mum soon . . ."

That seemed to make it worse. "No, she insisted, "That's exactly it! Sirius!" She sniffled. "We got into a fight –,"

"With Sirius?"

"Yeah, I like him a lot!" She backhanded the moisture off of her cheeks. "And he said the most horrible thing and I wish I could just go back to the way things were before I said anything to him – Everything is horrible now! I wish I could forget it ever happened, but I can't!"

"Hermione, it can't be all that bad . . ." Ron patted her shoulder, trying to calm the distressed girl.

"Oh, but it is!" She drew daggers with her eyes. "You wouldn't understand."

"Hermione!" He tried to put his hand on hers, but she flicked it away. "Would you really want to forget something like that? Wouldn't it be better to remember if he's said something so bad to you, I mean -,"

"No, you don't know what I'm talking about. Uck, nevermind!" She got up quickly, brushing the grass off the seat of her jeans.

"I'm so sorry," he said, giving her a hug. "I wish I could fix this for you."

"I do too." She rested her head on his shoulder and shivered, burying her nose in his too-big Quiddich robes. "Oh, Ron . . . if I could just forget it all . . ."

Lips pressed together, he fumbled in the pocket of his robe for the wand hidden there and pressed the tip to her back. "Obliviate – Sirius, argument," he whispered. A crackle of energy ran through the wood and dissipated through his friend's body.

"Wha-," she started to say, pulling away from the embrace. Her eyes were unfocused, but they quickly filled with the scene at hand. She had caught sight of the wand. "Ron, that's not yours! Were you about to do magic? That's so illegal outside of school!"

"It's Charlie's," he answered, exasperated. "I borrowed it this morning to hex Fred for slipping that nosebleed nougat into my stew last night."

"You can be so immature!" Hermione threw her hands into the air. "Really, boys! What if you'd been caught? I can't believe it!"

Ron rolled his eyes and followed her lead back to the game which had apparently just ended.

Maybe it didn't work? he thought. Or did it?

Harry had just caught the snitch and Tonks was changing her hair to various bright colors in celebration.

"That's it," said Ron, opening his eyes. Dumbledore pulled the thought away from his temple, a silver strand pulsing with white light.

"Thank you, Ron." He sighed. "You may leave now."

---

Thank you, readers! I hope this chapter answered some important questions you guys had. If you didn't get the clues leading up to this, go back and read the story from the beginning, they're there I promise. Comments, questions, criticism and flattery always appreicated.

Also! I am considering changing the story's title. It's kind of blah. Any suggestions?