I think we all used to be under the impression that when the war was finally over, life would immediately turn pleasant and easy and everything would simply be perfect.
It was a silly notion, yes. And in our heart of hearts, I don't think even we truly believed it.
But it was our goal. It was what we fought so hard for, and it would simply be cruel for anyone to openly point out the improbability of it all. That no one we loved would have to die. That none of us would have to feel the pain of being left behind. That we wouldn't still have fears and nightmares and gaping holes in our hearts.
Oh, what we all would have given for that silly notion to be true.
Hermione sat on the windowsill, her book lying forgotten in her lap, as she stared out the window at one lone figure resting against a tree. He hadn't changed position for what seemed like hours, and the sun was slowly beginning to set. With a deep sigh, she gently laid the book aside and made her silent trek down the rickety stairs of the Burrow and through the back door, avoiding Mrs. Weasley and Ginny on her way out.
She made her way over to him slowly, so as not to startle him.
"Hey," Hermione said, softly.
Harry's head snapped up, but he quickly relaxed as he saw who it was.
"Hey," he replied, his voice sounding slightly gravelly from lack of use.
He then turned his head to face the small pond before him once more.
Unperturbed, Hermione carefully took a seat on the ground next to him, letting a contemplative silence fill the air as she absentmindedly pulled at the blades of grass around her. Surprisingly, she didn't feel much discomfort at the lack of exchange. After living in that scruffy tent for nearly a year, there was no such thing as having a lull in conversation between them. Silence was simply silence and it felt almost natural.
"Where are the others?" Harry asked after some time.
"Mrs. Weasley and Ginny are in the kitchen and…Ron's up in his room."
There was no need to state where George was. For the past three weeks he had only ever left his room to use the loo.
As if on cue, Hermione's insides squeezed painfully. Being here at the Burrow, it was especially hard to accept the reality of Fred's death. She always expected him to burst through the door at any moment wearing some ridiculous new outfit and raving on about a new product that she could only roll her eyes at.
So many times Hermione wished she could remember the last thing she had said to him. Whether it was good or bad. Whether she had ever told him just how brilliant she really thought his work was.
And as always, thoughts of Fred soon led into thoughts of Remus and Tonks and every other person who she would never see again.
And then to her parents….
Shutting her eyes, Hermione took in a shaky breath. She had wanted to head to Australia the instant they arrived at the Burrow, but she had felt so terribly guilty at dropping everyone and leaving. After all, they needed her now more than ever. Her parents were safe, she reasoned. She would go in few days.
However, as the days slowly turned into weeks she was starting to grow more and more restless.
"Harry," she said, finally.
"Hmm," he responded, still staring straight ahead.
"I…I need to bring my parents back," she stated quietly.
This time, Harry turned his entire body to face her direction as a look of shame flashed in his eyes.
"Oh Merlin, Hermione, I completely forgot about that," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sosorry."
"No no, it's not your fault, Harry!" she replied quickly, surprised by his reaction. "If anything, it's mine. I don't even know why I've delayed this for so long. I mean, at first I just didn't want to leave everyone, but…I don't know…I think I'm just afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
Hermione sighed, pulling a bit roughly at a large clump of grass.
"There's a reason Memory Charms are dangerous, Harry," she said, staring at the clump in her hands.
She didn't say anything for a moment as she continued to stare, but she could feel his eyes on her.
"They're highly unstable and can sometimes have unprecedented effects which can, depending on the subject, be long-lasting," she stated as if she were simply answering a question in class.
"Like what happened with Lockhart," Harry said quietly.
Hermione nodded.
"But Hermione...you're brilliant at Charms," he continued in a small voice. "If anyone could have cast it perfectly, it would be you."
She sniffed softly, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep any tears at bay. "So many things could have gone wrong," she said in a strained voice, looking up at him finally.
But as her eyes met green, a calming warmth instantly seemed to spread throughout her body.
"They'll be okay, you'll see," he said confidently. "When should we go? Do you want to leave tomorrow?"
Her forehead creased slightly. "Harry…you don't have to come with me. I mean, I didn't even expect you to…"
"Why wouldn't I come with you?" he asked, his brows knitted in confusion.
"Well, I don't know…I thought you might want to stay here with the Weasleys," she replied.
"I'm not going to let you go alone," he said, as if stating the obvious.
"I don't need your protection," Hermione said in exasperation.
"This isn't about protecting you," he stated incredulously. "Believe me, I know you can do that plenty well yourself."
"Then what's it about?"
His eyes shifted left to right. "I dunno—being there for you…" he spluttered out, as if the words seemed too uncomfortable to admit aloud.
Hermione stared at him for a moment before allowing a small, amused smile to form on her face.
"I mean it, Hermione," he added. "You were by my side through everything. It's my turn now."
She hadn't known just how much she craved his touch until she threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace. The feel of his arms placed gently around her, holding her and supporting her made her feel so incredibly whole that she never wanted to let go. She breathed him in deeply as she rested her head on his shoulder, his familiar scent sending her heart aflutter.
After a while she reluctantly pulled away. "Thank you," she said sincerely, looking into his eyes.
His face immediately hardened, however. "There's nothing to thank me for," he replied, turning his head away.
Hermione thought this statement absurd especially considering his most recent accomplishment, but somehow she didn't think she should voice this aloud.
"Maybe you don't think so, Harry," she said, sighing. "But I have to strongly disagree with you."
He didn't respond. He didn't even look at her.
Hermione smiled sadly to herself before standing up from her spot on the ground. "C'mon, it's getting dark," she said, proffering her hand to him.
He accepted it, letting her pull him up, and the pair walked wordlessly back to the house.
Dinner that night was a quiet affair, as usual, with everyone picking at their food dispassionately. Mrs. Weasley, looking older than Hermione had ever seen her, set to preparing George's plate to be sent up to his bedroom, as had been the daily custom these past three weeks.
"I'll send it up, Mum," Ginny offered, pushing her plate of uneaten food away from her.
"No," Mrs. Weasley replied, staring determinedly at the table as she stood up. "George is eating with us tonight."
Everyone glanced up surreptitiously at this proclamation.
"I will not allow him to lock himself in that room any longer. Enough is enough," she stated in a no-nonsense manner.
Though Hermione was sure she could detect a definite waver in her voice.
"Mum…" Ron said, almost tiredly.
Mrs. Weasley ignored him, however, as she marched up the stairs resolutely.
No one dared say a word as they all waited with bated breath for the impending disaster that was sure to transpire.
And sure enough, not moments later, they could hear shouting emanating from the second floor landing. Not for the first time, Hermione felt as if she was invading on the very personal and private lives of the Weasleys, and she tried her best to not make eye contact with Ron or Ginny lest they grow even more uncomfortable with the situation.
She could hear Ginny sniffling quietly and her heart ached terribly for her friend. But before she could even think of some way to comfort her, her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Weasley bounding noisily down the steps, her own sobs increasing steadily in volume. The woman raced past all of them toward the back door of the kitchen, slamming it shut behind her and causing them to jump slightly.
The silence that ensued at the table was nearly deafening now, and Hermione could feel her face heating up at the tension.
"Why don't you go after her," Ron suggested to Ginny quietly.
Hermione looked up to see Ginny's eyes flash with anger. "Why don't you, Ron?" she bit back. "Or have you forgotten that she's your mother, too? I'm with her every second of the day trying to comfort her while you wallow up in your room as if you're the only one who feels any pain! Well, you're not!"
Ginny slid her chair back roughly, tears falling freely down her face now as she ran up the staircase, slamming her bedroom door behind her.
At that moment Mr. Weasley walked through the kitchen, having just returned home from work. "What's happened? Why is your mother outside?" he asked Ron, the exhaustion clear in his voice.
"She tried to get George to come down and eat with us," he replied.
Mr. Weasley sighed heavily as he pulled out a chair and slumped against it. With an unpleasant jolt, Hermione noticed that where once the man's balding hair was as bright and fiery as his children's, it had now turned almost completely grey.
"Why don't you three head upstairs," he said in an understanding tone. "I'll clean up here."
Hermione felt a rush of sympathy for the Weasley patriarch, and once again found herself wishing there was something, anything she could do to lessen the immeasurable grief felt by each and every member of the once joyful family. But there was nothing.
Up on the first floor landing, Hermione turned to Harry who, like her, had not said a word throughout dinner.
"I don't think we should leave tomorrow."
"Hermione…" he began, as if to disagree with her.
"Ginny needs me, Harry. Now more than ever. You saw how upset she was," she insisted quietly.
"Yes, but your parents need you, too," he reminded her.
As if she needed the reminder.
Hermione swallowed hard. "I know. I just—let me just talk to her first. I'm worried about her."
Harry gave a long-winded sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly underneath his glasses. "I understand, Hermione. I just wish you could worry about you for once," he said, turning from her and ascending up the stairs.
She internally scoffed, thinking about how absurdly hypocritical that statement was coming from Harry Potter of all people.
Nonetheless, Hermione knocked on Ginny's door softly and proceeded to enter when she heard a muffled "come in."
She found Ginny sitting cross-legged on her bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest as if afraid it might disappear from her. She was no longer crying, but her eyes were red and puffy as she stared ahead at some indistinct point on the wall.
Hermione wordlessly approached her and took a seat on the bed.
"Ron's a prat," Ginny stated, sounding slightly congested.
"I know."
She sighed, leaning back against the headboard and closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't even have the energy to be angry at him, though," she said, staring up at the ceiling.
"Everyone mourns differently, Ginny," Hermione said softly. "You might not be afraid to show your emotions in front of your mum or your dad or even your brothers. But…maybe Ron is afraid."
"That still gives him no excuse to just forget about everybody else," the redhead replied, gritting her teeth roughly.
"I know," Hermione agreed sadly. "And it's not fair to you, I know. You may all be hurting equally, but Ginny…if you're strong enough to bring some comfort to your family, then you should use that strength."
Hermione watched as she picked silently at a loose thread on her pillow.
"What if I can't be strong anymore?" she replied finally, a fresh wave of tears falling rapidly down her face.
Hermione immediately positioned herself right next to Ginny and wrapped her arms around the now shaking girl, gently smoothing down her hair. She could feel her own eyes starting to blur with unshed tears as the knot in her heart grew tighter.
Never in her worst nightmares did she think she would have to hold a sobbing Ginny in her arms. Happy, witty, fiery Ginny. It was just too unnatural, too outrageous.
"I just miss him so much," she whimpered, attempting to catch her breath as she hyperventilated. "I miss him so much."
Hermione felt a wetness on her own cheeks now and shut her eyes painfully as the girl continued this shaky mantra over and over until she was too exhausted to say one more word. For a moment it even seemed that she had fallen asleep. But then just like that, Ginny was sitting up again, pillow in her arms and staring at the wall as if nothing had happened since Hermione had entered the room.
The two girls sat in silence for a long time, both dwelling on their individual thoughts. Then suddenly, Ginny sighed, shaking her head and giving a sniff of what could have been amusement.
Hermione stared curiously at the girl, and sure enough her lips seemed to upturn into the smallest of smiles and her eyes held a spark of life that had been absent for some time.
"You know, whenever I think about him…all I can remember are his stupid pranks and gags and his mischievous smirk and cheeky tongue. How can he make me want to laugh, even now?" she asked, almost desperately.
"Oh, Ginny…don't you see?" Hermione replied, taking hold of the girl's shoulders. "That's exactly what he would have wanted! To make you laugh. To make everyone laugh."
"I know…but…it's just…."
Ginny groaned in frustration, seeming unable to express her thoughts in words. Then finally she spoke: "Will it ever get easier? Tell me it'll get easier. Please, Hermione. Lie to me if you have to."
"Ginny…I—I know that I can't even begin to imagine how you must be feeling," she started slowly. "But you and your family are the strongest, most courageous family that I've ever met. I know you'll get through this. I know it."
Ginny sat silently for a moment as if fully attempting to absorb these words. Then finally she whispered a small "thank you" before pulling Hermione into the most emotion-filled hug the two girls had ever shared.
Hermione awoke the next morning to find Ginny still sleeping soundly in her bed. Tip-toeing gently so as not to wake her, she made her way quietly out of the room. But as she closed the door behind her, she looked up to find herself face to face with Harry.
"Oh, God," she spluttered, placing a hand on her heart. "You scared me!"
"I was going to knock," he said, somewhat defensively.
"I just woke up about two minutes ago, and Ginny's still asleep. Who goes knocking on people's doors this early?" she retorted, walking past him to head to the loo.
"It's nine o'clock," Harry replied following her. "Everyone else is awake."
"Yes, well, we had a pretty emotional night," she said. "What did you want, anyway?"
"I talked to Ron last night about your situation. I figured he might want be with us when we go—"
"You told him he doesn't have to, right? I don't want him to feel like he's obligated," Hermione said hurriedly.
"Relax, Hermione. And let me finish, will you?" Harry replied wearily.
"Sorry."
"Right. As I was saying, I asked him if he wanted to go, and he said he thought we should both be with you, but…I think he really took Ginny's words to heart last night."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.
"He feels guilty," Harry stated quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "He's been avoiding everyone for the past three weeks, and I guess Ginny finally made him realize how much of an arse he's being."
"Harry!" she scolded.
"His words, not mine," he said, holding up his hands. "Anyway, he wanted to come, but he feels like he needs to stay here with his family right now."
Hermione contemplated these words for a moment. She felt a small surge of pride for her best friend. She knew all of this was very difficult for Ron, but the fact that he was trying so hard to change was an admirable feat in her opinion.
She thought of something, suddenly that brought a small smile onto her face.
"What?" Harry asked.
"You two had a talk last night, then," she pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, we have those occasionally."
"I'm trying to picture this mentally, but it's just not coming," Hermione replied.
"We're blokes, Hermione, not dementors."
She laughed softly. "I know, I know, I'm only joking."
She then stared at him seriously. "There's a lot to talk about, isn't there?"
Harry's eyes seemed to harden for a moment before he merely shrugged and looked away.
Hermione exhaled softly. "Right, well, why don't we head down to breakfast, then," she suggested.
He followed her down the stairs, albeit somewhat grudgingly. It was no secret that everyone at the Burrow currently dreaded mealtimes. They were always a quiet affair filled only with Mrs. Weasley's constant urgings for everyone to eat. And she seemed to have a special vendetta against Harry, much to his own dismay.
Hermione secretly had to agree with the woman on this account. Harry was looking much too pale and sickly these days, and she could clearly see dark circles etched beneath his eyes. It didn't exactly surprise her, but it worried her endlessly, nonetheless.
"Have some more eggs, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, as if reading Hermione's thoughts.
But Harry politely declined, as usual, causing Mrs. Weasley to purse her lips and mutter something along the lines of 'much too thin'.
Suddenly, they all heard a creak on the staircase, and as one turned to look behind them. There in the kitchen doorway stood George, staring awkwardly at the floor with a small frown on his face.
"Oh, Georgie!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed at once, rushing over to him. "Come, come, we've only just started!"
George chose not to look at anyone as he allowed himself to be dragged toward the table by his mother.
"Go on, sit right here next to Ron, that's it," she said gently, rubbing his back soothingly.
Mrs. Weasley continued to mumble small words of comfort as she filled his plate, and as Hermione chanced a glance up, she noticed the woman's eyes seemed to be filling with tears. But for once, they didn't appear to be of sadness.
The atmosphere of the room, in general, felt less tense than it had in days. Indeed, George's appearance at breakfast had been a small, but wonderful feat, and Hermione felt a small smile appear on her face as she noticed out of the corner of her eye, Harry reaching for a second helping of eggs.
The day had finally arrived. She and Harry had gone over the plan with the rest of the Weasleys, and with the help of Mr. Weasley they would be transported by Portkey to Australia in just a little over ten minutes.
"Please be careful, you two," Mrs. Weasley whispered fervently as she brought Hermione into a fierce embrace and then moved on to Harry.
"We'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry assured her, his voice slightly muffled.
She held his face out at arm's length. "You'll take care of each other, yes?" she stated, as if to convince herself.
"Of course," they both replied.
Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face Ron.
"Just say the word," he said. "I'll go upstairs and pack right now and be back before you know it."
She rolled her eyes. "Ron, for the hundredth time, we've been over this: you don't have to feel guilty," she insisted. "For Merlin's sake, I didn't even expect Harry to come with me."
Ron sighed heavily.
"Your family needs you," she said quietly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Be there for them."
He nodded wordlessly, and then leaned in to give her a hug.
She and Ginny also shared an embrace before Hermione turned to the group at large and said: "We'll be back before you know it."
And with that, she and Harry both reached out to place a finger on the broken wireless, and Hermione felt the familiar tug on her navel as the Burrow disappeared around them.
Nearly a second later, they both landed in a not-so-graceful heap on the ground of a heavily wooded forest.
"Where are we?" Harry asked, wiping the dirt off his jeans as he stood up.
"Australia," she replied.
Harry gave her a look that clearly stated he wasn't amused.
"Queensland, to be more specific," she amended with a chuckle.
He nodded, taking a look around. "Any particular reason you chose it?"
Hermione shrugged. "My mum came here once when she was young. She claimed it was her favourite holiday ever, but that's not really saying much considering it was the only time she left England," she explained, as they slowly made their way through the thicket of trees.
"I've never really met your parents, have I?" Harry mused.
Hermione turned to look at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "No…" she stated, slowly. "But not for lack of trying."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, running hair-first into a leafy branch.
"Mind your head," she instructed with a light laugh. "And my parents have wanted to meet you and Ron ever since I first told them about you."
"So why haven't we?" he asked.
Hermione thought about it for a moment before shrugging once again. "I'm not really sure. We've always just stayed at the Burrow over the holidays…They would have liked to meet you though, especially my dad."
"Why's that?"
Hermione smiled wistfully to herself. "He's a nut for magic. He has to restrain himself from telling every person he meets that his daughter is a witch—well, 'magical' is the word he'd prefer."
At Harry's questioning look, she explained: "Dad doesn't like calling me a witch. He claims it has bad connotations."
Harry smiled at that. "How did he react when you got your Hogwarts letter?"
"He fainted."
Harry let out a bark of laughter. "What, you're serious?"
"Unfortunately," Hermione replied. "The rest of the discussion had to be carried out between Professor Dumbledore and my mum as I tried unsuccessfully to revive him."
"Once he finally woke up, he made Dumbledore cast a bunch of spells. Not because he wanted proof or anything, but because he thought it was just about the coolest thing in the world," she continued with a laugh.
"He sounds like the muggle version of Mr. Weasley," Harry pointed out.
Hermione let out a very un-ladylike snort. "Yes, I suppose he does."
They continued walking in silence for a bit, both buried deep in their own thoughts.
"What's your mum like?"
Hermione remained silent for a moment, allowing a deep feeling of nostalgia to suddenly wash over her.
"Well…she's like my best friend," she replied, softly.
Harry looked at her curiously, as if he wasn't expecting that answer.
"I told you before how I wasn't exactly the most popular child in school. I didn't really have any friends before you and Ron, so my mum was my friend—still is," she explained. "She's extremely bright, warm-hearted, supportive, unbelievably selfless…"
Hermione paused, feeling her throat starting to constrict. God, she missed her parents…
"She's sounds a lot like you," Harry stated.
Hermione stared at him, eyebrows creased together in a doubtful look. "I don't know about that…"
Harry shrugged. "Guess I'll be the judge of that when I meet her."
Hermione smiled to herself. "She's been just about dying to meet you," she stated, before freezing slightly in her spot as she realized what she'd just said.
She felt her face heat up instantly, and refused to look into Harry's eyes.
"Why's she dying to meet me?" he asked curiously, apparently not noticing the sudden lag in Hermione's footsteps.
"Er…" she said, rushing forward to meet his pace again. "You know…you're Harry Potter and all that."
"Your mum's a muggle," Harry responded in clear confusion.
"Well…yes…but, I've told her stories, obviously," she replied, faintly.
Harry laughed. "I'm surprised you spoke so highly of me. I would have thought for sure you'd tell her how much of a stubborn, homework-leeching, git I really am."
"Oh, don't you worry. She knows all about that…and much, much more," Hermione said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked warily.
She threw him a mysterious look, before jumping over a branch and running full pelt towards the opening of the forest, Harry's cries of "Hermione!" echoing behind her.
She stopped suddenly once she reached the side of the road, causing Harry to run right smack into her back.
"Bloody hell!" he shouted, grabbing onto her shoulders as they both nearly toppled over. "Merlin, Hermione, don't do that."
She was too busy trying to catch her breath to respond.
Clearly someone hasn't run in a while…and Harry's hands aren't really helping the whole breathing thing, either…
As if hearing her thoughts, Harry let go of Hermione and brought his hands to his knees as he attempted to steady his breathing, as well.
"Any reason you decided to become an Olympic runner?" he asked, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
"I thought it would be fun," she said, shrugging. "Plus we got here quicker."
Harry looked around at the open road ahead of them. "Why couldn't we have just portkeyed here?"
"Ministry regulation. You're not supposed Portkey into areas where muggles might see you," she explained. "We're about a five minute walk from my parents' house."
As Hermione said this, she immediately felt a familiar stab of nervousness. A thousand different scenarios popped into her mind of all the things that could go wrong, and she could feel her confidence wavering.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked, noticing the sudden change in her demeanour.
"I don't know," she sighed, wringing her hands anxiously.
Harry placed his own hand atop hers in an effort to halt her movements, and she revelled in his warm touch as it seemed to instantly calm her nerves.
She looked up into his eyes and he smiled gently at her. "Come on," he urged.
Hermione nodded, breathing in deeply. She was very grateful that he still had not let go of her hand as they began to walk down the road and into a quaint little neighbourhood with similar houses lined up along the street.
Had it been any other occasion, her heart would have surely been fluttering like mad at his touch. Right now, however, it only just managed to keep her from being sick all over the ground.
She came to a halt outside of Number Seventeen.
"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" Harry asked.
"Incessantly."
"And…did you come to a decision?"
"Not even in the slightest."
"Right…" Harry said, looking around as if for inspiration. "Somehow I don't think they'd take it very well if we went barging in claiming that you were their long-lost daughter."
Hermione could only nod as she was beginning to feel sick again.
Harry's eyes paused on something behind her, and then they suddenly lit up. "Got it!"
She heard him mutter a spell under his breath, and turned to see a sign from the neighbour's lawn situating itself next to them, instead. He then began walking her up the path leading to her parent's house.
"Harry? Harry, what are you—?"
"Just play along," he answered.
He rang the doorbell and they both waited, Hermione trying her best to appear normal as her stomach twisted itself into uncomfortable knots. She looked over at Harry, and her eyes went wide as she quickly removed a leaf from his hair just as the front door opened.
She felt her breath catch in her throat as she came face to face with her father for the first time in over a year.
"Hello," he said pleasantly. "Can I help you?"
"Er—"
"Good afternoon, sir," Harry said, effectively cutting her off. "My wife and I are here about the open house."
Hermione was certain that if she had been drinking anything at that precise moment, she would have spit it all up quite comically.
"Sorry?" her father asked, a look of bizarre confusion on his face.
"The open house, sir," Harry reiterated, pointing to the seemingly innocent sign in the front yard.
Hermione watched as her dad craned his neck to observe the sign, and she wondered briefly how Harry was possibly going to pull this off.
"I'm sorry," her dad stated. "There seems to be some sort of mistake, that sign isn't—"
"Er…listen, Mr…?"
"Wilkins."
"Right, Mr. Wilkins. Would you mind terribly if we had a quick private word?" Harry asked politely.
Looking slightly taken-aback, he hesitated before shaking his head.
"Excellent. Hermione, dear, give us just a second, will you?" Harry said, before taking her father aside for their private conversation.
Hermione could only stare at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. She had absolutely no idea what was going on. However, she had to admit that this whole bizarre set-up was quite worth it if only to be on the receiving end of one of Harry's endearments.
'Dear'…I could definitely get used to that…
Shaking her head of thoughts of marriage life with Harry, Hermione looked up to see her father nodding his head in what appeared to be an understanding way and Harry giving him a friendly clap on the back.
"Why don't you two step inside while I go call my wife," her father suggested as both men walked back over to where Hermione was standing.
"Thank you very much, sir," Harry said, as he put his arm around Hermione's lower back and led her inside.
Once her father was out of earshot, she turned to face a smug looking Harry Potter. "What in the world did you tell him?" she demanded.
Harry grinned. "I just explained that after a two hour trip, I would have a heavily vexed wife on my hands if it had all been for nothing, and if he could please just play along for at least five minutes until I can come up with a valid reason why this house just wouldn't work for us."
"And he just accepted that and allowed us into his home?"
"Well…I may have used a well-placed Confundus Charm…"
Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "You Confunded my father?"
"Just be glad it worked," he whispered to her discreetly as husband and wife walked down the stairs towards them.
Hermione could tell her mother was quite uncomfortable with the situation. And really, who could blame her?
"Hello," her mum greeted unsurely. "Welcome to our home…why don't we um—why don't we show you the sitting room first?"
They both nodded as they followed her parents through the door.
"You need to distract them, Harry. It should only take a few seconds," she whispered.
He nodded dutifully.
"So, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins…
Hermione waited with bated breath and pounding heart for just the right moment. Bringing her wand up, she focused all her thought and energy onto the task before her. She only had one shot at this, and she had to do it perfectly.
She vaguely registered Harry mentioning something about skylights before whispering the fated incantation at last.
For a moment, all was silent in the house.
Then:
"Who are you?"
Hermione snapped her head up, a wave of dread crashing into her as she looked up at her father's voice.
But then just like that, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was still staring at Harry.
"Dave…" her mother said suddenly, grabbing her husband's arm. "This is…aren't you…you're…"
"Mum," Hermione nearly whispered. "Dad."
Both Grangers turned around.
"Hermione?" her mother asked.
Hermione could feel tears immediately well up in her eyes.
Her name had never sounded sweeter.
"I just don't understand…" her father said. "How could we forget that we had a daughter?"
After the initial reunion with her parents, reality seemed to have sunk in and Hermione knew that the time had finally come for explanations.
She looked over at Harry who was still standing in his previous spot. He gave her a small smile of encouragement, then nodded his head toward the door as if to say "I'll be outside if you need me."
She smiled gratefully back at him before turning to her parents.
"Mum, Dad…we really need to talk."
"About what, dear?" her mother asked.
Hermione drew in a deep breath. "Everything. Everything I've never told you."
And talk, she did. She started from the very beginning, filling in the small, but significant details she'd always left out of her stories. How exactly she had become friends with Harry and Ron. Why she'd been petrified by the basilisk. Who saved Harry's godfather. And so on and so forth, taking them through her entire last year on the run.
Her parents had respectfully remained silent throughout, but she could tell there was deep turmoil raging behind both their eyes.
"And…you asked me before how you could forget you had a daughter. Well…I was the one who placed the Memory Charm on you," she stated quietly.
Her father gasped in shock.
"Hermione…why would you do such a thing?" Mr. Granger exclaimed.
"It was a war, Dad. And not only was I a muggleborn, I was right in the middle of everything as well, and I had to keep you safe—"
"You're eighteen years old!" he shouted, standing up suddenly. "What place did you have in a war?"
Hermione knew this was coming. Besides the few exclamations here and there in the more frightening parts, she could tell by the increasing frown on her father's face that he would not be able to take much more.
"I had to keep you both safe," she repeated. "They would have come after you straight away—"
"That's not your job," he exclaimed, slamming his hand down on a nearby table. "That's not your job, Hermione! We're the parents—we're supposed to keep you safe!"
Hermione looked up into her father's eyes. For the first time, she could hear a trace of desperation in his voice.
"I've wanted to keep you locked up ever since you came home that summer and told us about some man named Voldemort coming back to life. I wanted so badly to be able to shield you from harm, but I couldn't do anything! I was utterly useless!"
Hermione could feel her heart sinking as she continued to stare into her father's now glistening eyes and her mother's bowed head.
"Do you know what that feels like, Hermione? To be utterly useless to your child? To wake up one day in a different country with your daughter telling you that she just came back from fighting a war! You can't do that! You just…you can't do that…"
"Dad…"
"You're my little girl…" he choked out.
"Daddy…"
She rushed into his arms where he immediately enveloped her in a near suffocating hug. She could feel him openly crying into her hair now.
"Why'd you have to be so smart and so brave and so perfect?" he whispered into her hair.
"Surely we can't take all the credit for that."
Hermione looked up at her mother's voice, and saw tear streaks running down the woman's face as well.
She could feel her dad reluctantly let her go as her mum came closer.
"Oh, Hermione…" she said, cupping her daughter's cheeks. "I don't know whether to scream at you for being so reckless or burst into a million pieces with pride."
"I would prefer the latter," Hermione suggested.
Her mother sighed heavily. "You were always so special. Even when you were little, you were so headstrong and opinionated. And you would have torn down the world for the people you love. We just wish that—that we could have been there, helping you."
"You did help me. And you're not useless," Hermione insisted, speaking to both her parents now. "You may not have magical powers, but…you made me the person I am. I'm muggleborn. I get the best of both worlds. And I am so lucky."
Her mother gave her a watery smile before pulling her into an equally, if not more, strangling hug than her father.
"Hermione," her dad said suddenly. "You mentioned that you, Harry, and Ron were captured, and that…you were questioned."
Hermione swallowed hard and nodded, not making eye contact with either of her parents.
"I can't imagine they were very nice to you…"
She remained silent for a moment.
"No more secrets, Hermione," her mother said quietly, rubbing her back in a soothing manner.
"Please…" her dad whispered. But whether he was asking her to ease his worries or answer the question, she was not sure.
"She put the Cruciatus Curse on me."
Her mother's eyes widened. "Is that the one that—"
"Causes pain, yes."
"How much pain…?" her dad asked, fearfully.
"A lot."
He clasped a hand over his mouth, as if trying to prevent himself from shouting out.
"And…" Hermione began.
"There's more?" he asked, his voice cracking.
Hermione hesitated. She really didn't want to have to show them, but she knew they would see it eventually.
So, with great trepidation she rolled up the sleeve of her jumper, revealing the still reddened 'mudblood' for them to see.
Both her parents immediately gasped in horror.
"No…" her father said desperately. "No…no, no, no…"
Hermione looked away from her dad, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
But then she heard a sob to the left of her. For the first time that day, her mother seemed to have finally lost control.
Her cool, calm, and collected mother was being pulled apart by the seams.
"Oh, my baby…my baby," she cried, pulling Hermione close to her, and rocking her in her arms. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…I wasn't there…I'm so sorry."
On and on her mother continued to whisper broken apologies in her ear. And for once, Hermione didn't pull away. She didn't argue or deny. She just let herself be comforted in her mum's arms, as tears spilled freely down her own face. It was like being a child again, but she revelled in it.
She couldn't tell how long she stayed there, but some time later, her mother finally pulled away to look into her daughter's eyes.
"Hermione…Oh, Hermione," she said, shakily, "You are everything I could ever wish for in a daughter."
Hermione felt her heart swell as she stared into her mother's eyes.
It was the first time in such a long time that she felt whole. The first time, she felt truly healed. And it gave her hope.
"But a dragon, though? Really?" her dad proclaimed, breaking the silence. "You broke into a bank, and escaped on a dragon? Is this even normal in the wizarding world?"
For the first time since the start of the conversation, Hermione found herself laughing. "No, I don't think that's normal in any context."
Hermione peeked through the window. She could see him sitting on the front porch staring into the now darkened sky.
"Has that poor boy been out there the entire time?" her mum exclaimed softly.
Hermione looked guiltily up at her mother. "He didn't want to intrude…"
"Well, you better call him inside right this instant. His bum is probably so sore it's lost all feeling!" the older woman huffed.
"Mother!" Hermione said scandalized.
"Oh, don't give me that. Like you weren't thinking the exact same thing," she said, making Hermione's face heat up.
"I'm going to go bring him inside. You and Dad go sit in the kitchen or something. I don't want him emotionally scarred just yet."
Her mother huffed again. "Fine, but don't take too long. You know how much I've been dying to talk to him," she said, throwing her daughter a significant look.
Hermione merely rolled her eyes before slipping silently through the front door.
Harry's head shot up when he heard her.
"Hey," she said softly, taking a seat next to him.
"How'd it go?" he asked immediately.
Hermione smiled. "It went well. I think everything's going to be okay."
Harry nodded. "I hate to say I told you so, but…"
"Prat," she responded, shoving him lightly as he smiled at her.
But his smile faltered for a bit as he turned to look at her seriously. "I'm really happy for you, you know. You deserve this," he said sincerely.
"Thank you," she replied, looking into his beautiful green eyes that seemed to shine brightly even in the dark. "And not just for that…Harry, I was wrong."
"About what?" he said, confused.
"When I said I didn't need you to come with me," she explained with a sigh. "Merlin, I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been here. I'd probably still be in that forest."
"And let's not even get started on how much of an emotional wreck I'd be in," she continued. "I would've probably vomited at least twice on the way here. And how, pray tell, would I have cast the charm on my parents without them noticing? Hmm? As if I could multitask long enough not to vomit a third time all over the carpet—"
"Can we please stop talking about vomit?"
Hermione cleared her throat. "Right, sorry," she conceded. "But anyway, you get the picture."
"Unfortunately," Harry grimaced.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is, well, thank you…again," Hermione finished, giving him a warm smile.
"You don't have to thank me, you know. I already told you before…you've been by my side through everything, and I was more than glad to be able to do something for you."
Hermione stared down into her worn out trainers. "Harry, please don't think that you have to repay me for anything. You're my best friend…and best friends don't keep tabs," she insisted.
"Yeah, well…it still feels nice to do something for you, once in a while," he replied.
"Well then, I'll be sure to remember and exploit that line of thinking in the future," Hermione said, grinning cheekily at him.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"C'mon," she said, standing up. "I bet you're pretty sore from sitting here for so long. Why don't we go inside?"
"Are you sure that's alright with your parents? They're not…angry at me or anything, are they?" he asked, uncertainly.
It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Yes, Harry. They are absolutely livid with you for erasing their memories of their only daughter. Oh, wait…That was me!"
"You know that's not what I'm talking about," he responded, not amused.
Hermione sighed. "Harry, I can promise you that throughout our entire talk neither of my parents ever once blamed you for anything. It was my choice to place a memory charm on them, and it was my choice to be involved in the war," she stated. "If anything…they're proud of you."
Harry looked completely taken aback.
Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly. "Why so shocked, Harry?" she said, almost sadly. "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but…you've done something truly incredible."
He turned away from her and she could see his jaw clench tightly in the way it always seemed to lately.
She sighed softly to herself. There was still so much to be said, so much they had to work through, such a long way to go.
But not tonight.
Tonight, Harry would finally meet with her parents and they would all sit down and have a pleasant dinner and they would pretend like everything was normal.
Just for tonight, she wanted things to be normal.
A/N: Well...um...*coughs* I know it's been like 38409 years since I last updated, but...better late than never right? Hopefully? I promise there will DEFINITELY not be this long of a wait for the next chapter. Especially since summer is rapidly approaching and I'll have waaaay more free time. So yeah, I'm extremely sorry and to all of you who have faithfully waited for an update, I love you all. Seriously. You guys are amazing and I appreciate every single review I receive so much. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I've made it extra long! Once again, I apologize immensely and I love you. There's not enough love in the world so: I love you. Okay, now I'm just typing 3 am ramblings. Good night/day! Let me know what you think, bye!