"Muggle money… clothes… wand… Kingsley's note…"

"You already checked the trunk upstairs, 'Mione," Ron interrupted her rambling list.

"Wizarding money… phone…" she continued as if no one interrupted her.

"Why did you get that thing again?" Ron looked curiously over her shoulder at the black flip phone that she had shoved into the corner of the trunk. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder without looking at him.

"To communicate quicker," she said if it were obvious to everyone before returning to triple checking their trunk.

"Why do you need that foam?" Ron asked Harry instead, who was watching them from the couch next to Mr. Weasley who currently held Harry's matching flip phone in his hand, clearly attempting to memorize every aspect of it with a bemused Ginny.

"First off, it's a phone, with an 'n.' And 'cause we can talk in real time without having to wait for an owl. It's a lot easier," Harry insisted after Ron's dumbfounded face did not show signs of any revelation.

"Plus, I'm assuming my parents' have one too so that way they can call me if they… if they forgive me," she faltered and Ron stood quickly to comfort her, but she waved him off and pressed on. She shut the trunk closed with a loud thud and turned to Mr. Weasley, still engrossed in the little buttons. "You know, you should get one Mr. Weasley. Then you can talk to Ron wherever he is, or your other kids if they get one too."

"I have been thinking of trying to convince Molly," he admitted, his eyes full of wonder. Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs, followed by George and Arthur hastily handed Harry's new phone back to him.

"Start saying your goodbye's, the portkey will be leaving in a few minutes now," she instructed and pulled her youngest son into a tight embrace before Harry could even push himself off the couch. Hermione turned to him with an anxious expression, but did not pull him into a hug.

"You have my number, right?" she asked.

"Yes, we already tested it out," he said, restraining from rolling his eyes.

"We'll be back well before your birthday," she peered carefully at him.

"I know."

"Call us if you need anything."

"You too." She nodded and finally stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"You'll be okay without us, yeah?" she whispered. He risked rolling his eyes now since she couldn't see him.

"Yes, Hermione. I'll be fine." Try as he might, he failed to keep the amusement out of his voice. She pulled back abruptly and fixed a stern look on him.

"And I'm sure you'll be fine too," he added before she could scold him. Her gaze softened and she bit her lip with worry. "Call me tonight to tell me how it goes, okay?" She agreed with a faint smile and walked over to Ginny.

"See you, mate," Ron said cheerfully, gripping his shoulder.

"See you. And if you use her phone, don't scream, okay?"

"Make sure you talk loud enough so I can hear you."

"You really have no idea how to work a phone, do you?"

"Not in the slightest." They both grinned and watched Hermione say her much longer goodbyes. Molly embraced her, then pushed her away towards their trunk and the cracked picture frame on the table. Ron stepped forward and grabbed them both. Hermione laid her hand on the frame and a few seconds later, a pale blue light filled the room and they disappeared with the sound of a strong gust of wind, leaving only a trace of Ron's reassuring smiles.

The familiar hooking sensation left their stomachs as the pair appeared nearly on top of a shrub. While they did narrowly dodge it on their landing, Hermione could see why Kingsley sent them to this particular place. The thick bush was closer to a hedge, and nearly covered their heads. Surrounding it were bushy trees to further block their sudden appearance from unwanted muggle eyes. After the nausea had faded, Hermione brushed her windswept hair out of her eyes and nodded once briskly.

"Right. Kingsley said we'd arrive near a decent hotel and that it should be obvious to find. Let's go have a look around." She picked up one end of the trunk while Ron grabbed the other and they slipped out from behind the foliage. Sure enough, the instant that they stepped out, a large neon sign across the street declared the building a hotel.

"Well, that was obvious," Ron commented shrewdly. They awkwardly made their way across the street to the muggle hotel and while Hermione's eyes were focused on the check-in desk, Ron's wandered around the building, taking in every aspect of the curious non-magical abode. A white circular couch was in the center of the lobby with a fountain of tall green leaves and flowers shooting out from the center. Other white chairs were arranged around tables throughout the room, sandwiched between two large maple desks at opposite ends, one of which they were approaching now.

"Good afternoon," Hermione said brightly to the woman behind the desk. She wore a crisp white shirt and a silver name tag labelling her as Sophia. Her blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail and her pink painted lips were stretched into an automatic welcoming smile.

"Good afternoon to you as well! Welcome to Seafair Hotel. My name is Sophia, how may I help you today?" she cheerfully recited from in front of a boxy computer.

"We would like to check out a room, please. We're not sure for how long yet, but my guess would be around two weeks." Approximately fifteen minutes later, their room's door was shut behind them and they stood in a small hallway with the trunk still between them. The room was pretty standard: a small bathroom on the right, a closet on the left, and the bedroom straight in front. The pair dropped the heavy trunk against the wall near the navy blue bed and Hermione collapsed onto its plushy surface, hands covering her face.

Bewildered, Ron sat gingerly next to her on the edge and thought desperately of something to say.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked simply to start the conversation somewhere safe.

"I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this I can't…"

"What?" His voice was heavy with apprehension. Apparently, years of her enigmatic hints as to what she was thinking gave Ron no help as to interpreting her panicked state.

"I can't do this, Ronald!" she cried out, throwing her hands wide across the bed.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't… I can't… I mean how… What…" She groaned loudly, unable to articulate her thoughts which worried Ron even more. Hermione never had trouble saying exactly what she was thinking.

"Just take a breath, 'Mione," he advised quietly. She followed his advice and her chest rose and fell slowly.

"I can't reverse the charm. I just can't. I mean, what if they hate me? What if they never want to speak to me again? What if something went wrong and they never even remember me? What if they never forgive me? What if I lose them?" Her fears came tumbling out and her face grew a deathly pale. Ron sighed and flopped onto his back beside her. She continued to look resolutely at the ceiling, but Ron propped himself on an elbow and looked directly at her.

"First of all, there's no way anything went wrong with your charm. That's pretty much impossible with you." She gave a faint smile to acknowledge she was listening, but it slipped from her face as quickly as it came. "Second, yeah, they might not be too keen on you the second they realize what happened, but they'll come around. You're their only child, Hermione. Do you really think they could lose you?" Hermione turned onto her elbow too and her thick curls fell against her arm.

"Ron, I completely betrayed their trust," she said bluntly.

"That doesn't change the fact that you did it to protect them or that you're family. Family always forgives."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Look at Percy. He was an absolute git, but Mum still invites him to dinner every week."

"I just… what if-"

"No more what ifs," he cut in firmly. "Whatever happens will happen and it'll be better to know than wondering forever." She nodded slowly. "Hermione, you're a Gryffindor! You are the brightest witch of the whole bloody school! You destroyed a horcrux! You dueled death eaters! You saved me and Harry way too many times to count! You can do this!" Hermione giggled in spite of herself and felt a smile creep onto her face.

A pale blue light filled the room and they disappeared with the sound of a strong gust of wind. Mrs. Weasley let out a breath that she had been holding and stared at the spot where they disappeared from before walking back up the stairs. Mr. Weasley returned to his abandoned newspaper. Ginny turned to Harry with one word on her mind: "Quidditch?"

"Sure," he agreed. George silently trudged back to his room while the pair walked outside into the hazy light and under the gray clouds. Kicking off from the ground, they soared through the air, careful to stay below the tree tops, both relishing the wind in their faces and the freedom of flying. On one end of the makeshift pitch, Ginny tossed a dull red quaffle in one hand and smirked at Harry with her eyes squinting in concentration. She tucked it under one arm, leaned forward against the broom, and shot towards Harry's end. He gripped his own borrowed broom tightly, waiting for the moment when she decided to dart to one side and he saw her flicker towards his right. Immediately, he somehow knew it was a fake and he pelted in the other direction chasing after her. He was an arm's length away and she slowed slightly before throwing the quaffle straight at the hoop before he could catch up to her. The quaffle soared forward and he caught it easily before it reached its peak and tucked it under his arm in turn.

"You hesitated, Weasley!" he called.

"And you're not my captain anymore, Potter!" She shouted over her shoulder.

"Hey, who do you reckon will be captain this year?" Her teasing grin dropped slightly and she tossed her long red hair back over her shoulder.

"I don't know. I was kind of hoping to be captain, but you one of our other beater's could be too."

"Who? Peakes?" She nodded. "No way, beaters are hardly ever made captain. You're a shoo-in!" With that, he darted forward and began an incline to soar above her head, the quaffle still in tow.

Approximately two hours later, when a distraught Hermione had calmed down, they went back to Sophia at the desk and asked for directions to a street called Whitsunday Court and they were on their way. Hermione had pulled her hair into a braid down her back and slung a brown purse over her shoulder that at first glance could barely hold her new cell phone. However, it held a map, her wand, money, the paper, a bottle of water, and Kingsley's information. Ron stored his own wand in a pocket hidden in his jacket, and together, they walked hand in hand down the Australian sidewalks.

Ten minutes later, they entered a residential area and the cement was replaced with grass; the stop signs were replaced with trees; office buildings with houses. Each house was dotted with a uniform black mailbox, but that was all the unified them. The walls were painted various shades of brown, gray, or blue and the yards in front clearly had a whole spectrum of tidiness and care. Finally, they rounded the last corner and came to the house labeled number 16. They stood outside it on the driveway, just inside the small whtie fence that barely poked above the ground containing a well-tended flower bed filled with white and orange rose bushes. It was a single story home covered in terracotta colored bricks and a gray roof with windows outlined in white. A small hedge led the way towards the door and that is where Hermione's gaze fell. Ron squeezed her hand, but said nothing. She would go when she was ready.

With a small nod, she followed the dark green shrubs to the door and knocked decisively before she could contemplate her decision too carefully. Sounds could be heard from inside: faint talking and the squeaking of feet against wooden floors. The door swung open to reveal a pale man with dark eyes and light brown hair that was slightly graying. He wore a cardigan over a plaid button-down shirt and his pale lips were arranged in a polite smile.

"Hello," he said, confused at the sight of two apparent strangers.

"Hello," Hermione responded unsteadily, faltering at the look of unrecognition in her own father's eyes. "You're Wendell Wilkins, right?"

"Yes, but I'm terribly sorry. I don't want whatever it is you're selling." He began to close the door.

"Oh no! We're not selling anything." The door paused and reopened a sliver. "I'm sorry, this is going to sound incredibly rude, but do you mind if we come in?"

"How can I help you?" he insisted without stepping aside. Hermione bit her lip and made a quick decision.

"One moment." She dug through her small purse and quickly tilted her wand above the purse edge to point at her father and thought Confundus. His eyes glazed and his head rocked back once before coming to a stop at a neutral position again. Before he could speak again, Hermione politely interfered.

"You were just about to invite us inside, Mr. Wilkins." Her wand had already disappeared from sight.

"Ah, yes, of course." He stood aside and shut the door behind them.

"Is your wife here? Monica Wilkins?" she asked quickly before the charm wore off.

"Yes, right in here." He led the way into a cozy sitting room where a woman sat on the light brown armchair sipping some tea. Her dark brown eyes matched her hair. Her bangs covered her forehead and the rest was in a high ponytail that barely reached the base of her neck.

"Wendell, dear, were you expecting guests?" she asked lightly as she set her teacup on the table beside her.

"No, just some people stopping by," he responded and sat at the couch near her. The charm was slowly wearing off and Hermione could see the confusion of why he had led two apparent strangers in his home return.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ron Weasley." She motioned towards Ron standing a bit behind her and hesitated at the odd feeling of introducing herself to her own parents. "One moment, please," she said again after regaining some confidence and opened her purse for the second time. With a significant glance at Ron, who gave her an encouraging smile, she withdrew her wand and pointed it at the pair of them. Ignoring their bewildered expressions, she twisted the wand counterclockwise and watched their faces go blank. She hastily returned her wand back to her purse all the while, praying to Merlin that their memories are restored properly so that they remember everything that happened in the past year, but also what had happened before.

Their eyes returned to focus and Hermione peered at them anxiously, biting her lip and willing herself not to cry. Her father came to first, and he froze on the couch moving only his head to and fro, trying to register what had happened. Her mother's eyes settled on Hermione who stood silently before them almost instantaneously, her hands clenched in fists. She stood from the chair and her gaze didn't leave hers.

"Hermione?" she said softly, half a question and half a statement. Her daughter nodded and started forward with her arms outstretched, but her mother took a step back defensively and automatically. Hermione's arms dropped and she let out a trapped breath. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, trying desperately to prevent any tears. "Hermione. What happened." she demanded sternly after another silent minute. "Are we… in Australia? Did we move here?" Hermione nodded anxiously, her arms warped around her middle. Her mother's eyes darkened and shrunk into slits, a glare that only a Granger could manage.

"Explain." she ordered and slumped back into her chair. Her father sat in the same spot, but his eyes softened at the sight of his daughter.

"Well… um…" she began uncertainly. She perched herself on the edge of the matching armchair across from her mom and Ron sat on the armrest, watching his foot swing forward and backward so as to not have to make eye contact. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and decided to just get it over with. "Last year I modified your memories so that you'd move to Australia and forget you had a daughter so that you'd be safe from the death eaters that were after me and Ron and Harry because we were fighting Voldemort and now he's gone so I came back and restored your memories again." She said it all quickly and in one breath, as if maybe the shock would dispel any mounting anger.

Silence filled the house. The gentle breeze outside could be heard clearly and Ron's fidgeting seemed as loud as a scream.

"Hermione…" her Dad began in a gentler tone than his wife's. She turned to him, silently pleading to forgive her. His words fell empty in his mouth and he just looked at her with an unreadable mix of emotions spilling across his face.

"I'm so sorry. Really, I'm so so sorry. I know it was terrible and I broke your one major rule and I completely shattered your trust, but I swear, I'll never use magic against you again and.. and... and I did it to protect you. Please, you have to believe me. I was trying to protect you." She leaned even more forward in her chair so that she was barely touching it and seemed just short of dropping to her knees and begging. "I'm so sorry," she whispered and fell silent.

"You used magic against us... to protect us from magic being used against us," her mother said, arms crossed in disbelief.

"Yes, I know how it must sound to you, but-"

"Oh yes, it sounds downright absurd to us! But please explain to us muggles so that we can pretend to understand!" Her voice was steadily rising and her arms somehow grew stiffer around her chest.

"They were after Harry, Mum. They knew that we're close friends and they would do anything to get to him. They torture and kill muggles as sport- for fun! So I wiped your memories and sent you to Australia so that they wouldn't go looking for you and that way, if I died, you could still live out your lives in peace." Mrs. Granger's eyes narrowed further still, so Hermione turned to her father instead.

"Hermione…" he began again in the same even tone. He rubbed his hand against his stubbled chin and the familiar motion was so familiar that the stinging in the corner of her eyes was even more pronounced. "This Voldemort you mentioned, he's the evil person that you used to write to us about?" She nodded. "And he's the one that tried to kill your friend when he was a baby, right?" She nodded again. "You said he's gone?"

"Yes, Harry killed him in May and Ron and I were helping him for the past year."

"So this past year, while we were living here, you were off fighting in a Wizarding War?"

"Yes," she whispered. He leaned back against the couch cushion and pursed his lips.

"I must say, I'm not sure how to feel right now," he admitted.

"Livid. Furious. Indignant." His wife filled in. It was suddenly very clear where Hermione inherited her stubborn nature and an innate talent for a look that could kill.

"I'm obviously very upset," he said loudly over her. "But, I'm relieved that you're okay, sweetheart." Hermione couldn't stop herself any longer, she let a tear fall and her eyebrows unfurrow ever so slightly. "And, it sounds like you had quite a role in ending the war, so I suppose I ought to be proud of you, too." Hermione smiled at him, but made no effort to embrace him after her latest disastrous attempt. Relief flooded her expression, but it was hastily wiped away again. Abruptly, Mrs. Granger stood and Hermione looked at her apprehensively, shrinking away from her slightly.

"We need some time, Hermione. To think things over." Her voice was steady, yet it had a distinct cold edge.

"Of course," her daughter replied standing too. "Here," she reached into her purse and her two parents watched her cautiously. But, instead of a wand, she withdrew a newspaper. "It's an article about what happened if you want to know more and my phone number is there at the top." She set it carefully on the side table nearest her so that the Daily Prophet title stared boldly up at them. She began to walk back towards the door with Ron trailing behind her, but she stopped by the doorframe and turned, unable to leave without some earnest pleading to break through to them.

"I know you need some space, but please call me. Even if it's just to yell at me, please call." She looked at her mother who had turned so that her back was facing Hermione. Mr. Granger was looking at her with conflicting emotions, but he gave a half-hearted watery smile and a faint nod. With that, Ron and Hermione stepped into the entryway, gripped hands, and disappeared with a faint pop.

They landed in their hotel room and immediately, Hermione collapsed into Ron's arms in pitiful sobs.

"Excuse me… it's Sophia, right?" The lobby's lights still shone brightly, but now the night sky was visible through the glass doors.

"Yes, how may I help you?" Somehow her voice was still kind and friendly, even though she had been working for more than seven hours at this point.

"Well, I have to call a friend, but my girlfriend got a new phone and I'm not sure how to use it. Do you think you could help?" Ron asked quietly; he wasn't sure why his voice was barely above a whisper, it just seemed right considering that Hermione was fast asleep somewhere upstairs.

"Sure," her smile never faltered so if she considered it an odd request, Ron would never guess.

Just a few short minutes later, Ron sat in the hotel room's bathroom with the door shut and he pressed the button Sophia had indicated.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice asked through the phone.

"No, it's me," Ron responded, careful to keep his voice low.

"Oh, hey Ron. How'd it go?"

"I don't know what to do, mate."

"That bad, huh?"

"Well, it's certainly clear that Hermione got her glare from her mum. Her dad seemed to handle it better. I think he was just confused mostly, but her mom was super pissed."

"How'd Hermione take it?"

"We apparated back and she immediately started crying, but I finally got her to fall asleep so now I'm calling you from the bathroom." He sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wall carefully to not make a sound. "I don't know what to do tomorrow. Her parents said they needed time and I'm guessing that means more than a day."

"Probably. Maybe go sightseeing? I don't know, just try and distract her."

"Yeah, I suppose." He heard a dull groan from the other room. "Look, I should go. I don't want to wake her up."

"All right. Good luck, mate."

"Good night."

"It's morning here, Ron."

"Whatever." With that, Harry hung up and Ron slid the phone back into his pocket. He stood and stretched his back that ached from sitting on the tiled floor. As quietly as he could, he exited the hotel room for the final time that day and went to ask Sophia one more question.

Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! You guys are great!